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dhampling · 2 months

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the sunwalker's gift gn!reader, 3.3k

“What is all of this in aid of, anyway?” He asks in a lazy drawl, seemingly unbothered. “The adventuring stuff. Do we have a destination yet?”

inspired by this ask where the reader finds a ring - after a lot of searching - that allows astarion to walk in the sun, and proposes with it. enjoy! wc: 3.3k cw: none. gn reader, fluff, all good stuff. no use of y/n. like one vague reference to sex. that's it. liberties taken with the idea of the sunwalker's gift.

Tardy.

“Here then, yes?”

A gentle dirt path carries to the town boundary, the marker one of dry wood and old brandish. Windows of amber; smoke rising to the stars, a biting chill settling on the ground as gateclose approaches.

You turn the map in hand to compare against the settlement before you.

“Think so.”

Astarion takes your arm in his, leaving the map hanging free in his wake.

It takes all the will you can muster not to take his hands in yours and spin him in some sleepy glee-bound whirl in the sheer ecstasy at the thought of what you have planned - instead pulling each other something ragged down the slope in a half-step, half-cant; giddy at the thought of Firewine by a fireplace as your breath clouds the air foggy past your heads.

You’re in a position where - maybe for the first time since the Netherbrain fell - you can see the end.

And it’s close. Ridiculously close.

You want nothing more than to drop and do it now. Knees muddied in the dew-thickened dirt clod and breeze heavy with frost under the big pale moon - teeth chittering, looking up to him;-

Gods. You can picture it. His eyes hooplike with uncertainty, the one last drip of doubt teetering on his tongue - is this some kind of cosmic joke? - a quiet whisper under his breath, a little tilt of his head. Hair rippling in the moonlight. A moment of mutability as he reconciles all you are, all you’ve become together. That there’s a future in which sincerity is all he knows moving forward.

No.

Before morning, for sure.

The gate welcomes you in one last waning breath as the guards head to their watch turrets until dawn, and it takes a minute to truly come to terms with civilization once more. Your eyes flit to each of the little flickering lanterns and candles in windows; to the railings adorned with browning vines and disused terracotta pots.

It’s been months since you and Astarion have been somewhat settled anywhere. Since the Absolute fell and you set off for adventures beyond anything you or he could ever imagine. Navigating the Underdark together, treading darkness above ground; wherever, it wasn’t of any real importance. You’d find lodging where you could, eat with whoever welcomed you; and you did it together.

Of course, your ulterior motive has managed to remain a secret. From clandestine discussions with the Society of Brilliance all the way back to the Gate; to fevered exploration in the deepest chasms of Sembia. Nights spent looking over the ferryboats on the Sea of Fallen Stars and discussing so many different futures the two of you could live.

He is completely disarmed and unsuspecting at your side. Radiant. Hopeful. The world is changed and he wants to see every bit he passes with eyes wide open to good fortune.

“A town called Tardy? Really?”

He sneers.

You shrug.

“It has a fun ring to it. Tardy.”

The word bounces on your tongue as you taste the mull-soak set between your teeth.

A wordless mission to stave off the chill now has you settled fireside in the closest inn with mulled Glowfire. The clock ticks and there’s lively chatter a little behind you in the main tavern room.

“The Scoundrel's Cellar, though. Now that’s a good name.’

He takes a small sip.

‘Why Tardy?”

You turn your head to him with a tight quirk of your upper lip.

“You’re asking me why?”

“Not really.’

Astarion looks at you and smiles.

‘It’s just… nice. To be able to talk at such leisure like this, I think.”

His cheeks are ruddied by the lashings of wind, the hint of a twinkle in his eyes as he reveres you. Hair a little unruly in the mop of curls atop his head but still unbelievably well-kempt for a man who's been on the road for months now. Lost wholly in his sheer exuberance, his joy in living despite the lack of a pulse. His chalice is close to his chest as he warms his hands.

You daren’t linger on your own appearance, thinking a silent prayer that the bathroom has a mirror.

It’s a long moment before you reply.

“Yes! Yes. Absolutely.”

He throws you a quizzical glance but the smile doesn’t leave his face as he shifts to look down at his drink.

“I sometimes picture having a fireplace, you know. How-’

A brief pause.

‘How nice it’d be to sit by it, on an evening like this. Home.”

Astarion stretches a palm outward to the flame and closes his eyes, basking in the scalding heat. Amber shades. Pallid skin a perfect canvas.

“What would you be doing, by the fire?” You query softly as you watch the gentle flickers of his hand, outstretched.

“I- I’m not sure.”

Something resembling a coy smile creeps onto his face, overrun by a timid quiet uncharacteristic of your long-term lover. You lean over to him and take his nimble fire-warm hand in your own. A small kiss planted firmly on the hot skin.

“Go on.’

The willing smile on your face as you egg him on, chin to palm. He tilts his head coquettishly.

‘What do you see in that beautiful head of yours? Because I can see it now - a sitting room full of tapestries and hangings; all of your design, of course. Patchwork blankets. Big comfy seats.”

“Ugh. Fine. Yes.’

Any ill-mannered jest fades almost immediately as he looks into your eyes and beams once more. He is safe here. He knows it.

‘I’m thinking big seats. Maybe-’

He brings his arms out wide.

‘Maybe this big? Possibly bigger? Somewhere to lounge, naturally.’

His hand finds yours in the low light once more, a tentative clutch as he maps out the vision in his head.

‘Soft carpets on stone floors. Incense - none of the dull stuff though, darling; only pure patchouli - and… and lanterns with glass of all colours, so the room glows with light constantly.”

“So we’ve set the scene. Then what?”

Astarion rolls his eyes at you fondly.

“And then… I don’t know. A little cat on the cushions. Books, papers scattered on the carpet as despite the fact we have those big comfy seats; I’m not seeing myself to be inclined to move Her Majesty.”

“After the cat at the Last Light?”

“The very same. But I want a girl cat. Boy cats feel… weird to me. Cats are girls.’

He grimaces and waves his chalice-hand.

‘Anyway. Her Majesty on the lounger, me on the floor. I’m drawing up patterns early into the morning. Big, thick shutters over the windows; but it doesn’t matter because the lantern light is so vivid, and you;-’

There’s a feather-soft look to him when he does look at you.

‘Oh, you.’

You become aware of him drawing small circles with his thumb, eyes unmoving; unblinking.

‘Always you. My love. Should you decide to join me in long-term domesticity-’

He plants a kiss on your hand as you did his. Your stomach is pure cream as you listen, nodding slowly with lids of honey.

‘Then you. Everywhere. Beside me on the carpet, laughing in that delicious way you do. Astride me in our bed -’

You smirk. He looks at you a little deviously.

‘Well, not just bed. Anywhere, really.”

“Is that what the loungers are for?”

A small grin.

“Maybe.’

You gesture for him to continue with a knowing grin.

‘Anyway. Yes. The future. Us. A townhouse somewhere in the Gate.” He sips slowly while pondering.

“What about younglings? You were fond of Yenna.”

The wine erupts down his pale chin in shock, eyes like saucers.

“I’m sorry?”

“Children.” You repeat, holding his gaze with firm affection.

He moves to laugh but there’s a wavering indecision in the way his brows crease.

“Is that even possible?”

“I don’t know. But if it is?”

He stops to think for a moment when the call for Grand High Lord Supreme General Admiral Ancunín - his favoured travelling name - comes from the frazzled barmaid at the front of house to signal your rooms are ready, and all discussion overruled by the fact you’re both bone-weary beyond belief.

As your hand moves to your pocket, you feel it.

Sequestered away in the little velvet box you bought from the Night Market months ago and kept for this.

Later.

Hours on and you’re settled. A small room with an adjoining washroom - modest, but surprisingly comfortable; and just as you’d hoped, there’s a balcony.

Astarion lounges on the bed with a large leatherbound book, looking fondly at you from time to time as you busy yourself with your recent findings, taking inventory and stashing bits away in their respectively labelled bags of holding.

“What is all of this in aid of, anyway?” He asks in a lazy drawl, seemingly unbothered.

“What?”

“This. The adventuring stuff. Do we have a destination yet?”

“No, not in particular.’ You turn to look at him over your shoulder.

‘Why? You’ve not been bothered before?”

“And I’m not now. But I am curious.’

He grins devilishly on the bed and flips the book closed, placing it next to him and sitting straight - legs crossed.

‘What’s the plan, lover?”

“Who says there’s a plan?”

He’s got you right where he wants you.

You feel yourself becoming giddy again - heart wholly aflutter. You’re aware that he’s attuned to the regular pitter-patter between your ribs and despite the conscious attempt to regulate yourself back to calm; you almost want him to find you out this way.

“Nothing. I’m just wondering where we’re - well, wandering. It’s beginning to feel a little aimless”

There’s a moment of silence, prolonged as you fiddle further with your trinkets.

“I-’

You reach for the box in your pocket and run a thumb over it reactively.

‘I’ll tell you later. I promise.”

He looks at you with a curious furrow, trying to eke out a little more information in the quiet din but you’re wise to it at this point in your relationship. You simply yield into his glance with a pleading smile.

“Okay. Okay. I’ll leave it with you. But I do expect answers!”

You heave a sigh of relief. He’s definitely picked up on it.

Once all of your spoils are packed away you take a trip downstairs to purchase more wine and request a bath to be drawn - after all, you’ve been on the road with rivers as your only source of cleanliness for gods know how long.

There are nerves. Of course there are nerves, small pins prickling from within and setting you ablaze with each new thought of him beside you for life, threads weaving a rich tableau life together. Lilting violins and piano sonatas. Finery for days. Some small townhouse, just as he’d described it downstairs.

But you found the thing you’d set out to find on your adventures. Where you head next is entirely up to the both of you.

Provided he says yes, that is.

You imagine the worst possible rejection he could give you - “No, darling. Let’s keep things as they are for now.” - and yet the thought of him calling you darling in that syrupy murmur is rousing enough to keep you afloat.

The bath is tepid, door open whilst Astarion watches from the bed between pages.

“More wine, love?”

“Please.”

Calm. Rain on the thatch roof.

He perches on the side of the washtub, one leg crossed over the other as he passes you a glass full of red. Hums absent-mindedly as he swirls the perfumed waters with a dainty hand.

Your mind drifts to the ring. How beautiful it’ll look in place.

He looks at you with that curious glint in his eye, and you roll your head to the back of the tub in an attempt at meek avoidance.

“Pretty.” He quips.

You laugh quietly.

“Hm?”

“You. Pretty. Hair all mussed like a siren. A vision.”

He lifts your wrist from the water and kisses the back of your hand a few times over, while you squirm in jest. He only retaliates by kissing you harder with a fiendish giggle.

“You’re one to talk.”

The lantern by the mirror lights the tips of his curls from behind. Angelic.

“Yes, I am beautiful. So are you. My darling.”

It must be late now. Maybe late enough.

As you lift from the water - assisted by your lover’s hand - and enrobe once more, you feel it.

Now.

Astarion begins his usual routine of light-proofing the room and blocking the shutters as the threat of sunrise looms on the horizon.

Well. Light.

The rain doesn’t show any sign of ceasing.

Nonetheless, you feel ready. A habit you can’t wait for him to break, checking the shutters for cracks.

“C’mere.”

He turns to you and looks you over.

“Hm?”

“Come here! Please! I’ve got something for you and it simply can’t wait any longer.”

The box is light in hand, soft. You’ve checked it multiple times for the ring and all is in place.

The way he steps to you is cautious. Catlike.

“Is this the thing? Is it finally time?’

You pull him in next to you on the edge of the bed, taking both hands in yours.

‘I can see that little box. Hopefully a trinket worth the hours of agony I’ve endured waiting for you to reveal your secrets.” He grins, pulling you in for a gentle kiss.

You don’t say anything, freeing one hand to take the box.

“This is-’

A sharp inhale.

‘This is it. Wherever we go from here, it’s mutually agreed. All of it. But this is what I’ve been looking for, hence my leadership skills taking forefront again.”

“Don’t tell me. It’s a Bracing Band!’

You shove him gently and he giggles, reinforcing his clutch on your hand.

‘Okay, okay. I’m done. Show me.”

He waggles his fingers around your palm and grins expectantly. Gods. You rip the bandage off and open the box to him.

He’s seen a picture of it before - it’s in one of his books, that’s where you got the initial idea - but you know he hasn’t read it or he’d onto you weeks ago.

And he doesn’t recognise it.

“I- What is this?”

A gentle whisper as his eyes run over the golden rays cast with aged enamel.

“A ring.’

Astarion’s death glare takes a new form, this time wholly inhibited by the uncertainty in his frozen hunch.

You stand and spin to a kneel on the floor in front of him.

‘A special ring. Really, really special; in fact.’

Plucking it from the velvet, you hover the band over his fingertip.

‘Firstly though. Marry me?”

You don’t think you’ve ever seen him so completely and utterly shocked.

Mouth firmly agape as red round eyes attempt to scan yours for any sign of deceit, jowls trembling a little in the yellow lantern glow. A small gulp as his lips meet once more.

“You picked an inn called The Scoundrel's Cellar, in a town called Tardy, in the middle of a thunderstorm; to propose marriage to me?”

“Had to be here, had to be now. Couldn’t wait any longer. You’ll understand in a minute, I promise.’

You rise a little to cup his jaw in hand, sinking into a chaste kiss.

‘Astarion Ancunín, will you marry me?”

“Gods!’

There’s a brief tremor as his lips wobble, then a practised breath as he speaks. One hand reaches for your flushed cheek to mirror the gesture.

‘Of course I will, you brute. Maybe you could’ve done with a better choice in ring, of course; but I can learn to love it, I’m sur-”

“You are beyond insufferable, Astarion. Kiss me right now.”

The immediately resulting kiss is brimming with yearning. A cup full to spilling as he takes the ring in your hand whilst you put it on him.

He hunches all the way over to meet you on raised knees, grabbing at body-warmed bedclothes for one another; tenderly, in peals of quiet laughter between breaths and silent shouts.

“Wait. I’m not done.’

He’s giddy now, too. Knee bouncing.

‘There’s a reason it had to be that ring.”

“It’s hideous, pet. Give me a reason to love it.”

You spin to your feet and to the furthest shutters, opening them a slight as he watches on in guarded curiosity with the biggest smile lingering on his face.

The first hint of light.

“C’mere.”

“You’re bossing me around an awful lot today, my darling betrothed.”

The weight of the moment is colossal, ocean deep. Despite his sheer joy he won’t come willingly. The burns from the dock the day the Absolute fell were molten for weeks and you still both have night terrors ringing loud with the sound of his agonising yells.

A gentle hand extends to him.

“The Sunwalker’s Gift.”

Then it clicks. Slowly. The final puzzle piece.

“No. Surely.”

“Yes.”

“It can’t be.”

“It had to be.”

“What if it isn’t?”

“Then we have a wedding to plan in the Underdark. But I wouldn’t traipse across the realms on just an inkling, you know.”

“I know you wouldn’t.”

“Well then.’

Your hand waits expectantly, fingers mimicking his waggle.

‘Just a finger. Please.”

He sits on the bed, spinning the ring mindlessly; before he looks at you with a resolute nod.

“I’ve trusted you with far worse, all things considered.”

Astarion approaches slowly and meets your hand, interlinking your ring fingers together and waiting for your word as you position yourself within the light.

“On three?”

Three arrives and nothing happens.

Hands raised, fingers lit in a single low beam of early light. Frozen.

“Astarion? All good?”

He moves your hands wholly into the light. Nothing. Twists the tangled fingers as if examining for damage. Rain careens into the window.

“I- Yes. Yes. All good.”

Dumbfounded.

You erupt into a bubbling grin, pulling him to the balcony doors and planting another soft kiss onto bewildered lips. Looking to the worn bronze handles with a brief head tilt.

A simple, overwhelmed nod. Brows knitted together in a milky daze, mouth slack. He looks like he’s going to collapse.

The doors edge open and you cautiously step to lead him by arm.

