There’s a light bustle out on the crowded streets almost like a calming hum. And sitting across the street in a quaint little cafe peering through the window is you. You glance away from the window and go back to your work on your computer, closing it with a boring finish, yet another unfulfilling day. But unbeknownst to you there was someone watching from afar, who’s eye you caught the attention of. It was just another day of people watching while on their lunch break for this mysterious fellow, but for some reason today was different because there in his spot which was infamously his, was you. He watched as you began to gather your things and how once you were gone it was as if you were never there. The only trace left of you there was the light warmth he felt from the seat.
Back at your two bedroom apartment you couldn’t help feel empty when you come home to find just that; empty. It all just seems and feels so lifeless to you, not just your home. It’s yourself as well, and almost everything around you in your world. Still what could possibly be the thing that makes this black and white movie one of color?
You don’t know, or do you.
DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE, OR PLAGIARIZE OR YOU WILL BE MET WITH THE PROPER AUTHORITIES
(art creds : left and right - @/thatsallitchief, middle - @/animextwts)
!!disclaimers!! alcohol consumption, drug consumption, violence.
summary!! you’re a freshman just trying to survive your first semester when your old friend gojo pulls you into the whirlwind of frat life. loud parties, chaotic friendships, too many red solo cups, but beneath it all, there’s him. nanami kento. not the president, not the loudest, but the one who keeps everything from falling apart. the more time you spend around the frat, the more you find yourself drawn to the quiet, grounded man who sees everything and says so little.
the house smelled like beer and sweat and someone’s fruity vape, thick with body heat and pulsing bass that made the floors vibrate. every window was cracked open but it didn’t help. it was sigma chi’s first rager of the semester and the place was already past capacity, overflowing with students who couldn’t remember half the names of the people they were dancing against. someone had brought a fog machine. someone else had thrown glow sticks into the toilet. it was that kind of night.
gojo was in the middle of it all, standing on the coffee table with his shirt unbuttoned, aviators on even though it was close to midnight. he clutched a mic that wasn’t connected to anything, belting the wrong lyrics to a throwback boy band song like it was his last dying wish. girls screamed. guys cheered. beer sloshed from raised cups. he twirled, pointed at someone in the crowd, and blew a dramatic kiss.
“give it up for your king!” he shouted.
someone from the kitchen threw a half-full seltzer at his head. it missed by an inch.
“suck my dick, gojo!”
he winked in response, too drunk to care. he lived for this. the chaos, the noise, the way the whole room bent toward him like he was the sun. frat president wasn’t a title to him—it was a lifestyle.
lounging across a recliner like he’d invented comfort itself, geto watched the madness with a drink in one hand and a girl curled up next to him, her head on his shoulder, eyes glassy. he barely moved except to sip. occasionally he’d say something low enough to make the girl laugh, or maybe blush—it was hard to tell with the lighting. he didn’t need to shout to be heard. people just leaned in when he talked, like his voice had gravity.
out back, choso stood half-shrouded in shadow, blunt between his fingers, eyes scanning the backyard like he was waiting for a sign from the universe. he barely said anything all night. a few people tried to start conversations but gave up when they realized he wasn’t going to meet them halfway. he wasn’t rude, just… somewhere else. still, when someone passed him a lighter, he nodded in thanks like it meant something.
haibara had already danced with at least four different people and hugged ten more. he was all smiles, bouncing from the living room to the hallway and back again, pausing only to yell over the music about someone’s new haircut or to refill someone’s drink with far too much rum. he had that kind of energy that made you feel like maybe this night wasn’t a mistake after all.
somewhere by the stairs, toji was leaning against the railing, all casual menace. one arm was slung around a girl’s waist, his hand on her thigh as he murmured something in her ear that made her bite her lip. he had that look like he didn’t belong here but dared you to say it. people gave him a wide berth. he liked it that way.
near the kitchen, sukuna laughed at something that wasn’t funny. he had a red cup in one hand and a smug expression that never quite left his face. he was leaned over the beer pong table, talking shit to whoever was brave—or drunk—enough to play against him.
“miss again and i’m making you do a shot off the floor,” he warned, not bothering to hide how entertained he was.
the ball missed. he didn’t even celebrate. he just smiled and walked off like he’d expected nothing less.
yuki was in the middle of the living room dancing like she was on fire, hands in her hair, eyes closed, hips moving to a rhythm entirely her own. people gave her space. she didn’t ask for it—she just took it. someone tried to grab her waist and she turned fast, flashing a look that had them apologizing without saying a word.
and then there was shiu.
he wasn’t a regular at sigma chi parties, not officially. he was from alpha gamma rho, a frat with less charm and more edge, but gojo let him through the door anyway. shiu always brought things—pills, powders, the kind of substances that didn’t come from corner stores. he wasn’t there to party. he was there to observe, to pass off baggies and collect debts. he stood near the fridge now, arms crossed, watching gojo like he was debating whether or not to start something.
then gojo opened his mouth.
“yo,” he called, mic still in hand, “someone tell our favorite pharmacist to chill with the samples tonight, yeah? we’re trying to party, not resuscitate.”
the room didn’t go quiet but it changed, subtle, like someone had sucked the air out of it. a few heads turned. shiu didn’t move at first.
then he did.
he walked forward slow, deliberate, like he was pushing through water. gojo jumped off the coffee table with a smirk.
“say that again,” shiu said, voice low.
“which part?” gojo asked, spreading his arms like a game show host. “the bit about you being a danger to society, or the part where you’re not even in the right frat?”
the punch landed before anyone could process what was happening.
gojo’s head snapped sideways and the mic flew. a few people screamed. someone knocked over a chair. haibara was yelling something. geto sat up fast. choso pushed off the railing and started moving. even yuki stopped dancing.
gojo stumbled back, wiped the blood from his lip, and smiled.
“oh, okay. we’re doing this.”
he lunged. they hit the fridge hard, dented it. bottles rattled. someone tried to step in and got elbowed. the crowd swelled, a surge of bodies pressing in, phones out, drinks forgotten. fists flew. gojo caught shiu in the ribs. shiu grabbed gojo’s collar and slammed him back. it was messy, fast, angry.
and then—
“enough.”
the voice wasn’t loud. it didn’t need to be.
people parted before they even saw him. like something cold had blown through the room and snapped everyone back into place.
nanami kento stood in the hallway, sleeves rolled to his elbows, jaw set, eyes narrowed. he wasn’t yelling. he didn’t need to. his presence alone pulled the air tighter.
he stepped through the crowd like it wasn’t even there.
“outside,” he said, looking at shiu.
shiu glared. nanami didn’t flinch.
“now.”
shiu scoffed, wiped his mouth, and walked out without a word.
nanami turned to gojo next. he didn’t ask if he was okay. he just looked at him, that same heavy look he always gave when gojo was about to do something stupid, or already had.
“you said something reckless,” nanami said. “he responded. don’t do it again.”
gojo opened his mouth, then closed it. nodded once.
nanami looked around the room. “everyone else—back to what you were doing. party’s not over.”
his voice didn’t raise, but it carried. people shifted, awkward, but they moved. the music faded back in. someone restarted the playlist. the house exhaled.
gojo sat down on the coffee table, wincing as he touched his jaw. “you’re like a fucking principal.”
“good,” nanami said. “because you’re all acting like children.”
“we have one party until we’re swarmed with new freshman and you decide to act like an idiot, gojo. it’s embarrassing.”
“you’re acting like that’s a bad thing, i’ve got a friend from high school joining our collage, she’s real cute i think even you’ll like her, nanamin!”
nanami just grunted. and with that, he turned and walked out, not to leave, but to clean up the mess. people didn’t cheer for him. they didn’t swarm. they just watched.
because everyone at sigma chi knew—gojo might’ve been the president, but nanami was the reason the frat hadn’t burned to the ground.
~
you walk into psych 101 ten minutes early, clutching your campus map like it’s going to save you from social death. the lecture hall smells like whiteboard cleaner and nervous sweat, and every seat squeaks a little too loud when you try to sit in it. you pick one near the back, close enough to see the screen but far enough to disappear if necessary.
you’re still trying to figure out if you’re in the right place when a voice behind you explodes with your name.
“no fucking way—!”
you barely have time to turn before arms are around you and your face is pressed into someone’s chest. you freeze for a second, then laugh as it clicks.
“gojo?”
“gojo,” he confirms, grinning as he pulls back to hold you at arm’s length. his sunglasses are pushed up into his white hair, and he looks like he just got off a beach in california. same dumb grin, same ridiculous energy, but somehow taller, broader, obnoxiously good-looking in a way that’s kind of unfair.
“what are you doing here?” you ask, still half-laughing, still a little breathless from the surprise.
“psych major, baby,” he says, tapping his temple. “great minds think alike. also, easy electives.”
you roll your eyes but you’re smiling. it’s been over a year since you last saw him, and somehow this reunion already feels like no time’s passed.
“you look—” he pauses, head tilting, “—way cuter than i remember. like, seriously. did college do something to you or were you just hiding the glow-up in high school?”
“shut up.”
“i’m serious. you’re hot now. i mean, you were cute before, but this is like, hot-girl cute. are you trying to kill me?”
you swat his arm and he laughs like it’s the best thing that’s happened all morning. he flops into the seat next to you, dropping his bag to the floor without looking.
“so what’s your deal?” he asks. “dorms? roommates? any campus scandals yet?”
you give him the rundown, short and vague, still unsure how to explain how weird and overwhelming everything feels when you’re only two days into your first semester. he listens with more focus than you expect, nodding, asking dumb follow-ups that make you laugh.
“you settling in okay?” he asks, serious for a beat.
“trying to.”
“then you gotta come to our party this weekend,” he says immediately, back to full volume. “we’re throwing a start-of-semester thing. big one. friday night. you’ll love it.”
you raise an eyebrow. “we?”
“oh, right,” he says, like he forgot to mention the sky is blue. “i’m the president of sigma chi now.”
“you’re a frat president?”
“hell yeah.”
you blink. “that’s… terrifying.”
“it’s empowering,” he corrects, grinning. “we’re not like, the douchebag kind of frat. we’ve got a decent crew. some of them are borderline functioning adults.”
“how did you even get voted president?”
“i’m irresistible,” he says. “plus, everyone else would’ve burned the house down.”
you snort. “and this party’s open to freshmen?”
“only the cute ones,” he says, giving you an exaggerated wink. “i’ll send you the address. dress code is: whatever makes you feel like a baddie.”
“right.”
“seriously,” he says, nudging your arm. “come. it’ll be fun. first week of college, you gotta live a little. and if you hate it, i’ll personally walk you home.”
“you swear?”
“scout’s honor.”
you hesitate for a second, then nod. “alright. i’m in.”
“yes!” he pumps his fist dramatically, earning a few confused glances from other students walking in. “you will not regret this. this party is gonna be legendary.”
you don’t know it yet, but he’s right.
just not for the reasons he thinks.
~
you didn’t think you’d be walking into your first frat party with a cigarette already behind your ear and shoko ieiri dragging you by the wrist, but here you are.
it turns out shoko had gone to your high school too, a year ahead of you, but you’d only really connected again in the dining hall on move-in day when she clocked you from across the room and called you over like no time had passed. she was older, cooler, already pre-med and apparently a regular fixture at sigma chi. it didn’t take long for her to claim you as her personal freshman project, which is how you ended up walking up the front steps of this stupidly loud, overly crowded house on a friday night with her hair tied back and her boots already scuffed.
“you look nervous,” she says, smirking as she adjusts her hoodie over a tiny crop top. “don’t be. the house is a mess but the people are fun. and if anyone tries anything weird, just look scary. works for me.” she laughs, “although, you’re face is a little to cute to look intimidating.”
you open your mouth to respond but then the door swings wide open and gojo appears like he was summoned by the sound of your heartbeat.
“there she is,” he shouts, like he’s announcing the arrival of the bride at a wedding. “shoko, and my favorite freshie! welcome to my palace.”
you laugh despite yourself as he throws an arm around your shoulders and practically pulls you inside. it’s already hot and loud, bodies moving like static electricity in every room, and the beat of the music feels like it’s trying to replace your pulse. gojo doesn’t let go. if anything, he squeezes tighter.
“this,” he says dramatically, “is our house. that’s the kitchen where my buddy shiu gets people hooked on coke.” “didn’t you get into a fight with him a few weeks ago-” “not the point! god just shut up shoko. anyways, the couch over there has seen things no man should ever see. and upstairs is strictly off-limits unless you’re crashing out or making love.”
shoko peels off almost immediately, waving you a quick goodbye as she heads toward the back porch. she’s here all the time—this is her playground. you’re still the new girl.
“c’mon,” gojo says, dragging you into the living room. “gotta introduce you to my loyal subjects.”
he says it like you’re about to meet royalty. or wild animals.
first stop was haibara, who immediately grinned and pulled you into a hug like you’d known each other for years. “she’s so cute, oh my god,” he said, beaming at gojo. “how do you know all the cute people?”
“it’s a gift,” gojo said solemnly.
next is choso, who’s sitting on the edge of the windowsill with a half-finished beer and his usual quiet intensity. he looks you up and down once, not in a creepy way, more like he’s taking mental notes.
“hey,” he says. that’s it. just hey. but there’s something warm in the way he says it, something that makes you feel seen.
geto’s lounging nearby, sipping something clear from a solo cup. he gives you a slow once-over, then tilts his head.
“interesting,” he says, mostly to himself. “you’ve got good eyes. you watch people.”
it makes you blush for some reason. he smiles at that.
“don’t let gojo talk you into any shots unless you want to wake up philosophizing with me on the roof at four a.m.” you’re not sure if it’s a threat or a promise. and then gojo’s pulling you again, voice a little louder this time, like he’s filling up space on purpose.
“alright, time for the circus animals,” he mutters, still grinning, but you feel the way his arm stiffens slightly around your shoulder.
toji and sukuna are leaned against the far wall, both watching the crowd with varying degrees of boredom and menace. toji looks like he’s waiting for a reason to ruin someone’s night. sukuna looks like he already has and wants to brag about it.
“this is toji,” gojo says carefully, “he’s sort of a drop out. and sukuna, our charming legal major. if either of them so much as breathes funny, tell me and i’ll tase them.”
“you don’t have a taser,” sukuna rolls his eyes, raising a brow.
“but i know someone who does,” gojo chirps back.
toji nods at you once, smirking. “you’re a freshman?”
you nod.
“you’re brave.”
sukuna just gives you a look, slow and amused, like he’s trying to decide whether you’re worth the trouble of messing with.
“cute,” he mutters, and gojo immediately steps between you.
“okay, bye boys,” he says, already pulling you in a different direction. “time to introduce you to the real adult in the house.”
“what, geto’s not the real adult?” you ask, trying to keep up.
“no, he’s the mysterious cult dad,” gojo says. “you’re about to meet our actual backbone.”
he leads you up the stairs, away from the music and the lights, into a much quieter hallway where a bedroom door is propped open. gojo pushes it wider with his foot.
“nanamin?” he calls. “you decent?”
you step inside and stop breathing.
nanami is crouched near the foot of gojo’s bed, tightening a screw into a broken chair like he’s personally responsible for the house’s survival. he’s wearing a fitted black tee rolled up to his biceps and beige slacks that somehow make him look even more put-together despite the disaster zone around him. his jaw is sharp, his glasses low on his nose, and there’s a furrow in his brow like he’s doing taxes instead of fixing a piece of furniture that’s probably been sat on by at least three drunk people tonight.
he doesn’t look up right away.
“if this is about the speaker system, it’s not getting fixed until monday,” he says. his voice is low and smooth and dangerously calm, like the only real adult in a room full of clowns.
gojo laughs. “nope. just wanted to introduce you to someone.”
nanami finally looks up.
and the moment your eyes meet, something shifts.
he’s—god. he’s gorgeous. like really, truly hot in the kind of way that makes your brain go quiet for a second. tall and serious and broad in a way that makes the room feel smaller. his expression is unreadable, but something in his gaze lingers on you, like he’s trying to figure you out and doesn’t quite mind the puzzle.
you feel your face heat.
“hi,” you say, a little too softly.
nanami stands slowly, brushing dust from his palms. he doesn’t smile, but he nods politely.
“welcome,” he says. “i’m nanami.”
you nod too fast. “i’m—uh—yeah. hi. i’m with gojo. i mean, not with gojo. just—he invited me. to the party.”
gojo snorts from behind you. “you’re doing great.”
nanami’s gaze flicks to him, unimpressed.
“gojo,” he says flatly, “don’t bring people upstairs.”
“yeah, yeah,” gojo waves him off. “it’s her first party. i wanted her to meet the backbone.”
you swear nanami’s mouth twitches. not a smile exactly, but close.
“you look like you’ve got your hands full,” you say, nodding to the chair.
“always,” he replies, and for a moment you both just stare at each other.
then gojo claps his hands. “alright, no time for sexual tension, we’ve got games to play.” you flush. nanami doesn’t react, just returns to the chair, calm and efficient.
but as you’re leaving the room, you glance back once and catch him watching you. not staring, just watching. and something about it makes your heart skip.
you end up in the kitchen with a half-filled red cup and gojo leaning dramatically against the fridge like it’s a photo shoot. someone’s spilled something sticky on the floor and the counter’s buried in cheap vodka, mixers, and a sad pile of warm beer, but none of that seems to faze him. he’s mid-story already, waving his cup around like it’s a prop.
“so then geto’s halfway through this speech about how the soul can’t be measured, and choso just fucking walks out mid-sentence. gone. disappeared. didn’t even take his wine.”
you laugh into your drink. it’s something fruity, probably spiked with whatever yuki brought in her flask, and it burns a little going down. the kitchen’s hot, too many bodies pushing in and out of doorways, but gojo keeps talking like he doesn’t notice the heat or the noise.
“another time,” he continues, “we had this camping trip—full frat bonding, kumbaya energy, right? and someone—i’m not saying who—forgot to pack the tent poles. we ended up sleeping under a tarp held up by beer cans and yuki’s boot. i woke up spooning sukuna.”
you choke on your drink. “oh my god.”
“worst night of my life,” he says, grinning. “his breath smells like ash and moral corruption.”
you’re smiling, but it’s distant. because even though gojo’s stories are good and the party’s still going strong, your mind keeps slipping back to upstairs. to nanami. to the way he stood when he saw you, tall and steady and focused in that unshakable kind of way that made you want to fidget. he hadn’t said much, but it didn’t matter. you’d been thinking about him nonstop since you walked away.
you turn to gojo, leaning in a little. “can i ask you something?”
he perks up immediately. “oh? getting personal?”
you roll your eyes. “serious question.”
“i’m ready.”
you hesitate, then say it. “what’s nanami’s deal?”
gojo blinks. then smirks. “ohhh. that’s what this is.”
“what?”
“the nanami effect. yeah. no, i’ve seen this before. he doesn’t even have to flirt. he just exists and people spiral.”
you try to play it cool. “i’m not spiraling.”
“you’re a little spiraling.”
you take another sip and wait.
gojo sighs dramatically. “fine. you want the story?”
you nod.
“nanami kento,” he begins, like he’s telling a ghost story. “he’s one year ahead of me. business major, minor in finance, could’ve graduated early but didn’t because he’s loyal to a fault. joined sigma chi his first year because haibara dragged him to a rush event and he got stuck with us ever since. refuses to take any official title but ends up doing all the work anyway. probably keeps the books cleaner than the school accountant.”
you listen, leaning your elbow on the counter.
“he hates parties,” gojo continues. “he thinks we’re all disasters—which, to be fair, we are. but he’s the first one to show up when someone gets too drunk or breaks something. doesn’t drink much himself. always sober drives. he has this whole system for rotating house chores. made us take a first aid course last year.”
you blink. “that’s… kind of amazing.”
“right? he’s like our reluctant dad. grumpy, hot, emotionally repressed dad. but he’d probably throw hands for any one of us. and we’d do the same.”
you try not to smile too obviously.
gojo watches you for a second, then softens. “he gets a bad rep for being uptight, but nanamin’s solid. smart, grounded, hates chaos, which means he basically hates everything i stand for—but he’s still here. still cleaning up our messes. still putting chairs back together at frat parties. he won’t admit it, but he loves us. and we love him.”
you glance down at your drink, heart thudding for no good reason. the party keeps moving around you—people laughing, doors opening, music shifting from one beat to the next—but it all feels like background noise now.
the only thing you could think about for the rest of the blurry night was the handsome man upstairs.
it’s been a few weeks since that first party, and somehow, without meaning to, you’ve started spending more time at the sigma chi house than your own dorm.
it didn’t happen all at once. it started with gojo dragging you out on thursday nights to “pregames that accidentally become full-blown benders,” and shoko insisting you come with her to smoke on the roof because “the stars hit different when you’re slightly dissociating.” you told yourself it was temporary. just something fun to balance out classes and stress and the weird fog of your first semester.
but now you know where the spare key is hidden behind the loose porch plank. you know which kitchen drawer has clean-ish forks and which ones are secretly hiding weed. you know that choso only ever drinks red wine and always brings a second glass when he sees you coming down the stairs, that haibara likes to practice his bartending skills on you and insists you rate every single one on a scale from one to “brain-melting perfection,” and that geto only really opens up when you sit on the arm of the couch and let him talk without pushing.
they’ve all made space for you in different ways.
yuki texts you at odd hours with articles she thinks you’ll love and invites you to “rage at the patriarchy” nights, which sometimes end with political debates and sometimes end with you both doing karaoke into hairbrushes in her bathtub. sukuna acts like he’s annoyed by your presence, but you’ve caught him defending you more than once when someone new gets too bold. he talks shit to your face but glares at anyone else who tries. toji is… complicated. he flirts when he’s bored, disappears for days, and shows up with a bruised knuckle and a knowing smirk that you try not to read too much into. he once handed you a stolen energy drink without saying anything, then walked away.
and gojo—gojo is still the sun. chaotic and loud and everywhere at once, but always watching, always making sure you’re okay. he calls you kid, even though he knows you hate it, and loops his arm around your shoulders every time someone new walks through the door like you’re his personal favorite. you kind of are.
it’s strange how easily it all happened. how these people went from names in passing to something heavier. something close to home.
and then there’s nanami.
you don’t see him as much as the others—he’s always working, always fixing something, always disappearing upstairs with a clipboard or a drill or a list of things no one else remembers to do—but when you do, it sticks. he doesn’t linger at parties, but he shows up when it matters. you’ve seen him wrap geto’s ankle after he slipped off the roof, lecture sukuna in a tone that makes even him shut up, and carry haibara to bed after he drank too much during a power hour gone wrong.
he always nods when he sees you. always says your name like it tastes familiar. sometimes, when the house is quiet and he thinks no one’s watching, you catch him looking at you—just for a second. just long enough to wonder what he’s thinking.
you haven’t gotten the chance to talk to him much. not really. but each time you do, it gets easier. a little softer. a little less formal.
he asked you once if you were sleeping enough.
you told him no.
he said, “that tracks,” then handed you a bottle of water and told you to go to bed.
you haven’t stopped thinking about it since.
the house feels less like a frat and more like a constellation of moments now. early morning walks home with gojo’s hoodie over your dress. half-finished games of cards with choso at the kitchen table. shoko stealing your earrings and promising to return them, then never does. music that rattles the windows. laughter that lives in the walls.
you’re not just a guest anymore.
you belong.
you were knocked out of your thoughts as a strong breeze of sweet smoke invaded your nostrils, brining you back to your place on the sunken frat couch on a lazy week-day evening.
shoko was the one who asked you to come over, she’d texted in the middle of your lecture. something about wanting a psych perspective on a project she was too hungover to finish on her own. she told you to meet her at the house around six. it’s past seven now and you haven’t heard from her since.
you’d only been sitting in the living room for a few minutes when gojo found you, dropping onto the couch beside you like he’d been looking for you all day.
“you alone?”
you nodded. “shoko said she needed help. psych stuff. but she’s not here.”
he sighed, dramatic and exaggerated. “typical. that woman would ghost her own funeral.”
you laughed, because it was true, and he grinned, eyes crinkling at the corners.
“i was about to run out and grab some food anyway,” he said, pushing off the couch. “we’re overdue for our weekly ‘gojo feeds you questionable chinese and you pretend to enjoy it’ moment.”
you smirked. “you mean the moment where you order for five people and then act surprised when i can’t eat half of it?”
“exactly,” he said, already grabbing his wallet from the front table. “here, just hang in my room while i’m gone. nobody’ll bother you.”
you hesitated, but he was already halfway to the front door.
“gojo—”
“you know where it is. top of the stairs, first door on the right. make yourself at home, kid.”
and then he was gone, leaving the door swinging behind him and the house just a little quieter without his voice bouncing off every wall.
you make your way upstairs slowly, still checking your phone out of habit even though you know shoko’s not going to text. her read receipts are off and her priorities are probably in someone’s lap by now. it’s fine. you’re not mad. just mildly abandoned.
gojo’s room smells like bergamot and some kind of cologne you can’t name. the lights are off, but enough streetlight bleeds in through the half-open blinds to make the space glow soft gold. it’s surprisingly clean for a frat room. the bed’s made, clothes are piled in a basket instead of on the floor, and the walls are covered in posters from every terrible movie you can think of.
you sit at the edge of the bed and let your eyes wander. there’s a shelf lined with trophies—old debate wins, theater competitions, a high school “most charismatic” plaque that has a lipstick print smeared across the corner. you wonder how many of these he actually remembers winning.
your fingers graze one of the little plastic statues. you’re not really the kind of person who snoops, but something about the room feels like it’s waiting to be understood. like it’s saying something loud without speaking.
you don’t hear the knock at first. it’s soft, almost polite.
then it comes again. a little firmer this time.
you straighten up.
“uh—yeah?” you call out.
the door creaks open.
and then there he is.
nanami.
he fills the doorway like a painting—tall and broad and somehow made of straight lines and sharp angles. his shirt is tucked in like always, sleeves rolled just past his elbows, revealing strong forearms and a watch that looks too expensive to be sitting inside a house that smells vaguely like weed and beer. his hair’s a little tousled, like he’s been running errands or fixing something again, and his expression is careful in a way that makes your pulse skip.
he blinks when he sees you.
“oh,” he says. “i thought—i was looking for gojo.”
you scramble to sit up a little straighter. “he ran out to get food. chinese.”
nanami nods once, eyes flicking around the room like he’s checking for something else before landing back on you.
“he said i could wait in here,” you offer quickly. “i wasn’t, like, snooping. i’m just—waiting for him to come back.”
“i didn’t assume anything,” he says, voice low and even. “sorry to interrupt. i was going to ask him about the new lock on the front door.”
you pause. then, because the air between you suddenly feels heavier, you add, “you can wait here too. if you want. i mean. if you’re not in a rush.”
he looks at you for a long moment.
“if you’re sure.”
you nod. “yeah. of course.”
he steps inside and closes the door gently behind him. the lock clicks with a sound that feels much louder than it is.
he doesn’t sit immediately. just stands near the bookshelf, hands in his pockets, gaze drifting across the room like he’s seeing it for the first time.
“you’re close with gojo,” he says eventually.
you blink at the shift in subject. “we knew each other in high school. he kind of adopted me when i got here.”
he hums. not a judgment, just a sound of acknowledgment. he glances at the posters on the wall and his mouth twitches, the closest thing you’ve seen to a smile from him.
“his taste hasn’t changed.”
“is that a good thing?”
“it’s… consistent.”
you smile, and for some reason that makes him look back at you.
you expect him to sit on the edge of the chair or lean against the wall, something distant and polite. but instead he walks over and takes the other side of the bed, leaving just enough space between you that it feels intentional.
he doesn’t speak for a moment.
you feel the heat of him even without touching. it’s ridiculous how solid he feels just by existing. like he brings gravity with him.
