#saving her life without even really knowing it

[two4joybirbs]

From a spiritual/religious context… a fetus is not a person. Full stop.

The Bible says very little about abortions.

Talmudic Judaism teaches that life begins at breath (like God breathing over the deep at the creation of the world in Genesis). Jews are divided on abortion depending on their particular denomination’s teachings, however, and I’m not Jewish so I can’t speak for their social teachings.

But I am a professional Christian so I can speak to the Christian side.

The Hebrew Bible (Old Testament) does not reference intentional termination of a pregnancy. Of the two mentions there are, they aren’t super helpful for contemporary ethics.

Numbers 5-:11-31 refers to “the Ordeal of the Bitter Waters,” whose exact meaning and purpose are contested by scholars.

Exodus 21:22-23 outlines the punishment due someone who beats a woman into a miscarriage or stillbirth (not including her husband, which is an oversight easily caught by contemporary eyes, but contextually valid, as women were the property of men). The only reason abortion is bad here is that a man lost potential property (children).

The New Testament says even less.

Some opponents of legal access to abortion cite Luke 1:41-44 saying that a fetus is a person because fetal John the Baptist was filled with the Holy Spirit and leapt in Elizabeth’s womb. But… almost all babies move in the womb of their parents. And the argument that the word used to describe the fetal JtB was the Greek word for infants post birth is a bullshit grabbing at straws analysis because a) the writers of the Bible were generally pretty shitty writers (omg Paul was AWFUL) and b) we don’t know what the original word was. We don’t have single, definitive texts written by the apostles themselves because papyrus is friable and because Christianity was a secret sect, heavily persecuted. Scripture was written in snatches, passed around, destroyed, and rewritten from memory or bad copies. What the original word was is something that we can’t really know nor can we know the original intention.

What’s used for social teaching about abortion isn’t Biblical; it’s about power and control. It’s using scripture for human purposes. Jesus didn’t say “save fetuses at all costs” (or don’t be gay, for that matter). Jesus said “love your neighbor” and pregnant people (especially if it’s not you who’s pregnant) are our neighbors. Loving them does not mean making decisions about their bodies without their consent. It means having a fucking ethical backbone and standing up to religious (esp Christian) rhetoric and calling a spade a spade.

Patriarchy cloaked in Scripture is still patriarchy. We’re pretty agreed on the notion that we can wear mixed fibers (Lev 19:19) and that we don’t stone criminals (Deut 17:2-5, Lev 24:16). Also that tattoos are fine (Lev 19:28) and we can eat shellfish (Lev 11:10-11). So why would be believe that women are property of their husbands and therefore have no bodily autonomy or freedom?

Call it what it is.

we seriously need to stop conceding to the personhood trap when it comes to abortion rights. is a fetus a person? thats a spiritual question. i dont care about the answer. should another person dictate what someone can do with their body? simple answer: no.

[tsahaylutales]

You weren't supposed to know

Hello! This is my first Steve Harrington fic EVER so please be kind. There will be a part 2, i just got impatient and wanted to post something. She's an angsty girl, hope you like it! It’s basically a rewrite of season 4 episode 2.

Pairing: Steve Harrrington X Henderson!Reader

Warnings: ANGST, stranger things level threats, mentions of blood and knives, reader is a softer girl so if you don't like that, scroll, Steve and Dustin are very ooc so...keep that in mind. Let me know if there's any more!

Summary: Steve wasn’t always like this, he used to be kind, and caring, and he used to call you every night. But now? He barely calls at all. Most of the time it’s you calling him. Or you visiting him…Or you planning dates…He’s just really busy at the moment…That’s it. That’s gotta be it…Right?

about 2k words

You weren’t supposed to know about the Upside Down. Or the Mind Flayer. Or Eleven. Or interdimensional monsters made of blood and flesh. You were just supposed to drop Dustin off at the mall. That was it. Easy. In and out. But Steve’s your boyfriend. And you hadn’t seen or heard from him in days. So…why not surprise him?

Worst case, he’s dodging you. Best case, you kiss in the backroom of Scoops Ahoy and steal an ice cream on the way out. That’s what you told yourself, anyway.

Instead, you and Robin ended up decoding a secret Russian message, discovered a secret Russian base underneath Starcourt Mall, got captured, maybe drugged, tortured a little, and were eventually saved by two kids with an electrified stick.

And then, just when you thought your night couldn’t possibly get any worse, a walking nightmare made out of flesh and bones clawed its way through the mall like it had personal vengeance. Turns out it did but that's besides the point.

Your entire life flipped upside down. 

And Steve, your boyfriend…He had known the whole time. And so did your little brother, Dustin.

And afterwards, everyone else went back to normal, back to school, back to work. They made no mention of the horrors that happened that night. They just moved on. Like you didn’t fight The Mind Flayer. Like Hopper didn’t die in that Russian base. Like Billy didn’t die in front of you all.

You haven’t gone a single night without nightmares since. And it doesn’t help you have no one to talk to. Not anymore. 

You’re not really part of the group. You’re just there.

You’re Dustin’s older sister. You’re Steve’s girlfriend, well, sort of. On a good day, when he remembers to call. 

You joined the fight the same day Robin did. Same nightmare. Same blood-soaked floors. Same mindless terror crawling out of a gate you didn’t even know existed until it nearly swallowed you whole. But somehow…She became one of them. Fast. Seamless. Like she was always supposed to be there. And you…didn’t.

You're the one who drives them sometimes, the one who gets asked, “Hey, can you grab snacks?” before a movie night, ones you weren’t even invited to.

You hear about things after they’ve happened. “Oh, sorry, it was last minute.”  “Did we not tell you?”  “Thought you were busy.”

You’re always busy, apparently. Even when you’re not. Even when you’re waiting by the phone, waiting for someone to call. Waiting for someone to invite you to anything.

You’re not welcome. You’re unwanted.

You try not to let it show. You plaster on your smile. You nod along. You say “cool” and “no worries” and “maybe next time.” 

But it gnaws at you. That hollow, twisting feeling.

“Have you talked to anyone else?” Dustin’s voice is tight, panicked, as he and Max hurry down the hallway. They need to find Eddie, and ask him about what happened last night. What happened to Chrissy. They suspect it's something more evil, covered in slimy tentacles and sharp teeth, or a dark shadow, or maybe a towering monster made of the citizens of Hawkins.

“No. I can’t find Lucas or Nancy, and Mike’s in-”

“California. Shit, shit, shit.” He cuts her off without thinking. His brain is moving too fast, thoughts crashing into each other. Too many questions, half the party missing, half the party on the other side of the country. 

“What about your sister?” She blurts, scrunching up her face.

He sighs, a defeated, frustrated sigh. He treats you like a last resort, you are the last resort but…You know about the upside down so…guess you’ll have to do.

“[Y/n]! Can you take us to Family Video!?” he yells, sharp and impatient.

You peek your head out from your room, wide-eyed. “Right now?...”

“Yes, come on!” He rolls his eyes, tapping his watch.

“Uh, okay. Let me get my shoes-”

“Now! Come on!!”

“Okay-okay,” you whisper, shrinking back slightly.

Max glances at him. “That was harsh,” she mutters under her breath. Dustin ignores it.

Your mom calls out, “Dusty, where are you going?” 

“To see a friend.” His voice comes out stressed. Too panicked to just be ‘seeing a friend’. He’s already heading for the door.

“You heard the news. It’s not safe.” Your mom’s voice waves and it makes you feel guilt. She’s already been through enough. 

“We’ll be careful. Thanks, Mom. Love you. Bye.”

“Bye, Mom. Love you,” you murmur behind him, brushing a kiss to her forehead. 

Max and Dustin take off ahead of you, their sneakers smacking against the pavement as they storm towards the video store. Dustin throws the door open and they both rush inside.

They’re already at the front desk, knocking over stacks of tapes, looking through the computer. They set up a “base of operations,” whatever that means. You just stand there, eyes drifting across the rows of movie tapes, pretending to read the titles you’ve seen a hundred times. You feel invisible. 

You still don’t know what’s going on but, the urgency in their voices, the frantic energy? It’s terrifying. It feels like last year again. Whatever it is, it’s scary…. Fourth of July scary.

Your eyes find Steve.

He’s crouched near a toppled display, restacking the mess Dustin left behind. He doesn’t notice you at first. He doesn’t look up.

You walk over, swallowing the nerves in your throat. Your smile feels fragile, like if you hold it too long it might crack and fall.

“Hey.”

Steve looks up. His face shifts. Not into a smile, into something smaller. Tighter. “Oh. Hey…”

Your heart sinks, just slightly.

“Um…” You try to sound casual but your voice wavers. “You didn’t call. Last night…”

He blinks. Hesitates. “Right. Yeah. Sorry. Had to cover for Robin.”

A lie. You know it’s a lie. Robin was here yesterday. You came in to drop off a tape after school, about an hour before he was supposed to call. “You couldn’t have called from here?” you ask, softer this time.

“Super busy,” he mumbles. “Yeah, it was just…really busy.”

He’s not even looking at you anymore. The bell over the door rings again. A girl walks in, she’s pretty, confident, like she belongs. Steve glances at her, not you.

You bite your lip and clear your throat softly. “I was thinking,” you start, trying to sound upbeat, like this isn’t breaking your heart, “maybe we could go out this weekend? Dinner, or a movie? Whatever you want.”

Steve exhales. Not a sigh. Something heavier. Tired. Dismissive.

“Yeah, maybe.”

You latch onto the word like it’s a life boat. “Cool! I’m free all weekend, so we could do whatever, whenever, I mean-”

“Look,” he cuts in, voice clipped and distant. “I’ve got a lot going on this weekend. Maybe another time.”

Oh.

Your smile falls before you can stop it, not dramatically, just…falls. Ever so slightly. A tiny fracture. Barely a second of vulnerability before your instincts kick in. You catch it. Forcing a grin even though your lip wobbles.

The smile that returns doesn’t fit right. It strains too much. It doesn't reach your eyes. You nod. Once. Twice.  “Yeah. Sure. Another time.”

Steve gives you a tight lipped smile and turns to your brother, who is still trying to find Eddie. You awkwardly wait by the front desk, picking at it nervously. Steve wasn’t always like this, he used to be kind, and caring, and he used to call you every night. But now? He barely calls at all. Most of the time it’s you calling him. Or you visiting him…Or you planning dates…He’s just really busy at the moment…That’s it. That’s gotta be it…Right?

“Hey,” Max says, her voice breaking your from your thoughts. You blink, startled. “We found something. Are you coming?”

You nod automatically, though the words don’t register. Your body moves before your mind catches up. 

Eddie slams Steve against the wooden wall of the cabin. It’s damp and a little rotten, that’s what happens to things left unchecked. You gasp, moving towards your boyfriend before realising he has a knife. You swallow softly and look towards Dustin, eyes begging him to do something.

“Woah, woah! Eddie, stop! Eddie, it’s me, it’s Dustin! This is Steve. He’s not gonna hurt you. Right, Steve?”

“Right. Yeah,” your boyfriend breathes out. He gulps, eyes squeezed shut.

“Steve,” Dustin says gently, “why don’t you drop the oar? He’s cool. He’s cool.”

“I’m cool, man. I’m cool,” Steve echoes, voice shaky and wavering.

“What are you doing here?” Eddie growls, pressing the knife closer to Steve’s neck.

“We’re looking for you,” Robin jumps in. “We’re here to help.”

“Eddie, these are my friends. You know Robin, from band? This is Max, my friend who never wants to play D&D.”

Dustin raises his hands. “We’re on your side. I swear on my mother. Right, guys?”

A chorus of, “Yes. Yes, we swear on Dustin’s mother,” echoes around the small cabin.

“Yeah. Dustin-Dustin’s mother,” Steve stammers.

Eddie pauses, and then lets him go. Steve's knees almost buckle as he falls away, and you immediately rush towards him, reaching for his face “Hey, you’re okay. You’re safe-“ You coo.

“I know-I know, god stop touching me!” He shoves you away, leaning towards Robin, who’s sat on the other side of him.

Your eyes widen, and you feel that familiar pit in your stomach. “Sorry. Sorry, I-“ You start, confused, voice wobbling.

Steve gives you a look, one that he’s been giving you a lot recently. One that says ‘You’re really getting on my nerves, please stop talking.’ 

It makes you swallow your apology, and you look down to your scuffed shoes. 

They’re a beat-up pair of converse that you bought back in sophomore year. They’ve been everywhere with you, including some very lovely dates with Steve. Like when you went to the movies, where he kissed you for the first time.  Or like the picnic, where he fed you strawberries and whispered he loved you while watching the stars.

Dates like that feel like a dream. They don’t happen anymore, haven’t in months. Not like they used to. 

For the rest of the conversation, you’re not there. Not really.

[inlovewithladies]

Nerdy Abby headcanons!

I love nerdy abby so much this needed to be done. this is college au btw.

GENERAL

definately majors in kinesiology with a minor in biology

Color codes her stuff like she had OCD

when she gets to do lab stuff she gets all giddy like a kid in a candy store

since shes all buff and stuff i feel like she'd try new protein powder or bars and rank them based off taste and effectiveness

i know for a fact in my heart of hearts she loves star trek. like she has 3 posters in her room and figurines on her shelf

lives off of energy drinks especially if she has a test and needs to cram studying but doesnt tell anyone coz she preaches that theyre bad for u and doesnt wanna seem like a hypocrite

watched neon genesis evangelion

her laptop has a bunch of stickers on it IN A RELATIONSHIP

her love language is acts of service

she took literal ages to confess so she tried to communicate her feelings through actions. ie: carrying your books, walking you to class or back to your dorm

btw the confession wasnt smooth at all. she blurted it out in the middle of a study session with you, palms sweaty and shaky. 'hey, so um... i like.. like you, like a lot- wait can i start over?"

your first kiss was right then and there, she froze for a solid five seconds but when you pulled away she was cheesing so hard

even if your doing a different major than her, she'll offer to proof-read your homework just because she can (and she likes it)

enjoys making your lunch (i also feel like shed be one of those people who disguise broccoli in brownies)

at first she was kinda shy about physical touch dont get me wrong, she loves her muscles but she also doesnt wanna hurt you by accident. like if shes hugging you shell ask 'too tight?' before settling in

at some point she wanted to cut her hair but ultimately kept it long since you loved to braid it so much

I KNOW FOR A FACTTT she follows the sidewalk rule like her life depends on it

if your leaving the dorm (coz ofc your sharing it now) she watches out the window for a min to make sure your good wherever ur going.

if ur sleeping in the same bed, in winter shes amazing but in summer your probably gonna wanna sleep on the couch coz that woman is a human heater

NSFW

she talks a big game but gets completely flustered when it comes down to it

SOFT DOMMM

doesnt matter if its the 50th time shes seen you naked, shes reacting like its the first. always mutters a lil 'goddamn' when the bra comes off

i feel like shes a boob kinda girl

only had one other experience before you (ow*n) but she never really enjoyed it

reads up on the female body and how to illicit more extreme orgasms and follows it to the letter until the one time she got way too lost in the pussy and went off-script, suckling at your clit like a baby getting breastfed. you ended up cumming super hard and she decided to perchance do what she felt in the moment next time.

super attentive to your reactions, if you seem to particularly like something she'll log it into her brain like data for next time

careful with her strength but if you tell her you want it rough, your gonna get rough so be prepared

if shes strapping you down, she ends up lifting you somehow without noticing, lifting your hips off the bed, your legs hooked over her arms while she pounds you against the wall.

likes having you on top too though, especially if shes tired. she'll happily lay back and grip your hips, letting her hands occasionally drift to your tits.

if your both up to it, she'd also be happy to film the two of you having sex. of course shed never share it, just save it for if your apart during a long night.

has a thing for nasty tongue kissing while she thrusts into you

shes got a sensitive spot right under her left ear, kissing it is like a button to get her flustered

loves it when you scratch her back, matter of fact, the next day she'll purposely wear a tank top with the back kinda cut out iykwim so people can see the marks

isnt meticulous about shaving so she has a bit of a bush, not that you mind

if shes feeling subby, she'll let you tie her wrists lightly while you eat her out or finger her or whatever you wanna do to her

HATES getting edged. may i repeat she HATES being edged.

overstimulation on the other hand... especially if shes stressed or something. your girl is just so smart her brain just needs a break from thinking for a while

loves when you eat her pussy while making her keep eye contact with you

AFTERCARE

if she was submissive, she's like a pile of mush after sex, mumbling shit and shed grab you if you try to leave the bed.

lay with her for a little bit then gently guide her up with you and clean her up in the bathroom

likes to have her hair washed after sex

she definately sweats a lot after sex especially if she was strapping so she needs to have a shower either way

'was that okay? did i hurt you? gimme a minute ill get you some water- or do you wanna wash first?'

likes having you in the tub with her so she can hold you against her chest from behind while she kisses your temple.

after that you guys sleep like babies

A/N if you couldnt tell i rlly love abby anderson

[immortalmolloy]

Daniel felt himself withdrawing again. He was shutting down. Disassociating. His stomach somersaulted. He wanted to crawl into a hole in the ground and hide away forever.

Mina didn’t have to say anything for him to know. He didn’t have to read her mind. She was still angry. She had the right to be upset. But he hated how she made him feel like a villain and like he didn’t deserve to have any feelings about what happened.

He thought he was supposed to share his feelings with her. That was what she said in the past… that he should tell her how what he was thinking and how he was feeling. Now it seemed like a mistake. He shouldn’t have opened up to her. He shouldn’t have admitted to struggling.

She probably resented him so much just like how he’d resented Armand. She probably blamed him for ruining her life. She had always assured him that she was okay with how things had turned out but now it had changed. She should have never gotten involved with him. Then he got turned into a vampire even though he never asked for it. She had wanted him to stay away from Louis and the others. But he had yearned for a connection to others like himself. He didn’t have a good maker. He was alone. And while he did appreciate Mina, he had needed to have some kind of connection with someone that could understand what it was like to be a vampire. Did that make him shitty?