Nothing. Not a single sizzle, no cinders. Forearm, arm, body; head.

No tug on your hand as he races back indoors. No wretched cries of pain nor gasps of hurt.

It’s a few seconds before he speaks. The sun now burns bright enough to see the streets below with razor clarity.

“The rain. My- my hair-’

Barely above a whisper.

‘Looks perfect. As it always does.’

Your eyes don’t leave him. Not once. He’s completely floored, gazing into the middle distance mindlessly.

‘Love, sit.”

You gently tug an iron-wrought balconette chair over to him and help him to find purchase atop it amongst his overwhelm.

“I- I love you. Thank you.”

“Anything. Anything for you.”

He shakes from his haze once wet through, lightning on the horizon awakening the Astarion you recognise best. Closes his eyes with a soft smile.

“You’re going to catch your death out here, you know.”

His grip on your hand is vicelike, clutching it to his chest with zealous reverence.

“Then we’ll have to have a hot bath later. Right now though, I think a celebration is in order.”

You free yourself from his grasp for two moments, barreling back inside for the last of the wine and the large bedsheet. You place both chalices on the iron table and sit beside Astarion outside in fits of laughter whilst wrapping the sheet over both of your heads. He snatches your hand back and kisses it for an age. Devoted.

“To Tardy?”

He lifts his chalice in his free hand, and you do the same in yours.

“Tardy!”

#my writing #astarion x reader #astarion #astarion ancunin #baldurs gate astarion #bg3 #astarion x female reader #astarion x male reader #astarion x gn reader #astarion x tav #fluff #one shot #x reader

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hello-nichya-here · 7 months

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Every now and then I just remember how Riley was painted as the victim in his relationship with Buffy and it just makes me so mad. The writers keep telling us that she didn't appreciate him and his way of loving her, but we are SHOWN that it was actually the other way around.

Buffy was not perfect, and it's clear she first got attached to Riley because he was a normal dude and she very much needed something in her life to be normal - but when it turned out he also had a secret life, that he was also the "hero" of his group, she accept it. She continued to like him. She still wanted him around.

Riley meanwhile seemed to resent her for being the slayer, for being stronger than him, for having other stuff going on in her life, for having dated/being the object of affection of guys that were stronger than him.

His insecurity is ridiculous. He was literally willing to die just to be a very strong, but also very dead guy, instead of being a completely healthy dude with the strength of a regular dude. He even acts like him not being able to beat Buffy in a fight, even with the "power up" is what is causing her to be "distant" sometimes, not the fact that, like he said himself, she needs to prevent the end of the world every other week and that's kinda stressful and takes a lot of her free time.

He also complains about her asking him to take care of her younger sister, the most important thing in the world to her, so she doesn't have to worry about that while out killing vampires and demons - and he thinks of that as her "not letting her be useful", and then complains again when she gives him a bullshit role in the whole "stopping the doom of all of humanity", even though he just refused the thing that would make him actually useful. He also conveniently forgets things like Buffy asking HIM specifically to take care of her after she was wounded in a fight. He doesn't see any of that as her truly including him in her life and full on needing him like he wants her to - because it's not in the way that allows him to pretend he is THE hero, not the hero's boyfriend. Being important TO her doesn't actually matter, what he really wants is to feel superior, to be more important than her.

And even outside of the Slayer stuff: this dude really heard that his girlfriend's mother was potentially dying, and instead of thinking of how he can be there for her (something he CLAIMS he wants to do) all he can think about is "Why didn't she immediately call me? Why did she tell Spike first?" (I'm a spuffy fan, but come on, she only told Spike because he just happened to show up at the very second she was ready to open up about it and just needed a shoulder to cry on). Everything, even his girlfriend's struggle with the possibility of her parent dying and her needing to step up as a parent to her sibling, needs to be about HIM, his feelings, his wants and needs.

The fucker even has the nerve to cheat on her during all of this. Compare that to Angel going to Sunnydale to give her emotional support after Joyce died, or Spike comforting her before even knowing WHY she was crying and then sending flowers without a card to honor her mom and offer Buffy some compassion, but without disrespecting her very explicit "stay away from me, Spike." It's very clear which of these three guys never actually cared about her, even a little bit.

Hell, Riley is 100% sure that the only way for Buffy to "prove" her love is to suffer for him. Her sister tells him "I like you much more than her ex, you would never break her heart like he did" - and somehow, he doesn't take that as "Buffy and her family fully trust that I'm a good guy that would never do anything to hurt her" (something Buffy herself says to Angel's face in his show) but rather as a "Nothing I do would ever hurt her because she doesn't actually love me the way she loved Angel."

Not to mention: his assumption that Buffy was only ever attracted to Angel because he was a vampire, and thus any other vampire like Draculla or Spike could easily steal her from him, just shows how much he didn't understand her at all.

Buffy started crushing on Angel thinking he was just a normal human that knew about the supernatural and wanted to fight the good fight. She didn't find out about him being a vampire until he lost control for a second and went vamp-face after their first kiss, and it freaked her out.

She fangirled for a second meeting Dracula, but man, come on, OF COURSE the slayer will be excited to see the most popular vampire ever, and she was more than willing to kill him. The whole reason there were any flirty vibes between them was because the dude had literal mind-control powers.

Spike is the closest Buffy ever got to "dating a vampire because he is a vampire" and that was because she was literally craving death. Even then, she was horrified at her own attraction to him, AND there was a different side to their relationship, with Buffy liking Spike because he was the one person that wasn't disappointed and resenting her for being depressed.

For fuck's sake, she had a thing for PLENTY of normal guys - RILEY VERY MUCH INCLUDED!

He was the one that only cared about "who is stronger" and kept insisting that Buffy was the same even after overwhelming evidence to the contrary.

And for the show to then make HER go after him, make HER all sad when he is dating someone else, make one of her closest friends blame HER for everything that went wrong in their relationship, and then make HER basically claim he was right with bullshit lines like "I wasn't there for him like I was for Angel" is ridiculous - specially when, again, what made Buffy want to be with Riley in the first place was her trying to not fall into another unhealthy relationship like the one she had with Angel. They were codependent and when he left it nearly destroyed her. OF COURSE she's gonna try not being as obsessed with the next boyfriend (or with the one after him) because she knows that shit doesn't end well.

Again, say what will about both Angel and Spike, but at least Angel walked away after realizing their relationship was a dead-end that would never make Buffy truly happy, and Spike put himself through hellish torture to get his soul back and make sure he'd be a better man who would never make Buffy suffer.

RILEY being framed as "the perfect guy Buffy couldn't appreciate and let get away" is just insulting. Of all the guys Buffy has ever been with, he is the one that deserved her the least.

#buffy summers #buffy the vampire slayer #btvs #buffy deserved better #anti riley #spuffy

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sophiasharp · 9 months

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Man I don’t think we talk enough about the fact that in the wildly accepted fanon, the ghouls were like. Creatures pulled out of a primitive society full of bloodshed and danger. These guys were just chilling in hell, fighting for their lives every day like you do, and now they’re on Earth, expected to figure out Earth manners and technology and how the fuck anything works. I’ve been thinking about it, though. Let me walk you through my thoughts

THE GHOULS TRANSITIONING TO LIFE ON EARTH

Aether

- Bull in a China shop

- Big man has gotten very good at controlling his strength over the years. That control was NOT there at first.

- Bumped into fucking everything too. Dude’s used to being in the wide open abyss the quintessence ghouls occupy. Suddenly having to learn special awareness was. A hurdle of his.

- He broke a lot of tables. And chairs. And plates. Mugs. One Sibling’s arm. He got there eventually but Omega had to walk him through how fragile everything on Earth is compared to their ghoulish strength.

- Part of his habit of jumping up and down also comes from how different Earth is to his home environment. You mean you can go up and then you’ll come down again? Automatically? What a concept! Gravity is so much fun!

- Still gets some sense of novelty out of electric lighting. Being able to just. Make the dark go away? Whenever? Amazing.

- He keeps a night light on in his room. The last person to make fun of him for it mysteriously ended up with 3rd degree burns.

Dewdrop:

- Skittish little fucker

- Kinda like that one video of those weird crabs reacting to the diver

- Dew, poking at a toaster: Friend? Friend? Friend? Big noise! Scared! Scared! Scared! Scared! … Friend? Friend?

- Fucking LOVED blankets and coats and jackets and robes and honestly just anything that will keep him warm. He was used to the cold, sure, but if he had a choice between that and being cuddled under 5 different comforters, possibly with another ghoul for extra body heat? It wasn’t even a competition.

- Still had to often be reminded to wear clothes. “We’re in a hellish commune, does anyone really care about one ghoul being naked?” “It’s not so much the nakedness as much as the being out and about without your uniform.”

- Warm food blew his Fucking mind. Coming from the frigid arctic, whatever warmth you’d get from your food’s internal temperature was short lived. Microwaves? Ovens? Tea Kettles? Marvelous. Truly a gift from the Dark One

- Got REALLY into cooking. Dude is a wizard in the kitchen. Watched so many kitchen shows once he figured out how TV’s worked and started replicating the really fancy meals they were creating on screen with whatever he could find around the Abbey and what the kitchen staff were willing to give him. Now, whenever there’s a big occasion, he’s the one asked to oversee the food.

Mountain:

- weirdly calm and placid about everything despite not knowing how literally anything worked.

- Just casually curious about everything. Was always asking questions. Not in an annoying way, but just politely inquisitive.

- There was like a 50/50 chance he was actually listening to you at any given point in time. I mean, there are so many new sights, sounds, smells to experience! Can’t expect him to be 100% there when there’s still so much new splendor all around!

- If ever he was confronted with something new but no one was around to explain what it was, he would instead try to just. Figure it out on his own using his best judgement.

- This is how he once ended up straight up eating someone’s phone. This was very early on, mind you, but it was so smooth and shiny! And the precious metals inside were so tasty! He knows better now, of course. But there are some days where he’s tempted to give his ministry-issued smartphone a nibble…

- Figured out his love of gardening pretty damn fast considering that’s what he was originally summoned for. However, aside from tending to Primo’s garden, he found himself still going out to tend to the plants even in his free time. It’s calming to him, reminds him of home. When things get overwhelming, the plants are there to let him channel his worry into something producing.

- His first personal plant was a small pot of rosemary. He kept it in the window of his room and took *such* good care of it. It’s still there to this day, nestled among the other plants he’s accumulated of the years.

Swiss

- he is so excited about everything!!!!

- He has to be touching all the new things all the time! What does it do? How is it made?? Can he eat it??? A lot of things that were small enough went straight into his mouth. Copia needed to keep a spray bottle on him at all times to make sure he didn’t hurt himself.

- Of course, when he was around the other ghouls, he played it cool. Have to make a good impression on his new (and hopefully permanent) packmates after all. He reeeaaaally didn’t want get sent back to the pit so getting in good with the rest of the band was TOP priority!

- In fact that need to be liked was bordering on unhealthy and sort of sabotaged himself a bit. Acting all suave and cocksure when the entire rest of the band was on high alert does that.

- Most of the ghouls regarded him with a hefty amount of distrust at first- being the first summon of the new boss came with a LOT of baggage -but Cumulus saw straight through him. He was just a silly little guy! She became his first real friend amongst the pack.

- The two became menaces together, exploring the abbey and messing with shit they probably shouldn’t have. Primo’s garden was a favorite of theirs, much to Mountain’s chagrin.

- Was just SOOOO fascinated by this new body he’s been put in. Unlike most the other ghouls, he didn’t have a physical body he inhabited back in hell, only being given one when he was summoned to the surface. Flesh! If feels funny! What does this thing down here do-

Cumulus:

- was honestly kinda scared at first, what with the whole mood of the pack being out of wack.

- Apparently their new boss might have killed someone? That’s the guy that summoned them? Uh oh!

- Stayed glued to Cirrus in the beginning. Being summoned together meant having a strong built-in bond with each other, always having access to what the other is feeling. Being together offered a much-needed sense of comfort to Cumulus. Getting to spend time with a really pretty girl wasn’t bad either.

- Swiss was the one to bring her out of her shell, imbuing her with confidence through his own fake bravado. They came to rely on each other in that sense. When Cumulus was scared to do the things she wanted, Swiss would convince her of her capability. When Swiss was anxious and felt like a fraud, Cumulus would remind him of his sincerity.

- Was very curious about how her magic worked on the surface versus how it did in the pit. Back home, she was used to having to beat against the constant winds of the first layer of hell. Now that she’s on Earth, her powers are much more powerful than she ever expected them to be!

- LOVED textiles. She surrounded herself in all things soft and fluffy. Her bedroom (and most nights Cirrus’s as well) is just so Fucking cozy. Blankets and pillows everywhere. Her stuffed animal collection is unmatched. Will cry if even one of them ends up on the floor.

- Dew was the one to help her start her collection. To this day they are each other’s #1 cuddle buddies.

Cirrus:

- Stone cold badass front to hide how nervous she was.

- VERY protective of Cumulus in the beginning. She could feel how scared she was and felt the need to step up and protect the both of them from any threat this new environment may have… even if the perceived threat is a bit stupid.

- She once kicked in the washing machine cause it made a sound once it was done and it startled her. Not her proudest moment.

- Was almost OVERPROTECTIVE of Cumulus at first, even, doing even the simplest of tasks for her to prevent risk of injury. That was until she watched her kick a sibling straight in the nuts for making snide remarks about Cirrus in front of her. Cirrus had never fallen in love faster.

- Took a LONG while to warm up to the others. Constantly felt like she had something to prove, like she needed to show that she wouldn’t buckle under pressure. Everyone (but Cumulus) was a threat.

- Adores weather on Earth and how it isn’t just WIND 24/7. She loves all the different shapes of the clouds, how dark they get with moisture, the gentle snowfall or the needle-like rain. Really puts her at peace to be out on a rainy day

Rain:

- S C A R E D

- Everything is new and bright and cold and heavy and loud and- and- and-

- Yeah he barely left his room for a week, didn’t talk to anyone for anything. Not shy, necessarily, but just freaked the fuck OUT. They were starting to think he was nonverbal cause man refused to use his voice. In his defense, talking outside the water feels very different when you’re used to your vocal cords wiggling in water all your life.

- In my brain the first time he did speak was to Copia after he did his lil oopsie with the rest of the pack. It’s like a day later and Copia’s tryna plan how he’s gonna make it up to the ghouls when rain cornered him in a dark hallway, made direct eye contact, and in the softest voice went “I wouldn’t go near the lake if I were you. It’s hard to hear screaming underwater.” He then left a completely stunned and freaked tf out Copia standing alone in the hall like it never happened.

- He kinda regrets letting his first words on Earth be a threat now but the rest of the pack is flattered, although they do still sometimes tease him for it.

- Really started coming out of his shell when Dew made dinner for him. Dew was in the same shoes as him once and, although his relationship with the new water ghoul was complicated, he still felt obligated to help his new packmate adjust to life on Earth.

- Bro went through the trouble of showing Rain what every little thing in the kitchen did so he wouldn’t be scared to make his own food anymore, all while making him some grade A gourmet dining. Dew didn’t know it at the time but that’s when the heart-eyes started.

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wishfulfilled · 1 year

Text

「tomie vaunt」

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

“Do you really think you’ll stumble on another girl as beautiful as I?”

“But compared to my beauty you’re not even on the scale.”

“Surely those blessed with beauty such as mine have a responsibility to record it before it slips away forever.”

“You think this silly thing captures even a tenth of my beauty?”

“This is just the start of how pretty i can get.”