“you’re here often now,” he says, voice quieter this time.
you nod, fingers twisting in your lap. “i guess so. everyone’s been… really nice. i didn’t expect that.”
he watches you carefully. “this place isn’t always easy. it’s loud. messy. exhausting.”
you laugh. “yeah. that’s one way to put it.”
“but i’m glad they’ve been kind to you.”
you glance at him, surprised by the sincerity in his tone.
“they care about you,” he continues. “gojo especially.”
“i care about them too,” you say. then softer, “and you.”
the words slip out before you can stop them.
his head turns slightly. just enough to look at you fully now.
you hold your breath.
he doesn’t react right away. doesn’t smile. doesn’t look away either. just watches you, gaze steady and unreadable.
“you don’t know me very well,” he says finally.
“maybe not,” you admit. “but i see how you are. with everyone. you don’t have to say a lot for people to feel it.”
he shifts slightly, the mattress dipping beneath him.
“they think i’m cold,” he says. “strict. too serious.”
“you are serious,” you say. “but not cold. not really.”
nanami doesn’t respond right away.
he tilts his head slightly like he’s trying to decide what to do with your words, eyes drifting somewhere over your shoulder for a second. the light from gojo’s lava lamp washes his face in warm orange, casting slow shadows along his jaw. there’s a quiet stillness to him when he thinks, like the world softens around him just enough to let him be alone in it.
he finally looks back at you.
“can i ask you something personal?”
you blink. “uh. yeah. sure.”
his voice stays even, but there’s something unfamiliar in it. something careful. “are you and gojo… involved?”
your heart kicks. “what?”
he watches your reaction, and you can tell he’s not trying to accuse you of anything, just trying to understand. he waits, patient, unreadable.
you shake your head quickly, heat rising to your cheeks. “oh. no. no, we’re not—like that.”
his brow furrows slightly. “i see.”
“he’s just—” you pause, unsure how to phrase it. “he’s a good friend. we knew each other in high school. that’s all.”
nanami nods once, slowly.
“sorry,” you say, fidgeting with the hem of your sleeve. “that was kind of sudden.”
“i didn’t mean to be rude,” he says. “gojo just talks about you often. i assumed.”
“he talks about me?”
nanami’s mouth pulls into a vague expression, somewhere between amusement and curiosity. “frequently. your name comes up almost every time i see him. i figured there was more between you.”
you laugh, a little awkward. “that’s definitely just gojo being gojo.”
he doesn’t answer right away. there’s a beat of silence that feels a little too loud, so you scramble for something to say, anything that shifts the air back into safer territory.
your eyes catch on his wrist.
“your watch,” you say quickly. “it’s nice.”
he blinks, glances down like he forgot he was wearing it.
and then, to your surprise, his entire face softens. it’s subtle—barely a shift in his eyes, the slightest curve of his mouth—but it’s the closest thing to open affection you’ve seen on him so far.
“thank you,” he says, voice just a little lighter. “it’s a grand seiko. sbgw231. hand-wound.”
you blink. “that sounds fancy.”
he huffs out the ghost of a laugh. “it is. a little. i bought it as a gift to myself after my internship ended.”
“how much was it?” you ask, teasing, half-expecting him to dodge the question.
“thirty-five hundred,” he says plainly, then glances at you like he’s waiting for you to react.
your eyes widen. “damn.”
“i saved for it,” he adds, like he has to defend it. “i like having one thing that works perfectly every time.”
you smile, watching the way he lifts his wrist slightly, like he can’t help but admire it. like maybe he doesn’t talk about it often.
“it’s beautiful,” you say, and you mean it. “you can tell it matters to you.”
“it does,” he says simply.
“you’re adorable when you talk about it,” you say before you can stop yourself.
his head tilts slightly.
you freeze.
“i mean,” you start to backtrack, “not adorable, like—i mean, just, it’s nice. seeing you light up about something.”
nanami blinks once, like you caught him off guard.
then, so quietly you almost miss it, he says, “thank you.”
you look at him and feel something shift again, something small but certain, like maybe this is the beginning of something real. not loud. not dramatic. just warm and slow and maybe a little bit dangerous in the way it makes your stomach flip.
he adjusts his sleeve. the second hand on his watch ticks in even, quiet rhythm.
and you wonder—what else does he love like that? what other pieces of his life does he keep tucked away until someone asks, until someone cares enough to notice?
you want to be that person.
even if just for a little while.
the two of you spoke for ages, apparently getting chinese took an hour, because now the two of you had been talking about school life for ages and gojo hadn’t been back.
you’re both sitting on the bed now, cross-legged, facing each other, the conversation having drifted from casual stories to something slower, more meaningful. nanami’s clipboard is long forgotten on the floor, and your legs are only just barely not touching.
“so,” you say, tilting your head slightly. “business admin, right?”
he nods. “with a minor in finance.”
“that makes sense,” you murmur. “you’re so… precise.”
he smiles faintly. “i try to be. someone has to balance out the chaos.”
“but you could’ve graduated by now, couldn’t you?”
he pauses, looking down at his hands. “yes. technically, i had enough credits a semester ago.”
you blink. “then why are you still here?”
he’s quiet for a second too long. you watch the way his jaw tenses, the way his fingers rest lightly against his knee, thoughtful.
“gojo and haibara,” he says finally. “they weren’t ready for me to leave.”
your breath catches a little.
“haibara’s still figuring out his major,” he continues. “and gojo… i worry what he’d do without someone pulling him back down to earth now and then.”
you smile softly. “that’s really sweet.”
he looks at you. “it’s not just for them. i’ve grown attached to this place. to the people in it. it’s not always easy, but…”
you wait.
“i don’t want to leave anything half-finished.”
you exhale, heart full and aching. “you’re so loyal.”
his brows raise slightly at your tone.
“no, really,” you say, inching a little closer without thinking. “that kind of loyalty—it’s rare. especially here, where everything’s so temporary. people flake all the time. switch majors. drop out. hook up and ghost. but you… you stay.”
he doesn’t speak right away. the expression on his face is unreadable, a slow flicker of something vulnerable, something raw.
“i don’t know how to be anything else,” he says eventually.
“it’s a good thing to be.”
his eyes lock with yours.
you feel it immediately—the shift. the thickening of the air between you. the sudden awareness of how close your knees are. how long he’s been watching you. how quiet it’s gotten, like the house itself is holding its breath.
he leans forward a little, just enough to make you feel it in your chest.
“you’re different,” he says, voice low.
“how so?” you ask, barely above a whisper.
“you see things,” he says. “you notice people. not just the surface. the small details.”
your heart is thudding.
“maybe i’m just paying attention to you,” you say.
his eyes flick to your mouth. your breath catches. and for a second—just one beautiful second—it feels like the world has narrowed down to this room, this moment, this almost.
he shifts closer, just a fraction, his voice softer than ever.
“you shouldn’t say things like that.”
“why?”
“because i’ll believe you.”
“maybe i want you to.”
his gaze drops, lingering on the edge of your cheekbone, the line of your jaw. you feel the heat rise, feel the invisible pull between you tighten, your bodies angling closer like gravity’s in on the secret.
his hand moves, just slightly, like he’s about to reach for you.
and then—
the door swings open with a dramatic thud and a familiar voice calls out, “your savior has arrived! bearing dumplings and a very confused uber driver!”
you jolt back like you’ve been shocked, eyes wide.
nanami clears his throat and shifts away just as gojo steps fully into the room, bags of food swinging in both hands, sunglasses somehow still perched on his face despite it being pitch dark outside.
“wow,” gojo says, stopping mid-step. “am i interrupting something?”
you can feel the blush crawling up your neck, your ears burning. “we were waiting for you.”
“aw,” gojo says, tossing the bags onto his dresser with a grin. “adorable.”
nanami stands, smoothing down his sleeves. “i’ll leave you two to eat.”
gojo flops onto the bed without a hint of shame. “stay, kento. i got enough dumplings to cause a coma.”
“some other time,” nanami says, already heading for the door.
he glances back at you just once, a look that holds something unfinished, something almost.
you offer him a small, flustered smile.
he nods, then disappears down the hall, leaving behind the quiet thump of your heart catching up to itself.
gojo tears into a container like he didn’t just ruin the most intimate moment of your life.
“so,” he says with his mouth full. “what’d i miss?”
~
the bass rattles through the floor, shaking the soles of your feet with every beat. lights flicker red, then blue, then a blinding white that cuts across the living room like lightning. the house is packed wall to wall, bodies moving in slow motion and sharp rhythm all at once. you’ve been here for maybe an hour, and you’ve already lost track of how many people you’ve bumped into, laughed with, brushed past.
gojo gives you teasing eyes from across the room, he had been like that ever since you told him all about your moment with nanami last week.
choso’s in front of you, half-dancing, half-swaying, a red solo cup dangling from his fingers, eyes a little glassy but soft. he’s got that usual look—low-lidded and unreadable—but every so often, he grins at something you say and it feels like a little secret passed between you.
“you’re getting better at this,” he says, nodding toward the way your hips move in time with the music.
you laugh, throwing your arms up. “maybe i just needed the right teacher.”
“flatterer.”
you twirl in place and he catches your hand to steady you, his rings cold against your skin. it’s easy with him, no pressure, no edge, just the comforting buzz of good company and cheap beer. you’re flushed from the heat and the noise, your head light, your body buzzing.
but then, as the crowd shifts and someone elbows choso in passing, he mutters something and disappears in the direction of the kitchen, promising to be back with water.
and you’re left alone.
not for long.
you’re still dancing, still lost in the music when someone behind you steps too close. closer than they should. at first you think it’s just the crush of bodies around you, but then hands settle on your waist, firm and unwelcome.
you stiffen.
you turn your head slightly, trying to see him. tall. unfamiliar. older than most people here. his hair’s slicked back like he’s trying too hard and he’s wearing a jacket that looks expensive but reeks like the bottom of a solo cup. his breath hits your cheek, sour and sticky with whatever he’s been drinking, and he grins like he knows you. like he owns you.
“you’re too pretty to be dancing alone,” he says, voice low and slurred, leaning in closer, way too close.
you shift your weight, take a half-step to the side, but his hand finds your waist before you can pull away, fingers pressing too tight into your skin.
you laugh awkwardly, trying to play it off. “hey—i’m good, thanks.”
his grip tightens, anchoring you to him like he didn’t hear a word.
“come on,” he says, and his voice drops lower, rougher. “don’t be shy.”
you glance around, but the crowd is a blur of movement and noise, no familiar faces, no choso—he’s nowhere.
you try again, firmer this time. “seriously, let go.”
his free hand brushes against your side, knuckles grazing beneath the hem of your shirt.
your stomach twists.
“don’t be like that,” he says, smile fading into something sourer, uglier. “you’ve been dancing all night like you wanted attention.”
your heart jumps. “what the hell—”
“just relax,” he says, and suddenly his other arm snakes around your waist, dragging you in, chest to chest. “i’ll take care of you.”
you panic.
“get off me,” you snap, pushing at his chest, trying to twist away, but he’s stronger than you expect and now your back hits something hard—a wall, or maybe just the crush of people—and the bass is thudding through your ribs and you can barely breathe.
he leans down again, mouth near your ear, voice low and smug. “playing hard to get isn’t cute, sweetheart.”
you shove at him harder, panic edging into your voice. “get. the fuck. off me.”
he doesn’t move.
your hands are shaking now, and your throat’s closing in and the music feels too loud, too distorted, like the whole room is underwater and nobody’s paying attention. your eyes sting, and you don’t know if it’s fear or anger or both.
and then—
he’s gone.
ripped away from you like a rag doll, shoved back with such force he stumbles into the wall, knocking over two other people and a lamp that crashes to the floor.
you spin around and see nanami.
but not the composed version. not the quiet calm you’ve grown used to.
this version of him is wild.
his shoulders are tense, fists clenched at his sides, eyes blazing with something you’ve never seen before. rage, pure and simple. the kind that simmers just beneath the surface and then boils over all at once.
“what the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he growls, stepping toward the guy, who’s still dazed.
“whoa, man, chill—”
“don’t fucking touch her,” nanami snaps, grabbing the front of the guy’s shirt and shoving him back again, harder this time. “you don’t touch anyone like that.”
people are watching now. you hear gojo chucking to himself from the sidelines while geto slaps a hand over his annoying friend’s mouth. the music’s still blasting, but a bubble of silence has formed around them, drinks paused mid-air, dancers stilled mid-step.
you’ve never seen nanami like this. never seen his control slip. never heard him raise his voice, let alone curse like that. it’s terrifying and… something else.
“i didn’t do anything, jesus! she was dancing like a whore anyway!”
that was the wrong thing to say.
nanami punches him.
just once.
just enough.
the guy stumbles back again, lip split, hand cradling his jaw.
“get out,” nanami says, voice low and dangerous. “now.” the guy doesn’t argue. he scrambles up and disappears into the crowd, probably bleeding, definitely terrified.
nanami’s chest is heaving, jaw clenched so tight you can see the tension in the muscles there. he runs a hand through his hair, turning away from the crowd, from the gaping stares, and then his eyes find yours.
you’re still frozen, heart thudding. your skin feels hot where that guy touched you, but not in a good way. it’s like something oily and wrong is clinging to you.
nanami steps closer.
“are you okay?” his voice is low again. gentler.
you nod slowly, swallowing hard. “yeah. just… yeah.”
he exhales, like that’s all he needed to hear. but his hands are still balled into fists, his eyes still too wild.
“i didn’t mean to—” he starts, then stops. “i shouldn’t have gone that far.”
“no,” you say quietly. “thank you.”
he looks at you for a long second.
and you realize this wasn’t just rage. it was fear too. he’d been scared. for you.
“let’s get you some air,” he says, already leading you away from the noise, away from the flashing lights and spilled drinks and rubbernecking strangers.
you follow him, your fingers brushing his for just a second. and even with your heart racing and your body still trembling, it’s the safest you’ve felt all night.
you don’t say anything as nanami leads you through the crowd, his hand resting carefully at the small of your back, not possessive, just steady. grounding. people part for him without needing to be asked, like even in his silence, they know better than to get in his way.
the patio door creaks open and the sudden rush of night air hits your skin like relief. it’s cooler out here, quieter too, the throb of music now just a dull vibration behind glass. a few people are huddled near the railing with cigarettes and beers, but they don’t pay you any attention.
nanami walks you to the far end of the deck where it’s darker, more private, the only light spilling from the house behind you. he exhales hard, tilts his head back, closes his eyes for a second like he’s trying to force the anger out of his chest.
you watch him quietly. even now, even with his shirt slightly wrinkled and his hands flexing at his sides, he’s beautiful. too much so. broad and golden under the patio lights, jaw still tense, eyes flicking open and scanning you like he’s checking for damage again.
“i’m sorry,” he says.
you blink. “what?”
he looks at you, really looks at you, and you feel your breath catch.
“i shouldn’t have lost it like that,” he says, voice low. “you didn’t need to see that side of me.”
you wrap your arms around yourself. “he wouldn’t stop.”
“that’s not an excuse,” he says. “i should’ve handled it better.”
you shake your head. “nanami, he wouldn’t let me go.”
his gaze softens at the sound of his name in your voice. “i know. i saw.”
you pause, eyes searching his face. “but why did it make you that angry?”
he’s silent for a moment.
the wind picks up, brushing through your hair. the muffled sound of someone laughing echoes from inside, distant, out of place compared to the quiet tension on the porch.
nanami looks down, then out toward the trees beyond the backyard. his hands are at his sides again, twitching once like he’s still not fully calm.
“i don’t usually get involved like that,” he says finally. “i’ve seen worse happen at these parties. i’ve stopped things before, but never like that.”
you wait, heart beating a little faster.
he breathes out through his nose, glances at you. “it scared me.”
you blink. “scared you?”
“how fast i reacted,” he says. “how angry i got. i’m… not used to feeling that way. especially not over someone i barely know.”
his eyes hold yours and the air goes still between you.
“but i don’t think it’s fair to say i barely know you anymore.”
your pulse stutters.
he takes a step closer. “i’ve been paying attention.”
you swallow, the sound loud in your throat. “to what?”
his voice is low. careful.
“to the way you carry yourself. how you watch people. how you never ask for attention, but always seem to hold it. how gojo lights up when you walk into a room. how you laugh when you think no one’s listening. how you talk to shoko like you’re already part of the family.”
you don’t breathe.
“and the way you look at me when you think i’m not looking,” he adds.
your cheeks go hot. “i—”
he shakes his head. “you don’t have to say anything. i just wanted you to know. that’s why i reacted the way i did. because i’ve been feeling… something. for a while now. and seeing someone put their hands on you like that—”
he cuts himself off, jaw tightening again.
you step toward him, slowly, like approaching something that could break or burn if you move too fast.
“i’ve been thinking about you too,” you say, barely above a whisper.
his eyes flick up to meet yours.
“i haven’t known what to do with it,” you admit. “but it’s there.”
something in his shoulders eases. not completely, but enough.
he nods once, then looks down, like he’s still trying to rein himself back in. like your words shook him more than the fight did.
his hands are still tucked in his pockets, shoulders slightly hunched like he’s unsure what to do now that it’s all out in the open.
“i’m… not very good at this kind of thing,” he says after a beat, voice quieter now. “emotions. talking about them. having them.”
you smile softly. “you’re doing okay.”
he huffs, but it’s not quite a laugh. more like disbelief at himself. “i’ve never really been in a serious relationship. not one that mattered.”
you raise your brows. “wait—were you already thinking about something serious?”
he looks up sharply and you burst into quiet laughter.
he blinks, then sighs like you’ve caught him in the middle of a thought he wasn’t ready to admit out loud.
“i didn’t mean to say it like that,” he mutters.
“no,” you say, still smiling. “it’s cute.”
he groans under his breath, shaking his head, but there’s color rising to his cheeks now. he glances at you again, more boyish than you’ve ever seen him.
“you’re laughing at me,” he says.
“only a little.”
“i don’t blame you,” he murmurs. “you make me say things i normally wouldn’t.”
“that’s a good thing, right?”
he nods slowly. “i think so.”
you step closer again, the cold forgotten. the music is a distant heartbeat behind the glass. it feels like you’re the only two people left in the world, like the party has dissolved around the edges and left only this small, glowing center where everything feels quiet and right.
he watches you like he’s memorizing something. like he’s not sure this moment is real.
then his hand moves, deliberate and slow, and you barely breathe as his fingers brush your cheek. he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch warm and careful, almost reverent.
you look up at him.
he’s already looking at you.
his voice is soft when he speaks. “can i?”
you nod before you can think too hard about it.
his hand lingers at your jaw, thumb ghosting along your skin, and then he leans in, closing the last few inches like he’s finally letting himself want something.
and when his lips touch yours, it’s gentle at first—hesitant, almost questioning.
then you lean in too.
and the hesitation fades.
his other hand finds your waist, grounding and steady, and your fingers tangle in the front of his shirt, holding him close like you’ve been waiting to do it forever.
it’s not fireworks, not at first.
it’s warm.
slow.
like breathing out after holding it in too long.
and when he finally pulls back just enough to rest his forehead against yours, both of you smiling a little, breath catching between heartbeats, you know it’s the kind of kiss you’ll remember even when everything else feels blurry.
“definitely not good at this,” he says under his breath.
“you’re better than you think,” you whisper.
he kisses you again. this time, it’s just because he wants to.
his mouth meets yours with more certainty now, like something has clicked inside him, something he’s finally letting go of. you sigh into it, your fingers tightening where they grip his shirt, and he moves closer, close enough that you can feel the heat of his body even with the night air curling sharp around you both.
his hand trails from your waist to the small of your back, firm and steady, pressing you gently into him. your chest brushes his, your hips almost aligned, and your whole body feels like it’s been set alight.
the next kiss is deeper.
your lips part, and his tongue slides against yours—slow, warm, deliberate. your breath catches, fingers curling into the fabric at his collar, and he groans quietly into your mouth like he wasn’t expecting this, like it’s unraveling him just as much as it’s unraveling you.
his other hand finds your jaw again, thumb grazing just under your cheekbone as he tilts your head, guiding the kiss with more hunger now. you lean into it, dizzy from how good it feels, how right it is, the cool night air clashing with the heat blooming beneath your skin.
your hands move too. you let them roam, one sliding up to cup the back of his neck, the other slipping beneath the hem of his shirt where his skin is warm and taut. he shudders when you touch him there, like the contact lights something deeper.
his mouth leaves yours for a second, just long enough to catch his breath, to kiss the corner of your mouth, then lower, the edge of your jaw, just under your ear. it sends a shiver down your spine.
you exhale his name, barely audible.
his grip tightens.
then he kisses you again, hungrier now, like he’s done pretending he doesn’t want more. your tongues slide together, the kiss deepening until your knees feel weak and you have to press your body into his just to stay standing.
the porch is cold, but you don’t feel it.
not with his hands on you, not with his mouth claiming yours again and again, each kiss more desperate than the last.
not with the way he’s breathing like he can’t get enough of you.
and you don’t want him to stop.
your bodies are pressed together now, breath mingling, hands sliding over fabric and skin like neither of you want to stop.
but then, nanami slows.
his mouth lingers at the corner of yours, his breathing uneven. his hands settle, one at your waist, the other still cupping your jaw, thumb brushing your cheek gently.
“wait,” he murmurs against your skin.
you blink up at him, dazed, lips parted.
he pulls back just enough to look at you, his eyes serious now, more grounded. “are you sober?”
you hesitate. “a little.”
he searches your face carefully, his brows drawing together in concern. “how much have you had?”
you pause again, trying to do the math. “just a few drinks. i’m not drunk, just buzzed. i promise.”
he’s quiet for a beat, like he’s checking your words against the way you’re standing, the steadiness in your voice, your eyes. he nods slowly, but doesn’t move just yet.
“do you really want this?” he asks.
you blink. “what?”
“this,” he says gently, nodding between you. “i want to be sure. i need to know it’s what you want and not just the party or the mood or me being… here.”
you feel something warm unfurl in your chest.
because he’s right there, lips kiss-bruised and hands still trembling slightly, and still—he’s thinking about you first. always.
you smile softly, leaning in just enough to let your forehead rest against his. “i really want this.”
he exhales like he’s been holding that breath for minutes.
then you tilt your head and kiss him again.
his smile curves against your mouth, and you feel his hands come alive once more, just as careful, just as hungry, but now with the unspoken weight of something deeper, something that says this isn’t just a kiss and this isn’t just tonight.
random fic giveaway!! comment and i’ll pick a random person to write a fic of your choosing, this post will be up for 10 min before i ss the comments and take it down!! i will post and dm the winner :)
can be lads or 18+ jjk characters (excluding mahito and naoya) smut only but u pick everything else!! (kinks and ideas must comply with my rules on my pinned post)
1000-2000 words :p
(if the winner does not reply to my dm within 8 hours, a new winner will be picked)
Synopsis: after saving your long time crush Tom’s life from an accident that puts him in a coma, a misplaced comment leads his family to believe you’re his fiancé
Masterlist
Inspired by the movie!
“Good morning.” You greeted your customer. “How can I help-“
“Large hot.” He cut you off without looking up.
“Absolutely.” Your smile faltered a little. “Any cream or-“
“Black.” He interrupted again. “Half a Splenda.”
“You got it.” Your kept your fake cheerfulness as you typed in his order. He left without thanking you and you instantly rolled your eyes.
“How illegal is it to spit on someone’s drink?” You mumbled to your coworker Sandra as you began to make the mans coffee.
“Extremely. I’ll make it. Your boyfriends order just came in.” She said as she held up the ticket to an online order.
Remus sits in a booth, anxiously tapping the tabletop with a butter knife as he waits. The boys had kept him back for too long. At least that’s what he thought. Between trying to find a decent outfit and listening to James’ ridiculous plan, Remus was sure he’d be late; running all the way here to not keep you waiting. Funnily enough, now here he sits, waiting for you to join him.
“Ready to order?” The waitress asks pointedly as she approaches the table.
“Sorry.” He apologizes, setting down the cutlery with a sheepish smile.
“So?” She asks again, this time with a smile. “Ready to order?”
“I’m actually waiting for-“
“Moons!”
Remus’ head whips up at the sound of your voice and when he sees you standing at the entrance, he completely forgets about the person right in front of him.
“Hey.” He breathes, though you’re nowhere near close enough to hear him- something the waitress finds incredibly amusing. She looks between the two of you with a curious gaze.
“I’ll just…give you a minute…” She says- mostly to herself- before turning around and hurrying towards the kitchen.
“Hey. Sorry I’m late,” You apologize once you reach the booth.
“You’re not.” Remus assures you. “I got here early.”
“I had to talk to McGonagall about the classes I dropped-“
“It’s fine.”
“And then I went to meet with Kettleburn to see if he’d still allow me to do my apprenticeship with him-“
“No worries.”
“And for some reason everybody wanted to stop me on the way here to say hi? And like, yeah it’s nice but-“
“You look lovely.” Remus says casually, effectively stopping your rambling.
You freeze, cutting yourself off mid sentence before looking up at Remus with a confused smile.
“Just for the record.” He adds.
“Shut up.” You mumble, laughing nervously.
“No, really.” Remus insists with a nod.
You continue to stare at him skeptically.
“I especially love your jumper.” He comments, eyeing said garment teasingly while he takes a sip of his water.
You roll your eyes with an amused huff.
“You mean your jumper?”
“Is that where I know it from?” Remus asks, pretending as if the information shocked him.
“Do you want it back?” You ask with a guilty smile, already starting to pull one of your arms through the sleeve. After all, it is long overdue. You’d had it for over a month now.
“Not a chance.” Remus refuses, reaching over and placing his hand upon yours.
Your smile drops as you stare at Remus’s hand now sitting atop yours. Your gaze slowly rises and you swallow nervously when you lock eyes with him. The playfulness of it all gone as you hold his stare, unable to look away.
“It looks better on you.” He adds softly, causing your cheeks to warm.
“I brought some appetizers!” The waitress announces, setting the platter down with a proud smile. “On the house, of course.”
Remus pulls his hand away and you clear your throat, avoiding his gaze as you readjust the jumper. The waitress looks between you curiously.
“I didn't interrupt anything, did I?” She asks cautiously.
“No.” You tell her at the same time that Remus says “Yes.”
You look at Remus with wide eyes before turning to stare at the waitress, no doubt looking just as shocked as you feel. She’d have laughed at your expression if she didn’t find you two stumbling over your words so endearing.
“Right. Well…enjoy!” She smiles knowingly, walking away before either of you can even thank her.
You and Remus exchange a shy grin before digging into the food.
︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵
“Sorry again for being late.” You apologize with a frown, dipping some fries into the pile of ketchup and taking a bite. “I hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long…”
“Waiting for you has never been a problem before.” Remus hums absentmindedly, picking up a chicken wing and taking a huge bite. “Don’t see why it would be now.”
Choosing to ignore the somersault your heart just did at his confession, you smile appreciatively at Remus only to let out a startled laugh when you look at him.
“What?” He asks, mouth still full of food.
“You have barbecue sauce on your face.” You inform him in between giggles.
Remus grabs a napkin and wipes the side of his mouth before looking to you for approval.
“It’s still there.” You tell him with a shake of your head.
Remus frowns and wipes his face again.
“Did I get it?”
“Not even close…”
“For fucks-“ He aggressively wipes his face a third time. “Good?”
“Give me that.” You huff, stealing the napkin out of his hand. “Come here.”
Remus leans forward and you gently grab hold of his chin as you wipe the napkin across the right side of his mouth.