He hadn’t intended to fall in love with Louis. He couldn’t help it. Could she help who she loved? Lestat had really inserted himself in Daniel’s life. Daniel had actively tried to avoid him and tried not to fall in love with him especially. But in the end he was unable to prevent it. So did that make him a villain? He couldn’t regret falling for Louis and for Lestat. He loved them. He had been so happy with the life he had built with them and Mina. He had enjoyed working with Lestat and living a fairly domestic life with his little polycule family. But maybe Mina just resented him for all of that all along even though she had said she didn’t.

He hadn’t forced her to do anything. She had been a grown adult capable of making her own choices the whole time. And now she wanted to blame him for saving her… for loving her so much that he couldn’t sit there and watch her die. He was the bad guy for all of it somehow. He was the villain of her story. He was just like Armand and like Dracula even. She would have been better off without him. He should have just died long ago. Then none of this would have ever happened. If she resented him so much why didn’t she fucking leave? She should have saved herself the trouble a long time ago.

“No,” he said. “You go do what you want. I can’t…” why didn’t she even come back? Just to be angry at him? Just to keep making him feel like shit for saving her life? “I can’t do this.”

“So, you want to interview vampires, so you?”

[sharkian-fics]

I've been thinking about a new au that I hope to write someday, but it'll be a while. So have this post about it instead.

Warning now for age gap and power dynamics

It's when he's 19 that Grian caves and resorts to something he'd hoped he would never have to do. He's between jobs and desperate to scrape up enough money for rent, so he hesitantly makes an account on a camming site. He's not really expecting much - he knows he's not really one to look at, and he's incredibly inexperienced - but if he can at least get enough for rent...maybe it'd be worth it.

Scar's 47 when his wife finally pulls the rug out from under him and demands a divorce. He knows his marriage has been failing, and it's only grown more obvious as his two kids - 18yo and 19yo - go off to college, leaving the two of them home alone. He'd tried to save it, but it was a lost cause from the start.

Now, freshly divorced, Scar finds himself alone for the first time in over 20 years, in an empty apartment he'd gotten while they finalized the divorce. The house had always been under her name, and he'd graciously let her keep it without a fight. He doesn't need a big house, and he's got plenty of money to get his own place anyway. He's just not used to being on his own.

It only takes a few days for him to get a little frustrated. He'd been married for over 20 years, and while his marriage has had issues for quite a bit of it, he and his ex had sex pretty frequently in an attempt to fix it. It clearly didn't work, and now whenever he's horny he doesn't have a wife he can just turn to. He has to rely on his hand and deal with it himself.

He figures he may as well have a little fun with it, though. He looks through some sites before finding one that looks promising. He finds his eyes drawn to the barely legal category, and doesn't give it a second thought before he's clicking through the different videos and livestreams. He supposes there's one good thing about this - his wife has aged, and he has too, but at least now he can freely look at people much younger than him.

He wonders, briefly, about finding another wife. Someone much younger, who can give him more kids. Sure, he got a vasectomy years ago, but he could always just get it reversed and knock up a pretty young girl to give him some more kids. Maybe later - for now, he plans to soak in the single life a bit longer.

He looks through some of the streams, mostly bored, nothing catching his attention. They're all pretty, sure, but nothing really jumps out to him. At least, not until he sees hers. No - his, he thinks, as he reads the description. Seems like he's a trans guy. Well, that's fine. He's not picky. So long as they're pretty.

And this guy very much is. He's also very inexperienced, and while that's sometimes a turn off for him, with this guy, he's just endeared. It's clear he doesn't really know what he's doing, but that he's at least trying to make the experience good for the - he quickly checks - 5 viewers. 6, now, as he pulls it up into fullscreen. He eagerly watches the videos, watches the way his thighs shake as he tries to ride the toy. Watches the way the toy glistens with his slick when he pulls himself up, and watches as he slams it in, and the delicious way he cries out.

He gets a few donations, but not many. It's pretty obvious how desperate this kid is for the money if he's doing all this while clearly having no idea what he's doing. He hasn't even cropped his face out of the frame to give himself at least some privacy, meaning Scar can see exactly the way his face flushes a pretty red that spreads to the tips of his ears and down to his chest as Scar sends in a donation that's far more than what he'd been getting previously. He stumbles his way through a thank you, voice stuttering and eyes wide.

Grian had been doing this for almost two weeks, to only a few viewers and donations. He'd almost given up - sure he was making some money, but he always felt kind of...weird whenever doing these livestreams, both during and after. He just wasn't sure if it was really worth it when he wasn't making much off of it. But then someone joins and donates a couple hundred dollars in a single donation, and.....oh. Maybe it is worth it, actually.

By the time he ends the stream, the same person has donated a couple more times. He's easily got enough for rent now, as well as a good head start on the following month's rent. He can hardly believe it - just as he'd thought about quitting, someone comes in and donates a bunch. He can't help but wonder if there's some kind of catch, but...he can't just not message whoever had donated so much and thank them.

Grian sends them a quick message thanking them profusely for the donations, and even admits that he'd been thinking about quitting. From there, the two continue to talk. Grian learns his name - Scar, though whether that's his actual name or just a name to go by, he doesn't know - and that he's recently divorced. He doesn't explicitly know Scar's age, but he's mentioned that he has kids that recently started college, so he's gotta be quite a bit older than Grian. The thought makes him feel warm.

Scar gives him some tips on how to attract more attention to his streams. Things to say and do to make him more appealing. He suggests using more toys, and Grian admits he only has the one. He'd splurged on it once a while ago, after he got tired of having to rely on his hand. Scar offers to send him money for more, if he lets Scar pick what toys he buys. Grian, feeling almost drunk on the attention Scar is giving him, agrees.

Weeks pass. Grian continues to stream, and Scar is there for each one, commenting on his body and sending more money. Eventually, he offers to pay him for custom videos and pictures. Grian, desperate for the money (and Scar's attention), agrees easily. He sends videos of him using the toys Scar made him buy, or moaning and saying his name, or the way his cunt gapes a little after he uses the biggest toy Scar made him get. He gets soooo flustered whenever Scar compliments his body. Slowly, he stops streaming and focuses solely on Scar. He never got nearly as much money from anyone else that he gets from Scar, anyway.

While talking to Grian, Scar soon finds that he's...not all that great at this whole internet safety thing. He talks about the college he goes to with enough detail that Scar's able to figure out which one it is, and he's not even in the same state. He eagerly gives out information like his name and birthday, clearly enamored with all the attention Scar is giving him and desperate for more of it. It doesn't take much work to find a small house near the college, and for him to get a transfer from his work to one closer to it. (I don't really know what his job is. The important part is that it pays him Very Well lmao). He no longer has a wife and kids tying him to any location, so he moves in as quickly as possible.

Once he's moved in, he tells Grian, who's surprised at first. But he can't help but feel so, so flattered to know that someone moved just for him. And also feels like he's suddenly in way over his head - all he wanted was to make a couple extra bucks while in between jobs and now someone's moved for him.

In the past, Grian's bounced between jobs, never able to hold one for longer than a few months. A little after he started the camming, he got one at a nearby coffee shop. Between the money from that and from Scar, he's been able to fund his rent, HRT, and at least some of college. He's still desperate for more, though, wanting to get through college with the least amount of debt as possible. So when Scar offers for them to meet up, for Scar to pay even more for the chance to actually fuck him...well, what other choice does he have?

He'd been sort of hesitant at first -it feels a little like he's crossing a line if he actually meets up with the guy he's been talking to and sending videos and pictures to in exchange for money - but Scar had managed to wear him down, and now he's...kind of excited. Especially at the prospect of more money.

They'd started to talk about the details, when and where they'd meet up (Grian at least had the sense to suggest meeting up in public first), but they had to put their planning on pause when Grian had to go to work. Scar, of course, knows where he works. And maybe he can speed up the process a bit by meeting him there.

He goes up to the counter where Grian is, taking his order and, when he asks for his name, Scar tells him and gets to watch the way Grian pauses for a second, voice stuttering a little and eyes wide. Scar just smiles at him and asks when he gets off work, if he's got time to talk then.

When he walks away, one of Grian's coworkers who overheard at least some of their conversation is concerned and asks if Grian is okay, if he needs someone to walk him home after his shift or if they need to call the police or something. Grian, embarrassed, waves them off, says it's fine, that he knows the guy and had been hoping to see him, all while his heart is pounding and he keeps sneaking glances at him.

He's never seen what Scar looks like before. Though he'd tried, Scar had always refused. If their conversation about meeting up hadn't been interrupted by him needing to go to work, Grian would've pressed for a picture of him. Wouldn't have let Scar meet him without it. But with it happening when he wasn't expecting it...The first thing Grian notices is that he's hot. Salt and pepper hair, face and arms crisscrossed with scars, piercing eyes as he watches Grian's every move.

Throughout the shift, Grian can't help but look up at Scar every so often. He stays there the whole time, having brought a laptop to at least pretend like he's doing work, but really he's mainly just checking Grian out. When his shift finally ends, he kinda stiffly walks over to Scar, who gestures for him to sit. Grian glances at the counter, but the coworker that had expressed concern for him had already left a couple hours before, if a bit hesitantly.

The two of them start talking, though Grian's a bit quiet because he doesn't want anyone to overhear. Scar makes it clear upfront that he wants to fuck him, preferably as soon as possible. So that day they end up going to Grian's apartment. It's probably one of the only times they do it there - Scar can barely stand to see how shitty his apartment is, and the bed hardly even fits them. But it'll do. Scar's wanted to fuck Grian since the moment he saw them. He's not waiting a moment later now that he's finally got the chance.

Grian never thought his life would lead him to this. When he started that first livestream, he didn't expect it to eventually result in him being bent in half and fucked into by a guy more than twice his age. But he cant help the way it just feels so good. It's clear Scar's experienced, that he knows exactly how to thrust into him, his fingers rubbing circles around his clit with the right amount of pressure. He's bigger than most of his dildos (except for the very large one), and it fills him up so well.

Now, Scar and his ex had known for years that they didn't want more kids, so he got a vasectomy years ago. And he knows he could (and should) tell Grian, but...he wants to push just how desperate Grian is for the money. So when Grian tries to get him to wear a condom, he says he'll pay more for him to let Scar come inside. He'll pay double! Surely coming inside him once won't get him pregnant.

Grian's faced with having to weigh his desperation vs the fear. He could really use the extra money, but if he gets pregnant...in the end, though, his desperation wins, and he agrees. Scar smiles.

He likes the thought of filling Grian with his cum, even if he knows he can't actually get him pregnant. He doesn't do it then - doesn't want to scare his new toy away - but he's able to convince Grian to let him fuck him raw the next time, too. And many times after that. It's on one of these times that he really plays into the idea of it all. Pretends like he's gonna breed Grian, knock him up, make sure he stays with him. He's raised kids before. He knows how to do it, could easily raise a couple more with Grian at his side. He's been so, so lonely ever since his wife and kids left him...and if his current kids don't want anything to do with him, he may as well make more, right? If Grian's carrying his child, surely he won't walk out on him like his wife did.

(Cue Grian learning he has a breeding kink, even if he's terrified of actually getting pregnant)

He's sooooo scared of getting knocked up, but...surely just letting Scar do it a few times is fine, right? He's offering to pay so much extra, and Grian needs the money. That's how this all started. All for the money, and now he's getting regularly fucked by a guy who could've, in other circumstances, been something like a father figure to him, who gives him attention and that he likes talking to.

Scar keeps pressing to let him come inside, and it...scares Grian a little bit, but surely it's fine, right? Scar's always talking about how it feels so much better without a condom (Grian's never had sex with a condom, so he doesn't know what it's like), and how much Scar likes watching the way his cum drips out of him after. And he's constantly saying that with the way Grian clenches around him, he's practically milking his cock. Grian can't deny that feeling Scar come inside him feels good...

Part of what makes him so worried though is that he's been on T for some time now so he's not been getting his period for months. He has no idea what his cycle is, no idea if he's ovulating, if he's anywhere close to getting pregnant or if it's already too late. He breaks down crying about it eventually, blubbering through tears that he doesn't want to get pregnant, he's too young, he still has to finish college. It's then that Scar finally takes pity on him and tells him about the vasectomy. That he can't get Grian pregnant.

Grian's relieved to find that out, but he's also...kind of pissed? This has been going on for weeks now. He's questioned so many things. Are his tits more sensitive? Is he gaining weight or is it just his imagination? Even if he knows it'd be way too soon anyway, he can't help but wonder. He wonders why the hell Scar didn't tell him sooner.

Eventually, Scar offers for Grian to move in with him. He's a little closer to the college, and to his work, and it means Grian wouldn't have to live in his shitty apartment anymore. This definitely feels like crossing a line, but...what other choice does Grian have? He's been to Scar's place. It's where they usually have sex now. It's far nicer than his apartment. And being near Scar more often...he says he'll still pay him, so now he might get even more. Maybe he really will be able to finish college without any loans...

In the months since the divorce, Scar has had to get used to coming home to an empty home for the first time in 20+ years, so why not fill it with Grian? This'll give him easy access to him now too. And now he doesn't have to come home from work to an empty house. When Grian moves in with him, they share the bed, of course. And every morning, Scar eats him out before he goes to work. Sometimes Grian wakes up, sometimes he doesn't. He just looooves the sounds Grian makes, and it's the best way to start his day. Sometimes, on the days that he doesn't wake up, Scar will also fuck him and leave him with a sticky mess between his thighs and money on the bed stand. He also sends him to class or work with cum in his cunt and a plug keeping it in, sometimes with cum running down his thighs.

Okay last thing (for now) about these guys. They are soooo weird about each other. Grian's never really had many friends growing up and he's always had a bad relationship with his parents, but now he's got someone he can look up to, who gives him attention he's never gotten elsewhere. Even if that someone just so happens to regularly fuck him. And then Scar, who'd felt stuck in a failing marriage with kids who barely talked to him, now has freedom that he hasn't had in over two decades and a pretty little thing to give attention to.

---

Hehe :3 that's all I'm going to share of this au for now (though it's certainly not all I've thought up for it) but this thing is 3k and I have to end it somewhere. I'll probably make more posts about them. My freaks. Feel free to send asks about it too, I swear I'll get to them lol. I am thinking about them sooooo much. A fic will be written eventually.

[zeravmeta]

2nd scenario / ending 001 + a few other ends spoilers but some scattered semi coherent thoughts abt a certain character. also long!

I don't think I'll ever really get over Karua Kashimiya because besides all the narrative haunting she already does not just to Takumi and Nozomi but pretty much the entire overall plot and its 100 lines, she is also the closest thing to an actual "God" as presented in the story with its themes.

I don't think it's a stretch to see the religious parallels of the SDU as a literal heartless army of hell wreathed in dark purple flames with dark halos vs the holy/angelic Futuran paragons of various virtues fighting to save their planet from invaders, but besides some easy surface level themeing, I think the idea of "God" that THLLDA presents is so fascinating given the whole reason the war even happens.

Humanity in Hundred Line killed their God. The Futuran religion claims that their planet is alive and a God in and of itself that grants power, with V'ehxness' ultimate goal being to replace this position among the planet and become the new object of worship. World Death happened to Earth because humanity didn't respect their planet and continued to abuse it to the point where they didn't just kill their God, they drove it to suicide, leaving the planet uninhabitable. The planet was God, and humanity killed it. Murdered it.

I think V'ehxness' route also showcases a lot about how the Futurans view their own God, even through her distorted lens: God grants power to maintain peace. V'ehxness' goals in replacing this God lie primarily in usurping its position and what god represents: an unthinking, unfeeling symbol that stands as a representation of power, used to maintain peace, a symbol of hope that let's people see the future. This is a belief so ingrained into her that not even murdering her pious father let her escape it, because the power granted by God also binds you to it forever, with V'ehxness choosing the silence of being unthinking and unfeeling to never have to be bound again, a new God born from a self-made martyr.

You cannot escape God, because God is tied to life itself. You cannot live without a planet (God), and this endless war on Futurum persists as a war for survival because of it. A fight to claim God for themselves.

So what does any of this have to do with Karua Kashimiya? Isn't she just an imprint of Nozomi overwriting Takumi's fictional childhood best friend placeholder from his implanted memories?

Sure, she is. But that's also impossible. In-universe, they give the explanation that Takumi's glimpse of Nozomi and how she would speak to him is what created Karua Kashimiya in his mind, made in the image of Nozomi.

But that's impossible, because she is real. She's always there, right by Takumi whether he realizes it or not.

The impossibility of Karua Kashimiya lies in how her mere existence completely broke time within the world of Hundred Line, and in Second Scenario specifically ended the curse of humanity upon Futurum.

The thing about Karua is that for all of her overlapping traits with Nozomi, she shares a critical, fundamental difference: She rejects humanity.

Every flashback Takumi has with Karua has her talk about wanting to leave the TRC and experience the real world. She's always talking about wanting to experience natural phenomenon like the sky and rain and sunlight completely separate from everyone else, just her and Takumi in nature. She's obsessed with researching the past but not to retread humanity's footsteps, but rather leave her own.

Now, with the context of these being implanted memories made to motivate Takumi to fight, it can certainly be taken along the lines of "Take Reclaim this planet so that your dear sweet Karua can live in it", but one specific scene breaks this line of reasoning: The diner scene.

This one scene breaks everything, because it HEAVILY implies that Karua is aware that she won't be there forever, almost like Karua knows she isn't a 'real' person, and that her being is based on someone else. Like she's preparing Takumi for the pain that he will feel without her there.

Karua is more self-aware than we give her credit for, because the study session flashback is perfectly timed to let Takumi find out about the Artifical Satellite. Even in the background, through Takumi's dreams meant to continue brainwashing him into subservience, she's giving him small pushes of outside influence. She's protecting him even if he doesn't understand it.

Karua's memory and her will is specifically what saves Takumi so many times throughout the various routes, all the way into Second Scenario when it's what leads to him breaking Sirei's brainwashing and find out the truth.