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

my beauty is beyond human comprehension, even though people desperately want to capture it thru music, paintings and sculptures. when people see me they want to decide their entire life to try to encapsulate my allure, gracefulness and magnetic aura. to no avail, i cannot be copied, even the greatest artists wouldn’t be able to even come close to replicating my enchanting, dreamy and surreal visage.

i love myself so much i could look in the mirror for hours on end. absolutely no one and nothing can compare to me. i am prettier then all of the stars in the sky combined, even more beautiful then the most perfect scenery god has bestowed upon earth. it’s like i come from another planet, another universe. no, surely someone as perfect as me must be a gift from god straight from heaven.

i value myself highly and never underestimate myself because i know how powerful i am. i know that i am intelligent, strong and perfect in every possible way. i am very respected and my presence is intimidating, hypnotising and absolutely unforgettable. my aura is intoxicating, addicting and i am not afraid of being myself and i know that everyday i keep evolving and improving mentally, spiritually and emotionally. my personality is extremely charming and people are naturally attracted to me. i only need my own validation.

once people see me they are unable to forget me, people trip over their feet to try and compliment me. when they finally approach me they are so in awe of how even more perfect i am when up close that they suddenly are at a loss of words. people constantly shower me with gifts, write poems about their undeniable love for me and yet it seems like they believe that they will never be able to express their undying love no matter what they do.

when someone looks at me it feels all though all their problems and worries suddenly washed away and they cannot think about anything else then me and how to make me happy. when i give someone even the slightest bit of attention they get filled with bliss, gratefulness. but it’s expected i mean i am completely irresistible and my beauty is undefinable.

no one and nothing can ever compare to me. it simply isn’t possible to surpass my level of knowledge, allure and everything comes so easy for me, it’s like everything is rigged in my favour and i truly don’t have to put in any effort, everything falls into place for me while i just exist being my perfect self. i am healthy, protected and i only have positive experiences. i know myself and i am secure with who i really am, i always get opportunities that lead me to fulfilling my dreams.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

#law of assumption #neville goddard #wishfulfilled #loa #self concept #affirmations #motivation #vaunting #vaunt #tomie kawakami #tomie #junji ito tomie

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grapejuicestyless · 8 months

Note

conrad and fem!reader were bestfriends growing up but they were always in love. (reader is a conklin) they were both in love but they were both so oblivious to each others love (Susannah always knew hehe) I was thinking this could be inspired by ‘back to you’ by selena gomez

basically when susannah dies conrad lashes out on yn and says like the worst thing you can think of but then tries to kiss her and yn is so freaked out that they don’t see each other for years. After yn finishes college everyone reunites at the summer house and Conrad and yn finally realize what’s been right in front of them.

i know this is a lot but your writing is so beautiful especially with Conrad. thank u <3 🙏🏻

Back To You

Conrad Fisher x fem!reader

Angst to fluff

Summery: The request above^^^ I tried to stay as close to what was requested I hope this is okay! <3

The waves hit the wooden poles underneath our feet in a soft pattern. The thrashing of them shaking the dock just enough that you could feel it rocking. It was calming, breaking the silence that settled between my oldest son and I. Conrad had been off all spring, part of me connected it to his old ex girlfriend breaking it off with him, but that was just what I told myself because the thought that Conrad knew what was going on, something I swore I would keep hidden until it had to be know, made me sick with guilt. How my condition was weighing him down.

I took him out to the old dock just for one on one time. He used to love it out here at night. The way the stars illuminated the sky in their different patterns, the way even with them shifting, the constellations always found their way to stick together in the sky for a few weeks at a time. He loved the feeling of the damp wooden bench beneath his legs and how close we could cuddle up out here. He always loved it just being us.

“What’s going on, Connie?” My words were soft, in no way pushing him to open up any fresh wounds. He seemed wound up, his light dampened. I wanted to figure it out, I wanted to help him. The Conklin’s would be down here by morning and I worried that if left unresolved, it could bubble into a mess.

“Hm?” He acted confused, completely unaware to what I meant. I knew my son better than that though. He was always far too smart to play dumb.

“What’s got you down?” I put on my best smile, trying to squint my eyes to make them as welcoming as I could. My Conrad was never the most open with his feelings. He hated to be vulnerable. He told me once when he was younger that he felt if he was ever truly honest, the words would never be able to have been taken back. By saying things he didn’t say, by pushing people away, it gave him a good distance to build up the courage to make amends again. It gave him the time to choose when he was ready to open up his heart to whoever he wanted. He was always so conscious with things like that. Always thinking things through before doing them. It was funny how much a contrast he was with his feelings compared to Jeremiah. My spontaneous son who had no fears about regretting anything. Using his charm to get his way through life.

Laurel once joked that she believed Conrad’s eyes were so much darker because they held much more fear than Jeremiah’s. He was consumed by it. At the time we laughed, but now I was beginning to believe she was right. Here I was, preparing for a death nobody knew was coming and still, after nearly two decades of fighting and loving, I still was stuck at that distant arms length Conrad held me at.

He ignored the question, looking out to the sky. He knew he could’ve lied to me, could’ve made up something about his old heartbreak. How he was stressed with school. Anything to at least let me be able to give my support, even if it wasn’t in the areas he needed it. Conrad knew me like I knew him, though. Bound not only by blood but by love. There was no great excuse he could make that I wouldn’t pick up on. Mothers know everything, it’s our job.

My hands shook, partly from the cold and half from the disease working it’s way into my system. He shuttered sun my fingers wrapped around his, lips pressing to the back of his hand and my thumb smoothing over his skin to keep it stuck there.

“You don’t have to go through this alone, okay? When you feel like you need to say something, you don’t have to overthink it with me, okay? I’m your mom. I’ll love you no matter what’s going on in that mind of yours.” I saw the way his mouth twitched upward, a faltering smile so weak it was barely there. His eyes shinned in the moonlight, illuminated by the stars and the fireflies zipping by.

“Thank you, Mom.” He was honest then. I knew it by the way he said it. Like a weight was lifted off of his shoulders. He didn’t avoid my gaze, but held it firmly.

He crashed into me like one of the gentle waves into the dock. Arms wrapping around me in the biggest hug he’d given all year to me. His fingers dug into the back of my blouse, holding onto me for dead life in a way. He seemed desperate to be close to me.

A deep sigh left his nose, tickling the skin on my neck and down my back. I almost laughed at the feeling, but held it in to prolong the moment we were sharing. Soon, we would both be leaving whether we liked it or not, it was certain. I hoped that in the attempt to have one last perfect summer, Conrad and I could become closer. That we could all find a sense of happiness.

That sense came a few hours later. A wish being fulfilled without any extra begging. By now the moon was long gone, hiding beneath the horizon, the birds alive and singing. The children playing on nearby beaches and the whooshing of speeding cars passing the driveway.

Each part of the home was set up in the way I had hand picked it to be. My favorite flowers resting on the mantle and a bowl of the freshest fruits in the center of the kitchen countertops. The air was clean and crisp, blowing through the cracked window over the sink. It was cooling and refreshing, the outsides sounds seeping into the calm quiet of the house.

“They’re here!” My youngest shouted, heavy elephant feet stampeding down the stairs in pure excitement. I felt my own feet pick up from under me to jog outside. Summer was beginning.

The familiar silver car sat parked out by the bushes in the front, the engine still cooling and the sound of the car shutting off echoing through the area. The wheels moved from side to side, leaning closer to the ground to help give as the four missing pieces of Cousins announced their arrival.

Steven was the first to let his presence be known. His long, scrawny body stretching up after a long drive, an exaggerated groan becoming dragged out to truly emphasize how long their trip was. Jeremiah barely let him step away from the car before they were messing around, his arms wrapped around Steven in a welcoming hold. Their catching up was loud and joyful, jokes spewing off of their tongues without any extra effort.

Belly and Laurel came next, piling out of opposite sides of the car. Belly had occupied the passengers seat and Laurel the back right one. Both skipped the long stretch and made their way closer to their respected friends.

It was when Belly started making her way over to Jeremiah and Steven, giving an excited wave that I saw just how much she had changed. Her hair was longer, straighter. It fell just below her chest, shiny and thick. Her eyes seemed to sparkle brighter than last summer and her teeth had finally straightened enough to ditch the braces. It seemed like she was the center of attention for everyone because of these changes. Jeremiah swooning, hearts of eyes and Steven choosing to react in pure disgust, their playful teasing died down behind Laurels approaching voice.

“This has been a long time coming.” She sighed contently, arms already wrapping around me, feet in lifting from side to side to away smoothly. My hands rubbed along her back. She pulled away after a moment, observing the area, watching our kids. I saw her eyebrows furrow in confusion, almost like she was sad. I knew what it was.

Even in all this happiness, in all the reuniting and teasing, two very vital people remained missing. Y/n and Conrad.

While Belly and Jeremiah had an unbreakable bond that could carry any room, it never was really complete without Conrad and Y/n. To put it simply, even if Belly and Jeremiah were as great as they could be, Conrad and Y/n were the blueprint. They were the glue. No summer was truly starting until they were doing something irresponsible or stupid. One of them in a coughing fit, the other laughing themselves into one.

My lips drew themselves into a tight lipped smile, eyes finding the sky above. I swallowed. The words were in the tip of my tongue, the confession about what was happening with Conrad. What I believed was happening. I was getting ready to spill my guts about why Conrad wasn’t rushing out here. How he had been off all summer, and it was like he could hear me.

“Conrad!” The car door swung open so fast, I thought it might’ve snapped off with the force of it. It shook the car, slamming even harder than it had opened. The voice, still as sweet as I remember it being, belonged to Y/n.

She looked exasperated, hair a mess, cheeks flushed. Like she’d just woken up from a messy sleep. Her lips were bitten raw, and her shirt hung off her shoulder, unlike Belly’s that fit perfectly. But she was a ray of sunshine. She glowed like the brightest star in the sky. Her smile was infectious, spreading onto my best friend and I’s faces subconsciously. She truly captured the essence of pure happiness, the one I wanted so badly to feel this summer.

Heavy footsteps grew louder and louder behind me until a gust of wind was passed, the footsteps meeting their owner. Conrad, the moody, hurting boy who was completely shut away just hours ago was now running into the arms of his best friend. Of the girl he loved most.

They connected in the middle, the force of it making Y/n squeak. It didn’t stop them from tangling themselves up like they always seemed to do, Conrad’s back bent backwards and Y/n’s feet of the ground. They spun in circles, laughing the entire time. Even being limited to short glances at Conrad’s face while they spun, I could see the light in his face returning. The way his cheeks turned pinker and his eye bags seemed to get less heavy. He would never admit it, but it looked like he had gotten ready for her arrival. He no longer wore a plain grey zip up and old stained sweatpants. He wore Y/n’s favorite blue shirt he owned and matching shorts. She claimed he looked his best in that shirt because it fit him so well. Not too tight, but not too loose. He looked out together enough to go anywhere, but could remain comfortable. She’d even gone so far last summer to say it made him look handsome, something she confessed while drunk, clinging into her best friend and giggling under her breath.

I knew Conrad would never admit he chose the shirt just because he remembered that specific moment, but it was fairly obvious. At least to me. He always had the ability to pinpoint specific events, precise moments that involved something Y/n had done or said. He knew what she hated and what she loved. He put in more effort to make her see him than anyone else I’d ever known. It was endearing to see how much he cared for her.

More than that, it was like a storm had passed, Conrad’s grumpy attitude dissolving into one of pure sunshine and playfulness. He held no fear with her. Everything he did, everything he said, he knew it could be said with confidence. She was the one thing in this world he never felt ashamed to say what he needed to around. The only thing he never shared, his feelings. How he was so in love with her, his summers became dedicated solely to seeing her every second he could.

Secret sleepovers, long bonfire nights and early mornings on the beach. There was not more than a few hours that they weren’t together everyday. It was disappointing to see how he couldn’t share that, as Y/n so clearly felt the same for him.

Her eyes always looking for his face in a crowded room, her hands reaching out to feel he was there constantly. She needed him in more ways anyone could ever need a friend, she showed it, but they somehow always managed to shut down these feelings behind their insecurities of being wrong.

Jeremiah didn’t even get a chance to make his way over to talk with Y/n before she was being led away by his older brother, feet struggling to keep up behind him while he dragged her into the house. The thumping of their feet hitting the stairs sounded through the front door, their laughter and yelling echoing down the hall until his door slammed to a shut. I couldn’t help but laugh, Laurels own giggles stifled underneath mine. It was so obvious how much they cared for each other, yet so frustrating that they never acted on it.

The two of them always chased and chased, no aware that they were both aiming for the same thing. It was sweet to see puppy love like that. One so pure that they couldn’t even admit the feelings they so strongly felt for each other. Something they’d held since childhood, living in complete oblivion since.

The sun was high in the sky, a bright burning ball sizzling it’s mark into all of our skin. I could practically see Conrad’s shoulders peeling beneath its strong rays already. I had warned him to put on a rash guard, knowing he wouldn’t reapply. But he was so excited to catch up to Y/n, my words fell deaf on his ears. She was already out in the water with Belly and Steven, splashing around, laughter echoing as she grabbed what looked like mounds of wet sand from the bottom of the ocean to cover Belly with.

“Connie, you’re going to regret it later.” I had said, all to familiar with the distant sounds of his whining in the middle of the night. Conrad’s back sore and the aloe vera sticking to the warm sheets. But in that moment, the cringe worthy memory seemed to slip his mind as nothing was more important than getting to Y/n. He waved me off, promising to be careful but not really meaning it.

They were out there for hours that day. The waves were calm and the seaweed was relatively clear. The two of them, Y/n and Conrad, spent the perfect conditions submerged so deep into the water that when they reached land again, they complained how their legs felt like jelly. Conrads shoulders were bright red, torched by the beach day. I could see how they ached, just like I had said they would. Y/n’s cheeks and forehead were tinted a harsh red but she seemed completely unaware. Unbothered.

Conrad had pointed out how she had freckles on her face she didn’t have before. It was obvious how he thought she was beautiful, even then. I guess looking back on that memory, it was more clear that even at such a childish age, Conrad somehow always managed to pay the most attention to Y/n. Always the most observant of her tiniest details and mannerisms. Things he hadn’t even thought about in the others.

I didn’t let them sleep upstairs that night. I made sure to proclaim my love to them, but made it known I cherished my sleep more. Really, it was their own fault. Conrad had been warned to take precautions and those were blatantly ignored by the both of them.

I remember this day not because of how great the morning was, the summer breeze blowing in all its glory, but because of how the night had turned out to be.

The clocks hands were just passing the point that separated the late night and early morning. My blankets I had left for the kids spread across the large couch. The blankets were sticking to Conrads back and the aloe was rubbing off with each movement he made. I knew he was trying to muffle his whines, not wanting to be a bother, not wanting to wake his tired mother. I still heard it, and the rolling around became constant listening to the faint complaints from downstairs. It felt impossible to settle down at the time for Conrad, the soft melodic ticking of the kitchen clock only a reminder to how late the night was growing. Of how much time he had left before he was expected to be up and enjoying the day again. I remember feeling hopeless for him, he felt like crying.

It was the soft touch of fingers curling over his biceps carefully that pulled him from his descent into madness and silenced his cries. If it were anyone else, the sudden feeling of skin on skin would’ve scared him, sent him running upstairs into my arms like always. But the sensation was one he knew well. That and the shiny blue nail polish on her nails.

“Conrad, what’s wrong?” Her voice was soft, worrisome. It almost made him feel insecure, stupid in how he was getting ready to enter fourth grade and still couldn’t get over the ache of a stupid sunburn. Conrad should’ve felt pathetic, in his eyes. If it were Belly, or Steven or even Jere, he probably would’ve. But this was Y/n. His best friend! He knew he had nothing to be embarrassed about with her, she would never judge him.

“Is it your sunburn again?” She knew the answer, but always wanted to make sure. All it took was the slow nod of his head for her to lift herself off of the makeshift bed she’d made on the couch, the soft padding of her sock clad feet becoming more distant the farther she went into the house. In that moment, he felt confused, wondering if she was leaving him too. If his whining was even too much for her.

But, no. She came back with more aloe vera. A new bottle from the very back of the fridge. Conrad remembered how gentle she was when putting it on his back for him. It was feathery light, pressure changing depending on how severe the burn was. Even at such a young age, Y/n knew just what Conrad needed to make him feel better. It was like her sixth sense. Conrad had told me that morning, his heart couldn’t help but warm at that idea. That she had a special power just for him. He described it like waking up from a hazy dream.