“Honestly, Moony.” You scold teasingly. “If the napkin came back clean the first time around, why would you continue to wipe the same spot?”
“Make fun all you want, love. From where I’m standing it looks like I won.”
“Oh yeah?” You ask, playfully narrowing your eyes at him. “How so?”
“Mm-mm.” He shrugs casually before smiling at you. “But I am quite comfortable.”
It’s only then that you realize you’re still gingerly holding his chin, with his face mere inches from yours. You see his eyes drop to your lips and that’s when you seem to finally snap out of it, pulling away abruptly to put some space between the two of you.
“Here.” You hand him back the napkin, avoiding eye contact as you do. “Try not to make a mess this time.”
“Yes ma’am.” He nods, chuckling at the offended look you give him.
You playfully stick your tongue out at him and Remus points at something over your shoulder, taking a few of your fries when your back is turned.
“Hey!” You whine when you realize that he’d simply tricked you.
“Oh, did you want them?” Remus asks cluelessly after having shoved the fries into his mouth.
“No…” You shake your head, leaning back in your seat before adding, “…tosser.”
Remus throws his head back in laughter before looking at you with a fond smile.
“Missed you.” He confesses. And it’s true; he had. It had been so long since you’d been your playful self, he almost forgot how much he loved it. Almost.
“Missed you too.” You return. “That’s why I asked you to ditch.”
“Oh yeah?” He asks, taking a large gulp of his drink.
“Yeah.” You confirm with a nod, as you shyly avoid his gaze. “I know how important class is to you but I was really hoping you would say yes…”
“As if I could ever say no to you.” Remus scoffs.
“Careful Moony. You keep saying things like that I might just go ahead and fall in love with you.” You tease, schooling your features even though your face feels as if it’s on fire.
“Is that supposed to scare me?” Remus asks with a raised brow.
You simply grin at him before picking up another fry and dipping it in the mountain of ketchup.
“So how are you?” He asks.
“Fine.” You shrug, dipping the fry back into the ketchup absentmindedly. “Better than fine, actually.”
“You’re not in any pain?” Remus asks worriedly. “Or shortness of breath? Or coughing up flowers?”
“No. No. And no.” You answer, still dunking the fry into ketchup.
“That’s great.”
“Yeah…” You hum, fry now limp and soggy from the amount of ketchup it’s drenched in.
“But?” Remus asks, reaching over and gently grasping your wrist, stopping you from dunking the poor sliver of potato even more.
Finally realizing what you’ve been doing, you grimace at the fry before setting it back down on the plate and wiping your hands with a napkin.
“Do you think I made a mistake?” You ask softly, staring at him with wide eyes, anxious to hear his thoughts.
Remus takes a deep breath before crossing his arms and sitting back in his seat.
“Do you think you made a mistake?”
“No.” You answer immediately. “I mean, you saw me.” You remind him with a frown. “I was at death’s door. This was the best option for me. For my health. My- my chance at living!”
“Then what’s the problem?” Remus asks with a frown of his own.
“I don’t know.” You shrug. “I just… I feel off…”
“Off how?” He asks, voice filled with concern.
“I-I feel like something is missing...”
“Like…the guy…” Remus stutters nervously, sitting up in his seat. “The uh- the one who caused your hanahaki?”
“No.” You shake your head. “I knew I would forget him. I was fine with that. I am fine with that. This is something else. I don’t know what. But I know something is missing. My brain is too…quiet…”
“Quiet? Hmm… Do you think they did the surgery wrong? Did you forget more than you should have?”
“I don’t know!” You groan in frustration before letting out a long sigh. “I don’t know… Everyone worth remembering, I remember.”
“Okay…” Remus nods. “That’s good!”
You look up at him and he’s surprised to see your eyes filled with tears.
“But I feel… empty… and I don’t know why…”
“You’re crying…” Remus says softly.
“I am?” You ask, wiping under your eye and frowning when your fingertip comes back wet. “Fuck.”
Remus hands you a napkin and you take it with a grateful smile, sniffling as you dab your eyes.
“See?” You ask, balling up the napkin and tossing it on the table before pointing at your eyes. “What is this?! Why is this happening!?”
“When was your last period?” Remus asks curiously.
You glare at him and he immediately hurries to explain himself.
“PMS is a thing, Y/N! You know better than I do. Could it be that?” He suggests.
“I am not discussing my monthlies with you.” You tell him matter-of-factly. “…But it’s not that.”
“Okay.” Remus relents, holding his hands up in surrender. “Sorry I brought it up.”
“What if your emotions are trying to get regulated?” He offers instead.
“Do you think that’s possible?” You ask skeptically.
“Considering that hanahaki was thought to be eradicated this whole time and somehow you got it, I’d say pretty much anything is possible.” Remus shrugs.
“Lucky me.” You tell him, voice dripping with sarcasm.
Remus smiles sympathetically at you.
︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵
“Hey Y/N?” Remus calls as you both start walking back to the castle.
“Yeah?”
“Can I ask you a question?”
You contemplate it for a moment before eventually nodding.
“Sure.”
“Why did you ask me to Hogsmeade today?” Remus asks, eyes fixed on the ground as he walks. “I mean, without the guys.”
“Well, because I missed you…” You tell him with a nervous chuckle. “I thought that was obvious.”
“I missed you too.” He nods. “But so did Pads and Wormtail and Pr-“ He stops, cutting himself off before he could mention James.
“Well yeah,” You agree. “But that’s different.”
“How?” Remus asks curiously.
His curiosity only grows when you smile knowingly at him before facing forward and skipping ahead, leaving him behind.
“It just is.” You call over your shoulder at him with a giggle.
Remus looks at you curiously but chooses to let it go for now, hurrying to catch up with you. The last thing he wants to do is overwhelm you, so he’ll give you some time before asking all the questions plaguing his mind.
Upon entering the common room, he walks you to the staircase that leads up to the girl’s dormitories.
“Thanks for hanging out with me, Moony.” You smile at him.
“Yeah of course, love.” Remus nods with a smile of his own. “Any time.”
You gaze at him for a moment, as if you’re contemplating something before finally, taking a step closer to him. Remus watches with bated breath as you get on your tiptoes and press your lips to his cheek in a chaste kiss. Remus stands frozen, staring wide eyed at you while you take a step back, staring back at him with a shy grin.
“Okay…good night…” You tell him, turning around.
Before he even knows what he’s doing, Remus has reached forward and grabbed your wrist, stopping you from going any further. You look up at Remus in confusion, wondering what he’s doing.
“Are you sure you don’t remember him?” He asks suddenly, anxiously.
“Who?”
“Ja- the guy. The one who caused your hanahaki.” Remus stutters. “You don’t remember him? At all?”
You furrow your brows in concentration before eventually shaking your head.
“I just remember you.” You tell him with a confused smile, wondering why he’s suddenly bringing him up.
Remus continues to stare at you wordlessly, causing your confusion to grow.
“Why do you ask?” You finally ask him, head tilting to the side curiously as you watch him.
“It’s nothing.” Remus mumbles, shaking his head as he lets go of your wrist. “Sorry. Get some rest, love. We’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Okay.” You nod, waving at Remus a final time before turning around and hurrying up the stairs. “Good night.”
Remus watches you climb the stairs and turn down the hall, surely going to your dorm. As soon as you’re out of sight, Remus leans against the wall, running a hand down his face.
“What are you doing, Moony?” He asks himself before finally making his way to his own dorm.
︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵
The moment Remus exits the bathroom, James is standing right in front of him. Remus raises a brow but when James continues to silently stare at him, he walks around him to finish getting dressed.
“So?” James finally asks, following him.
“So what?” Remus asks as he ties his shoelaces.
“So how’d it go last night?”
Remus freezes, smiling softly to himself before shaking his head.
“It was fine.” He shrugs, standing up and quickly fixing his duvet.
“That’s it?” James asks with a frown, following after Remus as he crosses the room to get his backpack. “Just fine?”
“Yeah.” Remus nods, making sure he has everything he needs before closing his bag.
“What’d you guys talk about?” James continues to interrogate as they make their way out of the dorm and towards the Great Hall.
“Prongs…” Remus sighs.
“What? I can ask, can't I?” James defends. “I’m not doing it to be malicious. I’m asking as a concerned friend-“
“She doesn’t see you as a friend anymore, mate.” Sirius interrupts with a grimace.
“-who is trying to get back the woman he loves.” James continues, acting as if he hadn’t heard Sirius- though the flicker of pain in his eyes says otherwise. “So? What’d you guys talk about?”
“I don’t know, Prongs. Lots of things!” Remus shrugs.
“Yeah. But what exactly?”
“I can’t tell you.” He shakes his head.
“Why not?” James frowns.
“I just- I don’t know… Some of the things were quite personal. They were about her hanahaki and her surgery. I don’t wanna put her business out there…”
“So you’re keeping secrets?” James asks curtly. “Again.”
“I’m respecting her privacy.” Remus responds with a frown.
“Sounds like you’re keeping secrets.” James mumbles to himself.
“You can call it whatever you want.” Remus sighs. “But I already told you that I wasn’t gonna spy on her.”
“He’s right, mate.” Sirius agrees. “You shouldn’t put Moony in the middle of all this. I mean… even more than he already is.”
“It’s not spying!” James argues. “It’s simply talking to her and then sharing everything that she said with me!”
“That’s spying, idiot!” Sirius shouts.
“No it’s not.” James frowns.
“That’s literally the definition of it, Prongs.” Sirius groans.
“Okay, guys-“ Peter interjects with a nervous laugh.
“Alright, fine, whatever. Did she say anything about me?” James asks instead, borderline begging Remus to give him something, anything, even the smallest sliver of hope.
“Just that she doesn’t remember you. Like at all…” Remus tells him, smiling sympathetically. “Sorry Prongs. I specifically asked her… There’s nothing there. She- she doesn’t remember anything about you…”
“Oh…” James mumbles, staring at the ground as he walks. “Well, that’s okay…”
“It is?” Remus, Peter, and Sirius all ask at the same time.
“Yeah.” James nods, looking at his friends with a determined smile. “It’s fine that she doesn’t remember me. It’s brilliant, actually. That means we can start all over again. I can do things right this time.”
“How’re you gonna do that?” Peter asks as they finally reach the Great Hall.
“Simple. I’ll just turn on the good ol’ Potter charm.” He winks before heading towards the Gryffindor table.
“Yeah, because that’s worked out so well for him in the past.” Sirius comments sarcastically.
“I don’t buy the whole optimistically positive thing. So how’s he really doing?” Remus asks Sirius worriedly.
“Oh, you know…” Sirius trails off before sighing. “He missed lunch yesterday. And dinner.”
Remus and Peter nod with a frown.
“I finally found him in the locker rooms, and it was completely trashed… Chairs thrown across the room, pictures of past teams shattered, his broom was broken in two…”
“Merlin’s beard…” Peter curses.
“When I finally got him to stop, he broke down crying…” Sirius sighs dejectedly. “Took me ages to calm him down and even longer to get him to move. Finally managed to put him to bed around one a.m.”
The three boys look at James in concern before following after him and taking a seat, mentally preparing themselves for whatever happens next between the two of you.
You enter the Great Hall a few minutes later and scan the table, looking for your friends.
“Oi! Y/L/N! Over here!” Sirius calls, waving his arm to get your attention.
You wave back at him enthusiastically before heading towards him with a smile. You come to an abrupt stop when you see James sitting with the boys- your boys- once more.
“Y/N! Hi! Good- good morning!” James greets with a smile.
Your smile drops as you stand there, staring at him with a blank expression. James swallows, his own smile starting to waver slightly.
“Can I just take a moment to tell you how absolutely stunning you look this morning?” He asks with a flirty grin, hoping that if he over exaggerates, you won’t be able to tell how nervous he actually is.
“Ew. No.” You grimace.
Confidence shot, James looks to Sirius for help.
“We asked James to join us for breakfast this morning.” He’s quick to interject. “You don’t mind, do you?”
You look away from James, taking in the hopeful expressions on your friends faces before setting your books down with a loud thud.
“I guess not.” You mumble, sitting down and starting to fill your plate up. “It’s not like I have much of a choice.”
Again, James looks to the marauders for support. Peter doesn’t even notice, already shoveling food into his mouth. Remus gives him a sympathetic shrug of his shoulders and Sirius gives him an encouraging thumbs up.
“What?” You ask after a few minutes, voice filled with irritation.
Sirius, Peter and Remus share a confused look before turning to you.
“Wha-“
“Do you need something?” You ask coldly, putting your spoon down and staring right at James.
James stares back with wide eyes, mouth parted in shock before he shakes his head.
“Who? Me? N-no! Everything’s fi-“
“Then can you stop staring at me?” You interrupt.
“S-sorry?” James stammers. He’s choking. He wasn’t expecting to get caught staring and now he’s choking- stuttering over his words like a damn fool. “I wasn’t-“
“I can tell your eyesight is shit.” You tell him bluntly. James subconsciously adjusts his glasses. “And while I can sympathize- or at least pretend to, I’d very much like to enjoy my breakfast in peace without you burning a hole into the side of my head from how piercing your gaze is so either lower it or risk going permanently blind.”
All four boys stare at you in shock, having never heard you speak like this before, let alone to James.
“Your choice.” You shrug with a fake smile before getting back to your breakfast.
James shares an uneasy look with Sirius before lowering his gaze to stare at his plate.
“Right…Sorry.”
“You’re about to be.” You warn before taking a sip of your tea.
Beside you, Peter lets out a high pitched giggle before quickly slapping a hand over his mouth. You turn to look at him with a confused smile.
“Sorry.” He apologizes, sheepishly dropping his hand. “I laugh whenever I feel uncomfortable…”
“You’re so cute.” You coo, pinching his cheek teasingly and laughing when he pulls away from you. “Oh my god, look at how red your ears are! Aw, are you getting shy Peter?”
“Stop.” He whines, covering his ears with his hands. “Let me eat! I have a test today.”
Everyone laughs at that before Sirius changes the topic, bringing up the latest run-in he had with Snivellus.
After a few minutes you scan the table, looking for something before groaning. A napkin is suddenly thrust into your face and you pull back with a surprised frown. You raise a brow at James and he smiles.
“Did ya need a napkin?” He asks, still smiling as he holds his out to you once more.
“No.” You tell him, still frowning.
“Oh…my mistake…” He apologizes, awkwardly putting his napkin back down.
You scan the food in front of you once more before turning your attention to Remus and Sirius.
“Do you see any oranges-“ James suddenly stands from his seat and hurries a few meters down the table before grabbing an orange from the fruit bowl and hurrying back.
He holds the orange up with a triumphant grin, chest heaving slightly as he tries to calm his breathing.
“I got an orange.” He pants.
“Congratulations.” You say simply, looking at him as if he’s crazy.
“Do you want it?” He asks, sitting back down.
You narrow your eyes at him suspiciously before looking at Remus who shakes his head, finding himself just as clueless as you are about the whole situation. You turn your gaze back to James and continue to stare at him.
“It’s yours! Here. Have it.” James announces, placing the orange in front of you. As soon as you start to reach for it, he takes it back, much to your annoyance. “Actually, let me peel it first.”
“Do I look like an idiot to you?” You suddenly ask him.
The four boys look at you with wide eyes.
“Huh?” James asks, confused.
“Do I look like an idiot?” You repeat firmly, holding his gaze.
“No.” James denies, vehemently shaking his head. “Of course not!”
“Then why would you think I can’t peel it myself?”
“I-I was only trying to help…” James says softly, gently setting the orange back on the table.
“Yeah well, I didn’t ask for your help. Nor do I want it. Just like I didn’t want you to compliment me this morning. Get it through your head, creep. I don’t want anything from you.”
The boys watch silently as you stand up and start to gather your belongings.
Wordlessly, James slides the orange across the table, hoping you’ll take it, hoping you'll accept his peace offering, but knowing you won’t.
“Keep it.” You tell James harshly before letting out a tired sigh. “Just, keep it and stay the hell away from me.”
With that, you get the rest of your things and turn around, quickly making your way out of the great hall.
“Was that the Potter charm you were talking about?” Sirius asks awkwardly, if only to ease the tension.
Summary: You’re the pretty girl Chris sees at the library everyday, and the only way to talk to you, is through notes.
Warnings: just fluff :*
Word Count: 1,525
Authors Note: omg sorry if this is boring :/
There you sat, looking as breathtaking as ever.
When Chris first started college, he knew the number one thing he wanted to focus on, was his school work.
But what he didn’t know, is that you’d come waltzing into the library one day; completely catching his eye as you sat down, pen in hand, writing what he assumed was notes.
As the days went by, Chris grew even more agitated at the lack of ability to talk to you. He didn’t know what it was, but something about you just made it difficult for him to just walk over and strike a conversation; no matter how badly he wanted to.
It was finals week, and as always the library was packed with people. Upon entering, Chris didn’t see you in your usual seat or anywhere, so he figured you took the day to be somewhere else and sat down, a little sad.
He brushed the thought out of his mind though and was about to pull out what he needed until a soft voice spoke up.
“Excuse me, sorry, is this seat taken?”
Chris looked up and almost jumped out of his seat. It was you, looking at him with desperate but sweet eyes. He couldn’t find it in him to speak, and you were just so gorgeous to him, that he shook his head no with a friendly grin and motioned for you to sit down across from him.
You smiled a smile that made him swoon, and you happily plopped down in your seat.
The minutes went on and from time to time, Chris would stop writing and take a peek at you typing away on your computer, when an idea popped into his head.
He took a sticky note and wrote a simple “Hey” with a smiley face on it, before folding it up and discreetly sliding it over to you. Once you realized, you tilted your head to the side in confusion before unfolding the note and reading it.
Chris swore he was about to pass out once he thought you were going to call him out, but you didn’t. Instead, you gave him a cute smile and picked up a pen before scribbling something on it and sliding it back to him.
“Hello! :)” It said.
That action alone made his heart rate pick up, but he acted calm as he wrote down something else, and passed it to you.
“What’s your name?”
You figured he wasn’t talking to you physically because the library was so quiet, and wrote on.
“Y/n, and yours?”
“Chris, It’s nice to meet you y/n.”
“You too!”
Your passing notes went on for quite sometime, and soon you both forgot about studying for finals. Yellow post-it’s littered your table as you wrote on, but after a while your phone buzzed into your pocket, and pulled it out.
A sudden frown etched onto your face, and Chris was a little concerned when you put your phone back into your pocket and stood, but not before quickly scribbling down something and giving it to him.
He watched you walk away in a hurry, but just as you were about to leave the building, you turned back around and waved; pearly whites on full display.
“Sorry, gotta go. But here’s my number! text me when you’d like x.”
As promised, your number was written below, and Chris felt a smile begin to grow on his face.
That night on the way home, you both were texting nonstop until finally, Chris popped a question he’d been dying to ask since he first saw you.
“I’m sorry if this is sudden, but can I take you out on a date sometime?”
When you took over a minute to respond, he began regretting his decision. What if you thought he was creepy? Passing you notes at the library instead of actually speaking to you? What if he was being a little quick? What if-
His thinking was cut short when his phone buzzed, and he hurriedly unlocked it realizing it was you.
“Of course!! Meet me tomorrow at 6 pm for coffee?”
Chris breathed out a laugh. He was absolutely relieved, and absolutely ecstatic about your response. He never imagined such a stunning person like you, could ever agree to go out with a guy like him.
In his life, Chris never really had any luck with dating. He’s tried, but none of them lasted very long or held any significance to him. He felt kind of bad, but the feeling went away once he thought about his date with you.
Until his phone buzzed again.
“Will we pass notes or talk? Just want to be prepared with sticky notes and a pen <3”
This made him laugh and thought your text was the cutest thing before responding.
“Talk :)”
———
Chris sat there at the coffee shop anxiously waiting for you to arrive. He felt he had the smartest idea to get there fifteen minutes before six, leaving him to feel all types of ways upon your arrival.
So he sat there, hands folded neatly on top of the table with his head down trying not to puke. It wasn’t until someone pushed out the chair across from him and sat down that he decided to look up. It was you, and you looked rather radiant to him. You smelled strongly of strawberries and it almost drove him crazy when he concluded that he liked the scent.
“Hey.” You greeted with a smooth voice. He realized he’s never heard your actual voice besides whispering, and you haven’t heard his at all.
“Hey,” He began. “How was your day?”
“Eh, it was alright.” You shrugged, but then you peered up at him, a glint in your eye. “Better now.”
Chris laughed. “Oh really?”
“Mhm,” You hummed. “I finally get to drink some coffee, why else?”
Your smart remark made him grin. “I see, she’s got jokes.”
“-And money. What do you want to drink?”
“Oh no It’s okay, I’ll pay-”
“It’s fine! I don’t mind.” You said sweetly, and he was about to stand as well until you bolted from your spot next to him and into the line, giving him a devilish grin.
As you ordered, Chris couldn’t help but feel astonished. He’d never met a person like you, and the way you were making him feel in this very moment completely threw him off.
“While I was in line I concluded hot chocolate sounded better at the moment, so I got that for us. Is that okay?” You asked, and your worried expression made his eyes soften.
“Of course, sweetheart.” He beamed and took the cup from you. You sat there with a blank face and flushed cheeks, and he once again swooned at the sight; taking a mental note to call you that again sometime.
The night went on, and it didn’t take very long for you both to feel comfortable with each other, talking about almost anything. Chris learned so many things about you, and each little thing he grew to love on the spot, same thing applying for you.
You both were there for so long that you eventually got kicked out of the coffee shop due to it’s closing hours, and he couldn’t help but feel a little sad that your date was ending.
“I had a really good time.” You said as he walked you to your car.
“Me too, we should do it again sometime.”
“How about two days from now at 4 pm? I’ll meet you at the library.” You suggested, getting into your car. Chris closed the door for you and you started the engine before rolling the drivers seat window down.
“Deal,” He agreed. “I’ll see you then sweetheart.”
You nodded, and just when he was about to step away to let you back out, you lunged your head out of the window and fisted his shirt; lips crashing together.
It took a moment for Chris to register what you had just done, but once he did, he cupped your face in his hands and deepened the kiss; your lips tasted like chocolate and he couldn’t get enough of it.
You then pulled away breathless, shooting him a smile and a kiss on the cheek before slowly backing out of the parking lot and driving off.
He stood there in the dark empty lot for a while, dazed with the feeling of your lips still lingering on his. He didn’t realize how cold it actually was though, until he snapped out of his trance and quickly unlocked his car to drive home.
Once he arrived to his apartment, he changed into his sleeping attire and got under the covers ready to sleep, but not before sending you a quick text.
“Thank you for coming today :)”
Chris didn’t expect a response from you until tomorrow morning, but he was proven wrong when his phone buzzed. Your response made him laugh for the millionth time that night before he put down his phone and went to bed, a smile on his face.
“Of course! Where else would I get hot chocolate?”
Summary: Harry falls in love with the pretty nurse that takes care of him during the war.
Warnings: none my bbys :*
Authors Note: oh my god, the response i got from flower boy was insaaane y’all made me cry happy tears for dAYS LMFAO, but honestly thank you so muchhh, and im so sorry i’m been mf gONE i’ve had this and three more drafts in the works and i never got around to finishing them heheh, anyways enjoy!! and if you’ve sent me a request don’t worry i’m also working on that rn and thanks for sending it in! love u! <3
Word Count: 1,998
You had never met anyone like Harry.
“Patient 113! Patient 113!”
Nurses scurried around the small hospital, hundreds of men injured as you hurried your way to the front desk.
“I’ll take him,” You said quickly. “Bring the other ones in.”
You carefully sat him down and wheeled him across the hectic large room and to an open spot.
The side of his face was bloody, and he remained unconscious as doctors lifted his limp body onto the bed. You quickly grabbed gauzes and disinfectants, ridding of the dirt, sweat, and dried up blood off of his face.
“Patients name?” The doctor asked.
You pulled the dog tag from under his uniform and said, “Harry Styles.”
The doctor pressed a stethoscope to his heart and listened, “We have a pulse.”
He then wiped his forehead in exhaustion. “From the looks of it, he took a blow to the head and fell unconscious, but he’ll be fine.” He then hung the tool around his neck. “He’s all yours now y/n, just clean him up and call me when he wakes.”
“Yes sir.”
Then, you hadn’t thought anything of him. Just another patient you anxiously wanted to save because unfortunately the one before, couldn’t be.
But when Harry awoke, his dazed eyes drifted around the room, and once he regained his senses and actually looked at you, he didn’t hesitate to say that you were the most beautiful little thing he had ever seen.
This, of course, made you roll your eyes and blame it on the antibiotics, but he stood by his word and would even go as far as to request for you if a different nurse came to tend to him.
You had grown to love his unruly hair and sense of humor, but most of all, were his eyes. They reminded you of the trees your grandmother used to grow around her small cabin in the middle of no where, and from time to time would pick a sparkling emerald leaf to place gently in your small palm for good luck.
Now every leaf she had ever given you was stowed away in an old jewelry box inside your attic, brittle and brown. But each time you looked into Harry’s eyes, it was as if your childhood never left, as if the leaves never dried out, and as if your grandmother never died.
You spent a great deal of time taking care of him, and as soon as he recovered he took you out on a date by the river; picking small daisies to card gently behind your ear. It was sweet, his cute dimples evident as he smiled at you. The air was fresh and calm, and the sight of Harry on the grass, palms spread behind him with his head tilted back, sun adorning his features, was a sight hard to forget.
He’d always call you his little darling and made sure you were absolutely happy at all times. You were his sunshine, and it wasn’t hard for him to fall in love with you.
All of this was short lived though when you received devastating news. Harry was to be drafted again, and the area was no where near where you were at the moment, meaning if Harry got hurt you wouldn’t be able to treat him.
And if he died, you wouldn’t know until weeks after.
When he told you, you cried your eyes out while he got down on his knees, hands placed firmly on your arms.
“Little darling, hey, don’t you cry,” He wiped the tears off of your puffy cheeks with one hand and sighed. “I’ll come back to you, I promise you baby, don’t you cry.”
“Harry you could die!-”
“I won’t.” He said firmly. “You really think i’d leave you that easily sunshine? You’re gonna have to chase me to the ends of the earth to even give you a minute by yourself.”
That had made you laugh, and he wrapped his arms around you as he stood back up. “I’ll come back. I’ll write to you everyday a-and send you the very first flower I see. I’ll be back before you know it.”
You only nodded into his chest, a soft smile on your face, “I love you.”
Harry tightened his hold around you and rested his chin on top of your head.
“Tell me again,” He whispered. “I want to hear it one more time before I go.”
Harry kept his word and wrote to you as often as he could, but you still spent each and every day worrying for him and his safety. You had taken note of the increasing amount of men that came piling into the small hospital you worked at, and the injuries only seemed to worsen. You’d ask Harry what was going on in your letters, but he’d write back saying that everything was fine, and ultimately change the subject.
“Our men are dying,” One of the nurses had said to you as she patched up an unconscious soldier, “Many won’t come home.”
That made you sick to your stomach, and it didn’t help when after two years since Harry’s departure, his letters abruptly stopped coming soon after. The last one he had sent was dated a month ago, and it read:
Dear y/n,
How are you my little darling? Are you happy and well? I hope you are. I miss your pretty face.
Something tragic happened. My best mate died on field yesterday, and I have never felt such remorse in my entire life. It’s getting harder to stay alive my love, and when I saw his still body in the dirt, all I saw was red.
But I’m still alive. When I woke up this morning I saw a single daisy in the midst of gravel and mud, and it reminded me of you. You’re surrounded by horrible people and an awful environment but you remain brilliant. I’ve never met anyone like you.