Karua Kashimiya rejects humanity. She rejects humanity because despite how she has Takumi promise to protect her, she's always the one protecting Takumi. Karua's flashbacks all connect her to nature far more than humanity itself, ironic given that she's supposed to be a memory meant to make Takumi favor humanity. In the study scene, she even outright says that she doesn't like the TRC or trust the people in charge, wanting to leave humanity behind.

She's always been an outsider, an irregularity that shouldn't be there.

If these memories were made to make Takumi want to protect humanity, then they failed, because his priority was always Karua over humanity.

Almost as if she wanted Takumi to not choose them in the end.

Karua is alive, and has a will of her own, even if she exists as just a disparate collection of memories in Takumi's mind.

God in Hundred Line isn't just the physical planet, nor is it just the Futuran religion, but something that persists and weaves itself into every part of the story. Every action Karua Kashimiya has taken was not for humanity's survival, but Takumi's. It was her promise. It was hope.

The concept of hope is God in Hundred Line, because it's what ensures the future. You cannot live without a planet, you cannot live without God, and you are always bound to God. And it's why V'ehxness the literal Paragon of Hope is tied to the idea of supplanting God and becoming a God herself.

These two are the exact same. Karua Kashimiya and V'ehxness are the logical extremes of what hope can be, since V'ehxness is the outright impossible power that can forge any path while Karua is the small happy memory, the small faith that gives people (specifically Takumi) strength to go on. Karua Kashimiya is always bound to Takumi Sumino, always letting him persist, always giving him strength.

The strength it took to do the impossible and go back in time. To irreparably damage the laws of physics to try as many times as it takes to save the future.

Second Scenario ends with Nozomi, the original being that Karua was based on, ending humanity's curse once and for all. The will of humanity, even after all of humanity dies in second scenario, demands that the SDU continue to fight. To kill the enemy. To fulfill humanity's long dead dream. To uphold the strength and honor of the indomitable human will to always persist. They're a grudge, a curse of a species that chose to persist no matter how monstrous they became in the name of survival, exactly what Dah'lxia calls the SDU and Takumi for wanting to survive even though they are furthering the genocide of a planet. You can only get the Second Scenario ending if you try to persist in humanity's name, only to end it at the last moment.

The person Karua Kashimiya is not real, and yet is as real as any of the SDU members can claim to be, a fictional character brought to life. The only true difference between Karua and the SDU is that she actually was based on a real person: Nozomi Kirifuji.

Even then, for all that Karua takes so many traits from Nozomi, they are fundamentally different people. Nozomi might have chosen her friends, but Karua chose Takumi.

Just as real as the rest of the SDU, Karua appears at the last moment to support Takumi in his final choice. To end humanity's grudge and pass that hope onto Nozomi, to prevent a tragedy like this from happening ever again.

And Nozomi (Karua) thanks him. For protecting her and keeping his promise one last time.

Hope for the future didn't originate from the SDU, from Nozomi or even from Takumi going back in time.

It came from Karua Kashimiya when she asked Takumi to protect not just her but her wish, to have him live not as a weapon but as a person. The true value of humanity was shown when Karua's will was inherited and even at her lowest point, Nozomi chose to end the war despite her suffering. She let go of her anger. She chose the future.

Stuck in an endless war, Karua Kashimiya the impossible girl created this impossible miracle. She was always there for every step even if she wasn't 'real'.

God was always watching. Karua Kashimiya was always there, and wanted you to reach the future.

[g4y-th0ughts]

i know this has become a carla connor fan page (not sorry about that) but i’m in awe of how much of a great partner carla is to lisa.

she’s solid and grounded when lisa is flailing, she’s gentle but isn’t afraid to call her out, she answers every doubt, every jab with endless affection. contains when lisa pours, gently tugs when lisa retracts. the love she has for lisa literally oozes out of her pores. but it’s such a lucky combination of factors that brought her here, that made her like this, in this specific relationship.

i’m on a never-ending carla connor rewatch and i feel like while all she wanted all along was always to love and be loved back, she wasn’t necessarily in the right space to do that before. in the beginning she was too on edge, too fixated on clawing her way out of her rotten roots and proving to everyone else that she belonged, that she deserved respect. too hungry for power, too in need of that reassurance that she had really made it out of there to be able to love selflessly, peacefully. then, there were all the shitty men who turned her being a devoted partner into a weakness to be exploited, rather than a strength to be treasured. made her believe that the only way she could be loved was if she bent over backwards for them and at the same time kept them afloat. fixed them without hurting their pride. and carla did, of course she did. she was born thinking that love has to be earned, that existing as herself is simply not enough. that love is something you fight tooth and nail for and do you really deserve it if you come out of it unscathed, no cuts to your skin, no pangs to your heart?

but now, she has nothing to prove anymore. so much life has passed since she had to pretend to be heartless - and always failing in the end - or since she felt the need to self-sabotage all the good things she didn’t think she deserved. i truly feel like her heart is settled now, she’s at peace. and look, her taste is still slightly skewed to people who are a bit broken - lisa swain breaking down in her car a year ago acting like a magnet to carla. i don’t think she could ever relate to someone who’s had it easy. but this relationship is so different, there’s so much softness, so much emotional intelligence. this doesn’t mean it’s perfect - neither of them is - but it’s never cruel, it’s never so broken that it can’t be repaired. and it’s due to carla’s growth but also to lisa’s ability to provide a safe space in which carla can be her loving self and speak up when things are not right - even when it’s lisa herself that’s making things go wrong - can take as much as she gives. and carla can finally put her armor down, vindicate that over sensitive kid who only wanted to save bees. beautiful, really

[lillie98]

I have a strong feeling Will has been dead this entire time. The entire story is a Comic Book series he and Mike started together, but Will never got to finish. Mike takes each book and crafts it into a new reality where he and Will are the Heroes. Will always survives, Mike always saves the day, and their friends and family live happily ever after. Unfortunately, Story!Mike doesn’t know this manipulation is happening and keeps screwing up the plot (hence the monsters) and putting himself and everyone else in danger. Real!Mike must step up and become the leader and set everything back the way it was supposed to be…even if it means letting Will go.

He’s [Will] connected to the Upside Down. He created it, so he must die with it. As much as this story revolves around Will coming into himself and his manhood, it also revolves around Mike and his survivor’s guilt. In order to break the loop and set everyone free, Mike must let go of his guilt and self-hatred. He must look Will in the eye, accept their shared fates, and realize NONE OF THIS was his fault. He did EVERYTHING he could to save Will—even rewriting reality, but sometimes, you can’t save those you love. No matter how hard you try. Will doesn’t resent him for what happened, and he never will, because without Mike, he never would have experienced such an incredible adventure.

Mike gave Will the ultimate gift: Time. He gave Will time with his friends and family, time to experience the joys and horrors of adolescence, and time to live. He can never repay Mike for this gift, and he wishes more than anything that he could stay, but he can’t. That’s why everyone (especially sweet Noah) sobbed during the final Table Read. The Duffers finally peeled back the last frame and revealed the true message of Stranger Things: Unconditional Love.

I love all the religious undertones of Stranger Things and I thought of this verse from Romans 8:38-39:

For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.

NOTHING—not even Death itself—will separate Mike and Will from each other. NOTHING. Even if they no longer inhabit the earth together, their love endures as a testament to unending faith. I also associate “Who Lives, Who Dies, Who Tells Your Story” from Hamilton with Byler, particularly Eliza’s lines:

“Oh, you could have done so much more if you only had time”

and

“I can’t wait to see you again, it’s only a matter of time.”

Mike is telling us Will’s story. He’s using this show and the books they wrote to bring awareness to Homophobia, HIV, and the horrors of staying trapped in the past. He can’t bear the thought of anyone else experiencing the grief and heartache he and Will experienced, so he tells their story as a Cautionary Tale. Tell your people you love them, make a move, and advocate for them before it’s too late. Don’t wait until “The Perfect Moment” or “When Life Gets Easier.” It’s never going to get easier, you have to act now. Otherwise, you may be too late. Think about Robin and Tammy. Robin was head-over-heels for her, but she never made a move. What happened? Tammy moved away and was gone forever. Robin told that story for a reason (beyond her Coming Out). She’s paralleling Real!Mike and Will’s experience and warning the audience to not make the same mistake. If you love someone, tell them while they’re here. Every moment could be your last, and do you really want to live the rest of your life regretting the one move you didn’t make? We only have so much time on this earth, and we must use it wisely.

Henry/1/Vecna is obsessed with clocks and time for a reason. It’s the one thing Will needs that he can’t get. Mike will be on time this season, but only because he wrote it that way. He wrote himself as the Hero—the VICTOR—that swoops in and saves the day, right at the last second. Will’s KNIGHT IN SHINING ARMOR. The Duffers have made it painfully clear the story we’re seeing is not what actually happened. It’s an Allegory (story rooted in symbolism) for a horrific event in history that claimed far too many lives. So, the next time you sit down to rewatch your Comfort Show, remember: It Was Always A Matter of Time.

Ps: I also believe the choppy message STWriters posted comes from Mike’s letter he reads at Will’s grave—just like Max. Except, this time, he leaves the letter (and possibly the finished Comic Book) at the gravesite, symbolizing the end of their journey and his final attempt to connect with Will. Maybe Will smiles from Above, accepting the letter and beaming with pride, knowing his story will inspire the world forever.

Long Live William Byers

What Letter to Willy tells us…

Two scenes. One song. How both scenes tell us a lot in hidden details…

Letter to Willy… interesting title, no? Not “letter to Billy”, no, the “W” needed to be added to clue us in on how this is about Will.

Not just about Will, but about November 6, 1983.

To begin, let’s talk about both of these scenes. The first one is of Max in the episode Dear Billy. She’s seen at his grave reading her letter to a deceased William. She reads out her feelings and regrets.

The second scene is in the next episode The Nina Project. The song begins playing when Mike and Will catch each others’ eyes while digging and have a heart to heart on top of a car. During the heart to heart, Mike expresses frustration and regret.

Both scenes feature someone who has passed away and their headstone.

Both scenes feature characters dwell on the “what if”s.

Here’s where things get interesting…

Mike referencing someone giving a number… notice how both scenes here involve a car? In fact, it’s almost like we’re viewing the scene on the left from a different perspective (through the car) on the scene on the left. Don’t believe the callback here? Well…

Look at what Mike is holding. 7up. Yup. This is absolutely intentional.

It seems like to me that they’re showing us Mike’s guilt over what happened to Will that night. He has regrets. Possibly because Will actually did die. At least in some timeline.

A little hint to that here too. Associating the “last day of life” with “Mike Wheeler’s basement”…. Can’t really get more on the nose than that. Mike Wheeler’s basement… aka the last place Will was before he “vanished”?

As a writer, he likely wished he could explain himself through writing… in a letter… to Will. Perhaps hoping that an explanation could somehow prevent a tragedy from occurring?

This line makes me suspicious that there’s some sort of time loop 🔁 on the day of Will’s disappearance.

And of course… this all leads back to…

And of course, another possible Back to the Future reference.

For those unaware, Marty saves Doc’s life by writing him a letter and giving it to him in 1955… preventing his death in 1985

What I’m getting at is this: this letter is more significant than you might think. Yes, it is a love letter, but it also is what likely ends up saving Will’s life.

[atopvisenyashill]

“robert wouldn’t have abused lyanna” okay, but he DID abuse cersei? isn’t what he actually did way more important than what he hypothetically might have done under different circumstances? and you know ned was thinking of lyanna when he saw how robert treated his wife.

also, i do not believe that lyanna would have been any more accepting of robert’s carousing, drinking, and neglect of his duties than cersei was (maybe even less so) and are we really truly going to claim that somehow he wouldn’t have gotten violent with lyanna the moment she called him out on something? he screams and yells at ned anytime ned challenges him and probably the only reason he doesn’t hit ned is because he knows ned can fight back. (plus, you know, he respects him because he’s a man and you don’t just SLAP another MAN. that would be so UNMANLY and DISHONORABLE, unlike slapping a woman which is totally fine and normal).

i straight up have made like "robert wasn't even that bad of a king" jokes and been partially serious about it, and we all know i want to fuck him bc of my daddy issues but can we be serious. he shows a real pattern of at best selfish behavior but realistically, of abusive behavior, and not just towards cersei who "deserved" it but towards every single person in his life.

he is deeply selfish in his relationships with stannis & renly - if BOTH your brothers' first reaction to finding out you've been cucked for nearly fifteen years is to shrug and declare themselves king, i think you've failed at being a loving brother to them! he actively fights for his crown, not just as a way of saving his own life or saving ned's or revenge for the people slain but to be king it's why he kills rhaegar on the trident rather than taking him hostage to ask where lyanna is or to force a truce....and then he immediately passes off all responsibility to Jon Arrryn and Stannis, and instead of using Jon's death as a way of maturing, he once again passes all responsibility to Ned. He doesn't take any sort of control of the small council, which allows for rampant cronyism (cronyism that GETS HIM KILLED) and for Varys and Petyr to plot to straight up overthrow him and his family.

But as you say - he is not a good friend to Ned. He is very selfish when he talks about Lyanna with her, and it's something we know annoys Ned because he snaps at Robert every time it happens. When he makes that "oh she should be out in the sun not here" he is thinking about the projection of a woman and not what Lyanna would have wanted, and Ned directly says that. When Ned argues with him over killing Dany, he once again attempts to leverage the murders of Rickard, Brandon, and Lyanna against Ned, as if it isn't Ned's family that was slaughtered! He uses Lyanna as a justification for his abuse after Ned sees him slap Cersei. And through that whole convo Robert is doing some serious and fucked up emotional manipulation. He essentially corners Ned while Ned is high off painkillers to emotionally blackmail Ned into coming back to the council, and completely absolves himself of responsibility for the fighting between the Starks and Lannisters getting so bad so quickly, then fucks off to go hunting without a real apology. He wants Ned to fix all his problems but refuses to back Ned up even one time - not at the Trident over the direwolves, and not in the capital after Bran is nearly murdered, Jory is murdered, and Tywin has let Gregor start reaving in the Riverlands.

And the Cersei of it all. I mean let's look at what he does to her-

Her eyes burned, green fire in the dusk, like the lioness that was her sigil. "The night of our wedding feast, the first time we shared a bed, he called me by your sister's name. He was on top of me, in me, stinking of wine, and he whispered Lyanna." Ned Stark thought of pale blue roses, and for a moment he wanted to weep. "I do not know which of you I pity most."

Ned touched her cheek gently. “Has he done this before?” “Once or twice.” She shied away from his hand. “Never on the face before. Jaime would have killed him, even if it meant his own life.” 

Taena warmed the bed as well as Robert ever had, and never tried to force Cersei’s legs apart.

Those had been the worst nights, lying helpless underneath him as he took his pleasure, stinking of wine and grunting like a boar. Usually he rolled off and went to sleep as soon as it was done, and was snoring before his seed could dry upon her thighs. She was always sore afterward, raw between her legs, her breasts painful from the mauling he would give them. The only time he’d ever made her wet was on their wedding night.

For Robert, those nights never happened. Come morning he remembered nothing, or so he would have her believe. Once, during the first year of their marriage, Cersei had voiced her displeasure the next day. ‘You hurt me,’ she complained. He had the grace to look ashamed. ‘It was not me, my lady,’ he said in a sulky sullen tone, like a child caught stealing apple cakes from the kitchen. ‘It was the wine. I drink too much wine.’

The rest had all been lies, though. He did remember what he did to her that night, she was convinced of that. She could see it in his eyes. He only pretended to forget; it was easier to do that than to face his shame. Deep down Robert Baratheon was a coward. In time the assaults grew less frequent. During the first year of their marriage he took her at least once a fortnight; by the end it was not even once a year. He never stopped completely, though. Sooner or later there would come a night when he would drink too much and want to claim his rights. What shamed him in the light of day gave him pleasure in the dark.

Now everybody heard him. "No," he thundered in a voice that drowned out all other speech. Sansa was shocked to see the king on his feet, red of face, reeling. He had a goblet of wine in one hand, and he was drunk as a man could be. "You do not tell me what to do, woman," he screamed at Queen Cersei. "I am king here, do you understand? I rule here, and if I say that I will fight tomorrow, I will fight!" Everyone was staring. Sansa saw Ser Barristan, and the king's brother Renly, and the short man who had talked to her so oddly and touched her hair, but no one made a move to interfere. The queen's face was a mask, so bloodless that it might have been sculpted from snow. She rose from the table, gathered her skirts around her, and stormed off in silence, servants trailing behind. Jaime Lannister put a hand on the king's shoulder, but the king shoved him away hard. Lannister stumbled and fell. The king guffawed. "The great knight. I can still knock you in the dirt. Remember that, Kingslayer." He slapped his chest with the jeweled goblet, splashing wine all over his satin tunic. "Give me my hammer and not a man in the realm can stand before me!" Jaime Lannister rose and brushed himself off. "As you say, Your Grace." His voice was stiff. Lord Renly came forward, smiling. "You've spilled your wine, Robert. Let me bring you a fresh goblet." Sansa started as Joffrey laid his hand on her arm. "It grows late," the prince said. He had a queer look on his face, as if he were not seeing her at all. "Do you need an escort back to the castle?"

He doesn't just slap her "one" time. He rapes her from their wedding night, every single time they have sex he rapes her while he's drunk. He publicly humiliates her, so regularly it seems like Renly is prepared for it with his fawn response here, and that Joffrey is used to it and potentially dissociates when it happens.

And Cersei isn't the only person he is abusing (the Ned of it all aside). I mean look at what he does to his own kids, to his lovers that aren't Cersei-

The girl had been so young Ned had not dared to ask her age. No doubt she'd been a virgin; the better brothels could always find a virgin, if the purse was fat enough. 

"Joffrey . . . I remember once, this kitchen cat . . . the cooks were wont to feed her scraps and fish heads. One told the boy that she had kittens in her belly, thinking he might want one. Joffrey opened up the poor thing with a dagger to see if it were true. When he found the kittens, he brought them to show to his father. Robert hit the boy so hard I thought he'd killed him."