A realization dawning on him after it had been forming for years. Y/n wasn’t just some girl Conrad enjoyed spending all my time with because she was simply just his best friend, but because deep down he loved her more than that. He knew he always felt something for her. Even when we were toddlers. The way she always shared with him, stuck by his side. At the time, Conrad acted annoyed by her presence, but he always secretly loved having her so close. He babbled about it in his sleep. He would slur how he felt safer, warmer, happier. Even his dumb little fourth grade self could see that those feelings weren’t ones someone had for a best friend. Those were feelings reserved for someone you loved. He knew then that he had always loved Y/n, now was just the first time he confronted those feelings.

When the sun rose, I was met with a goopy mess spilling all over the coffee table and a shiny back and Y/n’s wet hand. I could put the pieces together, but back then, Conrad made sure I didn’t have to.

That morning, while Y/n showered to get ready for the day, he went into depth about what had happened that led to the mess. How he felt, what was happening. At the time, I believed it was merely a small crush that he amounted to true love because he had never felt love before, but the longer I observed the pair, the more obvious it became that my little boy was in love with his best friend.

For Y/n, the day of realization came much later.

I remember the day clearly. Laurel and I had been insisting on a much needed a girls day, folding twenties into Conrad and Y/n’s palms and placing them in charge of the younger siblings of the bunch. Conrad being the oldest Fisher and Y/n the eldest Conklin, it wasn’t unusual that we would place our trust in them, tasking them with the job of keeping everyone in check for a day.

They’d decided to go to the boardwalk, the day too beautiful to not enjoy it. When arriving, the group had agreed to split up and conquer. Conrad would take Belly to the ring toss and Y/n would take Jeremiah and Steven to the go-karts. Everyone would meet back up in two hours for ice-cream and swap groups.

Y/n spent nearly all her money that day on those stupid go-karts. She’d only ridden them once, but Jeremiah and Steven kept begging to go again, again and again. Y/n was always such a softy, despite her confident exterior. Especially when it came to her younger friends. She couldn’t say no to them, they were just too convincing. When they met back up as a group, she complained, having a headache from the loud engines of the ride. She had eight dollars left in her pocket. Conrad had a large smile on his face and a polar bear named, Junior Mint, held loosely in his arms that he’d won after Belly begged him for it.

The looks on their faces made Y/n jealous, in a way. A feeling she knew shouldn’t be feeling when the situation involved her sister and her best friend. Two people she adored more than life itself. But Y/n, no matter how compassionate and understanding as she might be, like the rest of us, can’t control how we feel. We can only control how we reflect them.

“You have fun on the go-karts?” Conrad, who had somehow sensed her bad mood, had made race car sounds with his mouth, holding his arms out in front of him like he was turning a steering wheel in an attempt to lift it. Y/n’s hand hit his chest playfully, feet dragging along the wooden floor beneath their feet.

“The most.” She lied to him then, she wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was because she didn’t want him to feel bad for leaving her alone. She wanted him to be able to enjoy his day without having to worry about someone else.

When the time came to pay for their ice cream, it became apparent that the left over eight dollars would not be enough for three of the ice creams. Jeremiah and Steven insisted on getting the largest sizes possible, resulting in a grand total of almost the entire budget. Even if Y/n got a kiddy cup, she wouldn’t have enough to spend for a third cup.

Holding the money in her hands and looking back at the excited boys behind her, Y/n felt responsible to keep them that way. Happy. After all, she was the oldest. It was her job to look after them. To put their happiness above her own. She spent all her money on what they wanted that day, walking over to the table they’d picked over in the shade empty handed, disappointed in the lack of a cold treat to snack on after a long day.

Everyone was sat across from her, the table full of everyone except Conrad, who was ordering for him and Belly. Y/n’s hands became the most interesting thing to her for a brief period of time. The peeling paint on the table a good distraction from her two friends stuffing their faces with something she so desperately wanted.

“One vanilla ice cream cone for Belly!” She heard Conrad’s voice before I saw him. Her younger sisters eyes practically formed into hearts when he placed the dessert in front of her. He continued to announce the order.

“One mint chip for me and…” Conrad slipped a cup of mint chip ice cream in front of her next, the spoon lime green to match the melting treat below her.

“One for Y/n/n!” He sat beside Y/n then, mixing around the green ice cream until it turned into mush. Y/n lifted her eyes from the table to his face. It was stuffed with his own treat, a satisfied smirk directed towards his best friend. Y/n’s mouth was parted open, stuck like that for the longest time. It was only when Conrad had motioned at the ice cream that she realized it was still under the very hot sun, and melting more now.

With a silent whisper of a thank you, Y/n let the gift cool her down. It tasted sweeter knowing it was from Conrad, Y/n had confessed to me that night. Knowing that he cared enough to know how sad she would be to have been the only one without ice cream to finish off a fun afternoon.

He was always so sweet to her, always going out of his way to make sure she was included in everything. He didn’t have to, but he liked too. That’s what made Y/n like him the most. It didn’t matter what was happening, or who was involved. If Y/n was there, Conrad would be stuck to her side like glue, just like she was to him. He had some magic spell over her that no one else could even come close to.

Conrad always had a way to cheer her up, make Y/n feel like the most special person in the world. She never felt ashamed to be my most vulnerable self around him. He made her heart beat faster, her cheeks flush pink. He made Y/n feel pretty, wanted. More than that, Conrad never failed to give her butterflies.

These were all things she could connect with things someone could have with a best friend, someone close to them. She could convince myself as well as herself it was nothing more than that. Conrad was only a friend to her, but she couldn’t lie to herself anymore than she could lie to me.

Deep down, Y/n always knew she loved Conrad differently than everyone else. She could recognize his laugh anywhere, Y/n knew he had a lucky pair of socks and a least favorite pair of underwear. She knew he liked to part his hair down the middle, but how it trailed off to the left the further back it grew because he used to have a side part when he was younger. Y/n knew his glasses gave him a headache and how he didn’t really mind the feeling of sand stuck in his skin after a beach day. These were all things Y/n would’ve never given a second thought about with anyone else, but things her heart held onto like a prayer because it was Conrad.

Slowly but surely, she came to terms with my feelings developed for Conrad, ones I’d known about vaguely for years as the pair grew closer and closer each passing second since Conrad’s own revelations. Only, before, Y/n used to downplay them as a small crush. One she was developing because he was a boy and she was a teenage girl. She believed was supposed to feel like this, it would pass. But it wasn’t, and sometimes it felt to her like it never would. It grew more and more painfully obvious that Y/n’s feelings were so much more than that, and being in that moment then only solidified that fact. Y/n was in love with Conrad Fisher, her best friend, her world.

We were cuddled up on the couch when she talked to me about the day, the way her senses seemed to point overwhelmingly towards Conrad. I could’ve told her then that my son loved her just the same back, and maybe then they would’ve pulled together like a strong magnet, but I wanted them to find each other. They deserved to realize that through their own actions, not mine. So for years after that final confession, I sat here beside my own best friend wondering along with her when they would finally find each other.

“It’s cat and mouse with them every summer.” I sighed, holding my cup of coffee close to my chest. The warmth of the steam coming off of it warmed my skin in the cool July evening.

Laurel laughed beside me, her own mug clutched in her hands as well, we mirrored each other in looking out towards the back yard where Y/n and Conrad ran around in the grass with a deflated football. The smiles on their faces were vibrant, bright. Ones that only came out when they were together. They had that power over each other, to lift each other up. To make the others heart beat fast.

It was as clear as day what our oldest children felt for each other. No amount of deflections or excuses could hide the blush on their cheeks and the way their touches lingered for just a moment longer than friends should. They knew more about each other than anyone else because they cared too much to not know. It was pure and refreshing to see young love like this, even if neither of them knew what they had yet.

“When do you think they’ll realize what they have?” Laurel asked sincerely, her face turning to watch how my expression changed throughout my answer. She usually never played into my ideas, always being the more logical of the two of us, but this was the one thing we could agree on.

“With our luck, never.” We laughed, Laurels head falling to rest on my shoulder affectionately. We let out a synchronized sigh, allowing a beat of silence to pass.

“I’m sure they’ll find their way, they always do.” My hand rubbed my best friends arm in reassurance, my head settling on top of hers. I rested my weight on her, feeling more tired now that the day was ending.

It was almost comical, how ironic the entire situation was. The two oldest, smartest, strongest of the bunch, the ones who, other than Steven, had been the only ones to successfully apply and get into some of the top schools in the country, even with their brains, couldn’t figure out just how badly they wanted each other. Not even when it was dangled right in front of them.

I partially blamed myself. It was me who had ingrained the title, best friends, into their heads. With each time they were spotted together, with everything they set off to do together, I’d always stuck their names together with those two words. Even when it became more and more obvious that they were falling into each other in a way that crossed the line that divided platonic and romantic, it was always the two of them. The younger Laurel and Susannah. The next generation of best friends.

Conrad never managed to catch Y/n’s longing glances, and Y/n always seemed to just miss the way his hands held onto her in ways he didn’t with anyone else. He held her in ways best friends weren’t supposed to.

Lingering touches that mirrored her stares, fingers twitching, begging to be interlocked. Conrad spoke his feelings to her in acts of service, winning her prizes, helping her with her homework, reading to her when she had headaches, even when she was insufferable because she kept groaning. It was also in physical touch. His cologne practically stuck to her clothes permanently with all the excuses he could find to just touch her in one way or another. Y/n seemed to constantly be trying to relay the same in her own acts of service and physical touch. Holding the door, cooking him his favorite desserts without Conrad even asking, resting her head in his lap during movie night. Both slotting together to mesh perfectly, but their ignorance keeping them apart. If I were any less mature, I would’ve yelled at them to hurry up, I wouldn’t be here forever and I’d like to see my special kids happy before I went.

“What are you thinking about, Beck?” My own best friend asked softly, her head still under mine. I squeezed her arm, feeling sure that one day they would get together.

“How happy they’ll be once they realize what they have.” It went silent, but I knew my best friend. I could sense her tight lipped smile, eyes squinting and nose scrunching. He lifted her head from my shoulder slowly, her hand resting on my lower back.

“Why don’t we settle down for the night?” I wanted to fight her, I wanted to enjoy the calmness of the summer evening. The way our children were just what they needed to be, kids. No matter their age, still able to enjoy the simplicity that the summer home had to offer. But Laurel was right, I was feeling sluggish and if I didn’t rest soon, the couch would be my bed for the night. So I nodded, leaving the image of Y/n pinned under Conrad, his hands wiggling by her sides in an attempt to make her squirm and their laughter to be the last thing I would remember before I fell asleep.

“Con.” My voice was soft, the grass wet under our backs, dirt on our skin. He turned his head to face me, a lazy smile on his face. His eyes were all hazy, clouded by both tiredness and something unreadable that consumed his facial expression.

“Hm.” He hummed, eyes searching my face, lighting up when they settled on my own. I could feel the hair on his arms brush against mine, hands curled up, an indication of how close we truly were. Always just out of reach. My fingers twitched against the back of his hand, aching to be intertwined with his. My eyes flicked to his lips out of habit, breath hitching.

When I looked back to meet his eyes, I found the once playful look replaced with serious stare, burning straight into my head. He seemed stiff, nervous in a way. My cheeks flamed up in embarrassment. He must’ve seen the way I couldn’t pull my gaze from his lips. I breathed out.

“It’ll always be like this, right?” It wasn’t what I wanted to say, what I meant to ask. But in that moment, it was all I could manage. A simply vague question that held so much depth. I hoped he’d say yes, that we’d always be this close, not that we’d always be best friends. Selfishly, I hoped he said we would be more. That we could be so much more.

“You and me, always.” I felt the way his arm shifted from beside me, linking his own hands together over his chest and breathing out. He pulled his attention back to the sky, where the clouds moved faster than they did in June. The summer was ending.

“I wish it could be summer forever.” Feeling awkward being the only one to still be looking at him, I too turned to face the sky. Biting my lip, my eyes shut to imagine it was the beginning of the three wonderful months we had together.

I wished that I could have Conrad forever. That it wasn’t just some summer love that I would have to sit idly on as the seasons changed to a colder, more lonely winter. That Conrad and I could do all the things we always talked about over the phone together. Our cheeks would be rosy with the nip of the frosty weather and not because the sun had burnt us into a delirious mess. Groaning on the couch as we wasted our days away.

“Distance makes the heart grow fonder, Y/n/n.” He joked. Only, the way he said he sounded completely honest. Like he wasn’t joking. He said things like that a lot now. Things that were awfully romantic for someone who swore that we were platonic to all of our friends. It pulled in my heartstrings a little each time one of the phrases would slip. A source of joy for my daydreams to run on for the next few hours. If I were any more delusional, I would’ve told him how I felt about his jokes out loud. But I wasn’t, so I held them in. I let my heart face and my breathing quicken in silence.

“I hope you’ll be just as fond of me when you see me next, then.” I rolled to my side, countering his joke. I heard him laugh. My hands tucked under my head like a pillow and my legs bent at the knee. I made myself smaller next to him.

As our giggles died out, so did his interest in the clouds. He mirrored my position, hands under his head, legs bent up. Our knees touched, radiating a warmth that bounced between our body heat. My eyes were focused on him, but I was spacey. Thinking of just how long we’d be apart. It hurt my heart, I didn’t care if I would grow fonder of him. I didn’t think that was even possible with how much I loved him now.

“What’s running through that head if yours, Y/n/n.” His hand came up, pointer finger delicately tapping the top of my nose. I scrunched it under his touch, so light it tickled. My reaction made him smile again, even after his hand had returned back under his head.

“Thinking about how fondly I’ll think of you next June.” There were some things you just cannot speak about, can not share. I would never share what I was truly thinking about that day. How I was so stuck in my own feelings for him that I couldn’t even bare the thought of not having him beside me. That my heart deflated at just the mere mention of the winter because the only person I ever wanted to be around would be taken away from me.

Conrad’s laugh was weaker this time, smile fading into a smaller one but it was just as happy.

“I hope you’re already pretty fond of me, then.” I returned his smile then, the crinkle by my eyes moving a strand of hair into my face. It tickled my nose again, but I didn’t scrunch it. Too focused on Conrad so close to care.

Before I could respond, I felt the softness of his hand brushing across my face and tucking the strand behind my ear. He did it so gently, like I would break if he wasn’t.

“I am.” It came out breathy now that his touch was on me. He didn’t remove his hand from my face then. Instead, it felt more like he was molding his palm to fit my jawline. He cupped my face in his hand and just admired me. Eyes flickering around until they met my now moony gaze.

It was like some force was pulling us closer, then. Conrad’s face getting closer and closer, little by little. I couldn’t tell who was leaning in. It could’ve been me, but I was almost sure it was him. My eyelashes fluttered, fighting the instinct to close them. I heard how his breath hitched, I felt my own do the same. This was something I had always dreamed of happening, it felt unreal that now out of all times it would happen. I always dreamed of kissing Conrad in the beach, or the old dock where we used to play. Maybe even in the pool where we’d hold our fake Olympic competitions. But here we sat, on the grass, his breath fanning my face.

His head turned little by little, getting ready to connect our lips finally. The squeaky glass door slid open, and by some bad luck, it was enough to scare us into a more distant position. We sat up, now more than just inches away, searching the backyard for who had opened it.

Steven had been the culprit, having forgotten something on the small table outside. Looking beyond the pool, he found Conrad and I, red as can be, eyes wandering around and waved.

“I’ve been looking for you two! Belly wants to have one last movie night. Jeremiah’s making popcorn. Y/n, you’re on blanket duty!” He was completely oblivious to the tension between us. Of how my cheek, right where Conrad had been touching me was burning. How in my mind, it felt like he had left a mark with how hot it felt. I cleared my mind, shaking it off and looking to Conrad almost disappointedly.