If I don’t make it, just know how much I truly, deeply love you, and you’ve made me the happiest man alive. My days with you are memories I’ll never forget.
See you soon baby.
- HS
Below was a small daisy taped carefully onto the bottom of the page, and you cried looking at it once more before folding the letter back up and stuffing it in the pocket of your uniform.
“Any news?” One of the nurses said. Another sighed and shook her head.
“All radios are down. No one knows a thing.”
“Its been almost a full day,” You mumbled. “I think we’ve lost the war.”
A gloom of realization spread across the room, nurses and doctors with a defeated expression. It was silent, and everyone seemed to zone out until one of your close friends sat herself down on a chair next to you.
“Has he written?” She whispered.
“No. I’m starting to think-”
“Don’t say it,” She scooted closer to you. “He’s okay and you know it. You’re his sunshine, remember?”
You smiled sadly, “I do, but he hasn’t written in a month.”
“Maybe he can’t find paper,” She shrugged. “Or a pen.”
“Maybe he’s-”
“We won! We won the war!”
Everyone abruptly stood, chairs screeching against the tile floor. You quickly ran down the hall along with other nurses and into a different room. Others were already hunched over a small table that held a working radio.
“Our men are coming home!”
Cheers and cries filled the air, and you stood frozen as many wrapped their arms around you in joy.
Word was that the veterans were to return in a train arriving in about an hour, and you wasted no time in slipping on your jacket and running with many others to the station. You couldn’t even be bothered to remove your uniform, the love of your life was finally coming home.
Upon arrival, people were buzzing with anticipation and happiness. Personal space didn’t seem to be a thing as everyone waited for the train to pull in, and once it did, the shouting commenced.
Man after man came hopping out of the train, beaten up expressions but nonetheless with a smile on their faces, yet none of them were Harry. You stood on your tippy toes to get a better look, but you were still overrun by the people in front of you.
You couldn’t help but smile as you saw a woman with two kids clutching onto a soldier next to you, their children’s small arms wrapped around their father’s legs. You thanked your lucky stars that at least they got their happy ending, and pushed yourself through the crowd to get to the front.
It became apparent after a little while though, that you may not have gotten your happy ending. As the area dispersed and became empty, your vision blurred with tears. You couldn’t believe it, you didn’t want to believe it.
He said he’d come back, you thought.
A gust of wind blew through your hair, and you wrapped your arms tightly around yourself for comfort and for warmth. You screwed your eyes shut and tilted your head back, tear drops slipping into your hair. In the midst of feeling the warm sun caress your face, you imagined Harry calling out to you in the distance, calling you his little darling again just like he’d done many times before.
Except you hadn’t.
When you opened your eyes, a tall figure stood a couple feet away from you, and you rid your eyes from the remaining tears to see who it was.
“H-Harry?”
He smiled warmly at you, tears pricking the corner of his eyes.
When he got off the train, the sight of you standing there, wind whirling through your hair with your head tilted back; sun adorning your features and a pained expression, was a sight hard to forget.
But as he looked at you now, doe eyes wide that gleamed of hope and disbelief, the days out on field and the awful deserts meant nothing to him. The days of treterous fear, the cold nights where he felt nothing but alone, meant absolutely nothing to him.
But you, you meant everything to him.
“Hey little darling.” He said gently, fingers reaching out to touch yours. The warmth that radiated from your hand brought him back to reality and reassured him that he wasn’t dreaming.
At his words, you breathed out a laugh and threw your arms around his neck, and Harry in response scooped you up off the ground, taking note of the familiar strawberry scented shampoo you always used.
“I thought you died,” you whispered in his ear.
“Can’t get rid of me that easily baby cakes.” He said playfully, kissing your cold cheek.
You laughed and pulled your head back to look at him. He looked as handsome as you remembered, but he looked so worn out. The bags under his eyes and slow blinking clearly indicated that he was exhausted, and you smiled warmly, softly kissing his cheek.
“Let’s go home.”
Home.
What he’d been waiting for. The place he wanted to share with you, the place where he wanted to wake up and one day find the smell of pancakes and honey smothering your shared bedroom, and maybe, just maybe, with two little hands grabbing at his face to get him to wake up.
He nodded at you then, fingers laced with yours as you walked along the train station. The setting sunlight highlighted Harry’s green eyes; and they were soft, looking out into the streets ahead of you that held nothing but love yet still vigilant, and you were reminded of your grandmother once more.
“Harry?” you called suddenly.
“Yes, little darling?”
“How come you didn’t write to me these last few months?”
He smiled at you lazily and gently brushed your hair over your shoulder, running a soothing hand over your lower back.
“Couldn’t find paper, my love.” He hummed, “Or a damn pen.”
{olympic figure skater!satoru gojo x olympic figure skater f!reader}
summary: you and satoru have known each other since childhood, two little birds navigating through life together as you shared one dream in common— to win gold at the olympics, you both a figure skating pair as you moved and performed and fell in love as the years went by, both balancing off a trembling tight rope and holding on to keep each other in place, a silent agreement that if you indulged and fell into the depths of the truth of what you were, you’d run the risk of losing your careers and each other, yours and satoru’s biggest fears. but you’re growing, and it’s getting harder to hold back… especially for satoru— that trembling tight rope on the verge of snapping in two.
warnings: MDNI. afab!reader, childhood best friends to lovers trope, cursing, DIABOLICAL ANGST BUT WITH HAPPY ENDING I PROMISE!, mentions of death and loss, mentions of injury and blood, FLUUUFFF, satoru loves loves loves you, SMUUUTT, unprotected p in v sex (wrap it y’all), creampie, pussy eating, dom satoru, pussy drunk satoru, DIRTY TALK, pet names, figure skating, the olympics, true love <3
word count: 22.3k (I KNOW PLEASE GIVE ME A CHANCE PLEASE—)
authors note: YYYOOOUUU GUUUYYSSS THIS ONE IS MY BABBBYYY AND IM CRYING NOW WRITING THIS LMFAOAOAO. i hope you all love it seriously i GLADLY worked day and night writing this and i’d do it all over again just to see y’all happy :) THANK YOU for your support it is UNREAL, and like always, I LOOVEEE YOUUU MWAAHHH <333
you first met satoru when you were six at the skating rink.
he was only a year older than you, both of your mothers coincidentally signing you up for the same youth ice skating lessons for beginners, meeting and chatting it up seeing as you and satoru were the youngest in age out of the rest of the parents there and their children, you both automatically put together by your coach and separated from the older kids to do warm ups.
and even though the age difference was only a year, satoru at first treated you like a little helpless tiny thing who needed assistance in everything— the cute pink ribbons in your hair doing you an injustice and further implementing the image of a little girl who had no clue of what was going on around her, thinking you were cutesy and he was determined to be your little knight in shining armor when the time came.
until he saw you skate.
what satoru didn’t know, was that you were a prodigy— related to one of the most famous ice skaters in olympic ice skating history, akira, as her talent was blessedly passed down to you through your fruitful system and the lucky processes of genetics— chosen as you barely even had to be taught, you catching everything right away by the coach without any sort of slip and fall… unlike satoru who was clumsily struggling to even glide through the ice without wobbling.
and little satoru was astonished by you and your talent, his first impression of you drastically changing by the end of the first lesson as he shakily slid across the ice over to where you were, patiently doing little turns on the ice while you waited for your mother to finish up talking to another lady (it was satoru’s mother).
“hi!” he had greeted you, a huge goofy smile on his face as you slowed down and looked at him, returning a shy smile of your own.
“hi.”
“i’m satoru!” he extended a hand, eyes shooting wide as he suddenly lost his balance and slipped forward, on the brink of face planting on the ice as his hands quickly flailed out and gripped the edge of the rink to save himself.
you giggled, tiny hands reaching and holding his arm steady as he tried to regain his balance.
“are you okay?” your shy voice asked, and he grinned through his wobbling.
“yeah! i’m okay! don’t worry!”
but he still couldn’t stabilize himself.
“maybe we should sit on the bench?” you suggested sweetly. “so you don’t fall…”
“okay!”
you gripped him as hard as you could (which really wasn’t a lot for a six year old) and slowly moved with him on the ice, supporting him until you were both out of the rink and seated on the bleachers.
“what’s your name?” he chirped, his hands clutching on the edge of the bench as he leaned forward and looked at you kindly, legs swinging.
“y—y/n.”
“nice!” he cheesed, looking at you. “i saw you skate. you’re really good!”
“t—thank you.” you mumbled, shy and alarmed that a boy was talking to you.
“when did you start skating?”
you looked at him confusedly. “um.. today?”
his eyes bulged.
“hah?! today?!”
you jumped at his outburst, cheeks pink as you quickly nodded.
“wowww!…” he gushed with stars in his eyes. “that’s great! i saw you doing turns and things. i can barely move on the ice… it’s slippery.”
“well—” you peeked up at him shyly. “my—my aunt taught me some stuff… but not a lot.”
“you have someone in your family that skates?” he asked excitedly with huge blue eyes. “how cool! hopefully i can catch up to you and at least move…”
“that’s okay...” you smiled. “i know you will.”
“really?!” he gushed again before leaning back, nodding his head cutely. “if you think so, then i know so!”
and you giggled at him, your timid wall slowly crumbling down at his bubbly and kind personality as he was a chatterbox and talked to you about anything that had to do with olympic ice skating— him knowing so much about it and nearly screaming his head off and panicking when he found out that your aunt was none other than akira, now knowing exactly why you were so good at skating in the first place.
satoru looked up to you. so much so that it was comical— seeking your approval over the following years during lessons and not even listening to the damn coach himself as he listened more to you, wanting you to teach him how to do bunny hops or backward crossovers and giving a big fat attitude to anyone else who tried to coach him, whining and snoring away until you and your little bows skated over to him to teach him.
and because of that you spent a lot of time with satoru in and out of lessons, even more than you ever spent with your own friends at school as you clung to him at all times— him cheering and encouraging you on when you were shy in certain situations, and you teaching him everything you could about skating and bringing him little bags of strawberry gummy puffs since he had the biggest sweet tooth you had ever seen, you both cemented and stubbornly attached to the hip with neither wanting to let go.
and when your mother’s planned a little playdate at the local outdoor ice skating rink on a chilly december day— an enormous christmas tree sitting tall and glorious by the rink with twinkling star-shaped fairy lights and jingle bells surrounding the plaza, you and satoru spinning each other around and dancing and giggling over the murmur of classic christmas songs, they saw the potential… an idea sparking in their heads amongst their cooing and picture taking.
you and satoru were both originally put into the ice skating world to train and be independent professional skaters, olympic athletes to be more specific when the time came.
but that concept quickly changed the second you met.
now— you and satoru were an olympic ice skating pair, the subject materializing when your mother’s pulled you out from those simple ice skating lessons (you both already way past getting the basics down since your skill combined with you teaching satoru had you both surpassing the class) and paying for a professional couples figure skating coach to get you guys started now and early.
and the both of you were over the moon, especially satoru, as he absolutely adored you and begged his mother literally every fucking day if he could go over to your house or over to the ice skating rink with you to dance, you doing the same and the two of you crying and wailing on the floor whenever times wouldn’t work out and plans fell through, your mother’s having to give in and drag you to each other’s houses so you would both stop crying.
when akira found out you were officially figure skating, she nearly drove into the side of a building speeding over to your house from being out of the country for so long competing.
“is it true?!” she burst through the doors, your mother rolling her eyes after being startled half to death over her bizarre behavior. “is my little niece gonna be a figure skater like me?!”
you gasped excitedly upon seeing her, getting up from your spot on the rug and running over to akira’s open arms, leaving your coloring book and crayons behind as she swung you around.
“she started when she was six you know that…” your mother grumbled, folding various kitchen towels.
“but you just told me now that she’s not independent!” akira countered, setting you down and holding you out at arms length, eyes wide and eager. “—but partner figure skating! like me!”
she shook you. “where is he?! your partner! is he here? is he your age? is he nice?”
you perked up and looked over to the kitchen. “oh mommy! satoru should come and meet—”
“his name is satoru? oh my goodness how cuteeee!” she cooed, pinching your cheeks. “is he handsome? do you like him? do you have a crush on him—”
your little cheeks blazed as your mother threw a kitchen towel at her.
“she’s eight aki! jesus christ.”
“love has no limits.” akira wiggled a finger, and you giggled.
your mother called satoru’s place soon after, his mother excitedly conversing over the other line about how the akira was finally back in town and how satoru was gonna lose his mind once he saw her— you knowing he was the biggest fan and sometimes told you facts during lessons that you didn’t even know about your own aunt.
and when they finally did arrive, satoru was stiff— frozen in place with tight arms at his sides by the living room as his alarmed big blue eyes looked at akira with a sickly pale face, you snickering behind him.
“hi satoru!” akira greeted, leaning down with her hands on her knees to look at him at eye level. “it’s nice to meet you! y/n tells me you like my skating?”
“u—uhuh.” he responded dumbly, and you slapped a hand over your mouth to stop yourself from laughing, knowing satoru would cry and whine about it later if he heard you.
“that’s great! i’m happy you skate too… and with my niece i should say!” she spoke kindly, ruffling his snowy colored hair up and standing upright, placing her hands on her hips and looking like a straight freaking superhero in satoru’s eyes. “you wanna compete in the olympics?”
“uh huh.”
a laughing breath hurled from your throat and your cheeks puffed up like a squirrel, clasped hands still over your mouth and face going red from how hard you were trying to keep it in.
“that’s what i like to hear.” she smiled, a shiny impressive one as satoru still stood there in a stuck daze.
“work hard okay? the both of you. so you can catch up to me someday, yeah?”
your hands slowly fell from your mouth then, eyes filled with admiration and determination as you both eagerly nodded, looking at each other hopefully.
“you think—” satoru stammered, looking at akira. “you think we can… win three gold medals like you?”
“oh absolutely!” she shrugged. “i don’t doubt it at all.”
you and satoru gushed, glittering little eyes as you stared up cutely at akira, her giving you both a silly grin.
“how long have they been doing partner work?” she asked your mother suddenly, watching the way you and satoru chattered then excitedly about the actual possibility of competing for the olympics someday.
“mmm, i wanna say for about a year and a half? maybe two?” she looked over at satoru’s mother, who nodded in agreement. “they’re with a couple’s figure skating coach right now.”
akira hummed and shifted her gaze back down between the two of you.
“i’m training them from now on.”
both mothers froze, eyes wide as they stared at her.
you and satoru hadn’t even realized what she said, still caught up in your little bubble of the olympics and metals and competitions until your mother caught your attention.
“did you hear?”
you shook your head. “hear what!”
“akira wants to coach you and satoru.”
his jaw dropped and he nearly passed out on the floor, you quickly grabbing his shoulders as he reeled over.
“are— are you sure?” your mother continued, looking at her sister now. “aren’t you busy? i thought you were only here for the weekend.”
she waved her off. “i need a break from skating for a little… at least until the next olympics.”
akira turned to you then and smiled warmly. “and i wanna coach my little niece and her new buddy! if that’s okay?”
“yesyesyesyes!—”
both you and satoru bounced up and down and cheered, arms up as you tackled and hung off of akira like a jungle gym, her laughing and smiling big at your enthusiasm.
akira was the most important figure in your life, right next to satoru as she became a mother figure to the both of you as well as your mentor.
and training with her was not easy— your age not an excuse at all whatsoever in her eyes to not learn proper figure skating moves and technique, saying it would only serve you right in the end if you started adapting your bodies to it now rather than later.
and like most things, akira was right. but even though practices were grueling and tough to the point where you had to drag satoru across the ice to get up, she always tried to make them fun in the end— cracking jokes and teaching you guys silly little tricks that you could do with each other on the ice that she figured out over her years of skating with her partner, taking you both out for ice cream frequently after and telling you of her travels competing around the world, the people she’d met, and the titles she’d won— all things that were you and satoru’s ultimate dream as you listened eagerly.
by the time you were twelve and satoru was thirteen, it was obvious you guys were meant to be olympic athletes together.
“you need to pick your leg a little further up on the spin, toru.”
he stuck his tongue out. “says who.”
“says me.” you poked his cheek. “and i’m pretty sure aki told you before she left too.”
“yes ma’am!” he nodded, gliding a bit further away from you on the ice before picking his momentum up and reaching you, him bending his knees and wrapping his arms around your torso as you both went into fast spins, one leg extended for the both of you as your arms gripped over his shoulders— practicing the routine akira had given you for your upcoming competition.
“yeah like that!” you smiled, spins gradually slowing down and satoru coming back up from his bend until you both stood still on the ice. “good job toru!”
he grinned and ruffled your hair. “thanks!”
“mhm!” you responded, turning and skating away to the edge of the rink to hide the blush that was rising in your cheeks.
“what?!” he whined. “where are you going? do i stink?”
“no!” you laughed, shaking your head. “just the usual sweat and B.O.”
“aw no!” he quickly skated to the edge of the rink and out before flying for his duffel bag. “i hate being a man i hate puberty this is ridiculous—”
“i’m kidding im kidding!” you called from across the ice, cackling when he stopped and whipped his head over, glaring at you. “you’re fine toru— not stinky.”
“well you’re stinky for putting me in distress how about that?” he huffed, an eventual smile playing at his lips as he put down his duffel bag and went inside the rink again.
akira was currently on her way to compete at the olympics for her fourth gold medal in partner figure skating, you and satoru having no doubt in your minds that she was going to absolutely clear everyone else there and get it, as she’s never gotten silver or bronze or anything lower than that.
“when do we fly to see aki again?” satoru called from across the ice, gliding to and fro in figure eights. “don’t say tomorrow morning because i haven’t started packing yet heh… oops.”
you giggled. “it is tomorrow morning, dummy.”
“no!” he stopped and shoved his hands in his hair. “i haven’t even started planning my outfits! oh i was gonna take so many pictures what am i supposed to do now—”
you laughed loudly and skated back over to him, hands wrung behind your back as you looked at him cheekily. “you’re silly toru. outfits for what? literally just show up.”
“it’s not everyday we leave the country y/n!” he whined. “i wanted to sport my best and look cool, dang it.”
you playfully rolled your eyes and lifted your hand, patting his head.
“i’ll show up in pajamas and you show up in yours, and we’ll call it a day. hm?”
he grinned.
“matching? or seperate? and what color? plaid?”
“toru!”
he laughed and skated past you, nudging your shoulder with his in the process. “i’m just messing with youuu, matching obviously!”
satoru came back around, reached up and straightened the ribbons in your hair, little white bows sitting pretty as a blush rose to his cheeks when he was done.
“wanna run it three more times and call it?” he suggested. “i wanna make sure i get what you told me down before we go.”
you smiled and quickly nodded, taking satoru’s extended hand and skating together to first position.
watching akira win gold in person for the first time in your life was an experience you’ll never forget.
and she did it fucking beautifully.
with every precise move, with every articulate angle you and satoru screamed and yelled like crazy people in front of the rink while waving around your countries tiny flags, cheering with fat tears rolling down your faces when she successfully landed each time, holding each other so tight with mushed up cheeks throughout her routine with her partner and still in anxiousness when the time came for revealing final scores.
no one could skate like her. absolutely no one as she speedily glided across the ice and spun, prepped herself for the hardest most impressive turns you had ever seen in your life, and performed a quadruple axel rotation in the air all on her own— things that have always earned her the highest scores for three successive olympic years.
and four now— because when akira and her partner stepped up on that podium, you and satoru had to basically be yanked back by your mothers with the way you both tried to jump over the edge of the rink to her, her standing there like a beacon of light on the first place podium, a gold medal hung rightfully around her neck with flowers in her arms as she smiled so so big and happily, her eyes not once leaving you and satoru.
eventually when the ceremony was over, amongst all of the buzz and the crowd roaring and picture taking— akira quickly skated over to the two of you and leaned on the edge of the rink.
“akiiii!” you both wailed and flung your arms around her neck, her giggling and hugging you both back as best as she possibly could despite the mass amount of bouquets in her hands.
“did i do okay?!” she yelled over the noise.
you both pulled back and looked at her like she was insane.
“did you do okay?!” you gawked.
“aki— you won a fucking gold medal!” satoru yelled.
“HAH!” she laughed loudly. “don’t say that word in front of your mommy satoru she’ll chop my head off and kill me!”
you both giggled uncontrollably.
akira leaned her head in then and you and satoru followed through, all three foreheads resting against each others.
“listen to me for a second.“ she started. “you guys are birds of a feather, okay? you need to stick together and fly together as one.”
she let you both go and dropped the bouquets she was holding on the icy floor before placing a hand on yours and satoru’s outer cheeks, bringing you in. “don’t fight. don’t separate. don’t leave each other. you need to keep each other and what you have safe.”
you both quickly nodded, tears funnily gathering at the corners of your eyes at what she was saying, and she smiled.
“yes partner figure skating is about chemistry and technicality, but it’s about love… and sometimes just that. without genuine love, nothing will click.” she let your cheeks go and grabbed her shiny gold medal, holding it up. “this will be yours. i promise you.”
akira put down her medal, wiping both yours and satoru’s wet cheeks. “birds of a feather. stick together. keep each other safe. do you understand?”
the two of you sniffled and nodded.
“and i need to stop cussing in front of you guys during practices, don’t i?!” she smiled warmly, and you and satoru shook your heads frantically.
“no keep doing it!—”
“it’s funny please!—”
ever since akira told you that, it became you and satoru’s thing.
before and after every competition, with every hello and every goodbye at the beginning and end of the day, throughout the hours randomly whenever you both felt like it, you’d lock pinkies and reiterate ‘birds of a feather’ before kissing your thumbs and locking your promise in place— another one of the many other ways you’d show that you loved each other.
but whether it was platonically or romantically remained unknown until you both hit high school.
perhaps it had always been romantically… that you weren’t exactly sure of. but the way you and satoru had been treating each other since you were literally the age of six, made the technicalities of what it was blurry and a little confusing— for you couldn’t even remember when it was that you started loving satoru.
maybe it was that very first day when he skated over to you, wobbly and clumsy with a cheesy smile.
and as if it wasn’t already confusing enough of what the two of you were, the way you acted made it ten times worse.
but you’d been that way since forever— embracing each other a little longer than you should, innocently kissing each others cheeks and heads and hands, calling each other pet names and being each other’s dates to every single school dance—
but it was all harmless. not a single bad thought behind it and doing it like a reflex.
it was like you both were line balancing across the thinnest tight rope known to mankind— flimsy and unsteady, always on the verge of toppling over and falling completely into the darkening depths of the truth of what you were, but catching each other just before you did to regain balance back on the rope.
neither of you said it, but if you and satoru ever dared to be anything more than friends, and if something were to happen where you had to break up— you’d lose your first love, your best friend, and your entire career all in one.
the consequences were too drastic— you both knew that.
and you didn’t want to break your promise… so you acted blind to it.
by the time you were seventeen and satoru was eighteen, akira started training you for the international skating union competition to earn a spot for the olympics.
well— she actually started when you were about fourteen, but as the years progressed, her coaching and critiques got increasingly more difficult and nitpicky as well as the moves she taught you, wanting you both to build endurance to it and perfect it so that by the time you reached the age requirement for the olympics— it would be easier to train for it and be formidable competitors against the other pairs.
you and satoru wanted to be olympians more than anything else in your lives, and akira knew just how important this was for the both of you— making it her absolute mission to help accomplish solely that as she saw herself through the two of you.
your dreams were just like hers, and she respected and nurtured the fact with everything that she had.
“up! aaand up! and take her— throw— land oh shit—”
just as you had landed a semi complex throw jump, you lost balance and landed right on your ass, sliding across the ice on your side.
it was rare when you fell, and you absolutely despised when you did.
“fuck!” satoru quickly skated over to you and knelt down. “are you okay?!”
“why can’t i land that man?” you whined, covering your eyes.
akira smoothly traveled over to you both.
“it’s okay! we just learned it today sweets like— right now… you’ll have it down in the next five minutes.” satoru smiled softly, carefully helping you up on your skates and checking you over.
“don’t overly punish yourself, y/n.” akira reached and pinched your cheek. “i love that you’ve always been so serious about your technique, but you have to leave room for error my love or else you’ll choke yourself out.”
satoru ran a soothing hand along your back and you smiled cutely up at him, his heart jittering so much from it that he had to quickly retract his arm.
you nodded, always taking satoru’s and akira’s words seriously like inscriptions to a stone wall. “okay!”
he grinned and kissed the side of your head before taking your hand and leading you to first position like always.
akira smirked.
“are you guys together yet!” she blurted from across the ice and you both choked as she skated over.
“are we— are we—” you stammered.
“what?” she breathed out, placing her hands on her hips. “are you at least in love?”
satoru’s blue eyes bulged open with a furious pink tint to both of your cheeks.
“aki!” you whined, embarrassed. “stop it—”
“have you guys at least gone on one date?”
satoru pouted. “no.”
“i’m—” you played with your fingers. “i’m going on one today—”
“you’re what?!” he whipped his head in your direction, eyebrows furrowed.
“yeah…” you looked at him. “i’ve never gone on one and some guy at school asked me so i— i just thought—”
you thought it’d do you some good, since the one you wanted you couldn’t really have.
“are you actually..?” satoru trailed off, an unfamiliar strike of something in his chest making him a little upset.
but he knew damn well what it was.
“but—” akira stared at you wide eyed, pointing at satoru. “but it’s— it’s supposed to be—”
“aki!” satoru quickly grabbed her arm and lowered it, eyes snapping to you next. “is it that one guy you told me about? from your english class?”
“uh huh.” you fidgeted. “he asked me again and i felt bad saying no so i— said yes…”
satoru swallowed, nodding.
“oh you big dummies!” akira groaned. “we’ll talk about this later or else i’m gonna go into fucking cardiac arrest from frustration—”
she skated off to the edge of the rink and out, leaning on it from the outside with her head dramatically hung.
you both got into starting position, but you faltered when you noticed satoru was oddly quiet and stiff.
“…toru?”
he blinked down at you. “huh?”
“you okay?”
“oh!— yeah.” he smiled weakly. “i’m fine baby.”
“you sure—”
“what time is your date?”
you gnawed at the inside of your cheek. “it’s a bit after this... i told him to just give me time to shower and get ready.”
“if he can’t accept you stinky then he’s not for you.” he shook his head in distaste. “he’s already failing in my eyes sweets absolutely flunking. maybe you should cancel it? yeah i say cancel it—”
you laughed, heart in your throat as your eyes gleamed up at him. “i can barely accept you stinky so i wouldn’t blame him—”
“hey!” he placed an exaggerated hand on his chest. “it’s not my fault i literally put my heart and soul out on the ice just for you to skate all over me—”
you gasped offendedly. “i don’t skate all over you—”
“do too!”
“do not!”
“do to—”
“you guys!” akira called. “you know i love it when you guys love on each other it makes me so happy and envision your wedding but right now we have to grind!”
you both froze up and snapped your heads in her direction with red faces, whining.
“aakkiii!—”
you practiced what you had of the routine a couple of more times, a few new moves and jumps added after each run until akira called it a day upon noticing you and satoru were practically sweating your asses off and messing up several times out of exhaustion.
“good job today you guys!” she smiled, patting you both on your shoulders. “i feel like the next time we meet we’ll have the choreography down... from there we just need to perfect it and you should be good for the next competish, okay?”
you both nodded and thanked her, sweet smiles on your faces as she reached up and pinched a side of both your cheeks.
“my little babies.” she cooed. “oh how you’ve grown! you guys were so little when we started now satoru is huge man jesus christ—”
she lifted her hand and reached up to measure satoru’s height from his forehead, her passing it over the top of her head and eyes widening at the huge gap.
he laughed and puffed up his chest. “i got big and strong too aki see?” he flexed an arm. “see? eh?”