He is an abuser. He wouldn't have been any nicer to Lyanna, and this is something Ned is eventually forced to come to terms with - that she was right not to want to marry Robert. His whole emotional arc in the first book is about realizing that Robert not only isn't the man he thought he was, but that Robert never was the man Ned thought he was, Robert isn't capable of being the man Ned thought he was. It was a front, a facade that easily fools Ned because Robert is bound by the constraints of his society and can't knock Ned on his ass for talking back without getting his shit rocked right back. And Ned realizes it, that he was a fool to ever believe Robert was a good man. He loved him, he mourned him in those few days he outlived Robert, but in a way, just like Robert was "mourning" a Lyanna that never existed, Ned was mourning a Robert that never truly existed, and Ned knew it.

[atheostic]

"The problem is you are ... implying your mom ... would have been most effected long term."

She would be equally impacted. A baby changes your life forever. Financially, emotionally, even physically.

Being pregnant is extremely dangerous compared to having an abortion (7.06 deaths per 100,000 live births vs 0.56 per 100,000 terminations), and that's not counting things like how you could have your teeth fall out or become an amputee if things in the pregnancy go wrong.

And my mom's full-term pregnancy (me) did go wrong. The placenta calcified and I was 24 hours away from suffocating and starving to death in the uterus. Had she never been to medical school she would not have known to seek a second opinion and saved my life.

My mom's family was so poor that growing up she thought butter was a luxury item. Had she carried her first pregnancy to term she would not have been able to provide a good quality of life for the baby, which is why she did the responsible thing and didn't continue with the pregnancy.

"If you couldn’t abandon a baby. Why can you murder one?"

*sigh* Why is consent such a hard thing to understand for forced birthers? If you consented to have a baby you have also consented to care for that baby.

And a clump of cells isn't a baby yet. It doesn't even have a nervous system.

"And you mother would only have to be pregnant for 9 months. That’s would not have ruined her life..."

Yes, it WOULD have ruined her life. She would have to have dropped out of university (which is really hard to get into in my country) and have lost her one chance at a good quality of life for herself and any future children.

By the way, had she dropped out, she wouldn't have saved the baby she saved in medical school, nor helped a blind nun see again after 20 years of being blind. Both cases needed her to be the one to do it, because she was not scheduled to have been in the maternity ward when she noticed a baby turning blue, and the nun she met during a trip to another state she would not have been able to afford had she dropped out of university.

Talk about stopping potential!

"Adoption exists."

And the foster system has millions of kids who are already born and looking for homes. She didn't want to have a baby just to abandon it to the system in our third-world country during a brutally violent dictatorship.

"I am not shaming your mother"

Yes, you are. My dude, you're literally calling her a murderer. If that's not shaming and judging I don't know what is. What happened to "Judge not lest ye be judged" and "May the one without sin cast the first stone"? Rules for me but not for thee...

"And she could have “got rid of” the baby then"

I never used that terminology, you're intentionally misrepresenting my words and not parting from a point of honesty and good faith.

"Not once has she ever suggested murder to make her life easier."

Neither has my mother, you condescending prick.

"Abortion is the lie that claims to be for women while limiting us, not supporting us in other options..."

I absolutely support people learning about other options and having the support to have other options. Abortion isn't the only option, but it should be an option. It's your ilk that wants to cut programs that would help people like my mom feel like having a baby was an option.

"To decide which lives are worth living just because you think they aren’t (by your narrow definition) “good” and without pain is the height of cruelty disguised, as “compassion” and takes a great deal of hubris."

I never said the embryos are bad. Being bad or good is irrelevant. And I think the embryo is at worst amoral, since it doesn't have the thinky parts that allow for complex thinking about morality yet. It kind of just is.

And again, EMBRYOS AT THE TIME OF ABORTION ARE LITERALLY PHYSICALLY INCAPABLE OF FEELING PAIN BECAUSE THEY DON'T HAVE THE NECESSARY NERVOUS SYSTEM YET.

The fetus can't feel pain until the 24th week, and most abortions are done before the 12th week:

Late abortions are only to save the pregnant person or because something has gone horribly wrong and the baby will either not make it after birth or will have a terminal illness (or has already died in the womb). No one who's late into their pregnancy goes "Nah, I changed my mind. Let's abort the baby." They do it because it's medically necessary.

"And Embryo’s ARE people. Science show us that."

No, it doesn't. And even if it did, people are not allowed to use other people's body without consent. So much so that parents cannot be compelled to donate organs or fluids to born children.

"The human embryos killed in abortion is genetically different and separate from the Mom pregnant with them."

Exactly. They are another person making use of the body of someone who hasn't consented to it. That's illegal, my dude.

"Your biases and feelings don’t change the science of what abortion actually is."

Funny how most scientists and doctors don't agree with you.

YOUR religious beliefs shouldn't dictate what people who aren't in your religion get to do.

[kindrewind]

"do you?" get it. van's eyes track around the magazine glam of taissa's living room. they deadpan as their gaze retraces the walls back to her, "'cause i'm gettin' the feeling my place isn't really your scene..."

in their present day — call it the wisdom of age; and a product of survival — van palmer has honed the knack of saying only what needs to be said: they're blunt, they cut to the chase (even when they're being blustery and facetious). they keep from wastefulness, and that too applies to their use of time. it's easy to get tangled, tripped up, in language. if they were spilling their heart to taissa tonight, it would be at the expense of their protective armor. that's because tonight with taissa, they speak sparingly not from an absence of care but care's abundance. van doesn't want them bulldozing at each other's lives.

less extremely, they're not even sure yet if they fit into each other's lives anymore. is it worth finding out? (shit.)

it's van's eyes that give volumes away. a blush of warmth rises through their body when taissa grabs their hand. their gaze that's found her just in time widens, wet, with questions. wistfulness. so, when taissa proposes what she does about ohio, van rasps, on the defense, "fucking bad joke, tai." we're skipping right to cohabitation? whatever happened to dinner and a movie? wine-and-dine a fella first. but if it's a joke, who's laughing?

for one seemingly minor detail that struck van on the night at lottie's compound was how they've maintained an ability to know when taissa is telling the truth, or when she might be keeping something from them. she sounds scarily sincere in her proposal to shack up here, that it dents van's armor.

"you don't know me anymore. what my life's been like."

van's working with clustering doubts, here: there's the healthy skepticism that follows your worst heartbreak when she beautifully walks back through your door like a faded daydream you once had more than once, and how it begs the question: does taissa truly want van back in her life at all, or is it that she just thinks she does? now that the floor has fallen out from under her and van's been the one with the net? is she hoping for the memory of how van once was ('you haven't changed') that is embroiled in their incredible history of rescuing each other? or could taissa really be interested in taking the time to know the person van's evolved into without her? without her. didn't taissa enlist van's help in the context of reconciling with her family, a family that van does not wish for taissa to see herself become completely wedged apart from — especially with the knowledge that taissa does not wish for that either.

if there is one certainty, it's the powerful force of van's iron-clad love for taissa. taissa had shown van how immeasurable the power of love can be, to the apex of it awakening another's senses and, at the same time, helping them to sleep. they have shown each other how love can keep you safe. taissa, in all of her courageous care, has saved van's life, and the core fact is that they would not be sitting here tonight without each other. van has carried these lessons with them through life, despite how they've tried not to think about them, shove them down, and put up a cynical front for how the origins were too goddamn painful: but love can make another person feel fully alive to the world, while helping them to rest easy in it. what are the chances that this is something they could do for each other again? be a port in the storm.

van takes a breath, and answers in regards to going back to ohio, "i'm sick, taissa." they remind her not because they feel she might have forgotten, but it's out of a plainspoken self-compassion to illustrate what is they would need. they will be as selective with their time as they damn well please.

present circumstances might just keep them in new jersey for slightly longer than planned, but van has a life to return to in ohio. just because someone's dying doesn't mean they don't get to live a life, and van palmer likes their life. they've got a circle of queer friends and, hey, a couple of casual arrangements, which have brought them flowing laughter and care. there's the vibrancy of their movie store which endlessly enthuses them even if business isn't exactly what one would call booming... but it's enough. it's more than enough. every time an excited college student whizzes through their door eager to discuss a movie van has pitched to them (sometimes rented out to them without charge because fuck it), they revel in the feeling of it. they don't think that they could hold a more gratifying place in their neighborhood than that.

van never had any intentions but staying in oberlin. neither did van have any intentions of letting taissa in on their private life. and in discussing their prognosis now, they feel the same closeness to taissa that they had felt by the fire on lottie's compound, with a little tequila on the breath. they're not inclined to readily disclose all facts of their life to taissa. trust has to be rebuilt. but in the intimacy of wanting to talk about their life, because they're considering letting taissa into it again, it doesn't not feel nice, to be listened to by her.

it makes them feel held in a way they have missed — and this feeling could be something to follow, something to be enjoyed. for them both. they're just not going to leap to, caution to the wind. compressing their lips into a tight line, van does take the step of enclosing taissa's hand within theirs. safekeeping. warming up.

they both need rest. and a lot has been said that needs digesting.

"alright," they let themself have the smallest moment with her. van brings one, ringed hand up to gently brush back taissa's hair. they exhale, lower it. in the gesture they're telling her that they're beginning to consider something that they're not ready to make any commitments to tonight. "it's been, uh, a day. and i think, maybe, we pack it up. sleep on it for tonight." that's a shot van is calling.

that stings,   even if it’s what taissa suggests,  and even if van’s only entertaining the thought and doesn’t actually mean it —  it hurts knowing they agree because it means she really does deserve it.  there’s no greater feeling than being loved by van palmer — for everything,  even the parts of herself she’s terrified of herself,  even the faults she always wondered if anyone would truly accept.  van did.   she feels it now, too —  van still does.   and what has taissa done to deserve that?  

when van loves,  they love so hard.  they taught her how to love, too.

of course van would never hate her.   just as taissa would never truly fall out of love with them — they’ve always been in this,  together,  even if so far apart.   it doesn’t change the sentiment:  van should hate her.   maybe that’s what a younger taissa understood,  too — that it would hurt them less if she could just make them hate her instead of miss her.   that was such a foolish thought.   it never would have made anything easier.   she knows that firsthand.

she finally lets out the breath she was holding as she waited for van to admit it outright,   and she gives them a nod,   like sharing her gratitude in knowing she doesn’t deserve it.   she can feel tears in her eyes,  and she’s quick to swipe one away,   trying to keep herself calm because she knows this conversation won’t get any easier — not when van is,  rightfully,  forcing tai to face all the things she’s long buried within herself.   they should’ve had this conversation years ago.   there shouldn't be a reason to have to have it at all.

there’s a silent promise that taissa made to herself once they returned home  —   she’d be the success story of the survivors,   she’d be the one who was entirely unaffected by what happened to them.  she’d keep moving forward,  achieve every goal she had that was still waiting for her back here,   she’d get the career she’d always wanted and she’s rise to power the way she was always meant to.   survival was a victory and she was not going to let the rest taint her in any way.   she was perfectly rehearsed anytime anyone asked her a question about that time in her life,  and she ensured no one had to question if she was really okay.   

she performed for years as a woman unaffected by such trauma,   proving everyone wrong about the kind of people they should’ve turned out to be.   and she was better than the rest,   and she used that against them,  time and time again.  she threw her money at nat rather than trying to be a friend beyond that,  telling herself that was all the support she’d need.   she looked down upon shauna’s relationship,  bothered that she’d reduce herself to what she had for a marriage that couldn’t possibly be genuine,   as if she hadn’t fallen into a life that wasn’t actually fulfilling to her, either.   she resented travis for the things she knew weren’t one-sided in his relationship with nat.   she ignored misty’s messages,  she didn’t spare a thought to lottie who was out of sight, out of mind,  presumably doing worse than the rest.  

and then there was van.  making a life for themself.  thriving in their own way —  and tai looked down on that,  too,  assuming they were alone.  assuming their business would fail.  assuming they had nothing.  

taissa had it all,  and she got greedy,  and she ended up with nothing. 

as van starts to tell her about their life,  she realizes now —  maybe it was van,  living the success story taissa always claimed she was doing herself,   because van’s life was genuine,  authentic.  their life was theirs.   they found their roots and they made something of it.   but van’s always been unapologetically themself,  as far as taissa’s concerned,  and that’s something taissa always envied,  always needing to be more even if it meant sacrificing anything that made her happy.    success was more important,  happiness irrelevant  —   and she’d so quickly deemed van’s life as empty just because she didn’t understand it.   she wants to now,  she wants to hear them out — she wants to know every detail about their life that made them feel whole in the years without taissa.  

if taissa convinced herself for years that van was okay without her just to make herself comfortable,  she has to actually hear it now.   it’s a selfish sentiment.   she’s trying to let go of that.

another selfish sentiment:  she fears the moment she has to ask van if they want to go back to ohio.   she’s terrified of the answer,  terrified of losing them right after she just got them back.  but what’s keeping taissa here,  anyway?  a wife who’s already left,  a son she’s not allowed to speak to and surely better off without her,  a career she lit on fire?   more —  would van want her to come with?   who could taissa be there?  does she even know who she is here,  without everything she’d crafted for herself without any real fulfillment?

she takes a deep breath,  collecting her composure,  and she nods her head.    ❝  i didn’t see that,  ❞   she admits,  because this is what van needs —  they need tai to say these things out loud.  to admit to them.  to own up to it.   ❝  when i was there,  i—   i didn’t see what you’d really done for yourself.   it’s admirable.  i should’ve told you that then,  ❞    she admits,  frowning as she thinks back to how quickly she’d torn into van’s life and made it all about herself.    ❝  your business—  it’s everything i could’ve hoped you’d find.  ❞   a way to completely express themself and everything they are —  it really is admirable.  taissa was never as good at that as van was,  spending too much time trying to hide from it,  and then,  when it was time to express herself to the world,  she used it to make a platform for herself.    so much of the life she’s built had been disingenuous — nothing like van,  whose life they’d made for themself speaking to the core of who they were,   how taissa fell in love with them in the first place.

she braces herself.

❝  so,  if…     if that’s what you want,  to go back there,  i know.   i get it.  ❞   she didn’t get it then,  when she was there for herself,   because all tai could see was that it wasn’t paying the bills.  enough time spent with van,  and she can ground herself again.  she can remember what’s important.  

she sees van’s own tears and it’s enough to bring herself the courage — she grabs van’s hand,  turns her body towards them more,  and gives a nod for both their sakes.   ❝  i’m saying,  i’m not leaving this time.   and if that means….    if that means we go back to ohio together,  if that’s what you want to do,   we talk about that,  too.  ❞    that scares tai.  but watching van leave her life now would scare her even more.    ❝  i didn’t listen to you back then.  i know that.   i didn’t give myself the chance to hear you out because i already decided.   i was leaving.  ❞    she hates to address it,  but it’s necessary.  it’s what van needs,  it’s what taissa deserves.   

❝  but that’s what i want now,  van.  i want to hear you out.   i want to know what you need,  and —   i want to be a part of it.   and i know —  i’ve still got a whole lot of shit to figure out here, ❞   she says,  as much as she wishes she could so quickly brush past it,  especially in conversation.   ❝  but i want to figure this out.  both of us, together.   it’s not just my call.  i know that now.  ❞

[dykeyleth]

thinking abt the scene in the lava forever and ever

[cleolinda]

AITA for banning my husband and father in law from the delivery room due to their intensely stressful/creepy behavior during my pregnancy?

There’s a famous Reddit post from 2020 where a pregnant woman wrote that her husband and father-in-law were a little too comfortable with their certainty that she was absolutely going to die in childbirth just like her husband’s late mother. It was to the point where her FIL was insisting that she go ahead and put all her clothes into storage, because she was obviously going to die in the hospital and it would save them the grief of packing up her things afterwards. Like. It was WILD.

When I tell my husband [that she feels suspicious of her FIL], he calls me paranoid, but I feel like my FIL WANTS me to die; his whole life identity for the past 35 years has been “amazing single dad” (never dated or had close friends or even hobbies really), and it seems like he’s looking forward to being able to guide my husband through what he went through. At this point, I’d honestly be happy to never see my FIL again, and I certainly don’t want him in the delivery room, especially since he told me he was “putting [his] foot down” about me not being “allowed” to have an epidural…. My husband, in addition to backing his dad on everything, acts like my due date is my death date, and has completely pulled away from me.

The commenters (and me, honestly) were convinced that the husband and FIL were either going to kill her outright to fulfill this expectation, or just make decisions about her care that might conveniently let her die.

And then she never posted again.

Over the last four years, people have frequently mentioned that post, always leading to a thread of people saying, “Oh god, I still worry about that woman.” I did too. It became one of those famous unresolved posts that people always wondered about.

Until yesterday, when someone on r/BestOfRedditorUpdates dug up a 2022 update she had posted on a different account:

TLDR; I had a beautiful and healthy baby girl, and I divorced my ex-husband. I lived, obviously.

She writes that she put her foot down about having her own mother in the delivery room rather than her FIL (!), and she WOULD be getting an epidural. Her husband lost his shit. And in his outburst, he let slip--

I admittedly lost my temper, and told him that I wasn’t going to die- it wasn’t my fault his father’s trauma wormed it’s way into his head, and that he needed to fix it without taking it out on me. He yelled at me that he didn’t need therapy. That caught me a little off guard; I asked him why he went to his therapist and was given advice about my death if he felt he didn’t need it. His expression gave it away, and he caved not long after. It turns out there was no therapist. It was just his dad. During the times he was supposed to be at therapy, he was with his dad. I’m still fuming.

And that was when she got the fuck out.

I’ll wrap this up- I’ve got an adorable little toddler tugging at my leg atm. I’m alive, I’m happy, and I’ve got my baby in my arms. Life is good.

I truly never thought we'd see a resolution to this, and I feel like there's probably a good number of people who remember it, so I thought you might want to know.

ETA: Brilliantly, I put the link in at the top; here it is again for convenience.

[lokissweater]

birds of a feather . ۫ ꣑ৎ .

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

until he saw you skate.