To my surprise, he seemed perfectly fine, like nothing had just happened. He sprung to his feet, in fact, completely able to move on and ignore it. Maybe I had read it wrong. Maybe he wasn’t trying to kiss me. Of course I was, it would be stupid to believe that my best friend could really possess some sort of feelings for me. I had simply made it up, tricked my mind into believing it was true because I longed for him too much.

When his hands met mine to held me up, it felt like fire. Flames burning into my hands at how badly I wanted him. If he didn’t care, than I shouldn’t either. My stupid feelings shouldn’t weight down the last hours we’d spend together. It shouldn’t dictate how the last night will go.

I put on a brave smile, sticking a bandaid over the wound over my heart. I bled out on the couch, all over anyone near me. My smile false, heart heavy. I forced myself to forget it and as the movie grew longer and longer, it left my mind completely. Eyebrows feeling lighter, the burning in my throat releasing itself into a soothing sensation. It would be my last memory of the summer that truly stuck. How close I had gotten to Conrad, and how quickly he had slipped away. How wrong I was about how he felt. How hurt I was for believing it could be different.

What I didn’t know then was how he felt the same. How his mind was swirling with the what if’s and the same disappointment I felt. How my fake smile had tricked him into believing it meant nothing to me, like I didn’t understand the weight of the situation at all. He didn’t know how I was breaking inside at how he didn’t seem to care, because he was feeling the same. My own act was tricking him, allowing Conrad to believe just what I thought of him. That I did not care for him like he did with me. That his feelings weren’t reciprocated. It was a dance between us. Chasing in a circle to get the other attention, to figure out what was happening between us. Completely unaware that if we would just turn around, we’d find what we do desperately longed for. The other chasing the same thing. We let the incident go by the morning, pretending that whatever happened was all a dream. And just like that, we were what we had always been. Best friends.

The news came early in the morning. The sun hadn’t fully crossed the horizon yet and there was still dew on the lawn. I was alone then, away at college. The constant calls from my mother waking me up. But it was the one from Conrad that I answered somehow.

“Hello?” My voice was full of sleep, confused as to why my mom was calling me so early. I had an eight am that morning, I had my alarms set. It was all so confusing, hazy.

“Y/n.” His voice was shaky, weak. It woke me up quickly. Conrad was never like this, at least not over the phone. Occasionally he would breakdown around me. The tears always stung. So full of emotion, so overwhelmed to the point he couldn’t keep it together. All it took was someone to ask if he was really okay to tip him over the edge. To open the flood gates. It only happened at the worst of times, it was alarming that it was happening now.

“Conrad, are you okay? What happened?” I knew something bad had to have happened. This wasn’t simply just him calling because of how much he missed me. Those calls came later at night on FaceTime, his voice light and playful each time. This was heavy, I couldn’t see him, he was hiding behind the phone call. I knew it had to be bad, already packing a bag as he spoke. The phone was pressed to my ear by my shoulder and head, I worked on stuffing as much of my clothes in as possible. I made sure to scribble a note down to let my roommate know I was leaving and would be back in a few days.

“It’s my mom.” The world stopped in that moment. I knew I had to get to him even quicker now, I knew he needed me to talk to him, to walk him through his grief but the news was so heavy, my hands stopped working. I froze, unable to do anything but pray that it was some sick prank.

“What?” It came quiet, I wasn’t sure if he even heard me. She wasn’t my mom by birth, I didn’t carry the same relationship to her as Conrad did. I didn’t see her everyday for hours, but in some way she was my second mother. She taught me to ride a bike, how to bake a cake. I learned how to read from her, her name was the first word out of my mouth. She was the grounding in my life. The one person I trusted to share everything because it was likely she’d already been through it. She understood like a mother, helped me grow as one. Her death would leave an empty hole in my heart for eternity, I was sure.

I heard Conrad take a shaky breath, holding it while he tried to piece together what he had to say. What I deserved to know.

“It happened this morning, just an hour ago. I wasn’t going to call so soon but, I thought you deserved to know. She was special to you, so…” He tried to keep it together, I could feel it. I could hear it. How his breaths caught in his throat, the quiet stutter beneath his words.

“Conrad, I…” In looking for all the words I wanted to say, to tell him it would be okay with, I came up short. Unable to make some sense as to what was happen.

“You don’t have to say anything. We all knew it was coming soon.” He dismissed my struggle, knowing that if it were hitting this hard on his end, he could imagine that I wouldn’t take it very week either.

“Yes but Con, that doesn’t make it any better.” I ran a hand through my hair, placing the phone tightly between my shoulder blade and my ear. I began to pack again.

“Do you need me to come down to Boston?” I would’ve come down on my own, would’ve held him like a brother, protected him from the world, the reality of it all. But it was a delicate situation. I had to walk on eggshells, unsure of what was best. I had never lost a relative before, never endured the pain of not having a mother. Never seeing her again like how the Fisher brothers just had. I didn’t know if it was best to stay or go.

“No, no.” Though it sounded like he was lying, like part of him wanted me to just be there, his words were firm, exhausted. If he wanted me there, I would come, but I would not intrude when times were so tough.

The line went quiet for a moment, I can still hear the static ringing through my head even now. How the line went just as quiet as the dorms when everyone was asleep. I could feel the hot liquid trailing down my cheeks, the tightening of my chest becoming more rapid the longer we both stayed quiet.

“Listen, I’ll call you later when I know more, okay?” I nodded my head, only realizing a moment later he couldn’t see me. I took in a deep breath.

“Okay, yeah.” He mumbled a quick goodbye, hanging up the phone and leaving me alone to grieve. The once cheerful morning turned grey with sadness, clouds looming as a reminder to the sunshine we had lost that morning. The dew turned into mud and the plants wilted. My bag was packed in minutes after the call ended, bag slung over my shoulder.

Conrad didn’t want me there, and that was fine. But my mother was at home, sitting with only two thirds of her family who were probably all unaware besides her. If Conrad didn’t need my shoulders to lean on, my mother did. She knew Susannah longer and truer than any of us had. The pain she must be carrying could only be indescribable to her. So if I wasn’t leaving for the Fishers, I was for her.

I never got that call from Conrad, not even a text. As I laid in my childhood bedroom, eyes glued to the ceiling and the silence of the household drowning me in my own self isolation, I didn’t even wonder why. For the first time, my life didn’t revolve around Conrad, on how he was doing, what he was doing. I didn’t miss him anymore. Not because the hurt of him not being here was any less, but because the pain of his mother never coming back being worse. It canceled out and an extreme numbness took over. I felt nothing. I had cried all my tears, screamed into my pillow until my voice gave away. My knuckles hurt from how hard I gripped the steering wheel on the way home. I had already lost it and now I had nothing else to give.

…

The funeral was a week later. Not much time to process such a heavy loss. Adam wanted me to speak at the funeral, he knew how much Susannah meant to me, but I couldn’t do it. Walking up to the podium, I couldn’t say her name. Even if it were just a practice run. My voice ran dry, eyes wet. Staring at her photo by the alter, all I could do was shake my head. I felt ashamed that I couldn’t do what her husband wanted for her. I felt embarrassed I couldn’t help the family who was going through so much still. They claimed they understood, but the guilt loomed.

We sat three rows behind them. Strangers separating us. It made me angry. If not us, the ones who spent hours on hours together, at least my mother deserved to be sitting in the front row with the Fishers. She was a sister to Susannah. She was just as much of a family as they were. I kept my mouth shut, my eyes down. The family took turns speaking, each sentence summarizing her in the most beautiful way possible. Some old friends spoke in her honor too. It felt wrong then, how people who barely knew her could stand up there and act like she was their greatest gift.

When it was Conrad’s turn, he sung a song. In his pain, his voice failed him. Wavering and breaking through the song. He apologized, looking out into the crowd he met my eyes. I wanted to look away, not wanting him to see me so broken when I should be the one supporting him. But by looking into my eyes, even as teary and red as they were, he grounded himself. By the time he finished, the venue was silent, soft cries echoing from the back rows. Nobody acknowledged them out of the fear that it would cause them to breakdown again.

The silence carried over to the Fishers Boston home. Other than the adults mingling and the quiet chatter of Jeremiah and Steven, the room felt empty. It felt like a depressing party, one that was about Susannah, yet excluded her from it.

It was tiring, the whole experience. Always trying to catch up with how quickly everyone else was getting over it. I felt like a dead weight compared to Steven and Belly, who had already started coming to terms with it. I was the only one left living in denial. The only one still dreaming of epiphany’s to make some sense of it. To make the heartache more bearable.

I wore the dark eye bags and my salt tears like a tattoo, ones that had been permanently stained on my face since the news broke. It was obvious I wasn’t doing well. I had planned to go back to school after the funeral, seeking a clean space to cope. To get away from the constant reminders of what could no longer be.

Jeremiah said I looked too weak to be driving myself to school tonight. He set up the guest room for me, decorating it just as his mother used to. Even in my protests he managed to convince me. He told me how it was more for him than it was for me. How having me close made him feel better because it was like gaining a piece of him family back. Like having an older sister come home from college.

After that, I kept mainly to myself. Finding the emptiest rooms and sticking to them. I hid my face in my knees, soft cries coming in waves until I had nothing left to cry for. Alone, I sat in the darkness until the soft chatter died out and all distractions became a heavy peace.

“You should get to bed soon, Conrad, it’s getting late.” I forgot all about him, I realized. Not once having checked on him. It was only Adams soft suggestion reminding me of the other brother, who was probably taking the funeral even harder than his younger brother. Wiping my cheeks with the backs of my hands, I waited until the choking breaths turned into quiet sniffles. Until everything felt calmer, more collected to see him. I wanted to be able to be there for Conrad, even when I wasn’t doing okay either. I wanted to—no. I needed to be strong for him.

I knew where he was, I could see the frame of his back hunched over on the couch. Head hung low and hands fidgeting around anxiously. It made me nervous.

I took the time to go downstairs then, only after I was sure everybody else had filed out of the house, leaving it looming with an eerie emptiness. There were leftovers on the table, one serving left, the rest already in the refrigerator. Adam had already cleaned away any evidence of Susannah’s death.

Taking what was left, I put it on a paper plate. My own stomach rumbled, being empty, but the starving feeling felt better than feeling nothing at all. I knew Conrad hadn’t eaten in hours, cemented to his place on the couch, he needed to eat. It could be considered a peace offering, a kind gesture. Something to maybe lift his spirits.

My hands were shaky, so I had to hold his plate with both hands. I leaned against the wall when I went back upstairs, I didn’t trust my footing anymore. I had to stop halfway up, take a deep breath and pull it together. Conrad needed me, I had to be there. I wanted to be there.

It was a soft knock that pulled me from my descent into a bottomless pit of sadness. My mind shook its self free, eyes fighting consciousness. I was ready to snap, irritated at my dads efforts of trying to move me from where I found some sort of comfort. Really, it wasn’t his fault. He was only a concerned father who wanted to help his son. But I wanted none of it. I wanted even more now than when my mom was alive to be as distant from him as possible. Unforgiving of his horrible mistakes that caused my mom so much pain.

The soft voice that spoke wasn’t one that belonged to my father, not even my brother who had a sweet voice saved specifically for moments like these. To ease the tension, calm everyone down. No, it was like honey. So sweet and gentle. So easy to listen to. I longed to hear more.

“Con?” It belonged to Y/n. My Y/n. The only person I hadn’t really seen all day. The only person I wanted to see all day. Instead, she had spent it making everyone happy with her. Tending to Jeremiah’s wish, staying with us overnight. Giving a loving hand to hold for Belly and Steven, calming down her younger sisters uneven cries and her brothers panicked breathing. She tried to get her mother to open up, but Laurel was like me. Stubborn. Even with her best efforts, she was locked out, leaving her to seek solace in the less crowded rooms upstairs. I wanted to come see her, but my feet no longer worked. My legs were jelly. I felt stuck to the couch. Too weak to keep moving.

I acknowledged her, mouth too dry to speak. She took it as a signal to sit down beside me. The plate in her lap was shaking like her. The food looked unappetizing, but I appreciated her effort. She pushed it towards me, a hand finding my back, she rubbed it like she had in the summer when I was drunk and clinging onto the toilet out of sickness.

Nodding my head, I accepted it only to place it on the table in front of me. I knew she knew I didn’t mean it as an insult, I just couldn’t eat right now. I just wanted her to hold me. I wanted to feel safe again.

So, I placed my head where I’d always wished I could. My ear pressed against her shoulder, hands glued to my lap, her arms wrapped around me out of instinct. It was so warm, so loving. It helped to heal the ache that was ripping through my heart slightly. My headache didn’t feel so severe with her close. She made everything better, just as she always did.

“Con, I’ve known you my whole life, you’re my best friend. You can talk to me. You can trust me, okay?” Her hands in my hair suddenly felt my poison. Little thorns poking into my scalp. The sour reminder that this hold, this closeness wasn’t reserved for me. I wasn’t hers, she wasn’t mine. It made me feel angrier than I should’ve. A mix of grief and disappointment mixing together into something she didn’t deserve. She was only trying to help.

Sighing heavily, I pulled myself away, standing up to create a distance that I knew she felt not only physically but mentally. A feeling of someone close to her becoming closed off to her, just as her mother had done earlier today. I couldn’t look at her. I’d spill everything.

“Conrad, no. Please don’t shut me out. Please, not now.” She was pleading with me, her voice shook slightly, it made my heart break a little, hearing how feeble she was feeling.

“Y/n, can you go please?” I didn’t mean what I said. I’d only done it out of my own petty desires. Hurting the girl I loved more than anything in this world out of my own selfishness. When we were both hurting the most. She didn’t say anything, but I imagined she must’ve shook her head. Her footsteps grew closer.

“No.” She choked out, “No, I’m not leaving you alone right now.” Y/n cared so much for me, she always did. She knew how to read me better than anyone else. She knew that even now when I was asking her to go, I didn’t mean it. I wanted her more than anything. Her knowing this overwhelmed me with a love that I misplaced, unable to cherish and welcome it due to my own selfish nature. Only ever knowing how to push away what was so graciously given to me. I decided to snap at her, make her leave.

“What do you get out of staying, Y/n?” My words were laced with venom, I turned around to speak to her now. Having already built up my walls to know I wouldn’t break. She was speechless, confused.

“I-I don’t…” She couldn’t find the words. Not expecting to be turned on so quickly when she was just trying to help, to be kind.

“God, you are so selfish. This is about you doing what makes you feel good, right? You don’t give a shit about me, Y/n.” I didn’t mean it. I knew Y/n was far from selfish. She was the most selfless person I knew. Always putting herself dead last to help everyone else thrive. She hated thinking she was one day going to be depicted as someone selfish, someone cruel. It was an insecurity I knew she had since childhood. So, in my own anger, I pointed my weapons at her deepest hurts.

“Con, no. That’s not true.” She was defeated now, lip quivering and face contorted into pure pain. I scoffed.

“You can’t even look me in the eyes when you say it. You don’t have to pity me just because my mom is dead.” I kept going, unable to stop now that I had started. I had already stabbed her, now I was only twisting the knife. I watched her eyes well up with tears, all glassy and red. Her lip quivered and her eyebrows pulled together.

“Fuck you Conrad!” It was unexpected. I hoped she would walk away, leave it be and blame it on my grieving, but I should’ve known better. Y/n was like me, stubborn. She was just as much of a fighter ad I was, kinder but full of anger just as I was.

“Susannah was as much of a mother to me as my own! You aren’t the only one grieving, asshole! I’m doing this because I care. I care Conrad, and I wish I didn’t because you don’t deserve it, but I do. And I’m afraid I always will. So…so don’t you disregard my sadness out of the spite of your own anger!” What started out so strong had faltered into a weak confession. She was looking at me in the eyes, finding it in herself to finally make eye contact, breaking the invisible barrier between us. We were chest to chest.

Even in her state, she was so beautiful. Like an Angel sent form heaven specifically for me. I couldn’t help the way my eyes searched her face. I felt confused, more overwhelmed now than ever.