“that you did!” she laughed brightly, ruffling up his hair. “the strongest.”
you giggled and skated over to the edge of the rink to pack up, internally panicking a little that you guys went overtime and it was almost time for your date.
“satoru..” akira whispered, looking over her shoulder to make sure you weren’t listening. “what’s going on? you still haven’t asked her out? i thought you said you were gonna do it.”
“no..” he mumbled. “but we can’t. and she knows that too so— so what am i supposed to do—”
she gawked. “do you not see what’s happening?! she’s gonna go on a date with someone else! off with this stupid fear you guys have already seriously.”
“we caan’tt aki.” he pushed sadly. “it’s too risky.”
“but it’s not though!” she threw her arms out. “you guys have known each other since practically birth i feel like if it wasn’t meant to be you would’ve separated by now!”
satoru gnawed at his bottom lip in thought, eyes trained to the way your bows moved in your hair as you swung your duffel bag over yourself, smiling softly once he realized you had kindly packed his things for him too as you sat on the bench and waited for him to take you home.
akira sighed.
“it’s not my place to tell you guys what to do… but love has no limits. you know that.”
he nodded, smiling weakly at her as they skated out of the rink and prepared to lock up, akira hugging you both goodbye with a family kiss to your cheeks and you separating ways with her for the day, but not before her reminding you guys of practice tomorrow and that she loved you over her shoulder.
satoru was dreading you going on your date as he drove— the both of you normally talking about random things like always but his mind unable to stray from the fact that you were actually giving some random dingbat a chance.
it was rare when either of you would talk to or date other people, never even as your heads have always been so focused on figure skating and competitions… but also on each other— taking care and loving one another that you never needed anybody else since you were everything to satoru and satoru to you, and you were both confident that absolutely no one could ever step up to that level.
so why were you going on a date?
but he shouldn’t be like this. he knew that. there was a silent agreement between the two of you to never fall off that thin tight rope and keep each other balanced. and you were allowed to see and date whoever you wanted— something that he probably should do as well to try and get over the fact that you’d never really be his.
satoru pulled up to your driveway and shifted his gear into park.
“thank you toru!” you smiled sweetly, leaning over and pressing a kiss to his cheek.
“you’re welcome.” he murmured. “can i— can i come in with you? and hang while you get ready?”
you quirked a brow. “i thought that’s what we were already doing silly.”
“okay well invite me woman!” you both got out of the car and walked up the steps to your front door. “you can’t just assume. what if i was busy? what if i also had a date? hm?”
you gave him a sly grin as you twisted in your keys to unlock the door. “do you?”
“… no.”
you giggled and pushed open the door, the both of you immediately clasping your hands over your mouths to keep your laughs in at the sight of your mother sprawled out on the couch dead asleep with drool coming out of her mouth, the tv softly playing in the background as you quietly shut the door, went up the stairs and into your room.
satoru sat on your desk chair lazily while you quickly hopped in the shower to get ready for your stupid date, staring at the framed photographs on your nightstand that all consisted of you and him over the years, smiling softly at his favorite— a picture of the two of you when you were babies, cheek to cheek with huge smiles at the park as you held ice cream cones in each of your hands, satoru more than sure akira was the one who took that picture.
the sound of your door clicking shut pulled him from his thoughts as you walked in, drying your pretty hair with your little fuzzy towel and throwing it in the hamper once you were done.
“oh! i was gonna show you! i got these ribbons the other day—” you got down on your knees and looked under your bed, sticking a hand in and pulling out a white box as you picked it up and shuffled with your knees closer to satoru— sitting back on your ankles.
“—i was running out of ribbon so i got these!” you held up the box and satoru took it, examining the various pastel colors with warm eyes. “some of them are polka dotted and i thought that was cute.”
“it is sweets!” he agreed.
satoru loved the ribbons in your hair, and you’d always wear them without fail because you knew just how much he did.
“i wanna start wearing bows too.” he wiggled his eyebrows, and you giggled.
“are you saying you wanna steal my brand toru?” you picked up a blue roll of ribbon from the box, a color that matched satoru’s eyes. “thought you were an honest man?”
he gasped. “i am an honest man! is it not obvious enough when i help you with your math homework? when i sacrifice my dignity and text you answers during your tests?”
you giggled and unrolled a strand of ribbon. “not when you eat all of my sweets that you actively dig through my room for—”
“but they’re always the strawberry gummy puffs!” he whined. “they make me a slut.”
you playfully rolled your eyes and stood, grabbing your little scissors and snipping off a piece of blue ribbon from the roll, stepping in front of satoru and leaning.
“watcha doing?” he asked, placing his hands on your waist.
“i’m putting a little bow in your hair before i leave!”
he hummed. “don’t think it’ll look as good on me as they do on you.”
you blushed, taking little pieces of white hair from the top of his head and wrapping the ribbon around, tying it the same way you’ve been doing for yourself since you were the age of nine.
you took a step back once you were finished and laughed. “you look cute toru!”
he raised a silly brow. “do i still look big and strong?”
“big and strong and pretty—”
“please don’t go.”
you stilled.
“what?”
satoru looked down, his bangs hiding his gorgeous eyes as he did.
“on your date.” he mumbled. “don’t go.”
you placed your hands softly on his shoulders, and his hold tightened a little around your waist.
“why?”
“because like i said if he doesn’t accept you stinky then he can’t have you when you smell like vanilla—”
“toru...” you spoke sternly, softly. “why not?”
you didn’t know why you were pushing it so much… maybe you were trying to see if you could get it out of him— if he had the will to actually say it unlike you…
and you hoped to god he would say it.
he slowly lifted his head and propped his chin up on your tummy, a sour expression on his face as he puckered his lips to the side like a little fish.
“dunno…” he muttered, his gaze flickering to yours and a sense of guilt swarming his chest at the uneasy look you had, his face relaxing as he sighed.
“sorry.” he smiled sheepishly, pulling back and letting go of your waist. “i’m kidding you have every right to—”
“m’not going.” you mumbled as you slid your hands away, looking down and playing with your fingers.
“huh?” he furrowed his brows. “no baby go you should go—”
“i don’t want to.”
you never did in the first place. you had foolishly thought that letting someone else in like this would be good for you and help you establish some sort of… barrier with satoru so you weren’t always suffering so fucking much.
but you were absolutely stupid for that.
all you’ve ever wanted was satoru, and doing something to pull you away from the type of relationship you had with him (whether platonic or romantic you had no freaking clue), was not only hurting you, but hurting him.
you didn’t need anyone else, truly. all you needed was satoru and his silly smile and dramatic antics— to spend time with just him and skate and eat dinner together after practices every night while watching horror movies, laughing so much over his screams that your stomach hurt while he whined about how you were making fun of him.
that’s all you needed… just satoru.
regardless if there was something more in question.
“you don’t want to?” he repeated softly. “why?”
“you know why, toru…”
you had said it so softly he barely caught it, but he did, his breath hitching in his throat.
that was the closest you two had ever gotten to acknowledging it.
you both were silent for a moment, the soft murmur of your tv downstairs filling the void as you looked at each other, tense and waiting for either of you to say something… anything.
but it was like the gravity of the foreseeable consequences settled onto your shoulders, and the pair of you could only sadly smile.
satoru stuck his pinky finger out towards you then.
“birds of a feather?” he murmured.
you breathed out a little through your nose and looped your pinky with his, nodding.
“birds of a feather.”
he kissed his thumb and you did the same before locking the promise.
for the rest of the night, you and satoru watched a bunch of shitty unknown movies to try and see who would break and laugh first— you feeling bad that you had to cancel so last minute on that guy from your english class, but not regretting it at all as you watched satoru scarf down two slices of pizza in one sitting and nearly throw up, you almost falling off the bed from laughing so much and him having to catch you midway down and pull you back up, saying that he was your hero and therefore you should give him your last stash of strawberry gummy puffs as a reward.
it was nearly two am when you and satoru finally settled down, both sprawled over each other on the bed as you stared up at the ceiling and talked about literally anything that came to your minds— stubbornly fighting off sleep for whatever unknown reason in the dark.
“you know this is aki’s last olympics right?” you spoke softly, your arm propped up as you watched the way satoru played with your fingers.
“yeah..” he replied. “i don’t really know how to feel about that.”
“me neither.” you shook your head. “but she said it came at a perfect time because she’d been wanting to retire for a while.”
and now it was yours and satoru’s turn to try and fill the legacy she had built.
he hummed, delicately interlacing your fingers together as the outline of it through the darkness made you blush and smile, the nooks between his digits blessedly made entirely just for you as your fingers slotted perfectly in each spot every time.
and satoru silently vowed for the millionth time in his life that he would always be your hero and keep you safe, a promise that was already tied into your birds of a feather contract, but needing to repeat it to himself anyways while he listened to the sound of your voice talk about your excitement for the upcoming olympics.
and my god were you excited, the both of you— looking forward to seeing akira gracefully take home her fifth fucking gold medal like she always did with no repercussions, seeing her fans and the mass amounts of support she got every year with bouquets and teddy bears and picture taking, but also looking forward to spending even more time with her— for not just practices… but for forever, even more than you already did now as you two were greedy and just loved akira.
you were looking forward to forever, the three of you.
until akira’s accident.
“oh my god i’m gonna throw up—”
satoru hurled over just as you both stepped onto the bleachers at the olympic arena, you laughing and placing supporting hands on his shoulders as you followed your mother and satoru’s to your designated place by the front.
“toru i told you you’d make yourself sick if you didn’t leave that damn dessert table alone.”
“there were cinnamon rolls baby. cinnamon rolls how on earth could i possibly just walk by a platter of cinnamon rolls—”
“okay!” you giggled, carefully leading him to sit down and ruffling his hair once you settled. “i get it! you love cinnamon rolls.”
“not as much as i love you—”
“yuck!” you stuck your tongue out and pushed him away by his cheek, him laughing loudly as he shooed your arm away and grinned.
“toru— this is the last time we’re gonna be sitting here in the bleachers watching aki.” you mentioned. “isn’t that fucking nuts?”
“now i’m gonna cry and throw up.”
“no!” you giggled and nudged his shoulder. “then you’ll make me cry.”
he smiled and leaned over to plant a quick kiss to your cheek, reaching up and fixing the bows in your hair before looking straight ahead, his sparkling blue eyes staring at the rink.
the crowd roared suddenly and a mix of big and tiny flags of several individual countries waved in the air as you and satoru jumped and screamed when akira glided out with her skates and glittery dress, a huge dazzling smile on her face as she waved at the crowd, her eyes scanning around quickly before they finally landed on you and satoru.
as if she wasn’t already smiling enough, it grew bigger at the sight of you both practically over the fucking rink calling her name, her blowing you both a kiss and connecting her hands together to form a little bird, fluttering it up funnily and making you laugh before spinning around and going to starting position with her partner.
you cackled as you both watched her routine— incredibly fast paced and technical, filled with spins and throw jumps and lifts as she made it known that it was her last year and wanted to leave with a mark, you and satoru absolutely mesmerized by the choreography as a dramatic symphony of a classical piece drummed through your ears by the speakers.
each move was executed beautifully, you and satoru at the edge of your damn seats as akira’s partner lifted her by the arms to settle over his shoulders into a split formation— halfway through the routine already.
“maybe we could do a move like that for when we compete!” you suggested over the music. “i feel like technically it could—”
a hand flew over your mouth as you watched akira topple and slam to the ground upon coming down from her split lift, the spinning blade of her partner slicing through her abdomen as her head nastily collided with the ice— the crowd screaming in terror.
“oh my god!—” your chest moved frantically and you and satoru looked at each other, horrified faces as you watched the backside of her limp body on the ground surrounded by paramedics, her partner hovering over her in complete and absolute distress.
and there was so much blood.
blood that pooled all around her figure and stained her shimmering dress, blood that wouldn’t stop fucking spreading as a stretcher finally made it out on the ice.
“baby.” satoru’s voice shook. “why isn’t aki moving.”
“i— i don’t know—”
“aki!”
you both snapped out of your shocked daze and screamed over the rink and jumped, shoes slipping against the ice as the two of you tried to reach her through your panicked tears and calls, security speeding through and pulling you both back as you watched the paramedics lift her frail body onto the stretcher and away from the rink.
“that’s—” you sucked in a sharp sob. “that’s my aunt please let us go—”
“you need to stay out of the rink—”
“fuck you!”
satoru shoved security away and grabbed your arm, wishing you had your skates on as you both practically crawled over to where akira was being carried out, not giving a single shit about the way your mothers yelling demanded you back as security had to literally pull you and satoru by the ankles, further and further away from the scene and away from akira until the only thing left was her pool of sickly crimson blood in front of you, you and satoru wailing.
akira died at the hospital later that night.
the collision of her head against the ice brought such blunt force trauma that it caused irreversible brain damage, and with the amount of blood that she was already losing from the laceration of the blade— those elements combined didn’t give her a single fighting chance at survival, her fate sealed from the moment her body hit the ground.
it was completely unexpected… an incident like that had never happened in not just olympic partner figure skating, but figure skating competitions as a whole— the severity of the situation so grave that the complex move akira and her partner performed that led to her death was banned from the olympics moving forward.
and you and satoru were fucking ruined.
ruined and crying and clutching over her arms and hands at her hospital bedside, it scaringly cold and stiff and not her usual warmth at all as you couldn’t accept that this was your reality, that akira had left you both all alone after not only her initial familial love that you’d gotten since birth, but after nearly a decade of giggles and skating, her picking you both up from school and cussing up a storm because it made you and satoru laugh as kids, buying you ice cream and taking you out for beach days because she said the sun was good for your skin, harassing you and taking a million pictures of the two of you as she uttered over and over again that love had no limits— your dream of forever with her cruelly severed over the sport you all loved most.
yours and satoru’s mentor, friend, your fucking mother figure— was gone.
your aunt was gone. your own blood.
the entirety of that bullshit situation sort of settled into your minds by the time her funeral came— painfully holding back tears as your family members gave their speeches and final wishes before the lowering of her casket, you and satoru not saying a single word throughout the entire thing until it was just you and him standing in front of her grave site— your mothers waiting for you in their cars.
you both chose not to give speeches. you couldn’t.
“toru.” you sniffled, drowning in your tears as satoru strained to keep his back, lips pulled into a thin line.
“yes pretty.”
“this is so fucked.”
satoru breathed out a weak laugh and let a couple of tears slip down his cheeks, wiping them with the sleeve of his black suit as he grabbed your hand and interlaced your fingers, squeezing it.
“diabolically fucked.” he responded.
there really wasn’t much you could say at that moment in time, the two of you staring at the carvings on her tombstone as the wind softly blew over the petals of her flowers and letters, the day cloudy and cold and just fucked as you silently choked back sobs and whimpers, satoru lamely trying his best to stay strong for you— be your hero as he pulled you into his chest and squeezed you with everything that he had, nose buried in your hair as his tears fell and dampened a few strands.
“birds of a feather, toru.” you spoke softly, both of your frames shaking as the saying itself came from none other than akira.
he firmly nodded, lifting his head and kissing your cheek twice hard before looking at you.
“birds of a feather sweets.” his red teary eyes made your heart ache. “you can’t leave me too, okay?”
you scoffed and wiped your eyes, a sad smile on your face. “i could never… you know that.”
it didn’t really get easier from there, as everything in your lives reminded you of akira.
and though your mother was grieving the loss of her sister, she wanted to be left alone, and the only person that really understood the level of mourning you were on was satoru— him always there in the blink of an eye when you would call him in the middle of the night crying your eyes out while he held you, or when broken sobs wrecked through satoru’s trembling body as he cried into your chest while you held him and vice versa, endless amounts of ‘i miss her’s’ and ‘bring her back’s’ as you took turns depending on the day rolling on the floor unable to physically breathe over the loss as you tried to anchor each other back to normalcy, wondering how the world could be so cruel and continue spinning when you’d just lost half of your hearts.
but it did. it continued to spin and turn and carry on as you and satoru day by day tried to patch over what happened, be there for each other and heal each other as you graduated high school and caught up with satoru in college, still together and still in your stupid limbo of ‘is there something more’ except worse, and still inseparable three years later after akira’s passing.
it didn’t hurt any less, but the days definitely got easier… some harder than others as the time you spent with her became cherished distant memories, feeling eternally grateful for the way she raised and took care of you, for the work she had done, and for the legacy she had built for figure skating olympians around the world.
and because akira was so good and taught you both just as so, satoru and you had a little name of your own as you’ve been sweeping competitions since the age of thirteen, ninety eight percent unbeatable and competitive as other pairs always knew who you were the minute you stepped onto the ice, eager and curious to see if you would make it into the olympics when the time came just like your mentor had done.
some deemed it cheating— unfair due to the fact that you had a four-time gold medalist olympian training you since childhood, but that assumption quickly diminished after her passing when you both continued to wipe competitions and take trophies home purely based on your talent.
and you both agreed to continue your careers without a coach, a decision that didn’t even need to be thought twice over— and you were twenty and satoru twenty one when the time drew near to try for the olympics.
finally.
“my legs are gonna fall off and my balls are gonna droop to the icy floor if you don’t give me a kiss right now.”
“toru!” you giggled loudly, pushing his face away as he puckered up his lips and made obnoxious kissy noises, pulling you in by the waist. “toru focus we’re on a time crunch—”
“time crunch where?” he whined, stomping his blade down on the ice. “we’ve been at it for so long already i’m cold i’m thirsty and i think we should go to that cute christmas festival patch thing you told me aboouuttt!”
“right now?” you asked. “i don’t know toru… i had a set goal for us tonight and if we don’t get it—”
“oh you damn perfectionist.” he scowled, letting you go and quickly skating to starting position. “fine.”
you gave him a knowing smile and skated over to his dramatic sulking figure, kissing his cheek softly and wringing your arms around his neck, pulling him in.
“let’s run it three more times and then we can go to the festival, okay?”
he jumped up like a little kid, eyes hyper and wild. “really? honestly? truly?”
you nodded, gleaming up at him.
“is this a prank?”
“jesus toru you’re making me think i’m keeping you hostage here with how excited you are—”
“yiiippeeeee!—” he grabbed your upper thighs and lifted you before spinning on the ice, the both of you laughing as he roughly turned until he gradually came to a stop, big goofy smiles on your faces as he did so.
satoru loosened his hold as you slowly slid down against his body, faces close and lovesick as his half lidded eyes looked at you, lips stinging to plant directly over yours after so many years of hopeless pining and avoidance, still refusing to acknowledge the situation, but it glaringly obvious at this point.
“what?” you whispered, your eyes fixed on his lips as your blades touched the ice again.
he softly shook his head, blue eyes greedily drinking in your pretty face as he retracted a hand from your waist and brushed his palm over your hair adoringly, hand raising to cup your cheek gently.
was he about to…?
you swallowed, hands gripping his black t-shirt as you waited… anxious, hoping that he would do what you thought he was about to do.
but satoru squeezed his eyes shut in a grimace and quickly kissed the corner of your mouth before turning his back to you and skating to starting position— leaving you incredibly dumbfounded and disappointed.
satoru’s skin felt like it was on fucking fire as he looked at your stunning doe eyes blinking at him from across the rink, heart pulsing uncontrollably as you slowly skated to him and got into position, neither of you uttering a word about it as you ran the choreography three more times like you had agreed on.
you and satoru have had plenty of moments like that… but lately?
it’s been borderline dangerous with how close you’ve gotten to breaking your unspoken rule.
by the end of practice you and satoru excitedly packed up for the christmas festival, more or less stumbling out of the doors of the rink and locking up before throwing your things in satoru’s car and speeding off to the main plaza, cheesy dorky smiles on your faces as you babbled on about all of the things you were gonna do once you got there.
“the s’mores stand! the s’mores stand!” satoru whipped his head comically back and forth between you and the snowy road. “we have to go there and get five nothing less and maybe more—”
“wait! i wanna get some of that hot chocolate we got last year!” you quickly reached and gripped his shoulder. “the one with the chocolate bits in it! and the whipped cream! and the drizzle—”
“oh fuck yeah how could i forget?” satoru made a turn, the shining glimmering lights of the festival and christmas trees coming into view and riling you both up in pure exhilaration. “i gulped down like four cups of those and then threw up in a bush.”
you laughed loudly and shook your head. “i forgot about thaaaattt! toru you always shove shit in your mouth and throw up we have got to work on that—”
“no we don’t!” he cheesed, reaching over and patting over your hair— the smooth ribbon of your thin bows sliding underneath his palm. “i love sweets even if they hurt me. what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. where there is no struggle there is no strength—”
“the only strength i see is a man hunched over puking his guts out.”
“hey!” he pouted, pulling into the lot before parking and turning off the ignition, the both of you hopping out of the car and locking it as you walked towards the main entrance. “and i’ll do it again so what.”
you giggled and interlocked your fingers with satoru’s. “silly silly.”
the festival was lively— huge decorated christmas trees everywhere you went as twinkling fairy lights adorned every corner and direction of the lots premises, several open stands that continuously wafted chocolate and cinnamon and vanilla throughout the entire night that had satoru practically floating through the air following the scent, kids giggling and running around as the soft familiar tunes of christmas music hummed in the background.
“what do you want for christmas, sweets?” satoru asked while chowing down a giant s’more.
“a kiss!” you quipped, giving him a cute silly look as you blew a bit of air over your steaming hot chocolate.
he stopped chewing.
“really?” satoru spoke with his mouthful. “i can literally give that to you right now c’mere—”
“no toru!” your cheeks buzzed a vibrant pink, completely flustered. “you’re supposed to say a big fat no!”
“now why the fuck would i do that...” he grumbled, shoulders slumping from disappointment as he took another big bite of his dessert.
you giggled, looking at him apologetically before standing on your tippy toes and licking a bit of melted chocolate from the corner of his mouth.
and he blinked at you, dumb and still as his cheeks copied the same exact shade as yours.
my god.
you were about to turn him into a freak.
“okay now you have to kiss me.”
“why?!” you laughed. “you had chocolate on your face! i was helping you out.”
“yeah right you little minx.” he scarfed down the last bit of his s’more and threw his little paper tray in the trash can behind him, putting his hands together and shaking off excess crumbs. “that’s actually the most torturous thing you have ever done to me.”
“dramatic!” you exclaimed, laughs escaping you and increasing as you watched satoru’s flustered face pout and glare at you.
you breathed in deeply and settled down, standing up straight as you took a tiny sip of your hot chocolate and smiled. “now i feel bad.”
“you should.”
“can you forgive me?”
“not unless you kiss me.”
“toru!”
“what?!” he pushed. “baby it’s only fair! really! just once and that’s it. a harmless peck nothing more we aren’t doing anything crazier.”
you gnawed at your bottom lip in thought.
technically he was right… it was just one little peck, entirely harmless and cute and wouldn’t have you both falling off of that thin tight rope you guys were still balancing off of.
this would only shake it a little… but then you’d be fine! right?
you were too far gone in the considerations of his proposal as you looked at his absolutely breathtaking blue eyes and face, somehow looking even more angelic as his pinky cold cheeks and nose and scarf covered neck did nothing but make you fall deeper in love with him than you already were.
how someone could look as good as satoru was beyond you.
“just—” you peered up at him. “just one peck okay?”
his eyes widened.
holy shit.
“yes!” he breathed out. “yes yes just one.”
“toru.” you spoke sternly. “i’m serious.”
he frantically nodded, arms already snaking around your waist and bringing you in.
you both couldn’t believe it.
you were about to have your very first kiss.
the two of you leaned in then— softly, timidly, afraid as satoru’s chocolate breath fanned against your nostrils and filled your lungs, lips coming closer and closer until they met in a simple, solid, tiny harmless peck.
satoru felt like his veins were about to pop and explode at the feeling of your delicate soft lips finally on his, the feeling actually fucking unreal as his fingertips went numb and his body tingled all over.
but it quickly became clear that it was not just one harmless peck.
because when it was supposed to be the time for you both to pull away, you and satoru only opened your mouths and kissed deeper— eyelids blissfully closed as your lips smacked so slowly and tenderly, the two of you actively relishing in the moment and just drinking each other’s mouths in as they moved and shifted, deep breaths through your noses as you daze-fully made out with the faint fuzzy sound of jingle bells and christmas music growing increasingly distant.
you tasted so sweet. just like he’d imagined.
but the moment came to and end when you both snapped your eyelids open in realization and released lips, pupils frantic and wide as you searched each other’s eyes for any sign of anger since you both had slipped up and did way more than just a peck.
but there was nothing. obviously there was nothing like that as your shoulders relaxed simultaneously and bashful smiles crossed your faces.
“you taste like chocolate.” he grinned.
you bit your bottom lip in a smile. “so do you.”
“twins.”
“uh huh.”
“i love you.”
you stilled.
you’ve told each other that thousands of times for years, since childhood.
you’ve always said you loved each other and have both known it was laced with those unspoken feelings you had, and you accepted that for as long as you could remember.
but somehow… in someway… it just felt different this time around. profound. more serious.
“i love you.” you responded.
satoru smiled softly and leaned his forehead against yours, basking in each others authentic infatuation for a moment before pulling away.
“can i get another s’more—”
“no!”
satoru ended up getting his second s’more, and you surprisingly ended up partaking in satoru activities and downed three fucking cups of that hot chocolate you loved so much, your tummy full and about to literally burst, but not really giving a shit as you and him were having so much freaking fun— buying little christmas trinkets from the santa shop and building tiny snowmen in the snowy play area filled with a bunch of kids (satoru literally making a tiny dick for one of the snowman and you immediately destroying it and wacking him), even skating in the rink but purely just for enjoyment and not a single thought of what you do professionally crossing your minds.
you stayed there until it was nearly closing time, money absolutely spent from all the things you bought, but your souls happy and warm as you happily walked to the car so satoru could take you home.
on the drive there, you showcased all of the trinkets you both had bought, a particular one catching your eye that you remembered you hadn’t shown satoru yet.
“oh! i got this one—” you dug your hand in the white plastic bag and pulled out a little snow angel, beautiful and glossy as the angels face blushed and smiled. “at the santa shop!”
“it’s cute baby!” he smiled. “for you?”
you shook your head. “i got it for aki. for the next time we visit her.”
his heart softened, nodding.
you and satoru tried your best to visit her grave as often as you possibly could, sometimes nearing four times a week to pay your respects and chat with her for a little while, filling her in a bit on your lives to bring back the feeling of what it was like to just talk to her in any way you could, like you had the fortune of doing once before.
“it kinda looks like her.. doesn’t it?” he questioned, pointing to the figure.
“it does right!” you expressed. “that’s why i got it… it reminded me of her.”
“she’ll love it.” he grinned, gently running the pad of his finger against your cold cheek before turning his attention back to the road.
you and satoru didn’t mention the kiss again as you were funnily still in shock over it, but the butterflies in your stomachs and the sole memory of it did more than enough as you climbed into bed with an already snoring satoru, him sleeping over for the night (when was he not) as you nudged your way under his arm and cuddled yourself in his chest, his slumbered state pulling you in like muscle memory.
you both only had two more practices left before the international skating union competition. once there, you and satoru had to land a spot in the top three chosen by the national olympic committee to earn an official spot in competing for the olympics, a task that was already vigorous and exhausting and nerve wracking, but one you both were more than ready for.
general admittance to competing in the olympics was essentially fourteen years in the making, one that wouldn’t have been possible in the first place if it wasn’t for akira.