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

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

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

“hi.”

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

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

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

“yeah! i’m okay! don’t worry!”

but he still couldn’t stabilize himself.

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

“okay!”

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

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

“y—y/n.”

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

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

“when did you start skating?”

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

his eyes bulged.

“hah?! today?!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

but that concept quickly changed the second you met.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“she’s eight aki! jesus christ.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“uh huh.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“i’m training them from now on.”

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

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

“did you hear?”

you shook your head. “hear what!”

“akira wants to coach you and satoru.”

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

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

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

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

“yesyesyesyes!—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

he stuck his tongue out. “says who.”

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

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

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

he grinned and ruffled your hair. “thanks!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

he grinned.

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

“toru!”

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

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

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

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

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

and she did it fucking beautifully.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“did you do okay?!” you gawked.

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

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

you both giggled uncontrollably.

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

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

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

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

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

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

the two of you sniffled and nodded.

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

“no keep doing it!—”

“it’s funny please!—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

the consequences were too drastic— you both knew that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

akira smoothly traveled over to you both.

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

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

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

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

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

akira smirked.

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

“are we— are we—” you stammered.

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

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

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

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

satoru pouted. “no.”

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

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

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

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

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

but he knew damn well what it was.

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

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

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

satoru swallowed, nodding.

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

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

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

“…toru?”

he blinked down at you. “huh?”

“you okay?”

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

“you sure—”

“what time is your date?”

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

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

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

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

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

“do too!”

“do not!”

“do to—”

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

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

“aakkiii!—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

akira sighed.

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

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

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

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

so why were you going on a date?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“… no.”

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

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

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

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

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

“it is sweets!” he agreed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“big and strong and pretty—”

“please don’t go.”

you stilled.

“what?”

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

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

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

“why?”

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

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

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

and you hoped to god he would say it.

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

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

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

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

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

“i don’t want to.”

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

but you were absolutely stupid for that.

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

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

that’s all you needed… just satoru.

regardless if there was something more in question.

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

“you know why, toru…”

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

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

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

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

satoru stuck his pinky finger out towards you then.

“birds of a feather?” he murmured.

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

“birds of a feather.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

until akira’s accident.

“oh my god i’m gonna throw up—”

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

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

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

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

“not as much as i love you—”

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

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

“now i’m gonna cry and throw up.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

and there was so much blood.

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

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

“i— i don’t know—”

“aki!”

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

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

“you need to stay out of the rink—”

“fuck you!”

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

akira died at the hospital later that night.

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

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

and you and satoru were fucking ruined.

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

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

your aunt was gone. your own blood.

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

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

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

“yes pretty.”

“this is so fucked.”

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

“diabolically fucked.” he responded.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

finally.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

you nodded, gleaming up at him.

“is this a prank?”

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

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

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

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

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

was he about to…?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

he stopped chewing.

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

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

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

you giggled, looking at him apologetically before standing on your tippy toes and licking a bit of melted chocolate from the corner of his mouth.

and he blinked at you, dumb and still as his cheeks copied the same exact shade as yours.

my god.

you were about to turn him into a freak.

“okay now you have to kiss me.”

“why?!” you laughed. “you had chocolate on your face! i was helping you out.”

“yeah right you little minx.” he scarfed down the last bit of his s’more and threw his little paper tray in the trash can behind him, putting his hands together and shaking off excess crumbs. “that’s actually the most torturous thing you have ever done to me.”

“dramatic!” you exclaimed, laughs escaping you and increasing as you watched satoru’s flustered face pout and glare at you.

you breathed in deeply and settled down, standing up straight as you took a tiny sip of your hot chocolate and smiled. “now i feel bad.”

“you should.”

“can you forgive me?”

“not unless you kiss me.”

“toru!”

“what?!” he pushed. “baby it’s only fair! really! just once and that’s it. a harmless peck nothing more we aren’t doing anything crazier.”

you gnawed at your bottom lip in thought.

technically he was right… it was just one little peck, entirely harmless and cute and wouldn’t have you both falling off of that thin tight rope you guys were still balancing off of.

this would only shake it a little… but then you’d be fine! right?

you were too far gone in the considerations of his proposal as you looked at his absolutely breathtaking blue eyes and face, somehow looking even more angelic as his pinky cold cheeks and nose and scarf covered neck did nothing but make you fall deeper in love with him than you already were.

how someone could look as good as satoru was beyond you.

“just—” you peered up at him. “just one peck okay?”

his eyes widened.

holy shit.

“yes!” he breathed out. “yes yes just one.”

“toru.” you spoke sternly. “i’m serious.”

he frantically nodded, arms already snaking around your waist and bringing you in.

you both couldn’t believe it.

you were about to have your very first kiss.

the two of you leaned in then— softly, timidly, afraid as satoru’s chocolate breath fanned against your nostrils and filled your lungs, lips coming closer and closer until they met in a simple, solid, tiny harmless peck.

satoru felt like his veins were about to pop and explode at the feeling of your delicate soft lips finally on his, the feeling actually fucking unreal as his fingertips went numb and his body tingled all over.

but it quickly became clear that it was not just one harmless peck.

because when it was supposed to be the time for you both to pull away, you and satoru only opened your mouths and kissed deeper— eyelids blissfully closed as your lips smacked so slowly and tenderly, the two of you actively relishing in the moment and just drinking each other’s mouths in as they moved and shifted, deep breaths through your noses as you daze-fully made out with the faint fuzzy sound of jingle bells and christmas music growing increasingly distant.

you tasted so sweet. just like he’d imagined.

but the moment came to and end when you both snapped your eyelids open in realization and released lips, pupils frantic and wide as you searched each other’s eyes for any sign of anger since you both had slipped up and did way more than just a peck.

but there was nothing. obviously there was nothing like that as your shoulders relaxed simultaneously and bashful smiles crossed your faces.

“you taste like chocolate.” he grinned.

you bit your bottom lip in a smile. “so do you.”

“twins.”

“uh huh.”

“i love you.”

you stilled.

you’ve told each other that thousands of times for years, since childhood.

you’ve always said you loved each other and have both known it was laced with those unspoken feelings you had, and you accepted that for as long as you could remember.

but somehow… in someway… it just felt different this time around. profound. more serious.

“i love you.” you responded.

satoru smiled softly and leaned his forehead against yours, basking in each others authentic infatuation for a moment before pulling away.

“can i get another s’more—”

“no!”

satoru ended up getting his second s’more, and you surprisingly ended up partaking in satoru activities and downed three fucking cups of that hot chocolate you loved so much, your tummy full and about to literally burst, but not really giving a shit as you and him were having so much freaking fun— buying little christmas trinkets from the santa shop and building tiny snowmen in the snowy play area filled with a bunch of kids (satoru literally making a tiny dick for one of the snowman and you immediately destroying it and wacking him), even skating in the rink but purely just for enjoyment and not a single thought of what you do professionally crossing your minds.

you stayed there until it was nearly closing time, money absolutely spent from all the things you bought, but your souls happy and warm as you happily walked to the car so satoru could take you home.

on the drive there, you showcased all of the trinkets you both had bought, a particular one catching your eye that you remembered you hadn’t shown satoru yet.

“oh! i got this one—” you dug your hand in the white plastic bag and pulled out a little snow angel, beautiful and glossy as the angels face blushed and smiled. “at the santa shop!”

“it’s cute baby!” he smiled. “for you?”

you shook your head. “i got it for aki. for the next time we visit her.”

his heart softened, nodding.

you and satoru tried your best to visit her grave as often as you possibly could, sometimes nearing four times a week to pay your respects and chat with her for a little while, filling her in a bit on your lives to bring back the feeling of what it was like to just talk to her in any way you could, like you had the fortune of doing once before.

“it kinda looks like her.. doesn’t it?” he questioned, pointing to the figure.

“it does right!” you expressed. “that’s why i got it… it reminded me of her.”

“she’ll love it.” he grinned, gently running the pad of his finger against your cold cheek before turning his attention back to the road.

you and satoru didn’t mention the kiss again as you were funnily still in shock over it, but the butterflies in your stomachs and the sole memory of it did more than enough as you climbed into bed with an already snoring satoru, him sleeping over for the night (when was he not) as you nudged your way under his arm and cuddled yourself in his chest, his slumbered state pulling you in like muscle memory.

you both only had two more practices left before the international skating union competition. once there, you and satoru had to land a spot in the top three chosen by the national olympic committee to earn an official spot in competing for the olympics, a task that was already vigorous and exhausting and nerve wracking, but one you both were more than ready for.

general admittance to competing in the olympics was essentially fourteen years in the making, one that wouldn’t have been possible in the first place if it wasn’t for akira.

“i think we should add a spin to this lasso lift.” you suggested, you and satoru taking a break from running the routine and standing by the bleachers during practice— watching a recently recorded take of your choreography to point out mistakes that flew under your radars.

“a spin?” he asked. “how sweets.”

“so when you lasso me around into the lift—” you rewinded the video and pointed. “since you’re holding me up over your head and we’re balancing with our hands, i say you maybe push me up to kind of like— propel me to do a triple rotation spin back down.”

“and then from there i catch you?”

“yeah!” you nodded. “and we’re traveling across the ice.”

satoru pursed his lips. “that’s kind of hard… you sure?”

“we’ve done worse toru.” you laughed. “i feel like this would give us more points.”

“oh it definitely would.” he nodded. “okay baby.”

“yay!” you cheered. “let’s practice the lift and propel on the mats first because if not i’m gonna eat shit.”

satoru laughed and sat down on the bleachers with you, quickly taking off his skates before standing and kneeling in front of you, untying your laces and slipping your skates off for you as you cutely smiled, him feeling like your little hero and knight in shining armor even if it was for something so minuscule.

he loved doing things for you.

in the middle of you and satoru practicing the move on the mats, your mother came in through the front doors of the ice rink.

“hi!” she greeted, holding up two wide rectangular boxes. “your costumes came in!”

“oh thank god!” you breathed out, satoru setting you down on your feet before you both ran to see. “i thought they weren’t gonna come in on time!”

“are they cool?!” satoru tumbled out. “do they scream please let me in the olympics?!”

you snorted and shoved his shoulder playfully as you unwrapped your boxes, your eyes shining in delight at the sight of your rhinestoned pale baby blue dress, a shade you purposefully picked out as it matched the color of satoru’s eyes— you lifting it with your fingertips from the box and gushing.

you turned it around and held it up against your frame as satoru pulled his top out— a white, tight long sleeved low cut v-neck button up that you already knew was gonna hug his yummy biceps so good, the thought of it making you bite the inside of your cheek as he checked over his black slacks.

your mother clasped her hands together, holding it to her mouth as her eyes gleamed over the two of you.

“i can’t believe it’s happening now.” she spoke softly, you and satoru diverting your attention to her and smiling. “for so long it was always just a distant thing you know? but now it’s here. actually.”

“fuck i know right.” you responded.

“language, y/n.”

“but i’m twenty!” you whined, pouting as satoru snickered behind you.

your mother rolled her eyes and cupped yours and satoru’s chins under her hands.

“good luck next week, alright? i know you guys will sweep.” she pushed. “make aki proud.”

the smiles on your faces grew, nodding as she squeezed your chins and released.

“oh! satoru—” your mother picked up her jacket and swung her purse over her shoulder. “your mom won’t be home for the night her trip got extended until tomorrow… you can sleep over at our house if you want so you’re not over there alone? or y/n can stay with you?”

“oh okay!” he spoke kindly. “thank you for letting me know!”

she smiled and nodded, hugging you both goodbye before leaving the rink.

your head whipped in his direction.

“toru if i sleep over at your house we can watch horror movies and actually scream as loud as we want without worrying about waking anybody up.”

his eyes bulged open. “oh my god you’re right! dibs i get to choose—”

“fuck!—”

by the end of practice you and satoru mastered the addition you added into the lasso lift, performing it beautifully on the ice over and over again until it was like simple reflex, calling it a day after a while and packing your things up to drive to satoru’s house.

you both took turns stepping in the shower to get rid of the sticky sweat that lingered on your skin, changing into comfy pajamas after as you tiredly settled in satoru’s big comfy bed— him flicking through his selection of horror movies and debating which one to pick.

“do you wanna watch something gory or just horror.”

“gory!” you perked up. “i need to work on not being so queasy.”

“but you seem fine when i throw up?”

“that’s because i’m used to it.” you laughed, head resting on his shoulder as he picked a movie and threw his remote somewhere across the bed, his arm coming to wrap around your tummy and pull you in.

it wasn’t like the selection mattered anyways, because fifteen minutes into the movie you were already falling asleep, hand resting on satoru’s torso as he continued to watch it— for some reason still wide awake even after skating for hours.

your sleepy sudden movements from your hand made him weirdly stiffen and relax every single time, your brows furrowing at the feeling and eyes fluttering open when he wouldn’t stop doing it.

“toru… are you still ticklish?” you mumbled sleepily.

he stiffened again.

“no.” he answered softly. “why..?”

you lazily grinned.

“youuu suureee?”

terror struck him as he sensed exactly what the fuck you were about to do.

“please spare me please spare me—”

you jumped on him and tickled his entire upper body, satoru laughing and gasping as he smacked your hands away and twisted and turned, his strong grip making it hard for you to tickle him at one point as you stubbornly swung a leg over his waist and settled over his lap, attacking him while he yelped and screamed.

“baby!” he gasped. “baby please! have some mercy is this how much i mean to you?!”

you giggled and finally stopped, hands retracting as you settled them on your hips. “that’s what you get for lying to me.”

“i was lying for my safety.”

“uh huh.”

you both grinned, satoru’s eyes occasionally flickering down to you straddling his lap with your pretty plushy thighs and blushing, trying to keep his gaze on yours to refrain himself from doing something a little too mental and weird.

but it was too fucking late, because it took no time at all for the blood to rush to his pathetic dick and harden.

surprisingly though, you were the one that was mental— the feeling of his cock against your clit undeniable as the uncomfortable shifts of satoru’s waist only stimulated it against your little nub and made you bite down hard on your bottom lip, shaky breaths leaving your mouth as it was getting harder and harder for you to restrain yourself from satoru’s godlike existence.

and your body was just not listening as you timidly rolled your hips over his crotch— your short shorts criminally thin as you felt just how big satoru’s length was, mouth watering as your palms timidly settled over his chest for stability, grinding on his cock harder.

satoru’s eyes were blown out as he watched you do something so— so lewd, his mind wandering if you were fully and properly there as something like this was absolutely breaking your unspoken rule, and you were more strict about it than he was.

but he didn’t want you to stop. god no.

at this point, you and satoru were off that metaphorical tight rope and hanging on by two hands— having both failed at keeping each other balanced as you rolled and rolled your hips deliciously on his dick, his chest quickly rising and falling at the feeling of your warm pussy over his groin and at the sight of you using him to get yourself off.

your little needy mewls made his hands tremble as he threw his head back on the pillow, eyes pathetically fucked out over something so simple.

“fuck me..” satoru groaned, hands coming up to rub over his face as his hips lifted to meet your grinding.

him doing that broke you out of your haze and you stiffened, satoru taking his hands away from his face with pinched brows at the sudden halt.

what happened?

“okay!” you laughed nervously, an alarmed expression as you swung your leg off of his lap and scrambled under the covers, pulling it completely over you as you shamefully looked anywhere and everywhere but satoru.

but he was out of it.

undoubtedly out of it now that you did what you did… wanting more, wanting all of you as he snatched the covers off of your frame and you squeaking as a result.

“why’d you stop.” he whispered, thumb raising to trace your bottom lip.

“i don’t— i don’t know what you’re talking about—”

“yes you do—”

“absolutely not—”

“i want you.” he cut you off. “i want you bad and i know you want me too so let’s just— let’s just do this once, okay? once please just to see what it’s like and it’ll never happen again.”

your eyes remained wide as you looked at his desperate frantic ones, his hands already kneading at your waist and thighs.

he was entrancing you into his proposal again, exactly the same way as when you both kissed for the first time at the festival as he leaned down and nibbled at your jaw, slotting himself in between your legs.

“do— do what?”

“fuck.” he mumbled, rolling his hips down on your pussy rough and you gasping at the sensation of his big cock against your clit again.

you whimpered as he rutted into you, hands flying to squeeze his biceps as his wet mouth moved down to your neck, licking and gnawing as he waited for your response.

“but isn’t that—” you stifled a moan. “isn’t that too far toru?—”

“please baby please.” he picked his head up and looked at you. “just once i swear once so we see what it’s like and get it out of our systems and never do it again. i promise.”

he needs to kiss you right fucking now.

your eyes fluttered closed as he continued to hump you, licking your lips as you weakly tried to look into his eyes.

“you swear?” you breathed out. “swear it just once and that’s it—”

“i swear i swear i swear—”

“okay then fuck me toru please—”

satoru nearly cried as he ripped himself away from you to frantically pull off his shirt and pants, him slapping your hands away when you tried to take off your own clothes as he wanted to do it himself— lifting your shirt over your head and downright tearing your shorts in half as he flung them down and across the room, your little pink bra and panties set actually turning him into a complete mess as he hovered back over you and shoved his tongue in your mouth.

you still tasted just as sweet as he remembered.

“been dreaming of—” mmpf— “kissing you since you let me, sweets.”

“yeah?” your lips moved sloppily with his as you snuck a hand in your panties and dipped your fingers in your pussy, collecting your arousal. “you missed me toru?”

“uh huh.” he breathed hotly against your lips, hand coming to slide underneath your bra to cup your bare tit. “every fucking night i’d jerk my dick dry thinking about it.”

his words made your clit twitch as you pushed him off your lips.

“open your mouth.”

satoru did as told without a peep and opened it with his tongue out, your hands coming out from your panties as you reached up and slipped your fingers in his mouth, his lips closing in and sucking everything you had to give him as he salvaged up your arousal.

“fuck—” he released your fingers. “is this from your pussy baby?”

“mhm.” you moaned.

your arousal was even sweeter.