A silence took over, heavy breathing turning into quiet huffs of air. Even, steady. We were so close, I could feel her body heat radiating onto me.

I opened my mouth to speak, I wanted to apologize but the words got stuck. I couldn’t convey what I wanted to tell her. How she meant the world to me, how she was the only person who I cared about more than anything. She was the only person I didn’t want to shut out, didn’t mean to shut out. I loved her more than anything I’ve ever loved and it hurt me to not be able to love her as more than a friend.

My fingers found her hand then, squeezing and pulling her fingers between my own. I held it there, by her side, trying to get her to understand. I heard her breath hitch, saw her eyes find my lips. They flickered back up to my face. I needed her badly then, I knew I couldn’t wait. She was right here, so willing to stay when I’d treated her so horribly. She saw right through me constantly, she stuck by me in my darkest storms.

I didn’t think about it when I did it. About how my leaning in, my effort to kiss her could’ve scared her away. I was blinded by want, by need. I forgot it takes two people to have something.

Y/n released a breath only to hitch it once again, moving back from where I leaned in, she lengthened the gap between us again. A soft whimper woke me up from my haze, her head shaking rapidly. She looked scared. But more than that, she looked guilty, hurt.

Susannah was dead, there was no way to avoid that fact. My mom was never coming back, and that alone broke everyone into tiny pieces. Knowing Y/n, I knew how complicated everything felt for her. She was grieving, hurting. Not even I could piece together what she was thinking.

“Connie.” Her second whimper of my name is the one that made me back away. It was then I saw what I had done. The girl I loved most was staring back at me with wide eyes, mouth open slightly and body shaking. More than that, she had tears streaming down her face rapidly. I had made Y/n cry. For the first time in my life, I had made my best friend cry.

My heart shattered at the realization. How I’d ripped her down, made her feel vulnerable and then went in to kiss her like it would cancel everything out. I moved back again, trying to find the right words to apologize with. A silence surrounded us, crickets and the late night breeze the only sounds filling the walls around us.

I watched her a step back, slightly faltering over the threshold of the doorframe. Her hand ripped away from mine quickly, leaving a burning feeling behind from where we were once connected. A pain that wasn’t real, but felt so. She began to walk backwards now, hands finding the hallways walls for support, her feet failing her.

“Y/n.” My voice was quiet, my feet cemented to the floor. She shook her head again, a sob racking through her body. It’s a sound I’d never heard before. One I hope to never hear again. I could see how panicked she was. How everything was just now catching up. Her feet move quicker now, seeing how I’m reaching out for her. She’s scared, how could she not be? We’d crossed a line that wasn’t meant to be crossed, one that was toed over during one of the most horrible moments of our lives.

She’s halfway down the stairs now, the thumping of her feet louder than the creaking of the stairs. Jeremiah sticks his head out at the sound, looking between her disappearing figure and my body stuck in the doorway. It’s then I realize she’s actually leaving. Not to find peace in the guest bedroom, but to go away for good. I’d pushed her away, why had I pushed her away?

I’m quick then, my feet finding the floor in front of me, I make a mad dash down the hall and around the old banister. It cried under my weight but I push through, desperate to reach her. I don’t care who I wake up, if my fathers mad. If he’d just finished crying himself to sleep. I’m shouting after Y/n, yelling her name like it’s the only word in my dictionary.

“Y/n!” My feet stopped at the beginning of the driveway. The space her car once occupied is gone, not even the distant sound of a car rushing down the street can be heard. She’s slipped away from me just as my mother had, leaving me completely alone.

I walked out to the street, trying to see if she had parked it elsewhere. She wouldn’t leave me, would she? Not after we’d promised we’d always be like this. So close, always together.

The street was empty, only the flickering street lights illuminating the dark streets. I felt defeated, broken. I had got what I intended for, but not what I wanted.

Y/n was gone like the wind, leaving me in the stillness of the night, overthinking everything that had led us to this tipping point. All the tension, all the build up just for the resolve to be our ending. I always dreamed of the day I could finally confess my feelings to her. Even if she didn’t reciprocate them, she would never be mean about it. We’d always be close, and that alone gave me comfort. Now, I wasn’t so sure. What should’ve brought us together in my head, the one thing I’d always dreamed about, had split us apart. It’s almost funny how it happened, when it happened. The two people I always saw myself standing next to for the rest of eternity gone within the same week. Unsure if seeing them again was even something that was possible.

In all the years I had ignored him, Conrad never stopped reaching out. Not until my Junior year. My phone was filled with unanswered messages that varied from topic to topic. He kept me updated even in my absence from his life, wanting to salvage the closeness we’d cherished when we were younger.

He told me how he was in therapy, a week later he told me how he’d stopped going. Not only because he felt like it was nearly impossible to open up to a complete stranger, but because going felt like another financial burden he was adding to his fathers long list of bills and soon to be debt. Conrad shared how day by day, the grief of losing his mother was getting easier to cope with. The happy memories of her having been around at some point fueling him each day. He felt grateful he even had the pleasure to know her so well. Call her his mother. He was going to school to become a doctor now, changing his major halfway through his freshman year because he wanted to help people going through what his mother was forced to endure. He wanted to save people, help them in ways he was never able to help Susannah. He had a good heart, an honest one. Yet, he never spoke of any new lovers in his life. He carried all these amazing qualities, but his heart still longed for me, the girl who had left and never looked back.

It had been just over three years since I’d walked away from Conrad. Three years since I’d seen him. I couldn’t even look at him through photos. I was grown now, but my heart still aches in the same childish way it did when the wound was fresh. He never brought up what happened after the funeral. It was like his attempt to kiss me didn’t exist, only adding to the hurt I felt. Only confirming what I believed from the beginning. Conrad Fisher hadn’t leaned in to kiss me because he loved me, he had done it because he was grieving and didn’t know how to feel. He didn’t love me like I loved him. He did it because I was always so easy. The lovesick fool who would do anything for him, even if it hurt me the most. Susannah had been so sure that he did love me the same, I almost believed her, but it was ignorant to buy into it when it was so obviously not there. Yet, I still felt a tingling sensation each time I looked back at his messages. I wondered if in the time he’d stopped talking to me, he’d found someone else to love and know like he did with me. I hoped that my replacement was beautiful, like a model on the cover of Vogue. I prayed she was smart and kind like Susannah. I hoped she was everything I wasn’t to him.

Deep down, I knew part of my attachment, my fixation on what he was up to was because of the messages. How no matter how wrong it felt, I continued to allow myself to be part of his life from a distance. Even if Conrad didn’t know it, I always cared. Always would. I told him that the day I left. It was fear that turned out to be true. A curse that kept me from finding that same love for anyone else. My heart belonged to Conrad Fisher, a boy who barely knew me anymore. A boy who I wasn’t even sure if I could consider a friend anymore. A boy I want to be able to call my friend again. I had been so resolute all these years in keeping to my word. That after that night, I would never come back. The last would stay just that, the past. It was never that easy.

Letting go of Conrad Fisher was more than only losing the love of my life. It was like throwing away the last pieces of a Susannah. Sure, I still talked to Jeremiah quite frequently. Our phone calls lasted for hours, he never failed to make me smile. But he didn’t have Susannah’s eyes. He didn’t have her blonde hair or her smile. He was a direct reflection of his father, other than his unwavering optimism. None of his features lined up in the same way Conrad’s did. He was her twin, in a way. Losing him felt like losing her all over again.

All I did was try, try, keep trying. I kept pushing until I had nothing left to give, a burnout who barely made it to graduation. No friends to stand with at the finish line. All in an effort to forget what was lost along the way. Losing Conrad made all my achievements feel unworthy. A deep depression looming deep in my stomach, waiting for the right moment to rise, swallow me whole. Not even seeing my family there, sitting excitedly in the folding chairs could lift my spirits. There were four empty seats beside them that shattered my heart. I could place a name to each one. Figure out who would sit where if they had shown. But that bridge was burned and it was my fault.

My fault for running away from the boy who adored me like no other. Who made me feel special. Who understood me like a lover. My heart felt empty, I couldn’t sleep at all that night. Not even when Belly had shared about her forming relationship with Jeremiah, not when Steven confessed he thought he might be marrying Taylor soon, he was ready to buy a ring.

Years ago, that would’ve been something that lifted my mood. Filled me with joy, excitement that my sister was finding her own soulmate in a close friend. How her heart finally beat for the one that was there for her the whole time. But like a train, it hit me that the connecting link between the Fisher family and the Conklin’s would no longer be Conrad and I like I always dreamed it to be. It would be Jeremiah and Belly. Steven’s upcoming engagement didn’t thrill me either. His healthy relationship only reminding me of the ones I lacked. Amplifying the loneliness I was already painfully aware of. All by my own doing.

I felt like I was crashing, listening to my family talk about how well they were doing. It was like they couldn’t see the downward spiral I was falling into. Becoming my worst self.

Going home to a house filled with tainted memories surely didn’t help. Nor did the bottle of alcohol placed in the middle of the kitchen table. Picking it up and drinking straight from the glass was bound to happen, I was hurting and it was my numbing solution. Years ago I had told myself I’d rather feel all the pain in the world than be numb when it came to Susannah’s passing, but now I wished I could take it back. Each drink hurt less and less. The tequila turned into water, my eyes hurt to keep open. I was a quiet mess on the couch. Unaware of anything really.

It was an issue how easily persuaded I was when drunk. In my sober state, I would have never agreed to Belly’s proposition. I would’ve protested, claiming I still wasn’t ready to face my issues. I wasn’t fully prepared to accept that Conrad never loved me, that it was his grief that made him want to kiss me. Something I loved with for years. But I wasn’t sober, and Belly’s argument that we’d be going down for the summer again because it would be what Susannah wanted had me packing a bag for the morning. Ready to go down to the one place I hadn’t been since Susannah still inhabited it.

I found myself hurting in the back of the car, aching, tired. The road underneath the wheels crunching and bouncing the car in a way that made my head pound. I laid my head in my moms lap, praying for it to all be over. Seeking the peace of stillness.

Susannah had once told my mother that she believed I was walking sunshine. A force that lit up the sky when I was around. Someone who’s smile was so contagious, even her brooding son couldn’t help but feel joyful around me. It felt like I was letting her down in a way. Now that everyone had moved on, had gotten better. I felt like an idiot being stuck on the past. What was worse is that I wasn’t sure if I was so stuck because of Susannah or because of Conrad. Both answers freaked me out.

“Y/n, honey.” Her voice was gentle, hands running through my hair. I felt a mess. Hair messy like a child’s, eyes wide yet so tired. My lips were wet with drool, cheeks rosy with the summer heat. My head pounded with a nasty hangover.

I knew what my mom was going to tell me. I felt the car come to a halt, the road turning sharply into a familiar driveway with even more familiar trees peaking through the window. I knew where we were. I wasn’t sure if I was ready, but I knew there was no turning back.

Belly and Steven got out of the car first, just like every year prior. Footsteps echoed from the crushed up shells and rocks that were considered a driveway. Laughter and chatter, I recognized the voice as Jeremiah’s. My mother shifted underneath my head in hearing this, ready to get up. Her eyes met mine, silently pleading for me to just, try.

Sitting up, my back aches from the odd position I forced myself in. What I thought was comfort was a hidden pain shooting through my back. All I wanted more than anything was to lay back down on my moms lap. To pretend we were still at home. Like I wouldn’t have to confront anything. I heard the excitement in Jeremiahs voice.

“So, where’s Y/n?” My moms heavy sigh was a signal of impatience, her understanding was wearing thin, she was ready to shove me out into the outside.

I opened the car door slowly, head peaking out. My eyes were wide and nervous. Hands shaking around the door frame. I felt like a shell of the person I was the last time I’d stepped foot on this very ground.

“Jere.” His eyes were just as bright blue as I remembered, his hair just as unruly and free. He hadn’t changed, that alone gave me some sort of comfort. I felt my lips twitch up into a smile, eyebrows furrowed. I should’ve had smile lines at this age, but I only had worry lines. To stressed to think about being happy. But here I was, body peaking beyond the car door, cowering like a young child meeting new faces at a party.

My feet dragged, my body curling into itself in such a pathetic way. The door close weakly behind me, it didn’t make a sound I was sure I hadn’t closed it properly in my nervousness.

His footsteps were quick on the driveway, long strides shortening the amount of time it took to reach me. His eyes were slightly closed, like he was holding back tears. His arms outstretched, fingers motioning for me to come to him.

I didn’t realize how much I had missed how tightly he held onto me until having been deprived of it for so long. I wished I had been around more. I think I would’ve been better off if I had been. I could’ve healed, talked everything through.

But I ran. Far away from the people who supported me greatly, from the people who I needed to be around the most. I was cowardly and childish. A fool so blinded by her own emotions, I let myself close off to the people who I’d never had to before. I smeared my tears on Jeremiah’s shirt, his shoulder firm under my cheeks.

“I didn’t think you’d actually come.” His hands held my cheeks when he pulled away, keeping a hold on me liked I’d slip away if he didn’t. I shook my head, eyes crinkling just like they used to when we were children. I let out a hurt laugh. It was the furthest thing from real, but it felt nice to make someone else believe it was. Placing my hands over his, he lost all ability to move his hands other than his thumbs. He swiped at my tears, fighting off his own.

“I missed you.” I pinched his cheek, wiggling his face around playfully and snapping it back into place. His hands fell from my face, pretending to not find amusement in my attempts of play in such a serious moment. He swatted my hands away. My hangover was still intense, and my heart still beat unevenly, there was still a sense of magic around the beach house. I could feel the sadness slipping away, a new relief filling my heart as I eased back into the old routines of summer. It was still there, it always would be, but being around half of the pair I grew up around was enough to clear the murky skies and paint them a beautiful shade of crystal blue.

“I didn’t think you’d ever come back.” His words made my hands freeze, pulling back away from him and my smile falling, hard to bring back up. How could I explain my absence was one that was caused not only by the passing of his own mother, but by the cruel joke his brother had played on me. How in the weakest times, he continued to play me, made me feel so easy.

A deep breath got stuck in my throat, blinking hard. The small lump in my throat expanded until it burned. I swallowed, and swallowed until the pain was soothed enough to speak without an intense rasp. Licking my lips, I prepared for the long explanation and heavy details I would shorten to help Jeremiah understand why I had left everyone behind. I opened my mouth, only to have my words cut off and my heart to leap into my throat.

“Y/n.” His voice was airy, like a weight had been lifted off of his shoulders. Turning my head to the side, I saw the joy in his face, mixing with what I could read as pure shock and what I could pick up as a deep sadness. It was clear it wasn’t only the youngest who was shocked by me showing up this summer.

“Conrad.” My tone was the same. I didn’t chase after him like I did to Jeremiah, nor did I welcome him into my arms, letting him walk right up to me. I felt stuck in place, heart racing at the sudden confrontation. He looked thinner, more tired. But his skin was still sun kissed and his nose was burnt on the bridge into a pinkish red. He had freckles scattered on his face and the same middle part that still, even after almost a decade of the change, curved off to the side near the back.

It was his house, it was stupid to pretend to be shocked by him being there. Jeremiah and all the courage I’d gained to even begin the process of speaking up about what happened was gone. The smile, even as fake as it was was wiped from my face and replaced with pure terror, pain.

It was like ripping my heart out all over again. Resurrecting the feelings that I had sworn to have buried over the last years. The ones I promised would never come back. I never saw myself in this light. So pathetic, letting something so old kill me all over again. It was like I was watching myself out of my body, listening to the world around me as a ghost. Only half of who I was. It was like I convinced myself these past few months that what happened was merely just a flesh wound, nothing deeper. I couldn’t have anticipated how far the ache would reach. How intense it would feel.

Conrad had began to try and speak again, his hands raising, my heart beating. The closer he inched, the harder it became to breath. The more blurry my vision became, the more everything hurt in a way I was sure I would never feel again.

Like some saint, Jeremiah had seen it. The way my shoulders tensed, chest rising and falling erratically. My skin was becoming blotchy around my neck and my eyes were watering more. I looked just as panicked as I felt. He’d seen me crashing out, he knew just as Conrad once had to get me out of there.