“i think we should add a spin to this lasso lift.” you suggested, you and satoru taking a break from running the routine and standing by the bleachers during practice— watching a recently recorded take of your choreography to point out mistakes that flew under your radars.
“a spin?” he asked. “how sweets.”
“so when you lasso me around into the lift—” you rewinded the video and pointed. “since you’re holding me up over your head and we’re balancing with our hands, i say you maybe push me up to kind of like— propel me to do a triple rotation spin back down.”
“and then from there i catch you?”
“yeah!” you nodded. “and we’re traveling across the ice.”
satoru pursed his lips. “that’s kind of hard… you sure?”
“we’ve done worse toru.” you laughed. “i feel like this would give us more points.”
“oh it definitely would.” he nodded. “okay baby.”
“yay!” you cheered. “let’s practice the lift and propel on the mats first because if not i’m gonna eat shit.”
satoru laughed and sat down on the bleachers with you, quickly taking off his skates before standing and kneeling in front of you, untying your laces and slipping your skates off for you as you cutely smiled, him feeling like your little hero and knight in shining armor even if it was for something so minuscule.
he loved doing things for you.
in the middle of you and satoru practicing the move on the mats, your mother came in through the front doors of the ice rink.
“hi!” she greeted, holding up two wide rectangular boxes. “your costumes came in!”
“oh thank god!” you breathed out, satoru setting you down on your feet before you both ran to see. “i thought they weren’t gonna come in on time!”
“are they cool?!” satoru tumbled out. “do they scream please let me in the olympics?!”
you snorted and shoved his shoulder playfully as you unwrapped your boxes, your eyes shining in delight at the sight of your rhinestoned pale baby blue dress, a shade you purposefully picked out as it matched the color of satoru’s eyes— you lifting it with your fingertips from the box and gushing.
you turned it around and held it up against your frame as satoru pulled his top out— a white, tight long sleeved low cut v-neck button up that you already knew was gonna hug his yummy biceps so good, the thought of it making you bite the inside of your cheek as he checked over his black slacks.
your mother clasped her hands together, holding it to her mouth as her eyes gleamed over the two of you.
“i can’t believe it’s happening now.” she spoke softly, you and satoru diverting your attention to her and smiling. “for so long it was always just a distant thing you know? but now it’s here. actually.”
“fuck i know right.” you responded.
“language, y/n.”
“but i’m twenty!” you whined, pouting as satoru snickered behind you.
your mother rolled her eyes and cupped yours and satoru’s chins under her hands.
“good luck next week, alright? i know you guys will sweep.” she pushed. “make aki proud.”
the smiles on your faces grew, nodding as she squeezed your chins and released.
“oh! satoru—” your mother picked up her jacket and swung her purse over her shoulder. “your mom won’t be home for the night her trip got extended until tomorrow… you can sleep over at our house if you want so you’re not over there alone? or y/n can stay with you?”
“oh okay!” he spoke kindly. “thank you for letting me know!”
she smiled and nodded, hugging you both goodbye before leaving the rink.
your head whipped in his direction.
“toru if i sleep over at your house we can watch horror movies and actually scream as loud as we want without worrying about waking anybody up.”
his eyes bulged open. “oh my god you’re right! dibs i get to choose—”
“fuck!—”
by the end of practice you and satoru mastered the addition you added into the lasso lift, performing it beautifully on the ice over and over again until it was like simple reflex, calling it a day after a while and packing your things up to drive to satoru’s house.
you both took turns stepping in the shower to get rid of the sticky sweat that lingered on your skin, changing into comfy pajamas after as you tiredly settled in satoru’s big comfy bed— him flicking through his selection of horror movies and debating which one to pick.
“do you wanna watch something gory or just horror.”
“gory!” you perked up. “i need to work on not being so queasy.”
“but you seem fine when i throw up?”
“that’s because i’m used to it.” you laughed, head resting on his shoulder as he picked a movie and threw his remote somewhere across the bed, his arm coming to wrap around your tummy and pull you in.
it wasn’t like the selection mattered anyways, because fifteen minutes into the movie you were already falling asleep, hand resting on satoru’s torso as he continued to watch it— for some reason still wide awake even after skating for hours.
your sleepy sudden movements from your hand made him weirdly stiffen and relax every single time, your brows furrowing at the feeling and eyes fluttering open when he wouldn’t stop doing it.
“toru… are you still ticklish?” you mumbled sleepily.
he stiffened again.
“no.” he answered softly. “why..?”
you lazily grinned.
“youuu suureee?”
terror struck him as he sensed exactly what the fuck you were about to do.
“please spare me please spare me—”
you jumped on him and tickled his entire upper body, satoru laughing and gasping as he smacked your hands away and twisted and turned, his strong grip making it hard for you to tickle him at one point as you stubbornly swung a leg over his waist and settled over his lap, attacking him while he yelped and screamed.
“baby!” he gasped. “baby please! have some mercy is this how much i mean to you?!”
you giggled and finally stopped, hands retracting as you settled them on your hips. “that’s what you get for lying to me.”
“i was lying for my safety.”
“uh huh.”
you both grinned, satoru’s eyes occasionally flickering down to you straddling his lap with your pretty plushy thighs and blushing, trying to keep his gaze on yours to refrain himself from doing something a little too mental and weird.
but it was too fucking late, because it took no time at all for the blood to rush to his pathetic dick and harden.
surprisingly though, you were the one that was mental— the feeling of his cock against your clit undeniable as the uncomfortable shifts of satoru’s waist only stimulated it against your little nub and made you bite down hard on your bottom lip, shaky breaths leaving your mouth as it was getting harder and harder for you to restrain yourself from satoru’s godlike existence.
and your body was just not listening as you timidly rolled your hips over his crotch— your short shorts criminally thin as you felt just how big satoru’s length was, mouth watering as your palms timidly settled over his chest for stability, grinding on his cock harder.
satoru’s eyes were blown out as he watched you do something so— so lewd, his mind wandering if you were fully and properly there as something like this was absolutely breaking your unspoken rule, and you were more strict about it than he was.
but he didn’t want you to stop. god no.
at this point, you and satoru were off that metaphorical tight rope and hanging on by two hands— having both failed at keeping each other balanced as you rolled and rolled your hips deliciously on his dick, his chest quickly rising and falling at the feeling of your warm pussy over his groin and at the sight of you using him to get yourself off.
your little needy mewls made his hands tremble as he threw his head back on the pillow, eyes pathetically fucked out over something so simple.
“fuck me..” satoru groaned, hands coming up to rub over his face as his hips lifted to meet your grinding.
him doing that broke you out of your haze and you stiffened, satoru taking his hands away from his face with pinched brows at the sudden halt.
what happened?
“okay!” you laughed nervously, an alarmed expression as you swung your leg off of his lap and scrambled under the covers, pulling it completely over you as you shamefully looked anywhere and everywhere but satoru.
but he was out of it.
undoubtedly out of it now that you did what you did… wanting more, wanting all of you as he snatched the covers off of your frame and you squeaking as a result.
“why’d you stop.” he whispered, thumb raising to trace your bottom lip.
“i don’t— i don’t know what you’re talking about—”
“yes you do—”
“absolutely not—”
“i want you.” he cut you off. “i want you bad and i know you want me too so let’s just— let’s just do this once, okay? once please just to see what it’s like and it’ll never happen again.”
your eyes remained wide as you looked at his desperate frantic ones, his hands already kneading at your waist and thighs.
he was entrancing you into his proposal again, exactly the same way as when you both kissed for the first time at the festival as he leaned down and nibbled at your jaw, slotting himself in between your legs.
“do— do what?”
“fuck.” he mumbled, rolling his hips down on your pussy rough and you gasping at the sensation of his big cock against your clit again.
you whimpered as he rutted into you, hands flying to squeeze his biceps as his wet mouth moved down to your neck, licking and gnawing as he waited for your response.
“but isn’t that—” you stifled a moan. “isn’t that too far toru?—”
“please baby please.” he picked his head up and looked at you. “just once i swear once so we see what it’s like and get it out of our systems and never do it again. i promise.”
he needs to kiss you right fucking now.
your eyes fluttered closed as he continued to hump you, licking your lips as you weakly tried to look into his eyes.
“you swear?” you breathed out. “swear it just once and that’s it—”
“i swear i swear i swear—”
“okay then fuck me toru please—”
satoru nearly cried as he ripped himself away from you to frantically pull off his shirt and pants, him slapping your hands away when you tried to take off your own clothes as he wanted to do it himself— lifting your shirt over your head and downright tearing your shorts in half as he flung them down and across the room, your little pink bra and panties set actually turning him into a complete mess as he hovered back over you and shoved his tongue in your mouth.
you still tasted just as sweet as he remembered.
“been dreaming of—” mmpf— “kissing you since you let me, sweets.”
“yeah?” your lips moved sloppily with his as you snuck a hand in your panties and dipped your fingers in your pussy, collecting your arousal. “you missed me toru?”
“uh huh.” he breathed hotly against your lips, hand coming to slide underneath your bra to cup your bare tit. “every fucking night i’d jerk my dick dry thinking about it.”
his words made your clit twitch as you pushed him off your lips.
“open your mouth.”
satoru did as told without a peep and opened it with his tongue out, your hands coming out from your panties as you reached up and slipped your fingers in his mouth, his lips closing in and sucking everything you had to give him as he salvaged up your arousal.
“fuck—” he released your fingers. “is this from your pussy baby?”
“mhm.” you moaned.
your arousal was even sweeter.
“my god—” he grabbed your wrist and licked a long stripe up your palm. “you dirty fucking thing m’gonna have to taste for myself and see.”
you gasped. “what?”
satoru sat up and pulled your wet panties down your legs, biting down on his tongue hard at the sight of your angelic bare cunt before him, slick and shiny and pretty as you unclasped your bra and spread your legs for him— eager and ready and not a single other thought in your brain besides the one that was screaming for satoru to stick his dick inside you.
“toruuuu!” you whined. “quit staring and fuck me.”
his cock pulsed.
“patience sweets, i wanna taste you first.”
you expected satoru to just lower himself down and shove his head in between your thighs, but you were dead fucking wrong as he stood, grabbed your waist and yanked you high up, sitting you on his shoulders as you squealed and gripped his hair.
“wait toru isn’t this uncomfortable i—”
he scoffed. “fuck no. i’ve been lifting you my whole life baby this is nothing.”
your speech lodged itself in your throat as you felt his tongue lap at your folds and clit, slobbering and filthy as he ate and scarfed you down just like his usual daily sweets, you by far his absolute favorite as he slurped your little pussy up and made you squeal and moan.
satoru walked over to the wall and leaned you up against it, taking your thighs off of his shoulders and placing his hands underneath as he propped you up and spread your legs wider, your jaw dropping at his slimy tongue flicking and him slabbering his mouth side to side rapidly until your legs shook and you saw stars.
“toru—”
he grunted, tongue prodding at your hole and you jumping.
“i think— i think i’m gonna cum and i—” pant “i don’t wanna—”
satoru separated his mouth from your pussy with a squelch and looked up, smiling big.
“too bad!”
“but—”
he spit on your cunt and you gasped.
“i said too bad.”
he dipped back in and fully devoured you as you mewled, messier as he slushed his tongue all over and you’d never experienced something like this, something that felt so fucking good as you started cumming all over his face in record speed regardless of how hard you were trying to hold back.
“yummy.”
he let go and you dropped down as he quickly caught you, turning and throwing you on his bed as he climbed over you— wrapping a hand around his cock and jerking as he kissed and swallowed your lips up again.
“you want me to make love to you or fuck you?” he slopped against your mouth before pulling back, yours and his eyes fluttering open to look at each other.
your legs were still shaking by the eat out he gave you seconds before, finding it hard to get your words together as his handsome deluded face stared at you.
“i— um—”
he placed his lips next to your ear.
“you want me to fuck you like my wife or fuck you like a little slut? or both?”
“both toru please—”
he grinned, coming back up as he parted your legs further open and lined his leaky tip with your hole.
“i can do both!”
satoru pushed himself in and you choked, hands clasping over your mouth as you felt him bully his big cock through and leave you a blabbering crying mess under him— his chest heaving at the warmth and softness and stickiness of your cute gummy walls, his years of imagining and theorizing how you’d feel wrapped around his dick all completely debunking themselves at the real feeling as you whimpered and clenched your hole.
“jesus christ—” he shivered, swallowing thickly as his trembling fingers settled on your waist, him slowly reeling his hips back before pumping in. “you’re— you’re warm.”
you dropped your hands and wiped your cheeks as you hiccuped, the feeling of his dick sliding in and out of your walls incandescently euphoric as you embarrassingly already felt yourself wanting to cum again when he had just stuck his dick inside of you— you wanting to ride out this moment for a bit longer and not finish so quickly like you had done on his mouth.
“am i being too mean pretty?” he huffed, thrusts now quick and curt as he gripped your bouncing tits and pinched your perking nipples, the sight of your little tears shamefully turning him on.
you frantically shook your head and tried to clear your brain. “n—no!—”
“good.” he smiled, a little crazed as he let go of your boobs, placed his hands on the backside of your thighs and pushed your knees up to your chest, picking up speed as you squealed and whimpered, utterly taken aback by how rough satoru was being considering the fact that he was such a goofy and kind and loving person on the daily.
oh… what years worth of pent up sexual frustration can do to a man.
satoru whined as you milked his dick, wheezing as he hammered his hips up and slapped against your skin, your body jolting and bouncing uncontrollably as his bed squeaked loud and obnoxiously.
thank god his mother wasn’t home.
“i’ve wanted this i’ve wanted this i’ve wanted this—” satoru babbled, his critical thinking out the fucking window as he just tumbled out totally random but honest confessions as your ears eagerly drank up every word and made your hole tighten.
“yeah?” pant “f—for how long baby?”
“for so long—” he whined loudly, fucking you faster as your mouth hung open and you gripped his wrists for support. “you’re everything i’ve ever w—wanted—”
“i— i’ve only ever wanted you toru— fuck! you’re big.“ you moaned, loving the way a huge deranged smile spread across his face as his hips pistoned into you and his hands pinned you down.
“cum on my dick baby please cum on my dick i want it i want it—”
your toes curled and you squealed, vision flashing white as you let out a high pitched scream at the intense buzzing feeling, your bodies hot and sticky and wet as satoru leaned over and shoved his lips in your ear.
“can i— can i cum inside?” he choked through gritted teeth as he came close to spilling his seed. “please i wanna cum inside—”
“but m’not on the pill—”
“please please baby i beg you—” hah! “i don’t wanna cum anywhere else—”
your eyes fluttered shut at his words and you quickly nodded, his hand cupping your face as he thrusted in one last time and pumped his cum entirely inside you without an ounce of hesitation for the consequences, his horny mind actually crazed and solidifying that there was no fucking way in hell he was gonna accept just friends from this point forward.
what a stupid thought.
“mmm…” you slowly moved your hips a little, feeling his cum all inside your ravished walls as you licked your lips. “your cum feels hot toru.”
not even warm, hot as it slushed and moved inside you with every movement you made, some of it dribbling and coating your outer folds as you bit your bottom lip into a smile and craned your head up to his neck, nibbling and giving satoru tiny kitten licks as he trembled and struggled to stay afloat and not give out his upper arm strength— trying to prevent himself from squishing you.
satoru pressed a soft tender kiss to your cheek then before sitting up and delicately sliding his dick out, running a soothing hand over your tummy as he did so and giving you a lazy smile.
he suddenly raised his pinky to you.
“birds of a feather?” he murmured, other hand running from your stomach over to your thighs now as he just lovingly felt you up, you smiling with rosy cheeks as you linked your little pinky with his.
“birds of a feather.”
you both kissed your thumbs and locked your promise, deciding then that you should probably shower once more before getting into bed to officially sleep— but deciding to shower together as you softly and steamily made out under the misty hot running water, body and mind relaxed as you just swallowed in the ambience of each other, you both not only holding on to your metaphorical tight rope with one hand now, but it actually on the verge of snapping as a whole and sending you both free falling.
and for the next couple of days, you and satoru were feral.
years and years of doing fucking nothing with pure restraint and fantasizing did a number on you both as any chance you got you were making out on your bed, his bed, and even in satoru’s car after your lectures— your hand teasingly going lower and lower until you’d shove a hand in his pants to pull his dick out and pump, your body leaning across the console and mouth going down to bob and suck as he moaned and pulled your hair into a makeshift ponytail to guide you and your pretty bows and fuck your mouth just to hear the sounds of you choking, eyes from time to time frantically looking around to see if no one was around as you blowed him.
and you did that basically all of the time for the next three days until the final practice just before the international skating union competition, satoru physically unable to leave you alone and unscathed as he constantly pinned you down to eat your pussy or suckle on your soft tits, his hand tightly clasped over your mouth in your room when your moans would get too loud as he fingered you, his long fingers squelching and abusing your cunt until you were finishing all over his hands again and again.
but you two having actual sex didn’t happen again apart from that night— satoru a man of his word since he promised you would only do it once… unfortunately. but that didn’t mean you couldn’t do other things, right?
except by the final practice, satoru was absolutely fucked off at the fact that neither of you had brought up the potentiality of being more than just friends, especially after doing all of those lewd acts.
he was so sick of it.
and so were you, quite frankly, but instead of being completely over it like satoru, you were afraid… afraid of what could happen and the possibility of losing him if you both indulged, if you let yourselves put your freaking careers on the line.
and satoru was the one person you couldn’t bear to lose. not ever.
“we look good sweets!” satoru cheesed, rotating around in the ice rinks dressing room mirrors as you had your costumes on for dress rehearsal and refinements, both of you glittering and shiny and looking like a professional ice skating pair as you examined yourself, readjusting your straps and hugging your torso.
“cold.” you shivered. “maybe i should’ve had it as a long sleeve… shit.”
he laughed and placed his hands on your arms, rubbing up and down quickly to create frictional heat as you smiled at him gratefully. “nah, it’s cute like this! you’ll warm up once we run it a few times on the ice.”
you nodded, the both of you walking out of the dressing room and to the rink, skillfully putting on your skates before pushing yourself on the ice and gliding across.
“can you show me the uh—” satoru looked to the side in thought once he was on the ice in front of you. “the part where we skate in unison and have our arms up in an L? it’s in the chorus of our music—”
“oh!” you nodded and skated a bit away from him to demonstrate.
“i just wanna see if my form matches yours and we look clean.” he smiled. “and then show me the triple axel after that.”
you gave him a cute thumbs up and pushed yourself off, gliding gracefully and smoothly across the ice as satoru was supposed to be watching you to try and fix his form, but finding himself transfixed once again by the way you seamlessly skated with no sense of struggling effort— arms poised and flowy as your dress moved and fluttered with every twist and turn until you gradually propelled yourself up into the triple axel and landed correctly without a slip or wobble.
the level of difficulty and technicality you skated reminded him of akira— but your style, your movement, and the way you carried yourself was entirely your own.
you made figure skating look beautiful.
you were beautiful.
you slowed down on the ice and skated over to satoru.
“were you able to see? did you match me?—”
“you skate just like her.” satoru spoke softly, and you faltered.
he didn’t need to clarify who he was talking about, as you always knew.
“you’re just saying that.” you pursed your lips to keep yourself from smiling, or crying, you didn’t know.
but a compliment like that meant the absolute world to you.
“i’m not.” he shrugged, skating over to you and taking your hands as he glided with you to starting position. “you always have baby. and i know that’s what you’ve always wanted. i’m sorry i don’t say it enough.”
your eyes softened. “toru that’s not something to be sorry about at all…”
satoru was so kind.
you both skated together and ran the choreography a couple of times, spinning simultaneously and satoru lifting you again and again throughout the routine and still performing your lasso spinning lift successfully, arms around his shoulders and faces close as the wind whipped through both of your costumes and hair from traveling across the ice at such a speed before coming to a sudden choreographed halt at the end of your number.
you had slid down satoru’s body to plant your blades back on the ice when he had enough.
“please stick your tongue in my mouth.”
you choked on your spit and slapped a hand over your mouth.
“toru no! absolutely not we can’t anymore okay—”
“what are we.”
you froze.
“huh?”
“what are we.” he repeated, eyes dead locked on yours and hard. “are we together? are we not? are we friends? what are we—”
“we’re— we’re friends toru—”
“oh fuck no.” he let you go and created a little bit of space between you. “don’t give me that shit we’re not friends.”
“w—well we can’t—”
“i’m your man.” he stated firmly. “i’m your man i’ve been your man for years and i’m tired of avoiding this sweets! it sucks!”
“we’re putting everything at risk if we do toru we can’t!”
“i’m your man.”
“no you’re not—”
he cut you off. “your mouth has been on my dick. we’ve had sex. we’ve kissed we’ve made out we’ve told each other i love you if that doesn’t tell you that we’re together then what the actual fuck?!”
“oh my god toru i know i know!” you groaned, hugging yourself as you anxiously looked at him. “what happens if we break up? huh? what do we do?”
he shook his head. “we won’t.”
“you don’t know that.” you laughed bitterly. “if that happens we lose each other satoru understand that. we break birds of a feather, we ruin our careers, and we ruin us.”
“first of all—” he started. “our birds of a feather promise is to stick together, keep each other safe, and not seperate or fight, is it not?”
“it— it is—”
“so do you really think if we continue to keep each other in this fuck ass limbo of friends that we aren’t already breaking that?” he threw his arms out in emphasis. “we have never been just friends. i’ve known you for fourteen fucking years and we have never been just that.”
you blinked back tears.
“i promise you baby—” he slid closer to you and cupped your cheeks. “that we won’t leave each other. i will fight and try every single damn day to make sure that that shit never happens even though i already know it won’t because you’ve been made for me since birth and we haven’t separated since we’ve met.”
satoru wiped your cheeks. “but i also promise you, that if we continue as just friends, we will break. we’re gonna string each other along so fucking much that we’re gonna go absolutely insane and drive each other away. that is for certain.”
“but— skating—”
“i don’t give an ever living fuck.” he spat funnily and you laughed through your tears. “skating is nothing without you. all the trophies and medallions and the god damn olympics itself with that gold medal is nothing without you. i would give that shit up in a heartbeat if it meant keeping you in my life in exchange.”
“and i would do the same for you toru!” you sobbed, his arms immediately wrapping around your shoulders and pulling you in as you sniffled and hiccuped into his chest, him kissing the side of your head repeatedly and soothing a hand down your back.
“don’t cry pretty i didn’t meant to make you cry...” he mumbled, cheek mushed up against your head as your shoulders shook, a huge disgusting pit of guilt in his stomach. “fine it’s okay we can be just friends for a bit longer please don’t cry—”
“no!” you sputtered, pushing him back a little to face him. “i don’t wanna be just friends anymore either toru… it hurts me so much.”
“it does?” he asked softly and you nodded.
“it hurts me too.”
satoru wiped your remaining tears again and fixed the little bows in your hair, a soft liberated smile on his face as he reached down to cup your cheeks and bring your perfect lips to his, kissing you lovingly as the both of you felt like you could finally rest and stop ridiculously hiding your love in the shadows after so many years.
the thin tight rope that you had both been toppling over and rebalancing and holding onto to keep the other from falling, had finally snapped in two, and you and satoru were now in the darkest depths of the truth of what you both were.
except it wasn’t dark at all.
it was light and airy and heavenly, and you wondered why you had been so afraid when there was nothing to be afraid of in the first place, since the one you were falling with was satoru.
silly.
he pulled apart and looked at you, his striking blue eyes and white fluffy hair especially beautiful.
“tomorrow—” he began. “we’re gonna absolutely destroy everyone else there and land a spot in the top three, and then after i’m gonna take you out on a nice dinner and buy every single fucking dessert off the menu, and then i’m gonna ask you to be my girlfriend. okay baby?”
you giggled then, the brightest rosy cheeks on display from the both of you as you eagerly nodded and threw your arms around his neck.
and tomorrow could not come soon enough, because not only were you looking forward to making your dreams a reality and competing against other figure skating pairs from around the world and the olympics itself, but also the thought of officially being satoru’s after years of wishing on little stars and day dreaming about what that would be like for hours on end.
until the moment was here. happening.
the indoor arena was electric and rowdy the minute the competition commenced, you and satoru in absolute awe of the energetic atmosphere as many individuals in the crowd waved their banners or screamed their loved ones names, an ambience very similar to the olympics as you both watched pair after pair perform their hardwork and dedication on the ice, goosebumps on your skin as you fidgeted and jittered.
out of twenty of your countries competing pairs, only three of you would be chosen for the olympics.
and you hoped to god you and satoru would be chosen.
“we’re almost up baby.” satoru patted your head, sitting on a bench in your designated area. “i think it’s two more pairs then it’s us.”
you nodded, nerves closing up your throat as your eyes darted over the rink.
satoru frowned.
“hey.” he placed a hand on your thigh, suddenly wanting to rip your nylon tights off so you could actually feel his skin on yours. “you nervous sweets?”
you nodded again, and he gave you a silly grin.
“don’t be! you’re literally akira the second. we’ll be fine!”
you laughed lightly and leaned your head on his shoulder.
“and even if we don’t land a spot, that’s fine too.” he kissed your head. “it’s our first year anyways… we’ll know the game for next time and we’ll try harder.”
you picked your head up and smiled at him, his words settling your nerves just as soon as the last remaining pair took their places on stage, yours and satoru’s turn right after.
what you didn’t know, was that satoru was just as nervous as you.
but he knew you needed a rock and someone to comfort you— wanting to swoop in like a little hero and save you again… so he kept it hidden.
“fuck i almost forgot!” satoru jumped up and dug into his duffel bag, pulling out a roll of pale baby blue ribbon that matched your dress exactly. “you told me you didn’t have ribbon that matched your costume so i went and tried to look.”
he held it out for you cutely on his palm.
“does this one match?”
you picked up the roll, astonished and mushy inside that satoru actually went out of his way to find this specific ribbon color for you because you had expressed how unhappy you were with the darker shade you had, your eyes looking up at him in complete adoration.
“oh my goodness— thank you toru!”
you quickly undid the bows in your hair and slipped off the former ribbon, digging through your duffel bag for scissors and cutting off pieces from the new ribbon before looping them through your hair and tying, not needing a mirror since you’ve done it for as long as you could remember.
satoru’s cheeks went pink as he looked at your new pretty bows.
“does they look okay?”
“beautiful.” he responded, pecking your lips before taking your hand and leading you to the entrance of the rink.
“okay—” you breathed out. “this is it.”
“what kind of food do you think they’ll have at the dinner place we picked—”
“toru!” you giggled. “not now!”
he smiled sheepishly at you before leaning his forehead against yours.
you stuck your pinky out.
“birds of a feather?”
satoru grinned and looped his pinky with yours.