“my god—” he grabbed your wrist and licked a long stripe up your palm. “you dirty fucking thing m’gonna have to taste for myself and see.”

you gasped. “what?”

satoru sat up and pulled your wet panties down your legs, biting down on his tongue hard at the sight of your angelic bare cunt before him, slick and shiny and pretty as you unclasped your bra and spread your legs for him— eager and ready and not a single other thought in your brain besides the one that was screaming for satoru to stick his dick inside you.

“toruuuu!” you whined. “quit staring and fuck me.”

his cock pulsed.

“patience sweets, i wanna taste you first.”

you expected satoru to just lower himself down and shove his head in between your thighs, but you were dead fucking wrong as he stood, grabbed your waist and yanked you high up, sitting you on his shoulders as you squealed and gripped his hair.

“wait toru isn’t this uncomfortable i—”

he scoffed. “fuck no. i’ve been lifting you my whole life baby this is nothing.”

your speech lodged itself in your throat as you felt his tongue lap at your folds and clit, slobbering and filthy as he ate and scarfed you down just like his usual daily sweets, you by far his absolute favorite as he slurped your little pussy up and made you squeal and moan.

satoru walked over to the wall and leaned you up against it, taking your thighs off of his shoulders and placing his hands underneath as he propped you up and spread your legs wider, your jaw dropping at his slimy tongue flicking and him slabbering his mouth side to side rapidly until your legs shook and you saw stars.

“toru—”

he grunted, tongue prodding at your hole and you jumping.

“i think— i think i’m gonna cum and i—” pant “i don’t wanna—”

satoru separated his mouth from your pussy with a squelch and looked up, smiling big.

“too bad!”

“but—”

he spit on your cunt and you gasped.

“i said too bad.”

he dipped back in and fully devoured you as you mewled, messier as he slushed his tongue all over and you’d never experienced something like this, something that felt so fucking good as you started cumming all over his face in record speed regardless of how hard you were trying to hold back.

“yummy.”

he let go and you dropped down as he quickly caught you, turning and throwing you on his bed as he climbed over you— wrapping a hand around his cock and jerking as he kissed and swallowed your lips up again.

“you want me to make love to you or fuck you?” he slopped against your mouth before pulling back, yours and his eyes fluttering open to look at each other.

your legs were still shaking by the eat out he gave you seconds before, finding it hard to get your words together as his handsome deluded face stared at you.

“i— um—”

he placed his lips next to your ear.

“you want me to fuck you like my wife or fuck you like a little slut? or both?”

“both toru please—”

he grinned, coming back up as he parted your legs further open and lined his leaky tip with your hole.

“i can do both!”

satoru pushed himself in and you choked, hands clasping over your mouth as you felt him bully his big cock through and leave you a blabbering crying mess under him— his chest heaving at the warmth and softness and stickiness of your cute gummy walls, his years of imagining and theorizing how you’d feel wrapped around his dick all completely debunking themselves at the real feeling as you whimpered and clenched your hole.

“jesus christ—” he shivered, swallowing thickly as his trembling fingers settled on your waist, him slowly reeling his hips back before pumping in. “you’re— you’re warm.”

you dropped your hands and wiped your cheeks as you hiccuped, the feeling of his dick sliding in and out of your walls incandescently euphoric as you embarrassingly already felt yourself wanting to cum again when he had just stuck his dick inside of you— you wanting to ride out this moment for a bit longer and not finish so quickly like you had done on his mouth.

“am i being too mean pretty?” he huffed, thrusts now quick and curt as he gripped your bouncing tits and pinched your perking nipples, the sight of your little tears shamefully turning him on.

you frantically shook your head and tried to clear your brain. “n—no!—”

“good.” he smiled, a little crazed as he let go of your boobs, placed his hands on the backside of your thighs and pushed your knees up to your chest, picking up speed as you squealed and whimpered, utterly taken aback by how rough satoru was being considering the fact that he was such a goofy and kind and loving person on the daily.

oh… what years worth of pent up sexual frustration can do to a man.

satoru whined as you milked his dick, wheezing as he hammered his hips up and slapped against your skin, your body jolting and bouncing uncontrollably as his bed squeaked loud and obnoxiously.

thank god his mother wasn’t home.

“i’ve wanted this i’ve wanted this i’ve wanted this—” satoru babbled, his critical thinking out the fucking window as he just tumbled out totally random but honest confessions as your ears eagerly drank up every word and made your hole tighten.

“yeah?” pant “f—for how long baby?”

“for so long—” he whined loudly, fucking you faster as your mouth hung open and you gripped his wrists for support. “you’re everything i’ve ever w—wanted—”

“i— i’ve only ever wanted you toru— fuck! you’re big.“ you moaned, loving the way a huge deranged smile spread across his face as his hips pistoned into you and his hands pinned you down.

“cum on my dick baby please cum on my dick i want it i want it—”

your toes curled and you squealed, vision flashing white as you let out a high pitched scream at the intense buzzing feeling, your bodies hot and sticky and wet as satoru leaned over and shoved his lips in your ear.

“can i— can i cum inside?” he choked through gritted teeth as he came close to spilling his seed. “please i wanna cum inside—”

“but m’not on the pill—”

“please please baby i beg you—” hah! “i don’t wanna cum anywhere else—”

your eyes fluttered shut at his words and you quickly nodded, his hand cupping your face as he thrusted in one last time and pumped his cum entirely inside you without an ounce of hesitation for the consequences, his horny mind actually crazed and solidifying that there was no fucking way in hell he was gonna accept just friends from this point forward.

what a stupid thought.

“mmm…” you slowly moved your hips a little, feeling his cum all inside your ravished walls as you licked your lips. “your cum feels hot toru.”

not even warm, hot as it slushed and moved inside you with every movement you made, some of it dribbling and coating your outer folds as you bit your bottom lip into a smile and craned your head up to his neck, nibbling and giving satoru tiny kitten licks as he trembled and struggled to stay afloat and not give out his upper arm strength— trying to prevent himself from squishing you.

satoru pressed a soft tender kiss to your cheek then before sitting up and delicately sliding his dick out, running a soothing hand over your tummy as he did so and giving you a lazy smile.

he suddenly raised his pinky to you.

“birds of a feather?” he murmured, other hand running from your stomach over to your thighs now as he just lovingly felt you up, you smiling with rosy cheeks as you linked your little pinky with his.

“birds of a feather.”

you both kissed your thumbs and locked your promise, deciding then that you should probably shower once more before getting into bed to officially sleep— but deciding to shower together as you softly and steamily made out under the misty hot running water, body and mind relaxed as you just swallowed in the ambience of each other, you both not only holding on to your metaphorical tight rope with one hand now, but it actually on the verge of snapping as a whole and sending you both free falling.

and for the next couple of days, you and satoru were feral.

years and years of doing fucking nothing with pure restraint and fantasizing did a number on you both as any chance you got you were making out on your bed, his bed, and even in satoru’s car after your lectures— your hand teasingly going lower and lower until you’d shove a hand in his pants to pull his dick out and pump, your body leaning across the console and mouth going down to bob and suck as he moaned and pulled your hair into a makeshift ponytail to guide you and your pretty bows and fuck your mouth just to hear the sounds of you choking, eyes from time to time frantically looking around to see if no one was around as you blowed him.

and you did that basically all of the time for the next three days until the final practice just before the international skating union competition, satoru physically unable to leave you alone and unscathed as he constantly pinned you down to eat your pussy or suckle on your soft tits, his hand tightly clasped over your mouth in your room when your moans would get too loud as he fingered you, his long fingers squelching and abusing your cunt until you were finishing all over his hands again and again.

but you two having actual sex didn’t happen again apart from that night— satoru a man of his word since he promised you would only do it once… unfortunately. but that didn’t mean you couldn’t do other things, right?

except by the final practice, satoru was absolutely fucked off at the fact that neither of you had brought up the potentiality of being more than just friends, especially after doing all of those lewd acts.

he was so sick of it.

and so were you, quite frankly, but instead of being completely over it like satoru, you were afraid… afraid of what could happen and the possibility of losing him if you both indulged, if you let yourselves put your freaking careers on the line.

and satoru was the one person you couldn’t bear to lose. not ever.

“we look good sweets!” satoru cheesed, rotating around in the ice rinks dressing room mirrors as you had your costumes on for dress rehearsal and refinements, both of you glittering and shiny and looking like a professional ice skating pair as you examined yourself, readjusting your straps and hugging your torso.

“cold.” you shivered. “maybe i should’ve had it as a long sleeve… shit.”

he laughed and placed his hands on your arms, rubbing up and down quickly to create frictional heat as you smiled at him gratefully. “nah, it’s cute like this! you’ll warm up once we run it a few times on the ice.”

you nodded, the both of you walking out of the dressing room and to the rink, skillfully putting on your skates before pushing yourself on the ice and gliding across.

“can you show me the uh—” satoru looked to the side in thought once he was on the ice in front of you. “the part where we skate in unison and have our arms up in an L? it’s in the chorus of our music—”

“oh!” you nodded and skated a bit away from him to demonstrate.

“i just wanna see if my form matches yours and we look clean.” he smiled. “and then show me the triple axel after that.”

you gave him a cute thumbs up and pushed yourself off, gliding gracefully and smoothly across the ice as satoru was supposed to be watching you to try and fix his form, but finding himself transfixed once again by the way you seamlessly skated with no sense of struggling effort— arms poised and flowy as your dress moved and fluttered with every twist and turn until you gradually propelled yourself up into the triple axel and landed correctly without a slip or wobble.

the level of difficulty and technicality you skated reminded him of akira— but your style, your movement, and the way you carried yourself was entirely your own.

you made figure skating look beautiful.

you were beautiful.

you slowed down on the ice and skated over to satoru.

“were you able to see? did you match me?—”

“you skate just like her.” satoru spoke softly, and you faltered.

he didn’t need to clarify who he was talking about, as you always knew.

“you’re just saying that.” you pursed your lips to keep yourself from smiling, or crying, you didn’t know.

but a compliment like that meant the absolute world to you.

“i’m not.” he shrugged, skating over to you and taking your hands as he glided with you to starting position. “you always have baby. and i know that’s what you’ve always wanted. i’m sorry i don’t say it enough.”

your eyes softened. “toru that’s not something to be sorry about at all…”

satoru was so kind.

you both skated together and ran the choreography a couple of times, spinning simultaneously and satoru lifting you again and again throughout the routine and still performing your lasso spinning lift successfully, arms around his shoulders and faces close as the wind whipped through both of your costumes and hair from traveling across the ice at such a speed before coming to a sudden choreographed halt at the end of your number.

you had slid down satoru’s body to plant your blades back on the ice when he had enough.

“please stick your tongue in my mouth.”

you choked on your spit and slapped a hand over your mouth.

“toru no! absolutely not we can’t anymore okay—”

“what are we.”

you froze.

“huh?”

“what are we.” he repeated, eyes dead locked on yours and hard. “are we together? are we not? are we friends? what are we—”

“we’re— we’re friends toru—”

“oh fuck no.” he let you go and created a little bit of space between you. “don’t give me that shit we’re not friends.”

“w—well we can’t—”

“i’m your man.” he stated firmly. “i’m your man i’ve been your man for years and i’m tired of avoiding this sweets! it sucks!”

“we’re putting everything at risk if we do toru we can’t!”

“i’m your man.”

“no you’re not—”

he cut you off. “your mouth has been on my dick. we’ve had sex. we’ve kissed we’ve made out we’ve told each other i love you if that doesn’t tell you that we’re together then what the actual fuck?!”

“oh my god toru i know i know!” you groaned, hugging yourself as you anxiously looked at him. “what happens if we break up? huh? what do we do?”

he shook his head. “we won’t.”

“you don’t know that.” you laughed bitterly. “if that happens we lose each other satoru understand that. we break birds of a feather, we ruin our careers, and we ruin us.”

“first of all—” he started. “our birds of a feather promise is to stick together, keep each other safe, and not seperate or fight, is it not?”

“it— it is—”

“so do you really think if we continue to keep each other in this fuck ass limbo of friends that we aren’t already breaking that?” he threw his arms out in emphasis. “we have never been just friends. i’ve known you for fourteen fucking years and we have never been just that.”

you blinked back tears.

“i promise you baby—” he slid closer to you and cupped your cheeks. “that we won’t leave each other. i will fight and try every single damn day to make sure that that shit never happens even though i already know it won’t because you’ve been made for me since birth and we haven’t separated since we’ve met.”

satoru wiped your cheeks. “but i also promise you, that if we continue as just friends, we will break. we’re gonna string each other along so fucking much that we’re gonna go absolutely insane and drive each other away. that is for certain.”

“but— skating—”

“i don’t give an ever living fuck.” he spat funnily and you laughed through your tears. “skating is nothing without you. all the trophies and medallions and the god damn olympics itself with that gold medal is nothing without you. i would give that shit up in a heartbeat if it meant keeping you in my life in exchange.”

“and i would do the same for you toru!” you sobbed, his arms immediately wrapping around your shoulders and pulling you in as you sniffled and hiccuped into his chest, him kissing the side of your head repeatedly and soothing a hand down your back.

“don’t cry pretty i didn’t meant to make you cry...” he mumbled, cheek mushed up against your head as your shoulders shook, a huge disgusting pit of guilt in his stomach. “fine it’s okay we can be just friends for a bit longer please don’t cry—”

“no!” you sputtered, pushing him back a little to face him. “i don’t wanna be just friends anymore either toru… it hurts me so much.”

“it does?” he asked softly and you nodded.

“it hurts me too.”

satoru wiped your remaining tears again and fixed the little bows in your hair, a soft liberated smile on his face as he reached down to cup your cheeks and bring your perfect lips to his, kissing you lovingly as the both of you felt like you could finally rest and stop ridiculously hiding your love in the shadows after so many years.

the thin tight rope that you had both been toppling over and rebalancing and holding onto to keep the other from falling, had finally snapped in two, and you and satoru were now in the darkest depths of the truth of what you both were.

except it wasn’t dark at all.

it was light and airy and heavenly, and you wondered why you had been so afraid when there was nothing to be afraid of in the first place, since the one you were falling with was satoru.

silly.

he pulled apart and looked at you, his striking blue eyes and white fluffy hair especially beautiful.

“tomorrow—” he began. “we’re gonna absolutely destroy everyone else there and land a spot in the top three, and then after i’m gonna take you out on a nice dinner and buy every single fucking dessert off the menu, and then i’m gonna ask you to be my girlfriend. okay baby?”

you giggled then, the brightest rosy cheeks on display from the both of you as you eagerly nodded and threw your arms around his neck.

and tomorrow could not come soon enough, because not only were you looking forward to making your dreams a reality and competing against other figure skating pairs from around the world and the olympics itself, but also the thought of officially being satoru’s after years of wishing on little stars and day dreaming about what that would be like for hours on end.

until the moment was here. happening.

the indoor arena was electric and rowdy the minute the competition commenced, you and satoru in absolute awe of the energetic atmosphere as many individuals in the crowd waved their banners or screamed their loved ones names, an ambience very similar to the olympics as you both watched pair after pair perform their hardwork and dedication on the ice, goosebumps on your skin as you fidgeted and jittered.

out of twenty of your countries competing pairs, only three of you would be chosen for the olympics.

and you hoped to god you and satoru would be chosen.

“we’re almost up baby.” satoru patted your head, sitting on a bench in your designated area. “i think it’s two more pairs then it’s us.”

you nodded, nerves closing up your throat as your eyes darted over the rink.

satoru frowned.

“hey.” he placed a hand on your thigh, suddenly wanting to rip your nylon tights off so you could actually feel his skin on yours. “you nervous sweets?”

you nodded again, and he gave you a silly grin.

“don’t be! you’re literally akira the second. we’ll be fine!”

you laughed lightly and leaned your head on his shoulder.

“and even if we don’t land a spot, that’s fine too.” he kissed your head. “it’s our first year anyways… we’ll know the game for next time and we’ll try harder.”

you picked your head up and smiled at him, his words settling your nerves just as soon as the last remaining pair took their places on stage, yours and satoru’s turn right after.

what you didn’t know, was that satoru was just as nervous as you.

but he knew you needed a rock and someone to comfort you— wanting to swoop in like a little hero and save you again… so he kept it hidden.

“fuck i almost forgot!” satoru jumped up and dug into his duffel bag, pulling out a roll of pale baby blue ribbon that matched your dress exactly. “you told me you didn’t have ribbon that matched your costume so i went and tried to look.”

he held it out for you cutely on his palm.

“does this one match?”

you picked up the roll, astonished and mushy inside that satoru actually went out of his way to find this specific ribbon color for you because you had expressed how unhappy you were with the darker shade you had, your eyes looking up at him in complete adoration.

“oh my goodness— thank you toru!”

you quickly undid the bows in your hair and slipped off the former ribbon, digging through your duffel bag for scissors and cutting off pieces from the new ribbon before looping them through your hair and tying, not needing a mirror since you’ve done it for as long as you could remember.

satoru’s cheeks went pink as he looked at your new pretty bows.

“does they look okay?”

“beautiful.” he responded, pecking your lips before taking your hand and leading you to the entrance of the rink.

“okay—” you breathed out. “this is it.”

“what kind of food do you think they’ll have at the dinner place we picked—”

“toru!” you giggled. “not now!”

he smiled sheepishly at you before leaning his forehead against yours.

you stuck your pinky out.

“birds of a feather?”

satoru grinned and looped his pinky with yours.