His hand hooked in mine, fingers intertwined tightly and palms pressed together until there was no space between us. He looked to me with a fake face on, eyes searching mine, he prayed I would go along with it.

My ears tuned most of it out, the pounding on my ears to great to really listen to what he was saying. I could only nod my head and let him lead the way. My footing was unstable, the ground shifting and pebbles flying in front of my feet each time I lifted my shoes off the ground. The birds sung to each other, and my mother instructed everyone to help unload the last of the cars luggage. Jeremiah and I had slipped away, keeping distance away from Conrad while doing so and slipped through the back door to seek shelter in his room.

I knew I had to explain it to him then, I couldn’t leave Jeremiah in the dark. Not when he’d been so worried that he pulled me away from his own brother, my best friend. He’d saved me, in a way. I owed it to him to tell him everything. Even if he’d take Conrad side. Even if I lost my only other bridge to Susannah’s life. He deserved to know.

Sitting on his messy duvet cover, my shoes fell to the floor, creating a heavy sound when they connected with the carpet. My knees were pulled to my chest, as if to hide away in a way. He was patient with me, his hand warm on my leg. I felt calmer without Conrad so close, with walls to separate us. I told him everything. He stayed stone faced while processing my feelings, how my heartache had been so great I couldn’t take myself back here until now. How my heart still longed for Conrad Fisher, how it always would. He didn’t judge me, but I could see how he felt bad for me. An idiot who fell in love with his idiot brother.

She’d been ignoring me all week. Something I never saw myself becoming well aquatinted with when it came to her. She was always a ball of sunshine, so easy going, so open to change. I had no idea that by me expressing my feelings I could change it in a moment. I wouldn’t have done it if I knew she would have run like this.

My mom always believed that Y/n and I were meant to be, pulled together by some invisible force. It constantly worked in our favors to push and pull us into a tightly knitted circle. Just us. When she died, Y/n was persistent on being supportive. Being there, caring more than anyone had ever done for me in that dark time. I thought that it was smart to buy into my fantasies, that Y/n had developed the same feelings I held for her and we could finally be what I’d always dreamed of.

It was the worst thing I could’ve done, looking back. How naive I was to think that even if she did reciprocate what I held for her, she was grieving just like I was. She was weak. Maybe she thought of it as wrong, now that my mom was dead. I drove her away with my own selfishness. It was a regret I carried all of my college experience.

Phone dry, a never ending loop of unanswered texts. She became a dump in a way, a place for me to open up even in her not being there. Part of me liked to think she read the messages. She had turned off her alerts, I had no idea, but thinking she saw them made my heart hurt less.

I thought by her coming, even though I knew the chances were slim as the Conklin’s had packed up and spent the summer down at Cousins without her in the previous years, I knew that maybe by her just being close that we could mend things. I had to. It hurt me to not be able to reach out and touch her like I once had the privilege to.

To hold her fingers under mine, rubbing dirt out of her eyebrows and maybe pressing my palms to her temples just to feel her warmth. How her legs tangled between the lawn and my own. It was all a foreign memory, ones that kept me going. Her laugh was a distant memory, one that echoed each night before I went to bed. For years I covered my ears and held my breath, afraid to loose the sound of her voice and smell of her perfume. Some shirts stayed hung up idly in my closet because she lingered on them. I didn’t want to wash it away yet.

Jeremiah insisted she just needed time after the first day. After he’d taken her away from me. I went into his room that night to yell at him, ask him why he would do that to me when he knew just how badly I wanted to hold her. He shook his head and held his breath. She was still hurting, he explained. Still scarred by the injuries that should’ve healed months ago. She needed time.

Time, something that became limited in the summer. Something we had not much of. There was no more guarantee she would be back. No more sure telling that her smile would once again light up the summer home and her voice would ring throughout the beaches. This could be my last ever moments with her. My last real conversation being one that caused her to leave.

I wanted to make it right more than anything, wanted to show her I still cared more than anything. I wanted to tell her everything. Pretend that we were okay, really be okay. I wanted her back.

Around the twelve day mark, I had enough. Time and space was something she had plenty of. I understood her, better than anyone. I know she needed her space, continues to need to heal. But for the first time in my life it’s like I have no clue on how to even begin to help her do that. It made me feel stupid, helpless. Killing myself over a girl who was once only a little girl to me.

The old dock was a place I found myself at most peace. The way the waves gently brushed against the old wooden beams, rocking the platform above. How the moonlight peaked through the cracks of the wooden roof and glistened on the water. You could faintly make out the shape of fish if you really looked and the wind was chilling compared to the usual humid summer air that hung all morning.

My arms were situated right against my body, hands tucked under my armpits. I was cold, sure, but I would never admit it. I always loved when Conrad would take me out here when we were younger. He learned his own love for the spot form his mother, a love that was passed down from child to child like an everlasting passion.

It was quiet, the water and the air drowning out any background noise. Sometimes if you were lucky, young children would play in the background. Laughter would fill the area. Maybe an old couple would barbecue outside. You could people watch. It was all so serene. Not enough to block out the creaks of approaching footsteps. How the boards groaned under the heavy steps getting closer.

My nose was red, I scrunched it in the cold. I sighed heavily, releasing any tension.

“This has always kind of been our spot, huh.” His voice was much deeper than I recalled it. Much more gravely, raspy than before. He was referring to Susannah and how it started, the first discussions that made us realize we were closer than all the others. We were certainly best friends. It was funny how even though it was her funeral that ultimately led to our breakage that she was a reoccurring theme in our lives. I nodded.

Silence took over us, a gap left between our bodies. I felt the urge to stay in place fighting the one to leave. I swallowed hard, looking over my shoulder and backing away slowly. My feet found the floor behind me, and unlike I had when the incident occurred, I was steady and able to begin my escape.

“Y/n, wait.” Conrad spoke softly. His voice wasn’t demanding, almost like he was begging. His eyes begged more than his voice. He pleaded for me to stay. I turned my head to him, stopping short and turning to face him. I watched as his frame began to tower over mine the closer and closer we got. He left a sizable gap between us still, out of respect for me.

Looking up at him, my eyes reflected the stars, wide and expecting. I waited patiently while his tongue licked around his mouth, his breathing heavier and heavier by the minute. He looked like he might burst.

“Y/n, you’re my best friend.” The words stung to hear even now. Even when I should’ve been relieved to know that he still considered me to be at the top of his list. My own heartache held me back. I could only nod.

“I know.” I could feel the lump in my throat form. How it hurt to not cry. How my eyebrows felt heavy and my nose became sore, not from the cold anymore.

He breathed out harshly, watching as I tried to make my escape again. His hand was harsh on my hand, pulling me back to where I was. I hadn’t even gotten the chance to turn away yet but he knew my intentions just as well as I did.

“You’re my best friend and it kills me to not be able to have you in my life anymore. I miss what we had, what we were. Everything was going great and then…what happened to us, Y/n?” I wish I could’ve answered him, but we both knew what led us here.

“I don’t have to defend my feelings to you.” My lip quivered, feeling a fight rising between us. We never used to fight. Now looking back on it, our last two interactions had only been fights. How quickly things can change.

Ripping my hand from his grasp I turned and made my quick escape down the dock. Walking as quick as my feet would carry me until my feet felt the grass beneath the soles of my shoes. I heard Conrad’s own steps connecting with the flooring just as harshly as mine had. The yank on my wrist was no as gentle as the first time around. His grip was harsh, tight. He made sure there was no escape.

“What is wrong with you?” His voice was raised but he wasn’t shouting. He rarely shouted at me. He always said he loved me too much to be mad at me.

“What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with me?” My eyes rolled and my chest heaved, I felt myself getting hotter, cheeks redder.

“Susannah’s dead. She fucking died and everyone was hurting. You were hurting, I was hurting! You treated me like a last resort! Like, now that you lost someone important to you—you needed someone to fill the void! Made me feel easy, like an idiot! Trying to kiss me like it didn’t change anything—like it didn’t mean anything! It ruined everything Conrad! You decided that because you couldn’t have your ego bruised by being openly emotional, you just had to keep pushing people away! You used me! ” I threw my free hand up. I was crying. I felt stupid for crying, I shouldn’t be crying over him.

“I didn’t do that! No, Y/n you were never a last resort. I thought…I thought it would help! I didn’t think it would hurt you that badly. God, why did it have to hurt us so badly?” He shouted it at the sky. A fog now hugging the trees in the distance. A rainstorm coming in by morning. Clear sky’s would soon turn dark and murky. It felt fitting.

I felt rage. Pure rage. How blind he was to why I was hurting. I had pointed him in every direction, given him hints and yet he was always the one who even with their smart eyes and quick attention, could never truly figure out what I held for him. It all bubbles out like a sickness. A burning vomit that was nothing more than a dry heave. It hurt to get out, but the relief afterwards was worth it

“Because I love you, you idiot!” My voice was loud, deafening in the heavy silence that now hung between us, “I love you, okay?” I was more quiet the second time, seeing Conrad’s big eyes and shocked expression. How his hand loosened on my wrist, I prepared for the worst. The long awaited rejection that would forever break me, tear away the last pieces of the Fisher brothers from my life all together. Our past only to be held in old Polaroids and my moms photo book.

“And I’ve known it since that day in the pier. You bought me ice cream and I realized nobodies ever cared for me like that before. It felt so good to be know so well. It felt ducking amazing to have someone like that. I cared so much about you, I’m afraid I always will. Even now I can’t shake it.” I went on and on, confessing how I felt, when I realized what always been there. I felt his touch leave me completely. It felt cold to be so alone. My tears were salty when they landed on my lips, I wonder if Conrad could taste them.

His hands were warm on my cheeks, palms pressing into my jawline so hard that the simple touch felt that much more intense. His eyes were shut, I noticed. So I closed mine too, allowing myself to give into the boy in front of me. His chest pressed against mine, we were so close, air was almost impossible to find. I could only breathe in him, everything was Conrad. I could feel him everywhere. My nose, my eyes, my ears, my fingertips. His lips molded against my perfectly, slotting themselves into place and setting off jolts of electricity in my veins. It was slow and passionate, everything I had ever dreamed it to be. Wished for. He was gentle and rough, fearful to hurt me, as if I would shatter under his touch, but the pure desire to show me he felt the same was too great to dull down his actions.

We separated with a gasp. Heaving at the lack of air, both breathless form how long it lasted and how much build up had led us here. How badly we desired it. His forehead rested against mine softly, hands sliding down to settle on my waist. He was a lot softer now, more gentle, kinder. Like now that everything had been said wordlessly, he could finally relax by having me in his hold.

Our eyelashes fluttered against the others cheeks, a soft laughter passing between us. Our smiles were b, it felt more like a scar than a scab now. To have some reassurance that he didn’t go after me because I was easy in his eyes. But because he felt the same.

“It was the day at the beach. We got sunburnt badly and you took care of me all night.” I kissed his cheek while he spoke, holding onto him just a moment longer, “You said you realized your feelings the day at the boardwalk. I found mine while you were rubbing aloe on my back.” We laughter again at the almost stupid memory. How we had both realized what we felt at rehab seemed like the most insignificant parts of our relationship. Not when Conrad had taken me to my first party and danced with me all night, not when I stayed up all night with him and held him close just for the hell of it, but when we were children.

We had been so blind to it our whole lives it was almost a tragedy. How much wasted time we had in our lives. It was something we would never get back. Something so precious, something we all had so little of. It was too late to rewrite our history. We could only hope to fix what was broke. And in the silent of the night, Conrad began the mending with the soft whisper of three simple words. Ones that came out in almost a mumble, they only reached my ears.

“I love you.” I never truly believed Conrad when he would joke how distance makes the heart grow fonder, but after what felt like a lifetime apart, it felt like the most honest statement to be made.

Conrad Fisher was mine and I was his. After all of our damaged fights and flaws, we’d found each other again. Being pulled together again by that invisible string. Sticking like glue. My heart swelled knowing he would be mine in the morning.

I will forever cling onto everything I feared, but I will feel at peace with my own inquiries while now that we are half-awake, intimate in how we hold each other. Finally, the grief subsided and I am at peace. I am myself again, he is himself with me.

I know myself better than I have in years.

#conrad fisher #conrad x reader #tsitp conrad #conrad fisher angst #team conrad #conrad x you #jeremiah fisher #y/n x character

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pinchofhoney · 1 year

Note

You know I can't stay away from your writing for long so here I am againnn....angst prompt 5 and fluff promt 10. Besties to loverss plsssss.....with either Sirius Black or Kaz I can't choose

No angst...I can't take it rnnnn 😭

take a hint # 200 followers special event

» prompt event » special events masterlist

angst prompt five: “please leave before i lose myself to madness and beg you to stay”

fluff prompt ten: and it was when A watched B look at someone else the way they wanted to be looked at. does A realize how much in love with their best friend they were?

gif is not mine, credit to the owner

kaz brekker x fem!reader

word count: 3.8k

warning: kaz has no romantic feelings for inej in this one, it doesn't have a specific time in the canon, i made up one of the characters, best friends to lovers (between the lines), mention of murder

summary: It seems that Kaz always expects you to read between the lines, even though you are a thief and not an expert in interpreting written texts.

a/n: whenever i see notifications from you, i feel like a happy golden retriever puppy, hello!!<33 i feel that writing anything with sirius would be easier for me in almost every way, especially since that character has been my favorite since childhood, but i wanted to try something new and i was thrilled with the chance to do so! (it's a mess)

pages that may interest you: masterlist ♡ taglist ♡ who i write for

As you stepped out into the gloomy, rain-soaked streets of Ketterdam, you could felt the weight of the city's bearing down upon you. It was a place where danger lurked around every corner, where crime and corruption were the norm, and where only the strongest and most cunning survived. The city's winding, labyrinthine streets were treacherous and difficult to navigate, with slimy cobblestones that seemed to shift and writhe beneath your feet. The stench of sewage and decay hanged heavy in the air, a reminder of the filth and squalor that permeated every inch of the city.

The people of Ketterdam were a rough and ragged bunch, with sharp tongues and even sharper knives. Every interaction was a potential threat, every stranger a possible enemy. It was a place where trust was hard to come by, and betrayal was always just a heartbeat away. And yet, despite all of this, you couldn't help but feel drawn to the city. It was the only place where you've ever felt truly at home, where you could be yourself without fear of judgment or rejection. It was a feeling that both comforted and terrified you, and you knew that you'll never be able to escape it, no matter how hard you try.

You hated Ketterdam with a passion, yet you found yourself unable to imagine living anywhere else. Maybe it was because you hated yourself too, the mere thought of being ordinary filled you with a deep-seated loathing. You had no talents, no skills that could make others look at you with admiration, and to make matters worse, you weren't your parents' favorite child either. That distinction belonged to your older sister, the Grisha who had always been showered with adoration and affection, even when she was away in the Little Palace, thousands of miles from home.

Your parents had always compared you to her, highlighting your shortcomings and making you feel like a disappointment. Even when she was gone, they treated you worse than they ever had before, as if you brought them shame just by existing.

Yet, in Ketterdam, your ordinariness was a blessing. As a member of a gang of thieves, you were the perfect fit. Your lack of beauty and grace made you unremarkable, allowing you to blend into the shadows and avoid attention. You moved with ease through the convoluted streets of the city, navigating its twists and turns, always keeping your wits about you. Of course, there were a times of doubts, where you couldn't help but think that perhaps being strikingly beautiful would be an asset to your profession, especially when robbing wealthy merchants who came to Ketterdam seeking to indulge in its illicit pleasures. But even then, you knew that such a gift would come with its own set of complications, and in Ketterdam, complications were the last thing you needed.

You pulled the hood of your dark cloak over your head, lowering it slightly to obscure your face. You didn't want to be recognized by anyone, but at the same time, you needed to keep an eye on your surroundings and react quickly if needed.