“birds of a feather baby.”
you both kissed your thumbs and once again, locked your promise.
the announcer over the speakers iterated your names and your country as you and satoru glided across the ice poised and graceful with your arms up, waving at the crowd and giving your mothers a special frantic wave before moving to starting position, unknowing of the way several other pairs and the judges themselves murmured about your reputation and your association with akira.
and you hoped she was watching over you both now. somewhere.
the music begun, contemporary and lyrical as you and satoru slid across the rink, already impressive and entertaining as you performed moves and lifts right off the bat, the sounds of your blades scraping against the ice oddly keeping you in time with your choreography as the number went on.
and you and satoru were feeding off of each other, the chemistry undeniable to a strangers eye that had no idea of your story as you conveyed passion through your expressions, each technical movement bleeding with the fact that you both had been olympic level trained since the age of fourteen and fifteen.
you were halfway through your routine now, the lasso lift coming up next as satoru harbored in his strength so he could properly propel you into that newly added spin.
you skated around him and he lifted you up into the air, the crowd cheering and excited at your beautiful remarkable forms.
except satoru’s hands were slippery.
why?
nerves. he quickly deemed it nerves as he had no time to deliberate since it was almost time to propel you up into the spin, his mind already racing over the fact that the slip in his hands was hindering his strength to keep you up there, and he worried that if he pushed you up, it wouldn’t be enough and you’d come tumbling down— hurting yourself.
but satoru had zero time to decide again as he went with protocol and pushed you up as hard as he possibly could and prayed you would go into your triple axel spin successfully and that he’d catch you.
but the minute that he did, the force yanked him back and his skates flew up in front of him, you falling down and your thigh hitting something sharp before you both went slamming to the ground— sliding apart from each other on the ice.
the crowd screamed and gasped in terror, sounds you were all too familiar with to what you heard three years ago filling both your fuzzy minds as satoru struggled to get back up, his head turning slowly around to see if you were okay and just sore like him—
until he saw your limp body on your side, your back to him with blood slowly pooling out on the ice and staining your pretty blue dress.
satoru scrambled up and skated straightaway in a panic to you before sliding on his knees as he reached you, turning you over and paling as he saw you were unresponsive and out fucking cold.
“baby?“ he shook you. “hey— baby—”
nothing.
why weren’t you answering him? why weren’t you awake?
his brain flashed images of akira’s body the day that she died, suffocating deja vu as the way you looked when he saw you like that on your side was a carbon copy of her from three years ago, his chest picking up speed as you continued to lay limp even after he shook you desperately numerous times like a madman.
and why was there so much blood?
blood that looked sickly bright red against the white ice, blood that stained his sleeves and shirt and hands as he held you up and supported your head, and blood that wouldn’t stop fucking oozing out of your leg as he trembled.
“hey— hey can you hear me?” satoru tapped your cheek rapidly, shaking you gently again with horrified eyes and still not getting a response.
“fuck! why is this happening this isn’t supposed to happen—”
how could he be your hero? how could he stop the blood and wake you up? how could he— how could he fix this how could he take it all back how could he fix this—
“no no no baby please—” he sobbed. “not like aki baby not like her man—”
he shook you again, your head lolling to the side as if— as if you were—
no.
“baby— birds of a feather right? birds of a feather we have to stick together you can’t— you can’t leave right?” he cried, chest heaving and vision blurry and you just felt so cold.
“you’re not leaving you’re not leaving me please not like aki please god—” he cradled you up to his chest in his arms and rocked. “you can’t leave me you’re all i know and i don’t wanna know anything else please baby—”
satoru’s frantic repeated heartbroken wailing echoed throughout the arena as the crowd erupted and moved around in hysteria, him still rocking you in his arms as he turned his head with terrified bloodshot eyes to look at both of your mothers, yours hunched over in a fit of screams and cries as his had her hands in her hair in utter disbelief and tears.
“fuck what do i do!” he sobbed, legs shakily standing as he slipped one arm under your back and the other under your knees, picking your limp body up as he saw a huge group of paramedics run over to him on the ice as he carried you over.
“help—” hic! “h—help me please—”
why couldn’t satoru be your hero when it mattered most?
several of them lowered the stretcher and took you from him, laying your lifeless self on it before hoisting you up and swiftly carrying you away, all of it horrifyingly and painfully similar to akira’s inevitable death.
were you gone?
satoru looked down and saw your baby blue ribbons on the ice, wet and stained with blood, once perfect bows in your pretty hair when he had you awake and breathing.
were you breathing? had you hit your head?
he couldn’t remember.
he couldn’t remember anything but your unresponsiveness, the way your skin was colder than the ice itself as he picked up your ribbons and looked at them in his hands— and the way your blood stretched over for what looked like miles and was still there.
in front of him. taunting him.
was the world so cruel as to take you too?
it wouldn’t. it couldn’t.
you’d never done anything wrong. you’d never treated anybody indifferently as you were sweet and beautiful and talented, always in servitude of others— in servitude of him as you taught him how to ice skate when you didn’t need to at six years old, you already kind and gentle at that young age when you could’ve easily shooed him away like a little bug and told him to fuck off.
and throughout your life too, as he was well aware he was an annoying dramatic piece of shit that whined and cried and ate your stashes of sweets all of the time— but you always just giggling and looking at him with adoration in your eyes, with your cheeky smile, with the little ribbon bows in your hair he loved so fucking much.
oh how he wished he didn’t always take your sweets at that moment. how he wished he wasn’t always an annoying blockhead and made you mad at times with his persistent personality and neediness as he stood there frozen in the rink staring at your blood— dark now and dull, wishing it was him instead of you.
you were knocked out for five days at the hospital.
you and satoru also didn’t make it into the top three at the international skating union competition.
you should’ve, as your score was already higher than any other pair there and only halfway through the routine too— but that’s precisely why you got knocked out.
if you had finished your number, you would’ve landed in the top three, but it ending halfway cut off the opportunity for accumulating more points, and eventually another pair surpassed your halfway score by two points.
but satoru didn’t give a shit. fuck the olympics and fuck the international skating union while your body laid still on the hospital bed for hours on end, him refusing to leave your side as he sat there and stared off into space with nothing in his head but hatred for himself as it was his fault that this happened and his blade that sliced you— eyes red and sunken and tired and refusing to eat or drink.
you had hit your head on the ice, but thankfully the trauma wasn’t anywhere near the severity of akira’s, it only inducing a strong concussion and sending you flying out of consciousness upon impact.
but it was the loss of blood that was the problem.
you had lost so much, too much of it.
it made you weak and frail and unable to do much and satoru worried that that’s what was going to take away your fighting chance of survival.
“you should go home satoru…” your mother sighed, standing by the door of your hospital room, her own eyes red and swollen.
he shook his head no silently.
“she’ll still be here… you need to eat something or sleep please. you look awful.”
satoru smiled weakly and shook his head again.
“m’fine.”
your mother pursed her lips to the side and she sighed again, nodding.
“i’ll come by early in the morning, alright?”
he hummed, giving her a tiny wave as she left and closed the door behind her.
satoru had brought a roll of pink ribbon from your little white box in your room, unrolling the pieces he chose and lifting his hands, taking the ends of your hair and trying to tie little thin bows the way you always did, but huffing softly in irritation when they just looked like shit.
he undid the one he was working on and settled for feeling the material of the ribbon between his thumbs instead.
satoru brought you bouquets everyday too.
sometimes three at a time as he continuously swapped out old flowers and replaced them with new ones, changed their water and poured fresh quantities into each vase to keep them alive, and often picked some more from the hospital garden when he went down to get some fresh air for a minute— the least he could do for nearly killing you.
and satoru had a lot of time to think while he waited for you to wake up— bitter and resentful at the world for letting him sit there healthy while you were out, so much so that he started thinking stupid shit like how he wished you would’ve forgotten him and dismissed his yapping dreams about ice skating when you met so you would’ve been an independent skater instead, so you then wouldn’t have gotten hurt by his idiocy and you wouldn’t be laying in a hospital bed like you were now.
or swapped places. him instead of you so he could beat up the fucks that took akira away and beat up zeus or— or aphrodite or whoever the fuck that was responsible for keeping him from you so he could come back to you… unsure if you were doing the same thing as he stared at your resting face.
you should’ve just left him behind.
but he was sleeping when you woke.
arms propped up and crossed next to you on the hospital bed, his cheek mushed up on them and face to the side as you blinked your eyes open and was straight up confused, not a single memory of the incident flitting through your mind… until it did.
and it hit you bad.
your mind reeled with a pounding headache, tears prickling your eyes at the events that plagued through your mind— a part of you knowing there was absolutely no way you and satoru made top three and gutted about it, feeling shaken from the memory alone of you falling and hitting the ice.. but grateful.
grateful to be alive, for you knew akira wasn’t as lucky.
was it because of her that you had lived? had she pulled some strings to change your fate?
your eyes trailed down to a sleeping peaceful satoru, your gaze softening at how tired and broken he looked, bags dark and purple as he snored away next to you, your hand lifting and delicately settling over his fluffy white hair as you smiled that he was here next to you— caressing.
satoru shot up wide awake then as you jumped and retracted your hand, the both of you alarmed and frantic.
“baby?” he grabbed your hand and felt around it, feeling warmth for once as he stood up straight and shoved back one of the sleeves of his hoodie.
“you’re awake? are you actually?—” he pinched his arm hard over and over and you giggled.
you giggled— the sound filling his ears and lifting an undeniable dark ton off of his shoulders as he relaxed, tears automatically brimming his eyes.
“i thought i fucking killed you sweets.” his voice shook, arms gently coming around you and pulling you into an embrace.
“killed me?” you frowned. “toru what are you talking about—”
“oh god you have amnesia—”
“no!” you laughed. “what do you mean by almost killed me? you didn’t do anything.”
“i did everything.” he spoke flatly. “i fucked up that lasso lift. i pushed you up too hard and we fell. i cut you with my blade i made you bleed—”
“toru that was an accident.” you pulled back and your chest hurt over the devastated look on his face, wiping his tears and kissing his nose. “remember— aki’s partner felt just like this and we had to tell him too it was an accident. you can’t control something like that. at all. it’s just unfortunate circumstance.”
“i know but i still feel like—” he wiped his eyes and swallowed. “i still feel like i could’ve done something different. it should’ve been me and not you and i should’ve—”
“toru don’t even don’t think about things like that.” you shook your head. “there wasn’t anything you could’ve done, baby. and that’s okay.”
you gently scooched over on the bed and patted the spot next to yours, satoru immediately climbing and settling in, clinging on to you as he placed his head on your chest with his arm firm but careful around your waist, suddenly feeling how exhausted he actually was from the days he spent restless.
you couldn’t have imagined the pain satoru must’ve gone through waiting for you to wake up. you didn’t know how he even fucking managed as you would’ve been torn into bits and pieces not knowing if he was going to live or not, looking at his limp bloody body the way he had to look at yours and it reminding you of the event that brought you both the most trauma and grief.
you couldn’t believe you almost went out the same way.
satoru confirmed your thoughts later and filled you in on the results of the international skating union competition, rubbing salt into the wound a little more upon learning that you landed fourth, nearly there as you couldn’t help but cry a bit in your hospital bed when he told you that you could’ve had a spot, satoru hugging you and reassuring you that you’d both have your shot at it in the next four years.
your family was relieved that you were awake, tons of people piling in and giving you sweets and food that satoru hungrily eyed and gawked over, you laughing and passing him the ones he particularly enjoyed most as you conversed with your relatives.
and recovery was thankfully easy— doctors orders being just you taking it light and being careful not to bonk your head against anything, as well as taking care of the laceration on your leg— changing the bandage frequently every morning and night, satoru insisting he help you with that and with many other things that you needed as he tried to make up for what he still thought was his fault.
two weeks had gone by of just rest and peace and no figure skating, thinking you and satoru deserved this break, but also secretly petrified of stepping on the ice again after what had happened— neither of you wanting to hurt the other as you avoided the topic of training for the meantime at all costs.
“maybe we should work at a water park.” you suggested one day, the two of you seated on a park bench through the chilly mid january air as you shared a plate of chocolate drizzled strawberries you got from some nice lady and her fruit stand. “be lifeguards!”
“oh hell no!” he spoke with his mouthful before swallowing, readjusting the black round sunglasses resting on the bridge of his nose. “you think i’m gonna be fine with watching random old men savoring after my wife in her little red bikini while i’m off saving some drowning kid? oh no thank you. let the kid drown.”
“toru!” you laughed, smacking his shoulder. “okay then what else?”
“janitors.”
you shrugged. “i like to clean. sometimes.”
“and your entire body is covered in those jumpsuits no stinky old men looking at—”
satoru’s phone buzzed against his jeans and he paused and pulled it out as you giggled, him barely glancing at the caller i.d before answering.
“hello?”
you mindlessly carried on plopping strawberries in your mouth and chewing.
“this is he…. oh hello! yes! how are you?”
you eyed satoru quizzically at his sudden formal change in tone, his eyes glued to the cement below.
“uh huh… really? o—okay! no yes for sure! thank you so much for the opportunity!”
opportunity?
you slowed your chewing and nudged his shoulder gently, wanting him to give you some kind of sign as to who it was on the other line.
“okay, we’ll keep in touch! thank you again!”
satoru slowly removed his phone away from his ear as the other line went dead, staring at his screen and you curiously leaning over only to see his call history log, a random number at the top.
“holy fuck.”
“what?!” you leaned in closer and tried to catch his eyes with yours, his shocked wide gaze slowly flittering to your face.
“that was the national olympic committee.”
you froze.
“shut the fuck up.” you covered your mouth. “toru what did they say what did they say—”
“one of the pairs that made it in the top three got disqualified.” he spat out quickly, shooting up and digging his fingers into his hair as he walked back and forth slowly in disbelief, spinning to face you. “i— i don’t know why i didn’t ask but we got bumped up.”
silence.
“we—” your chest rose and fell erratically, eyes darting around as satoru knelt down and grabbed your hands.
“baby we made it.” he tightened his grip. “we’re competing in the olympics—”
you squealed and jumped up and down and pulled satoru in, the both of you comically bouncing off the walls as you wailed and cried and blabbered on about how you couldn’t believe it and how a chance like this was even given to you, satoru lifting you and spinning you around but stopping and freaking out and apologizing profusely over your injured leg, you shaking your head and laughing, kissing him in return.
“we can’t avoid skating toru.” you spoke once you and him had settled down. “it’s literally what brought us together… and what brought us to aki. and even from you spinning me around like that it reminded me how much i missed skating with you.”
“i feel the same sweets.” he smiled, big and bright and handsome as he leaned over and kissed your rosy cheek. “i miss lifting you up and catching a glimpse of your ass underneath your—”
“toru!”
even though you and satoru were finally on board and accepting of bringing skating back into your lives, it wasn’t to say at all that the fear itself went away when you tried to do lifts or spins in the air with each other— apprehensive and scared as you practiced on the mats way more than necessary before moving choreography to the ice, satoru multiple times chickening out and needing a moment as he was petrified of hurting you again, and you glued in place at the thought of falling and slamming on the ground when you had just survived mostly unscathed.
but this wasn’t the time to be afraid over that anymore, and if akira were here, you both knew she’d smack you upside the heads and tell you to move… to get on the ice and do the sport you both loved and cherished most.
to finalize your dream and make it a reality.
and throughout the month that you and satoru spent before the commencement of the olympics, you trained like never before— no excuses as you worked tirelessly day and night with sweat literally dripping from your faces until every single goal was met and beyond, until every single throw from satoru was perfected and until every axel from you was delivered.
sometime during this month too, satoru finally got to take you out on that romantic candle lit dinner like he promised and asked you to be his girlfriend, him giddy and grinning the whole time and literally spoiling the moment as he meant to give you a chocolate dessert plate that said ‘will you be mine’ in chocolate syrupy letters, but accidentally eating it and smearing the words when he confused your plate with his, smacking his forehead repeatedly on the dining table as the silverware clattered— muttering about how dark it was and how he couldn’t fucking see, but you laughing so fucking much and clutching your stomach that your makeup smudged up at the corner of your eyes.
satoru was reminded again how much he loved you that day, because anyone else would’ve gotten tremendously annoyed and called him an idiot, but you…
you just giggled. giggled and hiccuped like always while he stared at you softly.
the love you and satoru shared stretched far beyond the concepts of what a platonic and romantic relationship was.
the love you and satoru shared was sacrifice. genuine sacrifice and yearn and absolute unadulterated love as you both without another thought would drop your careers for each other, would swap places if it meant the other would be safe from harm’s way, and would endure years of swallowing and pushing back feelings if it meant just keeping one another in your lives forever.
because that’s what birds of a feather was for to begin with.
a promise to stick together. a promise to keep each other safe.
a concept so pure and devoted that it translated onto the ice like no other pair when it came time for the olympics.
“you ready sweets?” satoru breathed out as you both stood in front of each other by the outside of the rink with interlaced fingers, shaking each other’s jitters out. “no matter what happens, we’ve already come so far and done so much, okay? we’ve done what we needed to do.”
“mhm!” you quickly nodded, satoru leaning down before you both rested your foreheads against each other’s with massive smiles on your faces, thunderous cheers echoing throughout the giant arena totally drowned out in your ears as you stared into satoru’s sparkling blue eyes.
“make aki proud.” you repeated softly, and he nodded, you hoping once again she was watching over you both.
you both stuck your pinkies out at the same time and looped them together.
“birds of a feather?” satoru beamed.
“birds of a feather.”
and you kissed your thumbs before sealing your promise.
you both watched the pair that you were going right after perform their routine, beautiful and difficult as you gnawed at your bottom lip in distress.
“toru…”
“yeah baby?”
“some of these pairs are crazy good…” you spoke over the music. “i’d honestly be happy with getting in the top twenty i don’t know if we can—”
satoru scoffed and shook his head, a sly smile as he looked over the rink with his arms crossed.
“nah, we’d win.”
and just like akira had done in her final olympic year— in her final moments, you and satoru made it known that it was your debut, that you had been hungry and desperate for this moment since the ages of six and seven, that you’d been raised and trained by a four-time olympic gold medalist for a decade as you executed the most technical and intricate moves and turns, you and satoru moving as one on the ice and identical as he took your hands and glided on the ice with you, raw emotion in your expressions that read love so clearly that it was impossible to miss.
with each lift, with each time satoru took you in his arms and spun, and with each time he simply held you close and tenderly to his chest as his blades scrapped across the ice with your pretty bows in his view— were all reminders for the two of you that partner figure skating was nothing without satoru and nothing without you.
the privilege of having another way to convey just how much you loved each other through the language of artistic expression and skates and ice, through the feel of each other’s skin, was one you nurtured and looked after and loved as the wind whipped through you and satoru due to the speed of your skates, performing quadruple axels like nothing while dropping the jaws of other figure skating pairs.
and because of this fact alone, how you both truly appreciated each other’s entities and had the indescribable power to correlate that into competitive sport—
was the reason why you and satoru won gold that day.
you and him, on your knees, gripping and hugging one another so hard and crying tears of joy as you both had come so far and gone through so much to get to where you were now, your dream now a complete and total reality as you stepped up onto that podium during the medal award ceremony just like akira had done— representing your country excellently with a big fat gold medal hung over your necks and a big fat kiss from satoru as he lip locked with you up there, flashings of cameras and bouquets and teddy bears scattered all throughout the ice in dismay.
“i love you!” satoru yelled to you over the roaring as you waved at the crowd, your mothers crying and blowing their noses and taking pictures from the edge of the rink as you and satoru cackled and pointed at them.
“i love you, toru!”
“no like seriously!” he put his waving hand down. “i wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you. thank you for recognizing that i have love and dreams too baby and for not forgetting about me even when i’ve been the most annoying dipshit of your life.”
“you’ve never been that to me my god toru! where is this coming from?” he hopped off the podium once you two were given the all clear and he held a helping hand out for you to take, you doing so and carefully stepping down.
“reeaally?” he cheesed, cheeky and silly as his big pearly white smile made your cheeks flush. “so you love me then?”
“i literally would not be with you if i didn’t—”
“hooray!” he cheered, throwing his arms up as flower petals flew from his bouquets and around. “my girlfriend loves me! and we’re gonna have rough passionate olympian sex in our hotel room—”
“toru!—”
the love you and satoru shared wasn’t something silly like ‘i like you, you like me.’
it was call me when you get home.
have you eaten yet?
here, let me help you.
whatever you need.
yours and satoru’s souls were exactly the same— blended, intertwined, and stubbornly knotted together as no amount of tug and pull could unravel you both apart, satoru finding over the years that loving you was like muscle memory from the moment he met you, his nerves and reflexes gravitating him towards you on the ice that first time even when he knew there was a huge chance of him slipping and falling, but not being afraid of it at all as long as he just got to you, convinced he knew you in another life as you just felt so familiar the moment he saw your pretty little face.
and you’re so glad that he did get to you… that he stayed with you.
fourteen years of ice cream trips and sleepovers and horror movies from the moment you were teeny tiny babies to adults, experiencing the hardships of your teenage years of loss and grief, to then adulthood and college as you had the privilege of learning to navigate it with another being that was just like you, two little birds with no sense of direction other than to each other.
and it was all thanks to one woman and one woman alone.
“i honestly believe that if she was there, she would’ve brought one of those confetti poppers with dye in it and set it off.” you commented, you and satoru sitting on the grass at her grave site as you leaned your head on his shoulder and his head on top of yours, having literally just come off the plane from being at the olympics— your countries olympic button up thick jackets adorning your figures as your gold medals gleamed radiantly against the sun.
“i wish she was there.” satoru hummed, and you nodded softly in agreement.
“me too… but i’m sure she was! as a little birdie.”
he chuckled, finding your hand and interlacing your fingers as you stared at her tombstone like you’d done so many times before already… except this time it was bittersweet, you having accomplished what the three of you had strived so hard for at last.
“i miss her.” you murmured. “i miss her cussing.”
your eyes flickered down to her peace offerings, the little snow angel trinket you had gotten her still pretty and glossy and her as it sat happily on her stone platform.
satoru picked his head up and kissed the top of your head, propping his chin up on it.
“i miss her too baby.” he responded softly. “everyday.”
“but— i can’t thank her enough for giving us the bullets to fire with for skating.. y’know..” you ran the pad of your index finger along her tombstone, rough and scratchy as you traced little hearts along the edges.
“and she brought us closer together, did she not?” satoru pointed out.
she did.
a woman who was clumsy and loud and erratic with the biggest potty mouth you had ever heard that was passed down to you and satoru in the blink of an eye… but man did she know what love was as she taught it to you and reminded you both of exactly what it was each and every day.
you and satoru had accepted the fact that your hearts would never be whole again, for akira had taken half of them elsewhere and into the depths of the unknown.
but you were okay with that. completely and utterly okay with that.
for love had no limits.
you wanted her to keep it, as you and satoru stitched the remaining halves of your hearts together to create a new whole, as there was no one else you both would rather have that part of you with them forever besides akira.
and yours and satoru’s stitched up hearts grew increasingly bigger and fonder even after a couple of years later, even after winning three more olympic gold medals, you and him back at the same place in front of akira’s grave like always, sitting and laughing and chatting— but with two little baby toddlers that were half of you and half of satoru as they blubbered on about ‘mama aki’ and her trophies, a delicate twinkling ring on your finger and a golden band around satoru’s as your little family had a picnic over her final resting place.
“papa!” your son exclaimed, satoru immediately turning his attention to him in the midst of scarfing down a turkey sandwich.
“yes my offspring?”
you playfully glared at your husband.
“why do your eyes look scarier in the day?”
“HAH!” you slapped a hand over your mouth to hush your cackling, satoru’s face absolutely taken aback and offended.
“they do!” your daughter giggled. “they do! they do!—”
“baby do something!” satoru whined, shoulders slumping as he threw his head back. “i’m being bullied by five year old’s!”
you giggled and kissed his cheek, his pout quickly turning into a soft little grin as his face flushed pink.
“but your papa’s eyes are pretty you guys! and they match yours!”
“mmm— nope! scary!”
your two twin toddlers giggled uncontrollably as they thought being mean to their dad was the funniest thing in the world, you laughing with them as satoru flopped back dramatically and completely laid down on the grass with his eyes looking straight up at the bright sky.
“s’okay.” he spoke flatly. “if even my pretty little wife thinks my suffering is funny i’ll just burn my eyes to a crisp—”
“toru!” you slapped his knee. “too graphic in front of the kiddies.”
“but my suffering!—”
“mommy mommy!” your daughter tugged at your sleeve and pointed to the top of akira’s tombstone, a cute perfect white and brown bird perched up on the edge and peering curiously at the four of you, the creature not alarmed whatsoever of your children’s sudden movements as they scrambled to get closer to it.
satoru propped himself up with an elbow and stared before you both locked eyes, knowing growing smiles on your faces as he fully sat up— leaning and planting a gentle kiss to your forehead, letting it linger.
aki.
and it was like you and satoru were reminded again of your promise that you still told each other every day.
a promise that consisted of your years together… of your love, of your undying fervor of sticking together, of your need of keeping each other safe…
summary; you are not the biggest fan of relationships after being disappointed too many times until you meet spencer reid. everything is great until he leaves for a case right before you make it offical and you don’t hear from him again.
warnings; fem!reader, season 7 spencer, avoidant!reader, reader is lowkey a bad bitch, miscommunication, normal cm stuff, ghosting, fluff & angst, hurt x comfort, 18+ because there’s suggestive mentions and illusions to sex, mentions of sex, overthinking & doubts, bad past relationships.
an; hi guys im so excited for this. u will notice each chapter is based off a different song. please comment if u want to be apart of the taglist for this series so u dont miss when chapters come out.
Chapter release dates are all based off australian dates which mean for americans it will technically be the day prior to the one written, also keep in mind this is a loose guide and chapters may take longer!!
this will also be written majority from reader’s perspective, but there will be bonus chapters for spencers side!!
one; the only exception -
two; feels like -
three; full machine - 26/09
four; motion sickness - 3/10
five; l know it wont work (spencer pov, bonus chap to four) - 10/10
six; dumb and poetic 17/10
seven; how many things? 24/10
eight; halloween 31/10
nine; decode - 7/11
ten; sharpest tool - 14/11
im so very excited for this guys. please be excited too. or else i will lose all motivation to continue this series and then i will be sad (yes that is manipulation. Pls be excited)
Maybe making a part will help 🫣 you get it out of your system and such 👀 but fr I’ve been thinking about first love osamu too since you brought it up and it’s made me happy and sad 🥹💛
since you were young, you'd always felt a little bit... trapped.
you weren't unhappy, by any means. from the earliest days of your childhood, you'd lived a safe, normal, perfectly satisfactory life. you had so much to show for it, too: a good family, friends, and the boy you fell in love with in high school who looked at you like there was nothing else worth seeing in the entire world.
but that's just it. you wanted to see the world. all of it. and you weren't sure that there was anything that could ever change that.
your grandfather—a former military man, though it was long before your lifetime—had a dusty old collection of american magazines he kept in his study. he got them while he was abroad, and he continued buying them for years even after he returned home. you were never able to to ask him about the reasons why he held onto them—not for lack of opportunity, but rather because you weren't sure how to find the words.
you remember the bright yellow of the magazines spines. the incredible photos inked to their pages: pyramids, glaciers, rainforests, marvels in architecture and engineering. you didn't understand the words, but you would spend hours on rainy afternoons when your grandparents were watching over you sprawled out across the floor of that dusty study, poring though those glossy prints, and longing to see them up close. to touch, smell, hear, and taste them.
it was a hunger you longed to sate.
it was a calling, growing ever louder, that eventually you couldn't ignore; no matter what it meant leaving behind, nor who.
osamu told you when you were seventeen that he never wanted to live anywhere other than japan.
you remember it like it was yesterday. you still hear it when you close your eyes. he said it so plainly, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. like it was certain to him in ways that it would never be to you.