“birds of a feather baby.”

you both kissed your thumbs and once again, locked your promise.

the announcer over the speakers iterated your names and your country as you and satoru glided across the ice poised and graceful with your arms up, waving at the crowd and giving your mothers a special frantic wave before moving to starting position, unknowing of the way several other pairs and the judges themselves murmured about your reputation and your association with akira.

and you hoped she was watching over you both now. somewhere.

the music begun, contemporary and lyrical as you and satoru slid across the rink, already impressive and entertaining as you performed moves and lifts right off the bat, the sounds of your blades scraping against the ice oddly keeping you in time with your choreography as the number went on.

and you and satoru were feeding off of each other, the chemistry undeniable to a strangers eye that had no idea of your story as you conveyed passion through your expressions, each technical movement bleeding with the fact that you both had been olympic level trained since the age of fourteen and fifteen.

you were halfway through your routine now, the lasso lift coming up next as satoru harbored in his strength so he could properly propel you into that newly added spin.

you skated around him and he lifted you up into the air, the crowd cheering and excited at your beautiful remarkable forms.

except satoru’s hands were slippery.

why?

nerves. he quickly deemed it nerves as he had no time to deliberate since it was almost time to propel you up into the spin, his mind already racing over the fact that the slip in his hands was hindering his strength to keep you up there, and he worried that if he pushed you up, it wouldn’t be enough and you’d come tumbling down— hurting yourself.

but satoru had zero time to decide again as he went with protocol and pushed you up as hard as he possibly could and prayed you would go into your triple axel spin successfully and that he’d catch you.

but the minute that he did, the force yanked him back and his skates flew up in front of him, you falling down and your thigh hitting something sharp before you both went slamming to the ground— sliding apart from each other on the ice.

the crowd screamed and gasped in terror, sounds you were all too familiar with to what you heard three years ago filling both your fuzzy minds as satoru struggled to get back up, his head turning slowly around to see if you were okay and just sore like him—

until he saw your limp body on your side, your back to him with blood slowly pooling out on the ice and staining your pretty blue dress.

satoru scrambled up and skated straightaway in a panic to you before sliding on his knees as he reached you, turning you over and paling as he saw you were unresponsive and out fucking cold.

“baby?“ he shook you. “hey— baby—”

nothing.

why weren’t you answering him? why weren’t you awake?

his brain flashed images of akira’s body the day that she died, suffocating deja vu as the way you looked when he saw you like that on your side was a carbon copy of her from three years ago, his chest picking up speed as you continued to lay limp even after he shook you desperately numerous times like a madman.

and why was there so much blood?

blood that looked sickly bright red against the white ice, blood that stained his sleeves and shirt and hands as he held you up and supported your head, and blood that wouldn’t stop fucking oozing out of your leg as he trembled.

“hey— hey can you hear me?” satoru tapped your cheek rapidly, shaking you gently again with horrified eyes and still not getting a response.

“fuck! why is this happening this isn’t supposed to happen—”

how could he be your hero? how could he stop the blood and wake you up? how could he— how could he fix this how could he take it all back how could he fix this—

“no no no baby please—” he sobbed. “not like aki baby not like her man—”

he shook you again, your head lolling to the side as if— as if you were—

no.

“baby— birds of a feather right? birds of a feather we have to stick together you can’t— you can’t leave right?” he cried, chest heaving and vision blurry and you just felt so cold.

“you’re not leaving you’re not leaving me please not like aki please god—” he cradled you up to his chest in his arms and rocked. “you can’t leave me you’re all i know and i don’t wanna know anything else please baby—”

satoru’s frantic repeated heartbroken wailing echoed throughout the arena as the crowd erupted and moved around in hysteria, him still rocking you in his arms as he turned his head with terrified bloodshot eyes to look at both of your mothers, yours hunched over in a fit of screams and cries as his had her hands in her hair in utter disbelief and tears.

“fuck what do i do!” he sobbed, legs shakily standing as he slipped one arm under your back and the other under your knees, picking your limp body up as he saw a huge group of paramedics run over to him on the ice as he carried you over.

“help—” hic! “h—help me please—”

why couldn’t satoru be your hero when it mattered most?

several of them lowered the stretcher and took you from him, laying your lifeless self on it before hoisting you up and swiftly carrying you away, all of it horrifyingly and painfully similar to akira’s inevitable death.

were you gone?

satoru looked down and saw your baby blue ribbons on the ice, wet and stained with blood, once perfect bows in your pretty hair when he had you awake and breathing.

were you breathing? had you hit your head?

he couldn’t remember.

he couldn’t remember anything but your unresponsiveness, the way your skin was colder than the ice itself as he picked up your ribbons and looked at them in his hands— and the way your blood stretched over for what looked like miles and was still there.

in front of him. taunting him.

was the world so cruel as to take you too?

it wouldn’t. it couldn’t.

you’d never done anything wrong. you’d never treated anybody indifferently as you were sweet and beautiful and talented, always in servitude of others— in servitude of him as you taught him how to ice skate when you didn’t need to at six years old, you already kind and gentle at that young age when you could’ve easily shooed him away like a little bug and told him to fuck off.

and throughout your life too, as he was well aware he was an annoying dramatic piece of shit that whined and cried and ate your stashes of sweets all of the time— but you always just giggling and looking at him with adoration in your eyes, with your cheeky smile, with the little ribbon bows in your hair he loved so fucking much.

oh how he wished he didn’t always take your sweets at that moment. how he wished he wasn’t always an annoying blockhead and made you mad at times with his persistent personality and neediness as he stood there frozen in the rink staring at your blood— dark now and dull, wishing it was him instead of you.

you were knocked out for five days at the hospital.

you and satoru also didn’t make it into the top three at the international skating union competition.

you should’ve, as your score was already higher than any other pair there and only halfway through the routine too— but that’s precisely why you got knocked out.

if you had finished your number, you would’ve landed in the top three, but it ending halfway cut off the opportunity for accumulating more points, and eventually another pair surpassed your halfway score by two points.

but satoru didn’t give a shit. fuck the olympics and fuck the international skating union while your body laid still on the hospital bed for hours on end, him refusing to leave your side as he sat there and stared off into space with nothing in his head but hatred for himself as it was his fault that this happened and his blade that sliced you— eyes red and sunken and tired and refusing to eat or drink.

you had hit your head on the ice, but thankfully the trauma wasn’t anywhere near the severity of akira’s, it only inducing a strong concussion and sending you flying out of consciousness upon impact.

but it was the loss of blood that was the problem.

you had lost so much, too much of it.

it made you weak and frail and unable to do much and satoru worried that that’s what was going to take away your fighting chance of survival.

“you should go home satoru…” your mother sighed, standing by the door of your hospital room, her own eyes red and swollen.

he shook his head no silently.

“she’ll still be here… you need to eat something or sleep please. you look awful.”

satoru smiled weakly and shook his head again.

“m’fine.”

your mother pursed her lips to the side and she sighed again, nodding.

“i’ll come by early in the morning, alright?”

he hummed, giving her a tiny wave as she left and closed the door behind her.

satoru had brought a roll of pink ribbon from your little white box in your room, unrolling the pieces he chose and lifting his hands, taking the ends of your hair and trying to tie little thin bows the way you always did, but huffing softly in irritation when they just looked like shit.

he undid the one he was working on and settled for feeling the material of the ribbon between his thumbs instead.

satoru brought you bouquets everyday too.

sometimes three at a time as he continuously swapped out old flowers and replaced them with new ones, changed their water and poured fresh quantities into each vase to keep them alive, and often picked some more from the hospital garden when he went down to get some fresh air for a minute— the least he could do for nearly killing you.

and satoru had a lot of time to think while he waited for you to wake up— bitter and resentful at the world for letting him sit there healthy while you were out, so much so that he started thinking stupid shit like how he wished you would’ve forgotten him and dismissed his yapping dreams about ice skating when you met so you would’ve been an independent skater instead, so you then wouldn’t have gotten hurt by his idiocy and you wouldn’t be laying in a hospital bed like you were now.

or swapped places. him instead of you so he could beat up the fucks that took akira away and beat up zeus or— or aphrodite or whoever the fuck that was responsible for keeping him from you so he could come back to you… unsure if you were doing the same thing as he stared at your resting face.

you should’ve just left him behind.

but he was sleeping when you woke.

arms propped up and crossed next to you on the hospital bed, his cheek mushed up on them and face to the side as you blinked your eyes open and was straight up confused, not a single memory of the incident flitting through your mind… until it did.

and it hit you bad.

your mind reeled with a pounding headache, tears prickling your eyes at the events that plagued through your mind— a part of you knowing there was absolutely no way you and satoru made top three and gutted about it, feeling shaken from the memory alone of you falling and hitting the ice.. but grateful.

grateful to be alive, for you knew akira wasn’t as lucky.

was it because of her that you had lived? had she pulled some strings to change your fate?

your eyes trailed down to a sleeping peaceful satoru, your gaze softening at how tired and broken he looked, bags dark and purple as he snored away next to you, your hand lifting and delicately settling over his fluffy white hair as you smiled that he was here next to you— caressing.

satoru shot up wide awake then as you jumped and retracted your hand, the both of you alarmed and frantic.

“baby?” he grabbed your hand and felt around it, feeling warmth for once as he stood up straight and shoved back one of the sleeves of his hoodie.

“you’re awake? are you actually?—” he pinched his arm hard over and over and you giggled.

you giggled— the sound filling his ears and lifting an undeniable dark ton off of his shoulders as he relaxed, tears automatically brimming his eyes.

“i thought i fucking killed you sweets.” his voice shook, arms gently coming around you and pulling you into an embrace.

“killed me?” you frowned. “toru what are you talking about—”

“oh god you have amnesia—”

“no!” you laughed. “what do you mean by almost killed me? you didn’t do anything.”

“i did everything.” he spoke flatly. “i fucked up that lasso lift. i pushed you up too hard and we fell. i cut you with my blade i made you bleed—”

“toru that was an accident.” you pulled back and your chest hurt over the devastated look on his face, wiping his tears and kissing his nose. “remember— aki’s partner felt just like this and we had to tell him too it was an accident. you can’t control something like that. at all. it’s just unfortunate circumstance.”

“i know but i still feel like—” he wiped his eyes and swallowed. “i still feel like i could’ve done something different. it should’ve been me and not you and i should’ve—”

“toru don’t even don’t think about things like that.” you shook your head. “there wasn’t anything you could’ve done, baby. and that’s okay.”

you gently scooched over on the bed and patted the spot next to yours, satoru immediately climbing and settling in, clinging on to you as he placed his head on your chest with his arm firm but careful around your waist, suddenly feeling how exhausted he actually was from the days he spent restless.

you couldn’t have imagined the pain satoru must’ve gone through waiting for you to wake up. you didn’t know how he even fucking managed as you would’ve been torn into bits and pieces not knowing if he was going to live or not, looking at his limp bloody body the way he had to look at yours and it reminding you of the event that brought you both the most trauma and grief.

you couldn’t believe you almost went out the same way.

satoru confirmed your thoughts later and filled you in on the results of the international skating union competition, rubbing salt into the wound a little more upon learning that you landed fourth, nearly there as you couldn’t help but cry a bit in your hospital bed when he told you that you could’ve had a spot, satoru hugging you and reassuring you that you’d both have your shot at it in the next four years.

your family was relieved that you were awake, tons of people piling in and giving you sweets and food that satoru hungrily eyed and gawked over, you laughing and passing him the ones he particularly enjoyed most as you conversed with your relatives.

and recovery was thankfully easy— doctors orders being just you taking it light and being careful not to bonk your head against anything, as well as taking care of the laceration on your leg— changing the bandage frequently every morning and night, satoru insisting he help you with that and with many other things that you needed as he tried to make up for what he still thought was his fault.

two weeks had gone by of just rest and peace and no figure skating, thinking you and satoru deserved this break, but also secretly petrified of stepping on the ice again after what had happened— neither of you wanting to hurt the other as you avoided the topic of training for the meantime at all costs.

“maybe we should work at a water park.” you suggested one day, the two of you seated on a park bench through the chilly mid january air as you shared a plate of chocolate drizzled strawberries you got from some nice lady and her fruit stand. “be lifeguards!”

“oh hell no!” he spoke with his mouthful before swallowing, readjusting the black round sunglasses resting on the bridge of his nose. “you think i’m gonna be fine with watching random old men savoring after my wife in her little red bikini while i’m off saving some drowning kid? oh no thank you. let the kid drown.”

“toru!” you laughed, smacking his shoulder. “okay then what else?”

“janitors.”

you shrugged. “i like to clean. sometimes.”

“and your entire body is covered in those jumpsuits no stinky old men looking at—”

satoru’s phone buzzed against his jeans and he paused and pulled it out as you giggled, him barely glancing at the caller i.d before answering.

“hello?”

you mindlessly carried on plopping strawberries in your mouth and chewing.

“this is he…. oh hello! yes! how are you?”

you eyed satoru quizzically at his sudden formal change in tone, his eyes glued to the cement below.

“uh huh… really? o—okay! no yes for sure! thank you so much for the opportunity!”

opportunity?

you slowed your chewing and nudged his shoulder gently, wanting him to give you some kind of sign as to who it was on the other line.

“okay, we’ll keep in touch! thank you again!”

satoru slowly removed his phone away from his ear as the other line went dead, staring at his screen and you curiously leaning over only to see his call history log, a random number at the top.

“holy fuck.”

“what?!” you leaned in closer and tried to catch his eyes with yours, his shocked wide gaze slowly flittering to your face.

“that was the national olympic committee.”

you froze.

“shut the fuck up.” you covered your mouth. “toru what did they say what did they say—”

“one of the pairs that made it in the top three got disqualified.” he spat out quickly, shooting up and digging his fingers into his hair as he walked back and forth slowly in disbelief, spinning to face you. “i— i don’t know why i didn’t ask but we got bumped up.”

silence.

“we—” your chest rose and fell erratically, eyes darting around as satoru knelt down and grabbed your hands.

“baby we made it.” he tightened his grip. “we’re competing in the olympics—”

you squealed and jumped up and down and pulled satoru in, the both of you comically bouncing off the walls as you wailed and cried and blabbered on about how you couldn’t believe it and how a chance like this was even given to you, satoru lifting you and spinning you around but stopping and freaking out and apologizing profusely over your injured leg, you shaking your head and laughing, kissing him in return.

“we can’t avoid skating toru.” you spoke once you and him had settled down. “it’s literally what brought us together… and what brought us to aki. and even from you spinning me around like that it reminded me how much i missed skating with you.”

“i feel the same sweets.” he smiled, big and bright and handsome as he leaned over and kissed your rosy cheek. “i miss lifting you up and catching a glimpse of your ass underneath your—”

“toru!”

even though you and satoru were finally on board and accepting of bringing skating back into your lives, it wasn’t to say at all that the fear itself went away when you tried to do lifts or spins in the air with each other— apprehensive and scared as you practiced on the mats way more than necessary before moving choreography to the ice, satoru multiple times chickening out and needing a moment as he was petrified of hurting you again, and you glued in place at the thought of falling and slamming on the ground when you had just survived mostly unscathed.

but this wasn’t the time to be afraid over that anymore, and if akira were here, you both knew she’d smack you upside the heads and tell you to move… to get on the ice and do the sport you both loved and cherished most.

to finalize your dream and make it a reality.

and throughout the month that you and satoru spent before the commencement of the olympics, you trained like never before— no excuses as you worked tirelessly day and night with sweat literally dripping from your faces until every single goal was met and beyond, until every single throw from satoru was perfected and until every axel from you was delivered.

sometime during this month too, satoru finally got to take you out on that romantic candle lit dinner like he promised and asked you to be his girlfriend, him giddy and grinning the whole time and literally spoiling the moment as he meant to give you a chocolate dessert plate that said ‘will you be mine’ in chocolate syrupy letters, but accidentally eating it and smearing the words when he confused your plate with his, smacking his forehead repeatedly on the dining table as the silverware clattered— muttering about how dark it was and how he couldn’t fucking see, but you laughing so fucking much and clutching your stomach that your makeup smudged up at the corner of your eyes.

satoru was reminded again how much he loved you that day, because anyone else would’ve gotten tremendously annoyed and called him an idiot, but you…

you just giggled. giggled and hiccuped like always while he stared at you softly.

the love you and satoru shared stretched far beyond the concepts of what a platonic and romantic relationship was.

the love you and satoru shared was sacrifice. genuine sacrifice and yearn and absolute unadulterated love as you both without another thought would drop your careers for each other, would swap places if it meant the other would be safe from harm’s way, and would endure years of swallowing and pushing back feelings if it meant just keeping one another in your lives forever.

because that’s what birds of a feather was for to begin with.

a promise to stick together. a promise to keep each other safe.

a concept so pure and devoted that it translated onto the ice like no other pair when it came time for the olympics.

“you ready sweets?” satoru breathed out as you both stood in front of each other by the outside of the rink with interlaced fingers, shaking each other’s jitters out. “no matter what happens, we’ve already come so far and done so much, okay? we’ve done what we needed to do.”

“mhm!” you quickly nodded, satoru leaning down before you both rested your foreheads against each other’s with massive smiles on your faces, thunderous cheers echoing throughout the giant arena totally drowned out in your ears as you stared into satoru’s sparkling blue eyes.

“make aki proud.” you repeated softly, and he nodded, you hoping once again she was watching over you both.

you both stuck your pinkies out at the same time and looped them together.

“birds of a feather?” satoru beamed.

“birds of a feather.”

and you kissed your thumbs before sealing your promise.

you both watched the pair that you were going right after perform their routine, beautiful and difficult as you gnawed at your bottom lip in distress.

“toru…”

“yeah baby?”

“some of these pairs are crazy good…” you spoke over the music. “i’d honestly be happy with getting in the top twenty i don’t know if we can—”

satoru scoffed and shook his head, a sly smile as he looked over the rink with his arms crossed.