"why would i?" he asked you after swallowing a samu-sized bite of taiyaki, a bit of red bean paste clinging to the side of his mouth. "my ma's here. yer here. best rice in the world's here. what more do i need?"
his words made something churn in the pit of your stomach. made the taiyaki you'd only half-eaten, still warm in your hand, seem totally unappetizing.
samu was still dressed in his volleyball track suit, having raced from afternoon practice in time to take you to get an evening snack and enjoy a short walk home together. his dyed hair was still wet from the shower, since he didn't take the time to dry it in his haste to meet you. it was darker like that. a little closer to what you remember his natural hair was like before he dyed it in first year.
samu had hit a growth spurt recently—not so much in height, though he still towered over you, but rather he'd filled out in ways that made him look a bit older than that boy you'd caught a glimpse of at the inarizaki opening ceremony and never looked away from since. he seemed older. more like the man he was becoming than the boy he'd been.
you should have taken more comfort from that than you did. should have felt excitement instead of the anxiety you were left with. but even then, at only seventeen, you think you knew a clock was ticking distantly—hidden somewhere you were too afraid to look.
your grandfather died three weeks before your twentieth birthday.
samu drove all the way from kobe to kyoto and back again in the middle of the night to pick you up when you got the call from your mother that her father had taken ill. without a moment's hesitation, osamu dropped everything and brought you home to be with your family.
you were in your second year of university, half-heartedly slogging though your studies you weren't particularly interested in at a school you weren't particularly attached to, and seeing osamu whenever you could—on weekends, or holidays, or evenings when he got a night off from the restaurant he was apprenticing at in kobe. he stayed with you all night at the wake. sat by your side at the funeral.
he was part of your family now, after all these years.
he cried for your grandfather. he mourned him just like you did.
he held your hand through it all.
a week passed and you still didn't return to school. there was something wrong with you ever since it happened, like you weren't quite yourself. you ate a little and slept a lot. you holed up in your grandfather's study with those magazines again. your tears soaked into the pages and left watermarks that would never really dry the same.
osamu visited you whenever he could between shifts at the restaurant. he spent more time with you at your grandparent's house—your grandmother's house now—than he did at his own home. more than once you caught him looking at you with a strange sort of look in his eye. a glint of something behind the grey you couldn't quite place.
(it was acceptance, you know now, with aching retrospect. a stage of grief he'd come to on his own, but not over the most obvious loss.)
osamu held both your hands tightly the day you sat with him on the worn leather sofa in your grandfather's study and told him you'd taken a leave of absence from school. you both knew that calling it that was more a pretence than anything. you had no intention of ever going back.
your grandfather left you his magazines in his will. left you a note that told you to live well. a note that, in his own way, told you to be brave. he left you money too.
you planned to use it.
"i leave on tuesday," your voice was thin as you said the words. fragile like the words might break if you tried to say them any louder in that still, quiet room.
"okay," osamu replied, his grip on your hands tightening.
he didn't ask when you'd be back. you didn't have a date to tell him.
"where're ya headin' first?" is what he asked instead, and there was sincere interest in the question—an earnest excitement for you—that almost drowned out the sound of the tears thickening his throat. but not quite.
"malaysia," you told him, and then showed him a weathered photo spread of kek lok si temple. you told him you a few of the places you planned to travel next, or at least get to eventually, and showed him any magazines with images you could so he could see your destinations for himself.
"looks beautiful," osamu said, laughing a bit wetly as his head hung low, and you tucked away the photo of the five lotus-shaped towers of angkor wat. "y'must be excited."
"i am," you answered him, your voice just as strained as his own.
he looked up at you, a tear clinging to the lashes underneath his right eye in a way that shouldn't have been as pretty as it was in that late afternoon light. "i can't wait fer ya to tell me all about it."
"osamu," your voice broke on his name. the one you'd said so many times. the one that felt like home to you in ways that nothing else ever had. "i'm trying to break up with you."
you crumpled forward and he caught you in his arms. holding you tightly to his chest. he was broader than he'd ever been. his hair was dark again. he was the man you'd once been scared of meeting because you knew someday you'd have to leave him behind.
"it's okay." he pressed a kiss to the crown of your head and held you even closer. the stack of dog-eared magazines at the other end of the sofa went tumbling to the floor, their glossy pages splayed out across the tatami. "it's okay, baby. i know."
he knew then that the same pull he'd always felt to stay—with his home, with his people, with his twin—is same one you'd felt to go. he couldn't keep you there with him any more than he and atsumu could be parted. it was just who you were. both of you. it was your nature.
osamu had always known that day was coming, just like you did.
he knew one day you'd leave, and he knew that on that day he'd let you.
because he loved you, and he meant it, and he wanted you to be happy, even if that meant it wasn't with him.
you keep very few photos with you now, at least physical ones. you travel fairly light. never stay anywhere for very long. it's been almost a decade now since that tuesday when you boarded your flight to malaysia—the first of many that would follow.
you haven't travelled home since you left.
the picture in your hand is damaged at one corner, burned possibly, though you can't quite remember how it happened. the mark has eaten away into the bough of the maple tree that lines the edge of the photograph. the maple tree you got confessed to under all those years ago. at the centre of the photo is a face you hardly recognize now, and another beside it you could never forget. osamu's cheek rests against the top of your head, your diplomas in your hands, smiling brightly on graduation day.
your thumbnail traces over the edge of the teenage boy's smile, your lips curling upwards.
it's raining outside the taxi you're travelling in, but if you close your eyes you can still feel the spring breeze whistling though inarizaki's campus. can still smell the lush green in the air from the freshly sprouted maple leaves. can still hear osamu's voice in your ear, moments before your mother took the photograph, telling you for the first time, in no uncertain terms, that he loves you.
"is here alright?" the taxi driver's eyes meet yours in the rearview.
you peek out the raindrop coated window at your surroundings, tucking the photograph away safely into your pocket. "yes, here's great."
you pay the taxi driver, grab your bags, and bolt towards your destination as the rain pelts down against your jacket, hiding your face under the hood as best you can to spare it from the onslaught. you shoulder the door open, a chime sounding over your head to signal your arrival, and heave a great sigh of relief.
warmth kisses your cheeks as you toss your hood back, turning your face up towards new smells that welcome you into the restaurant. it's a hole in the wall—up a side street, away from the real bustle of the city, but it looks just as welcoming as the online reviews had said. it's not particularly busy, just a customer or two dotted around the little restaurant, but you wager that has more to do with the miserable weather than that quality of the food.
you adjust you grip on your bags, slinging the heaviest one off your shoulder and into a neat pile at your feet as you take a seat at the counter.
a voice calls out from behind the curtain that hangs over the kitchen door—you can't quite make out what they say, but assume it's an assurance they'll be with you in a moment. you're in no rush, especially not when it's so nice and warm in here and so wretched outside.
you pull your cellphone from your pocket. the photograph slips out with it. you place both on the counter in front of you and think, not for the first time, about picking up the phone and calling osamu. about hearing him greet you with that smile in his voice he could never hide.
"sorry about the wait," your server slips out from behind the curtain, stepping up to you at the counter.
"there's no need to apologize, i'm not in any rush," your assurance is accompanied by a light laugh.
"you sure?" your server asks.
"i just got off a twenty hour flight, i'm not in much of a hurry to go anywhere."
"twenty hours? sounds rough," your server whistles lowly as he leans against the counter on his elbows, tilting his face up so you can catch a glimpse of grey eyes under the brim of his black cap. there's a smile on his lips that feels like being seventeen again. a warmth in his voice that sounds like spring breezes rustling through maple leaves. "so, wanna tell me all about it?"
after hearing her gunpoint confession, your sister pressures you into airing your grievances at Rossi's wedding
who? spencer reid x jareau!reader
category: angst
content warnings: takes place following/during 14x15 "truth or dare", fem!reader, established relationship, mentions roslyn, unresolved conflict, a lot of insecurity, cm violence, i think everyone has a fault in this
word count: 2.47k
a/n: so this idea popped into my head. i think the concept of spencer dating jj's younger sister is insane and i love it. i hope you like it as well. (i want to write a part two so bad i hate leaving things unresolved). also this is not jj hate that's my girl i loved her even before i loved spencer!!!!
“Please, can you just hear me out?” Your sister pleaded, keeping her voice low so you didn’t take any attention off of the bride and groom.
Bringing your glass to your lips, you shrugged, “I’m not sure this is the right place, Jennifer,” you murmured, looking across the room at your brother-in-law, “I think Will’s looking for you.”
She brushed off your dismissal, “I’ll go over once we figure this out. Let’s go out to the courtyard and talk.”
JJ reached out and gently gripped your elbow, trying to guide you through the French doors of the wedding venue, but you yanked your arm away, crossing your arms in front of your stomach. “It’s rude to leave now, this is a wedding, we’re guests here,” you scolded her, focusing your eyes forward. The ceremony was over, and everyone was mingling, but you refused to be the first to leave. Besides, going home would mean needing to face Spencer – another discussion you didn’t have the energy for.
You knew she hated leaving things unfinished. The both of you could feel the rift between you growing as if the earth was physically shifting beneath your feet. “It would just be for a second,” she urged.
Swallowing thickly, you shook your head, “It’s fifteen years of dirty laundry, Jayg. It’s going to take more than a second to air it out.” You frowned into your newly emptied glass before hauling yourself over to the bar, grateful that she didn’t follow, “Can you make me one of the pink glittery drinks?”
Penelope, the honorary bartender for the evening, nodded reassuringly, taking an already-made beverage from the counter and sliding it over to you, “You look like you could use it,” she observed.
You sighed in concurrence, “You have no idea,” you mumbled as you brought the glass to your lips. The drink itself was a bit of an abomination, so strong that it burnt your nostrils as it went down, “God, that’s strong.”
The technical analyst just laughed, making her way back to the dance floor to meet up with Luke and Matt. Your gaze flickered over other members of the team until you were met with familiar brown eyes.
There had been a ball of dread forming in your stomach ever since you returned from Los Angeles. From where you were standing now, the cut on your boyfriend’s hand that you had preoccupied yourself with seemed inconsequential. You watched him now, in real-time as he glanced between you and your sister, picking up on the tension as you avoided her.
Someone was bound to snap.
Walking away from the bar, you went out into the hallway, finding the nearest door and practically throwing yourself outside. Pulling your hair off the back of your neck with your free hand, you sat down on a moss-covered bench in the courtyard and waited for the cold night air to cool you off.
As expected, you heard the door behind you click. You couldn’t be bothered to look at who it was, if it was important to them, they’d come to you. Sure enough, you remained focused on your drink as Spencer took a seat on the bench next to you, “Aren’t you cold?”
“Alcohol,” you mumbled, “Keeps me warm.”
Not exactly the answer he was going for, but he took it at face value. He was probably more comfortable in his suit than you were in your dress. “Are you feeling alright?”
You thought about lying to him. Telling him that you were just tired, it had been a long week of watching your sister and boyfriend being held hostage in a pawn shop and hunting Everett Lynch on top of your normal caseload, but the thought of holding up that lie just made you feel worse. Taking a large sip of your drink, you took a deep breath before speaking, “Garcia recovered the audio from the CCTV footage inside of the pawn shop. Emily asked me to review the tapes and let her know if I thought there was anything pertinent that should be added to the case files.”
He didn’t respond for a while, knowing exactly what you were getting at but not sure how to further the conversation, “And did you?”
You lifted your glass again, “There wasn’t anything in the tapes that was necessary for the case. I buried the audio files and transcripts and sealed the file.”
“Thank you,” he said, relief evident in his tone.
You, however, frowned at his response, “’Thank you’?” You repeated, an accusation in your voice, “I was scared shitless while the two of you were in there, and all the while my sister was confessing her love for you.”
Spencer was quiet again, rendered speechless by your words. Your description was accurate, if not blunt.
You sniffled, setting your glass down and wrapping your arms around yourself, “I have never felt more humiliated, and no one else can ever know why.” You traced the cobblestones on the ground with your eyes as thoughts continued racing through your head. “God, is this why she pushed us together?”
The door behind you clicked again and you stiffened, closing your eyes when you heard JJ coming out into the courtyard, “Ducky, we need to talk.”
“Don’t fucking call me that,” you snapped at her, standing up and glaring at her. Your childhood nickname rang through your ears. A term of endearment given to you by your oldest sister now grated on your heart, shredding through each chamber. “I do not need to do anything,” you told her, narrowing your gaze.
Tears pricked your eyes, Please, JJ, just give me time to think. I just need a minute. Not everything has to be solved right away.
You were too proud to say the words aloud, but you thought it. You wanted to beg her for time. You wanted to plead with your sister for just a little bit of time to think things through.
She held her hands up in surrender, “I needed to tell Pinkner something that would satisfy him. You know the profile; you know what would’ve happened if I didn’t.”
Yes, and the image of both of them being held at gunpoint would haunt you for years to come, but that still didn’t justify any of it, not to you. Finishing off your drink, you set the crystal glass on the cobblestone bench and faced your sister, “Jennifer,” you said sharply, “Truth or dare?”
Her blue eyes widened as she looked between you and Spencer, who was wisely keeping his mouth shut, “Truth,” she answered, her voice so quiet you could barely hear it.
“Did you mean it?” You asked, the first of your tears finally flooding over your lash line.
You gripped the fabric of your dress in your hands as you waited for her answer, “Yes,” she told you.
Covering your face with your hands, you sighed deeply into them, “Fuck,” you cried. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you echoed. None of this made sense to you, JJ was married. JJ and Will were the kind of couple that you could look at and you would know that they belonged together, but now she was saying she had been in love with Spencer this whole time.
White hot tears stung the cold skin on your cheeks as you looked back up at your sister, waiting for her to say something else. “We went on an almost date years ago and nothing else ever came of it. Life just went on moving and we…” Her voice trailed off, either unable to finish her thought or unwilling to share.
“You’re married, JJ,” you said desperately, looking at her and wondering if she had told Will where she was going. “Does Will know? Did you tell him you’ve been stringing him along? Thirteen years in and two kids later?”
She faltered for a moment, and you knew you had hit your mark – it made you sick to your stomach. “No, I love him. I love my boys, you know that.”
You nodded numbly, “Yeah, I do, but I can’t keep going if you’re always going to be longing for what might’ve been.”
“You’re drunk and you don’t know what you’re talking about,” she accused, tapping her right foot anxiously.
JJ might’ve grown up in Roslyn’s shadow, but you grew up in hers. Captain of the varsity soccer team, full-ride athletic scholarship at Pitt, and grad school at Georgetown. All leading up to her joining the bureau at twenty-three. You followed her, believing anywhere was better than Pennsylvania, and this is what it had gotten you. It was exhausting, being the one pushing the boulder up the hill, your hands were scraped, and she couldn’t see it.
Deftly, you wiped at the tears beneath your eyes, “I know exactly what I’m saying. Please, can you try and just look at this from my point of view? My big sister, who I’ve looked up to for my whole life, confessed her feelings for my boyfriend. My boyfriend who she set me up with.” Realization dawned on you, turning to face Spencer, “You were in love with her, and… I’m…” your voice trailed off.
Matching your train of thought, Spencer shook his head, reaching a hand out for yours, but you pulled away from him, “No, honey, please. It’s not like that.”
“You couldn’t have her, and I’m just the next best thing,” you told him miserably. “She met Will and got pregnant and got married and you were so in love with her that you took the off-brand version just to have something.”
Spencer shushed you, watching as tears fell from your cheeks, “I’m with you because I love you, not because of anything else.”
Your chest ached, it felt like someone had thrust their hand in the cavity and was squeezing as tightly as they could. You wanted to believe him. You so, so badly wanted to believe him. “Tell me,” you prompted, “tell me I’m not your second choice.”
“You are not my second choice,” he told you, and you watched. You watched for his tells, any sign at all that he was lying.
You shook your head at him, “Why did you lie to me? About the football game,” you asked him, a semi-permanent frown staying on your face.
He furrowed his brows and stood up in front of you, rubbing your arms up and down to keep you warm, “I didn’t lie to you.”
“You didn’t tell me. Neither of you did. That’s lying by omission, and you both know it,” you said, stepping away from him hesitantly. You didn’t know what to trust; you didn’t know what was real.
Spencer looked back at your sister, but she looked frozen, “It wasn’t a date,” he said simply. “I… I intended for it to be a date, but JJ invited Penelope and that was the end of it. I took it as her not being interested and that’s the truth. Nothing else ever happened between the two of us.”
You watched your sister, her mouth opening and closing as she scrounged for the right thing to say. “I said what I had to in order to survive,” she defended.
Sucking on your back molars, you shrugged helplessly in response, “I know,” you admitted. “I know that you probably planned on taking your truth to the grave with you, but… it’s out, Jayg.”
“I can explain everything to you,” she offered, “Please let me explain, Ducky.”
The desperation in her voice chiseled at your resolve, but it wasn’t enough. “I don’t have it in me,” you admitted. “I’m fresh out of fight and I just wanna go home,” you told her, looking at Spencer who nodded, heading back inside to gather your things.
You sat back down on the bench, propping your chin up on your hand.
“I couldn’t think of anything else to say,” she tried again, her voice gruff from holding back tears.
Shaking your head, you closed your eyes and breathed in the cold winter air, “I don’t really care, JJ. You said it, I heard it, and now you have to deal with it.”
She cleared her throat, “I would deal with it now, but you’re being petulant.”
Looking up at her, you frowned, “I told you inside that I didn’t want to talk about this here. You came outside. You sought me out to talk. Now you’re mad that I’m not being nice about it?” Something new bubbled in your stomach, the pit that had been forming there quickly evolved into anger.
“I was trying to save lives,” she tried again, insisting she was right.
You could live with her being right on that front. She was saving lives, and she needed a truth potent enough to sway the UnSub, but in all of her explanations, she never once apologized about this curveball. “I live with Spencer. I… when I give gifts, they’re signed from the both of us,” you told her. “Sometimes when we can’t sleep at night, we come up with baby names, and you’re in love with him. I asked for time, and you couldn’t give it to me. So, this is what you get.”
With Spencer reappearing at the door, you made your way out of the courtyard, he draped your coat over your shoulders, and you wrapped the wool around yourself as you made your way out. “I told Rossi and Krystall that you were tired, but I think they might have taken it as you had too much to drink,” he explained, opening the passenger side door for the car for you to get in.
A small smile tugged at your throat, “I don’t really care.” Maybe if you had gotten that drunk, your chest wouldn’t hurt so much.
The rest of the ride home was silent, small flurries started floating from the sky, and you watched the way they danced in the streetlights. Once you were home, you got ready for bed, grabbing a pillow off of your bed, and turning to the door, “Where are you going?” Spencer asked, returning from brushing his teeth.
“I’m gonna sleep on the couch,” you told him softly, looking at the pillow that you were clutching in your arms.
He faltered for a moment, obviously taken aback by your decision, “Can we talk tomorrow?”
You frowned, letting your eyes lift to his, when it was dark, his eyes took on a certain kind of melancholia. It hurt to look at tonight. “Sure,” you offered weakly, turning around and heading for the couch.
“Are we gonna be okay?” He asked, fear creeping into his voice. Fear of losing you.
Glancing back at him as you lobbed the pillow on the couch, you gave him a gentle smile, “Yeah, Spence, we’ll figure it out. Just not tonight, okay?”
A/N: requests are still closed forever! this is an exception for my love @darkacademicvibes as a thank you for being such a lovely friend 🥰 i hope i did it justice! WC: 1.7k
“I know you’re there.” You announce, eyes still closed as you lay under a tree by the Black Lake.
“That’s just creepy.” Remus comments, to which you snicker in amusement, finally peeking one eye open to smile up at him.
“Says the man silently watching me.” You fire back before closing your eyes once more.
Remus lets out an offended “Hey!”, making you giggle.
“You’re quite rude, you know?”
“I know.” You confirm, smiling up at him; eyes still closed as you soak in the warmth of the sun. “If you don’t like it, you can leave. But you won’t; you enjoy my company far too much.”
“Have you always been this arrogant?” He asks, cautiously stepping over your legs before sitting down and scooting closer to you.
“You’ve been here all of two minutes and have already insulted me three different times.” You inform him matter of factly. “I don’t like you today.”
“That’s alright,” Remus assures you. “I like you every day. Lift your head up.”
“Don’t want to.” You say simply, groaning in annoyance when he lifts it up anyway. Remus scoots over a tiny bit more and rests your head on his thigh. “Oh. That’s much better. Cheers.”
Remus huffs in amusement before running a hand through your hair, occasionally massaging your head.
“It’s the last day, Moony. I thought you and the lads would be executing a final prank or something.”
“They are.” He nods.
“Shouldn’t you be with them?” You ask curiously. “They’re your best mates.”
“Mm.” Remus shrugs casually, smiling down at you. “I’m fine here.”
Off in the distance, somewhere inside the castle, you hear an annoyed groan, followed by laughter.
You nod, grinning at Remus before turning to gaze at the Black Lake again. “I’m fine here too.”
“This is nice.” He murmurs after sitting in silence for a few minutes. He contemplates elaborating for just a moment before closing his mouth again. There’s no need to explain himself, not to you. You always know what he means.
“Yeah.” You agree, “I’m gonna miss this view.”
“Me too.” Remus sighs, eyes roaming over your features, desperately trying to memorize them.
“Are you done packing?” You ask curiously.
“Just about.” Remus confirms. “There’s just one more thing I need before I go…”
“Oh yeah? What is it?”
I need to get the girl, Remus thinks to himself. I need you.
“How about you? Are you done packing?” He asks instead, rolling his eyes at himself for chickening out yet again.
“Just about.” You mimick, smiling smugly at him. “I’ll finish tomorrow.”
“Why not tonight?” Remus asks, frowning when you stay quiet. “Y/N?”
“I’m taking the bedding with me.” You admit.
“What?” He asks with a shocked laugh.
“I’m taking the bedding with me.” You repeat with a firm nod. “If I pack it tonight, what will I sleep on?”
“Why in Godric’s name are you taking the bedding with you?” Remus questions.
“I like the color.” You shrug simply.
“The color?” Remus repeats incredulously. “Gryffindor red? That’s why you’re committing a felony? Y/N, you can buy red bedding anywhere.”
“It’s not a felony! It’s not worth that much… If anything, it’s a misdemeanor. Besides, they don’t sell it in that shade.” You argue. “I’ve checked.”
“Then dye it yourself.” He offers. “Or use a spell?”
“Too much work.” You frown. “Besides, it’s mine.”
“No it’s not.” Remus argues, causing your frown to deepen.
“It is!” You insist. “It’s been mine since first year. I’ve slept in it more than I’ve slept in my own bed at home. I can’t just leave it here. We’ve had so many good memories together…it’s a part of me!”
“So what are you gonna do? Just stuff it under your robes?” Remus questions, raising a brow at you.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Moony.” You scoff. “I’m gonna put it in my trunk.”
“You have a lot of clothes, though. Will it fit?”
“It doesn’t have a choice.”
Remus sighs before shaking his head affectionately at you.
“Come find me in the morning.” He finally says.
The request confuses you; or maybe it’s the softness in his voice.
“Why would I-“
“You’ll hurt yourself trying to shove all that bedding into a trunk that clearly doesn’t have any more room.” Remus interrupts.
You sheepishly smile up at him, confirming what he’s just said. You planned on packing the pillowcases in your backpack, but you were wondering how to get the duvet to fit anywhere.
“I’ll help you finish packing and then I’ll take your trunks down for you.”
“Oh, you don’t have to do all that…”
“I know. But I want to.”
You cast a quick glance at Remus and the way he’s looking at you suddenly has you feeling shy. You clear your throat and look away.
“I’ll bet you’re glad this is the last day, huh?” You tease, changing the topic. “It means you don’t have to take care of me anymore.”
“You make it sound as if it’s some chore.” Remus comments.
“Isn’t it?” You continue to joke.
“Of course not.” He frowns at you. “Aside from the lads, you’re the one who made school bearable for me.”
“What a compliment.”
“Shut up.” Remus laughs, shoving you lightly to which you giggle. “I mean it. Eating together in the great hall, studying for exams, detention, holding your hair back while you threw up-“
“Okay…” You groan, cheeks warming in embarrassment when you remember all the times you got absolutely shitfaced.
“-I enjoyed all of it.” Remus continues with a nod. “I… I enjoyed every moment with you.”
“Aw, Moony.” You coo. “I enjoyed every moment with you, too. You’re quite fun for a stick in the mud.”
“Oh really?” Remus taunts, tickling your sides as you squeal in laughter. “Stick in the mud, am I?”
“No, no! I was - I was only joking!” You plead, trying to grab his hand in an effort to stop the attack. “I’m sorry!”
After you’ve both calmed down from your laughing, you look over at Remus with a smile and sigh.
“I’m gonna miss you, Moony.” You admit.
“Me too, Y/N/N.” He nods, giving you a sad smile. “But we’ll still see each other…right?”
“Oh, obviously.” You agree. “Who else would I play wizard’s chess with? You’re the only one who’s any good.”
You sit in silence for a while before Remus finally, finally lets his deepest secret out.
“I like you.” He confesses softly, hand still running through your hair.
You freeze for only a moment before you nod your head that’s still sitting on his lap.
“I know.” You say simply. “I like you, too.”
“Y-You do?” Remus asks, heart thundering away in chest.
“Of course I do, silly.” You assure with a giggle, smiling up at him. “Wouldn’t be friends if I didn’t.”
“Yeah. Right. Friends.” Remus nods before shaking his head at himself. This is his last chance, he will not let it slip away.
“Actually no.”
“No?”
“That’s not what I meant. I mean, yeah, we’re friends and that’s great! But I… I fancy you…” Remus admits.
“You do?” You ask softly after sitting in silence for a minute.
“More than anything.” Remus breathes. “I’ve had a crush on you since fifth year.”
Feeling the weight of the conversation, you finally lift your head from Remus’ lap, sitting up and turning to face him.
“Why didn’t you ever say anything?” You ask.
All Remus can do is shrug.
“I was scared.” He tells you; and for some reason, it makes your laugh.
“What does the big bad wolf have to be afraid of?” You ask in between giggles.
“Rejection.” Remus says bluntly before he fully registers what you said. “Wait, are you actually joking right now?”
“I can’t help it. You make it too easy!” You defend before giving him a brilliant smile. “I have a crush on you too, by the way.”
Remus immediately perks up at that.
“Really?”
You nod your head and you don’t think you’ve ever seen Remus smile as much.
“Wow… Well that’s- that’s brilliant.” Remus stammers.
“Indeed.” You nod, using an exaggerated posh accent.
Remus rolls his eyes affectionately at you before they widen in realization.
“Do you- would you like to go on a date?” Remus asks. “Not tomorrow, obviously- because we’re graduating. But the day after?”
“I would love to.”
“We can grab lunch.”
“Okay.”
“Or go to the cinema.”
“Sure.”
“Maybe a museum?”
“Sounds fun.”
“Or you can pick something for us to do! I was just making suggestions. It’s not like I’m trying to control you or the relationship or anything. Are…we even in a relationship? Because I know we said-“
Without so much as a warning you lean forward and press your lips against Remus’, effectively shutting him up. He freezes for only a second before closing his eyes and tilting his head the tiniest bit, reveling in your pillowy soft lips, in the warmth of your hand on his neck, in the sweet scent of your perfume.
You pull away a moment later and shyly bite your lip as you await to see his reaction. After a few seconds, Remus flutters his eyes open, and looks at you as if he’s in a daze.
“You… You kissed me.” He says softly, almost as if he doesn’t quite believe it.
“I did.” You nod. “You’re very cute when you ramble but I could tell that you were spiraling. I figured I’d put you out of your misery.”
“I should ramble more often.” He mumbles.
“Shut up.” You laugh, pushing his shoulder lightly.
Remus grabs your hand and pulls you towards him, wrapping his arm around your shoulders when you’re close enough.
“You were too far.” He reasons when he saw the confused look you had. “I want you right here next to me.”
You nod your head with a bashful smile, snuggling into his side as you both continue to stare out at the Black Lake, taking it in for what very well might be the last time.
“Oh! You never told me that thing you still needed.” You remind him.
Remus just tightens his hold on you, pressing a soft kiss to the side of your head.
“Don’t worry about it.” He smiles at you. “I already got it.”