“nah, we’d win.”

and just like akira had done in her final olympic year— in her final moments, you and satoru made it known that it was your debut, that you had been hungry and desperate for this moment since the ages of six and seven, that you’d been raised and trained by a four-time olympic gold medalist for a decade as you executed the most technical and intricate moves and turns, you and satoru moving as one on the ice and identical as he took your hands and glided on the ice with you, raw emotion in your expressions that read love so clearly that it was impossible to miss.

with each lift, with each time satoru took you in his arms and spun, and with each time he simply held you close and tenderly to his chest as his blades scrapped across the ice with your pretty bows in his view— were all reminders for the two of you that partner figure skating was nothing without satoru and nothing without you.

the privilege of having another way to convey just how much you loved each other through the language of artistic expression and skates and ice, through the feel of each other’s skin, was one you nurtured and looked after and loved as the wind whipped through you and satoru due to the speed of your skates, performing quadruple axels like nothing while dropping the jaws of other figure skating pairs.

and because of this fact alone, how you both truly appreciated each other’s entities and had the indescribable power to correlate that into competitive sport—

was the reason why you and satoru won gold that day.

you and him, on your knees, gripping and hugging one another so hard and crying tears of joy as you both had come so far and gone through so much to get to where you were now, your dream now a complete and total reality as you stepped up onto that podium during the medal award ceremony just like akira had done— representing your country excellently with a big fat gold medal hung over your necks and a big fat kiss from satoru as he lip locked with you up there, flashings of cameras and bouquets and teddy bears scattered all throughout the ice in dismay.

“i love you!” satoru yelled to you over the roaring as you waved at the crowd, your mothers crying and blowing their noses and taking pictures from the edge of the rink as you and satoru cackled and pointed at them.

“i love you, toru!”

“no like seriously!” he put his waving hand down. “i wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you. thank you for recognizing that i have love and dreams too baby and for not forgetting about me even when i’ve been the most annoying dipshit of your life.”

“you’ve never been that to me my god toru! where is this coming from?” he hopped off the podium once you two were given the all clear and he held a helping hand out for you to take, you doing so and carefully stepping down.

“reeaally?” he cheesed, cheeky and silly as his big pearly white smile made your cheeks flush. “so you love me then?”

“i literally would not be with you if i didn’t—”

“hooray!” he cheered, throwing his arms up as flower petals flew from his bouquets and around. “my girlfriend loves me! and we’re gonna have rough passionate olympian sex in our hotel room—”

“toru!—”

the love you and satoru shared wasn’t something silly like ‘i like you, you like me.’

it was call me when you get home.

have you eaten yet?

here, let me help you.

whatever you need.

yours and satoru’s souls were exactly the same— blended, intertwined, and stubbornly knotted together as no amount of tug and pull could unravel you both apart, satoru finding over the years that loving you was like muscle memory from the moment he met you, his nerves and reflexes gravitating him towards you on the ice that first time even when he knew there was a huge chance of him slipping and falling, but not being afraid of it at all as long as he just got to you, convinced he knew you in another life as you just felt so familiar the moment he saw your pretty little face.

and you’re so glad that he did get to you… that he stayed with you.

fourteen years of ice cream trips and sleepovers and horror movies from the moment you were teeny tiny babies to adults, experiencing the hardships of your teenage years of loss and grief, to then adulthood and college as you had the privilege of learning to navigate it with another being that was just like you, two little birds with no sense of direction other than to each other.

and it was all thanks to one woman and one woman alone.

“i honestly believe that if she was there, she would’ve brought one of those confetti poppers with dye in it and set it off.” you commented, you and satoru sitting on the grass at her grave site as you leaned your head on his shoulder and his head on top of yours, having literally just come off the plane from being at the olympics— your countries olympic button up thick jackets adorning your figures as your gold medals gleamed radiantly against the sun.

“i wish she was there.” satoru hummed, and you nodded softly in agreement.

“me too… but i’m sure she was! as a little birdie.”

he chuckled, finding your hand and interlacing your fingers as you stared at her tombstone like you’d done so many times before already… except this time it was bittersweet, you having accomplished what the three of you had strived so hard for at last.

“i miss her.” you murmured. “i miss her cussing.”

your eyes flickered down to her peace offerings, the little snow angel trinket you had gotten her still pretty and glossy and her as it sat happily on her stone platform.

satoru picked his head up and kissed the top of your head, propping his chin up on it.

“i miss her too baby.” he responded softly. “everyday.”

“but— i can’t thank her enough for giving us the bullets to fire with for skating.. y’know..” you ran the pad of your index finger along her tombstone, rough and scratchy as you traced little hearts along the edges.

“and she brought us closer together, did she not?” satoru pointed out.

she did.

a woman who was clumsy and loud and erratic with the biggest potty mouth you had ever heard that was passed down to you and satoru in the blink of an eye… but man did she know what love was as she taught it to you and reminded you both of exactly what it was each and every day.

you and satoru had accepted the fact that your hearts would never be whole again, for akira had taken half of them elsewhere and into the depths of the unknown.

but you were okay with that. completely and utterly okay with that.

for love had no limits.

you wanted her to keep it, as you and satoru stitched the remaining halves of your hearts together to create a new whole, as there was no one else you both would rather have that part of you with them forever besides akira.

and yours and satoru’s stitched up hearts grew increasingly bigger and fonder even after a couple of years later, even after winning three more olympic gold medals, you and him back at the same place in front of akira’s grave like always, sitting and laughing and chatting— but with two little baby toddlers that were half of you and half of satoru as they blubbered on about ‘mama aki’ and her trophies, a delicate twinkling ring on your finger and a golden band around satoru’s as your little family had a picnic over her final resting place.

“papa!” your son exclaimed, satoru immediately turning his attention to him in the midst of scarfing down a turkey sandwich.

“yes my offspring?”

you playfully glared at your husband.

“why do your eyes look scarier in the day?”

“HAH!” you slapped a hand over your mouth to hush your cackling, satoru’s face absolutely taken aback and offended.

“they do!” your daughter giggled. “they do! they do!—”

“baby do something!” satoru whined, shoulders slumping as he threw his head back. “i’m being bullied by five year old’s!”

you giggled and kissed his cheek, his pout quickly turning into a soft little grin as his face flushed pink.

“but your papa’s eyes are pretty you guys! and they match yours!”

“mmm— nope! scary!”

your two twin toddlers giggled uncontrollably as they thought being mean to their dad was the funniest thing in the world, you laughing with them as satoru flopped back dramatically and completely laid down on the grass with his eyes looking straight up at the bright sky.

“s’okay.” he spoke flatly. “if even my pretty little wife thinks my suffering is funny i’ll just burn my eyes to a crisp—”

“toru!” you slapped his knee. “too graphic in front of the kiddies.”

“but my suffering!—”

“mommy mommy!” your daughter tugged at your sleeve and pointed to the top of akira’s tombstone, a cute perfect white and brown bird perched up on the edge and peering curiously at the four of you, the creature not alarmed whatsoever of your children’s sudden movements as they scrambled to get closer to it.

satoru propped himself up with an elbow and stared before you both locked eyes, knowing growing smiles on your faces as he fully sat up— leaning and planting a gentle kiss to your forehead, letting it linger.

aki.

and it was like you and satoru were reminded again of your promise that you still told each other every day.

a promise that consisted of your years together… of your love, of your undying fervor of sticking together, of your need of keeping each other safe…

of birds of a feather.

taglist!! <33 (THANK YOU THANK YOU!):

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[mikkeneko]

That post about Marcille and Laios' relationship actually got me thinking about Chilchuck and Laios' relationship. Which is harder to see in some ways because it mostly consists of positive absences.

At first, viewers might be inclined to wonder why Chilchuck sticks with the party. He says it's because he took payment up front, but he could give back part of the deposit and leave. Two other party members left; Laios explicitly gave Marcille and Chilchuck a choice as to whether they would stay or go, and they both chose to stay.

We know why Marcille chose to stay; she wants to save Falin and she considers the other party members her friends. Why did Chilchuck stay?

Chilchuck actually respects Laios a lot -- food and monster weirdness aside -- and that mostly comes I think through the positive absences from above. The things that Laios does not do.

Laios doesn't deliberately expose Chilchuck to danger or regard him as expendable. When Chilchuck starts to get enthralled by the sirens' song, Laios immediately snaps him out of it. Contrast that to Chilchuck relating that other adventuring parties will sometimes bring half-foots along just to sacrifice them or use them as bait!

Laios doesn't insist that Chilchuck put himself in danger by getting into combat. Even in situations where they're in danger and could really use more combatants, he only ever asks Chilchuck to take on non-combat tasks such as creating distractions.

Laios doesn't get in the way when Chilchuck is working and follows his directives of what to do around traps. He respects Chilchuck's work so much that he will even hand over his sword without hesitation, even when doing such a thing causes it to be damaged!

Laios doesn't press Chilchuck to divulge private information. When Chilchuck says he doesn't mix his professional and private lives, Laios respects that and doesn't push.

All the other party members infringe on these boundaries in some way. Izutsumi tries to egg Chilchuck into combat; Marcille pries into his home life; Senshi deliberately provokes him when he's trying to work. Not Laios. Once Chilchuck sets a boundary, Laios does his best to always respect it. (And I think Laios appreciates having clearly defined Rules For Chilchuck.)

Laios is a good party leader and he takes care of his team. Maybe this is my age showing, but when you find yourself in a good work situation with a good boss, you stay in that job.

[mariasont]

Early seasons Spencer’s gf joining the team and quickly realizing just how used to Spencer she is bc the rest of the team’s reactions to him are so different from hers

Cinnamon Sticks - S.R

a/n: obsessed with the idea of baby spencie having a gf who just gets him while he's still an awkward, nerdy little genius! thanks for requesting bestie so sorry it took so long i am the worst LOL

masterlist

pairings: early!seasons!spencer reid x fem!reader

warnings: established relationship, secret relationship, relationship being exposed bc these two are just so in love

wc: 1.7k

Garcia burst into the bullpen like some sort of whirlwind that was practically painted in neon, her scarf fluttering behind her almost like a cape. She juggled a precariously full cup of coffee, while her phone teetered between ear and shoulder as if testing the limits of human dexterity.

"I swear to all that is holy, if my life doesn't slow down in the next five minutes —"

The sentence derailed as she misjudged her pace, the coffee sloshing dangerously close to the rim of the cup. She stopped abruptly, but not quick enough to stop the scalding liquid from spilling over and searing her fingers.

"Oh, fantastic! Just what I needed!" she huffed, waving her hand like it might stop the sting.

She threw herself into the closest chair with a dejected sigh, slumping back and fixing the coffee cup with a murderous glare, like this was just another tally in a long line of grievances.

Your eyes darted up from your work, only for a moment, enough to confirm what you already knew. You hadn't been working here long, but it was long enough to recognize the phenomenon that was Garcia: a blur of movement and words, mid-rant before anyone had the chance to catch up. It was like clockwork really.

You risked a glance across the desk at Spencer, who was so absorbed in his notebook it was a wonder he even remembered to breathe. If Garcia's antics registered as white noise to anyone, it was him. But then, almost like he had a radar for being watched, he looked up, catching your gaze.

His eyebrows lifted into a subtle what can you do? expression, and you couldn't help but smile back.

That was the thing about Spencer. He had this uncanny knack for knowing exactly what you were thinking, almost as if he had a cheat sheet for your brain. And maybe he did, like his brain worked three times faster than everyone else's in the room (which, let's face it, it definitely did). But instead of that being intimidating, it was oddly reassuring.

"At this rate, I'm one bad email away from alphabetizing my entire pantry for stress relief."

Spencer's notebook hit the desk, and there it was, the shift you loved to look for. His shoulders drew back, face lighting up, the kind of thing that signaled his mini-lecture was incoming.

"Organizing your pantry is actually a practical stress management technique. By categorizing items, you create a structured environment that reduces decision fatigue. Its why people feel calmer in tidy spaces, it's psychological."

Morgan held up a hand. "Psychological, huh? Sounds like you’re just trying to justify your weird love affair with labels, pretty boy.”

“Don’t forget,” you added absently, flipping a page in your report, “it also saves time when you’re cooking. I think you called it practical efficiency."

The words slipped out without much thought, but as soon as they did, the bullpen stilled. You glanced up, heart sinking as you saw every face turned in your direction.

Morgan’s grin was the first thing you notice, wide and knowing, stretching across his face. He tilted his head, eyes bouncing between you and Spencer like he was putting pieces together in real time.

“Wait a minute,” he said, sitting forward with a gleam in his eye. “Did you just quote him? Like, word for word?”

Your cheeks heated instantly. “What? No. I mean — maybe. I don’t know.”

“Pretty sure you did,” Morgan shot back, smirking. “Man, what else has he been teaching you? You got the periodic table memorized too?”

You rolled your eyes, leaning back in your chair. “Oh, please. If you’ve been around Spencer long enough, you’re bound to pick up a few things. He’s like a walking encyclopedia.”

“Well,” Spencer said, his head tilting slightly as he spoke, “your cinnamon sticks always end up at the back of your pantry. That’s why I figured you might appreciate the idea of organizing by use frequency. Like I said, practical efficiency.”

The moment the words left his mouth, you knew he’d made a tactical error.

Garcia gasped, her eyes lighting up like she’d just been handed the juiciest piece of gossip of her life. 

“Oh. My. God. Spencer Reid, how exactly do you know what the back of her pantry looks like?”

You froze, rooted to the spot as the realization hit you like a cartoon anvil. 

This was bad.

Spencer’s expression mirrored yours for half a second, bug-eyed panic, but he quickly scrambled for an answer. 

“It’s, um… a logical assumption,” he stammered, his fingers toying with the pen in his hand, a nervous tell he couldn’t quite suppress. “Spices like cinnamon sticks always seem to migrate to the back of the pantry unless there’s an intentional system in place.”

Morgan let out a long, low whistle, rocking back in his chair with enough force to make it creak.

“Nice save. But I don’t think Garcia’s buying it.”

Garcia tapped her chin, clearly enjoying herself far too much. “Oh, no, no, no. This is too good. I mean, logical assumption  my fabulous behind! Cinnamon sticks in the back of her pantry? Really? What’s next? A detailed analysis of how she stacks her cereal boxes?”

You laughed, though it sounded more like a bark than anything natural. “You’re all reading way too much into this. Spencer just knows weirdly specific things about, well, everything. That’s kind of his thing, remember?”

“Mmhmm,” Garcia hummed, clearly unconvinced. “Alright, genius, I’ll let it slide this time. But I’m watching you.”

“Please don’t,” Spencer muttered under his breath, earning a round of laughter from the team.

Garcia spent a solid ten minutes in full interrogation mode after that, her eyes narrowing with each and every pointed question she lobbed your way. Morgan, of course, was no help. He leaned back, grinning like a kid with a front-row seat to the circus, his smirk practically screaming that he knew they were this close to striking a nerve.

Spencer and you had been so careful. You'd been dating long before you joined the BAU, but the moment Hotch had called to offer you the position, you both knew you'd have to keep things under wraps. Dating a coworker was one thing; dating Spencer Reid, a genius with an accidentally too-honest mouth, was an entirely different challenge.

You hadn't expected it to be this hard, though. Keeping the secret wasn't the worst part, it was pretending he wasn't the center of your universe every time you walked into the room. It was keeping your hands to yourself when all you wanted to do was smooth out the messy strands of hair that always fell into his eyes. It was biting your tongue when someone interrupted his long-winded tangents because the truth was, you loved hearing him talk.

The hours stretched on, and the bullpen slowly thinned out. Garcia was the first to leave, blowing a kiss to the room. Morgan left soon after, pausing to flash you one last grin before disappearing. Even Prentiss packed up for the night, muttering something about needed an extra shot of espresso tomorrow morning.

"You handled that well."

You looked up from your report to find Spencer by your desk, one hand tucked into his pocket, the other skimming lightly along the edge of the divider. His expression was surprisingly soft, almost bashful, as though he had been waiting to get you alone.

"Handled that well?" you repeated, raising an eyebrow. "You were the one who almost blew it, Spencer. Cinnamon sticks? Really?"

He smiled, lips twitching upward as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "Okay, I'll admit that wasn't my most subtle moment. But in my defense, they do end up at the back of most pantries."

You couldn't help but laugh, shaking your head as you leaned back in your chair. 

"We're lucky Garcia got distracted. If she'd pushed any harder..." Your voice drifted into a soft sigh. "That could've been bad."

"That was a close one."

The quiet that followed wasn't uncomfortable, but it felt a little more substantial, if that was the word, filled with that miniscule ache that always bloomed in your chest when he was near. 

Spencer stepped closer, his hand brushing against the edge of your desk. His body angled toward you, like even when you weren’t touching, he couldn’t help but gravitate toward you.

“You know,” he said, his voice softer now, “I don’t think she actually suspects anything. But we should probably be more careful.”

"Probably," you replied, drawing out the word in a teasing, sing-song tone. “Unless you’d rather keep showing off how ridiculously well you know me.”

His cheeks flushed a soft pink, but he didn’t look away. Instead, that shy, boyish smile, the one that always made you a little breathless, spread across his lips.

"That's going to be hard," he admitted, voice barely above a whisper. "I noticed a lot about you."

You could feel the flush creeping up to your neck, and you mentally cursed him for how easily he was able to do this to you.

"You're lucky I like you."

His smile widened, and his eyes crinkled at the corners in that way they only came out at specific moments. Like when he successfully performed a card trick for the team or when he stumbled across an original copy of a book at a library sale. 

The same one you'd seen when he talked about his mom on her good days, or when you asked him on a date. 

You leaned forward. "And since I like you, any chance you'd want to kiss me right now?"

"How could I not, with you looking at me like that?"

The angle was clumsy, your chair too low, his frame leaning awkwardly over, but all of that melted away the second his hands found your face. His thumbs brushed soft circles against the place where your cheek met your jaw.

His lips were soft against yours at first, testing, before growing firmer, more sure. The kind of confidence that came with a hundred familiar kisses before. 

Time seemed to slow, or at least for you it did, the rest of the world nonexistent.

The sound of a throat clearing broke the spell, and you jerked back from Spencer, your chair wobbling slightly as you turned toward the sound. You immediately regretted it — your lips felt swollen, your face hot, and there was Prentiss, leaning against the doorframe.

"We were... uh, testing something," you blurted, avidly avoiding eye contact. "You know, like... oxygen exchange! For scientific purposes."

Spencer blinked, then mumbled, "Oxygen exchange? That's the best you got?"

"Shut it," you hissed through gritted teeth, not daring to look at him.

Prentiss arched a brow. "Relax, lovebirds. If this is your idea of scientific research, I'll make sure Garcia doesn't find out. You're welcome."

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