You hastily tucked your frozen hands into the pockets of your coat and quickened your step as you saw two men who were part of the Dime Lions. Your heart skipped a beat as you recognized them. Lately, you had been avoiding these people more than usual, ever since you got into an unnecessary street fight with several members of the gang. They had made it clear that they weren't happy with you, and you knew that they wouldn't hesitate to attack you if given the chance.

But it wasn't just the Dime Lions that you were avoiding. Some people in Ketterdam knew about things they shouldn’t. It was no secret that rumors spread like wildfire in this city, and often found their way into the hands of those who would use them for their own gain. But in a world full of terrible people, you had to be worse.

You walked with no clear destination in mind, driven by the need to distance yourself as much as possible from the Crow Club. It was only moments ago that you had found yourself in a heated argument with the one person who mattered the most to you. His stubborn pride had come between you once again, making you curse his name to the heavens above.

The tension in the hallway was thick enough to cut with a knife as you and Kaz stood facing each other, both seething with frustration. His eyes glinted in the dim light, anger etched deep into the lines of his face. What had started as a minor disagreement had quickly escalated into a full-blown argument, fueled by the unspoken feelings that both tried to hide.

“You don't understand, Y/N,” Kaz growled, his voice low and scratchy. “You never do. You're always off on your own, thinking you know what's best for everyone. You can't keep taking unnecessary risks. It's not just your life on the line.”

“I know that,” you snapped back, your eyes flashing with anger. “But we can’t just sit back and do nothing. We need to take action if we want to survive.”

“Of course we need to take action,” Kaz shot back, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “I'm not saying we should do nothing. But we need to be smart about it. We can't rush in blindly. That's why I'm in charge. I know what I'm doing.”

You rolled your eyes, exasperated. “Sometimes being smart means taking risks. That's how we get ahead.”

A heavy silence hung in the air between you, filled only by the sound of your breathing and the rustle of your clothes. Kaz's gaze bore into you with an intensity that made your skin crawl.

His jaw tightened, and he spoke through gritted teeth. “Fine,” he said, his voice icy. “Do whatever you want. But don't expect me to follow you blindly into danger.”

You took a step closer to Kaz, your eyes blazing. “I don't need you to follow me, Kaz. I can take care of myself.”

His eyes narrowed, and he took a step back, his hand on his cane for support. “Then go ahead and do that. But please, leave before I lose myself to madness and beg you to stay.”

Your chest tightened with hope as Kaz's words registered in your mind. Could it be that he actually wanted you to stay? But your hopes were dashed as you saw him turn his back and begin walking away. The urge to call out to him, to make him admit his feelings, consumed you, but you knew it was pointless. Kaz Brekker was not one to bare his soul.

With a frustrated growl, you clenched your fists so tightly that your nails dug painfully into your palms. Without another word, you turned and stormed down the stairs. Ignoring Jesper's questioning gaze and Wylan's confused expression, you burst out into the rain-soaked streets of the Barrel, letting the cool droplets wash away your anger and frustration.

Your mind was a chaotic mess of emotions as you walked, all directed towards the one man who had the power to make you feel so much. Kaz's words echoed in your head, spoken in his rough voice, which usually sounded like the most beautiful melody to your ears, but now it was a curse that tormented you and did not allow you to find peace.

“I don't need you, Kaz. You're the last person I want,” you muttered under your breath, and as if fate was playing a game, you bumped into the very person with whom the whole argument began. What a coincidence.

You lifted your gaze, and your eyes met with the one who infamously called himself Ketterdam's most dangerous person. Although he didn't know you, you were familiar with him well enough to know that he would want to have you with him despite your undistinguished appearance and lack of special skills.

In a rush of panic, you lowered your head, feigning humility to mask your face. “I apologize, sir,” you began, trying to hide the hint of fear you could sense in your voice. “I should be more careful.”

The man smirked, his eyes scanning over your form. “It's no problem, sweetheart,” he said, his voice oozing with arrogance and entitlement. “But you should watch where you're going. It's not safe to be wandering around these parts alone.” His hand brushed against your arm, sending shivers down your spine.

You flinched at the touch, trying to pull away from him, but then he grabbed you. You knew what type of man he was, and the last thing you wanted was to be alone with him in a dark alley. You tried to think of an excuse to leave, but before you could say anything, the gravelly rasp of a familiar voice interrupted.

“Is there a problem here, gentlemen?” Kaz's voice was calm and controlled, but there was an underlying threat that made the man release his grip on you and take a step back.

“None at all,” the man replied smoothly.

Kaz stepped closer, his eyes narrowing. “I suggest you leave the lady alone then.”

The man scoffed. “I suggest you mind your own business, boy.”

Kaz's hand, covered with a leather glove, tightened on the crow's head ornamenting his cane. “I'll make it my business if I see someone harassing a woman in my city.”

The man sneered, clearly not intimidated by Kaz's threat. “Your city?” he asked with a hint of derision, studying Kaz more thoughtfully. Suddenly, as if he had just connected the dots, he added, “Last time I checked, it was still called Ketterdam, not Dirtyhands's kingdom.”

Kaz's expression didn't change, but you could sense the tension in the air. “Believe what you want, but if you don't leave now, I'll make sure you regret it.”

The man seemed to consider his options for a moment before finally releasing a grunt of annoyance and walking away, oblivious to the inevitable fate that awaited him regardless of his decision. Death was the only possible outcome and the only variable was who would carry out the execution.

Finally, the man was out of sight, and you released a breath you didn't even realize you were holding. Kaz turned to you, and you met his gaze with a mixture of gratitude and anger. Despite feeling indebted to him for his intervention, you couldn't help but feel frustrated by his interference. “I didn't need your help,” you said, trying to sound confident.

Kaz raised an eyebrow. “It sure looked like you did.”

You glared at him, feeling embarrassed and exposed. He had seen you in a moment of vulnerability, and you hated yourself for it. “I could have handled it,” you insisted, although you knew it was a lie. You couldn't have handled the situation on your own. You were a skilled thief, but you lacked the physical strength to overpower a man twice your size. You were not armed with revolvers, nor did you possess the abilities of a Corpsewitch. You were just an average person, with quick fingers and the ability to pick locks, nothing more.

“How did you know where to find me?” you added.

“Did you think I wouldn't follow you? I had a feeling you'd get yourself into trouble, but I didn't expect it to happen so soon.”

You rolled your eyes, but a small part of you was grateful that Kaz had your back. “And what about-”

“Inej will take care of him,” he said, cutting you off, signaling that he didn't want to discuss the matter any further. “Let's head back to the Slat. You're soaked.”

Kaz started walking away, disappearing into a dark alley without waiting for you. You sighed and followed him, feeling the dampness of your clothes sticking to your skin.

The walk back to the Slat was silent, with only the sound of raindrops hitting the cobblestones to fill the air. As you entered the place, you immediately noticed the curious looks of your crewmates. Jesper was there, even though he usually preferred gambling at the Crows Cub and Matthias stood at the top of the stairs, watching you with his arms crossed. It seemed like everyone was waiting for you to return, and you couldn't help but feel uneasy.

Ignoring the greetings, Kaz announced, “You'll never guess who Y/N met.” The room fell silent, and Kaz removed his hat as if to emphasize his point. “Antoon Beudeker.”

A hum of surprised sounds ran through the room, and all eyes turned to you. You felt uncomfortable being the center of attention. You had been trying to track down Beudeker for weeks, but he always managed to slip away from you, as if someone in the Dregs was tipping him off about your plans.

Nina spoke up, breaking the silence. “What do you mean by that?”

Kaz looked at you, not bothering to hide his annoyance. “A talent for stealing isn't Y/N's only skill. As you can see, the talent for trouble far outweighs it.”

You shifted uncomfortably under Kaz's gaze, feeling a mixture of embarrassment and frustration. You knew you had made a mistake by bumping into Beudeker, but it wasn't even your fault. All you wanted was to cut yourself off after the argument with Kaz, and now he was the one who was right again.

Wylan's voice carried through the quiet room, breaking the tension. “What are we do with him now?” he asked, but no one answered, assuming that it was up to their missing Wraith to handle the situation.

Jesper's frustration boiled over, and he jumped up from his seat. “It's not fair!” he exclaimed, pointing his revolver at the wall. “I was the one who wanted to put a bullet between his eyes.”

Matthias stepped forward, before anyone reacted to sharpshooter's words, his expression serious. “We need to figure out who's been leaking our plans to Antoon. This could be dangerous for all of us.”

“I agree,” Nina added. “We need to find out who's been betraying us and deal with them.”

Wylan's voice piped up, “What if we set a trap?”

Kaz nodded, considering the idea.

“We could feed different information to each member of the Dregs and see which version gets back to someone who will claim to be Beudeker now. That way, we'll know who we can trust and who we can't,” you suggested.

Nina grinned. “I like it. And if we catch the traitor, we can make an example out of them.”

Jesper's eyes gleamed with anticipation. “I'll provide the entertainment.”

Matthias shook his head. “No, Jesper. We can't take the law into our own hands. We'll handle the traitor according to our own rules, but we won't kill them.”

Jesper shrugged, disappointed but not arguing. “But killing is our rule, Helvar.”

Matthias's expression darkened, but before he could reply, Kaz spoke up. “That's enough. We're not discussing this any further. We need to focus on finding the leak first, not arguing about how to deal with them.”

Jesper and Matthias both looked at Kaz, but neither of them said anything. The silence in the room was heavy with tension, and you could sense the frustration emanating from Jesper and the anger radiating from Matthias. Kaz's tone had effectively shut down the conversation, but you knew that it was far from over.

“We'll start investigating tomorrow,” Kaz's voice filled the room again. “For now, let's all get some rest. We have a long day ahead of us.”

As Kaz's words faded away, the tension in the room dissipated, and everyone began to go their separate ways. You hesitated, still reeling from the events of the evening, unsure of what to do next.

Sensing your unease, Kaz approached you, his expression serious but not unkind. “I know this is a lot to take in,” he said, his voice low. “But we have a job to do, and we can't afford to let our emotions cloud our judgment. I need you to be focused tomorrow, do you understand?”

You nodded, feeling a bit guilty for today’s argument. “Yes. I'll be ready,” you replied, determined to not let him down.

Kaz gave you a small nod of approval before turning to leave. You watched him go, listening to the rhythmic tapping of his cane on the panels. The weight of his words settling on your shoulders. It was true that you couldn't afford to let your emotions get in the way of the investigation, but it was easier said than done. The events of the evening had shaken you to your core, and you weren't sure if you could push them aside so easily. Life in Ketterdam has been hard, but never before has such danger reached you directly.

With a heavy sigh, you made your way back to your room, hoping that a good night's rest would help clear your mind.

You were surprised to find the Antoon's spy so easily, feeling foolish for not discovering it sooner. Despite the setback, the mood in the Crow Club remained peaceful as the days passed. The seventh of you sat together, planning your next move and gossiping about Ketterdam's richest people. Kaz seemed more relaxed than usual, and even Jesper and Matthias were on their best behavior, seemingly content to simply enjoy the moment of peace.

As the night wore on and the group's conversation continued to flow, you couldn't help but notice Kaz's eyes on you. You caught his gaze a few times, and each time you felt a jolt of electricity run through you. It was a feeling you had been trying to ignore for a while now, but it was becoming increasingly difficult with each passing day.

As you turned to look at Jesper, who was recounting a funny story, you noticed Kaz's expression change slightly. It was a subtle shift, but you could tell he was suddenly distant, lost in thought.

After a few minutes, Kaz stood up and motioned for you to follow him. You looked around at the others, confused, but they simply shrugged and continued their conversation. You followed Kaz up the dimly lit hallway to his office.

Once inside, Kaz closed the door and motioned for you to take a seat. You sat down in one of the chairs in front of his desk, feeling a bit nervous. Kaz took a seat opposite you, resting his cane on the desk, right next to the chair and leaned forward, his elbows on his desk.

His expression was serious, but not unkind. “I wanted to talk to you about something,” he began, his voice low. “I've noticed that things between us have been a bit... different lately.”

You shifted in your seat, suddenly feeling self-conscious. “Different how?” you asked, not sure if you really wanted to know the answer.

Kaz leaned back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest. “I think you know what I mean,” he replied, his gaze fixed on yours.

Your heart skipped a beat as you realized what he was talking about. “Kaz, I...” you began, but he cut you off with a wave of his hand.

“I just wanted you to know that I'm aware of the situation,” he said, his tone even, then he paused for a moment. “You know, Y/N. I've been thinking a lot lately about what it means to care for someone. To really care for someone,” he looked directly at you, his eyes intense, emphasizing the weight of his words. “And I've come to the conclusion that there's no one I care for more than you.”

You were completely taken aback by Kaz's words. You had never heard him express his feelings so openly before. Your heart raced as you searched his face for any sign of insincerity, but you found none. You were overcome with a mixture of shock, disbelief, and joy.

His heart sank as he watched you gaze at Jesper with a look of admiration and affection earlier, even if you two were just friends. It was then that he realized how deeply in love with you he truly was. He had been trying to ignore his feelings for you for so long, but seeing you look at someone else with such tenderness was too much to bear.

Kaz carefully chose his words, wanting to express his feelings without being too direct. “I've been thinking about our friendship,” he said, his voice low and serious. “I value our bond more than anything else in the world, and I want to make sure that nothing ever comes between us.”

“Why are you bringing this up now?” you asked genuinely confused by Kaz's sudden openness.

He shifted in his seat, looking almost uncomfortable, “Well, I just wanted to make sure that you know how much you mean to me,” Kaz said, his eyes meeting yours. “There's no one else I trust or care for more than you, Y/N.”

You could feel the weight of his words, the sincerity and depth of emotion behind them. You knew that he was a man of few words, and when he spoke, it was always with a purpose. It was hard to reconcile this Kaz with the cold and distant one you had grown accustomed to over the years.

You couldn't help but feel that there was an underlying message in Kaz's words, something that he wasn't explicitly stating. Your intuition was telling you that there was more to the story than what he had let on. You couldn't ignore the nagging feeling that something was amiss.

“Kaz,” you began, your voice hesitant. “Is there something else you want to tell me? Something that you're not saying?”

Kaz's expression remained neutral, but you could sense a hint of discomfort in his demeanor. You knew that he wasn't one to wear his heart on his sleeve, so you weren't surprised that he was hesitant to open up to you completely.

“I've said what I needed to say,” Kaz replied, his voice flat. “There's nothing more to it.”

His reply felt like a dead end, and you couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment. You knew that he was a complex person, with layers that even you couldn't fully comprehend, but you couldn't shake off the sense that he was still holding something back. Nonetheless, you tried to put on a brave face and show your gratitude for his honesty.

“Okay,” you said, rising from your seat. “I appreciate you telling me how you feel. Our friendship means the world to me too, Kaz.” You couldn't help but wonder what his true intentions were, but you knew that you needed to be patient and let him come to you when he was ready.

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marner2tavares · 5 months

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cardigan series: on a saturday, in a cafe ❣️

jack hughes x reader

cardigan series masterlist

Ever since graduating college, life has been fast to say the least. Instead of going home to Michigan for the summer, you decided to spend your fifth summer staying in Colorado with the family of one of the girls you danced with. After telling her about your situation, how you felt like you couldn’t go back, she was more than happy to offer you a place to stay.

Every year your parents begged you to come home for Independence Day, but you couldn't bring yourself to go back to the town that housed your only real heartbreak.

You had boyfriends since him, but it was never the same. Never the same level of passion. Never the same level of love or family that the Hughes’ gave you. Never the same level of closeness with your boyfriend’s friends. Nothing could compare, love wise, to all those years ago.

Now the time has come, graduation done. Time to start your real life. All summer you looked for anything affordable in the city, but New York is unfortunately very expensive. You found one apartment… shared with 4 people, only two bedrooms. After a long phone call with your mom, she convinced you to just take a look at places in Jersey. Jersey is a big place! You told yourself over and over again desperately trying to convince yourself that you wouldn’t run into him.

And you didn’t. You’ve lived there for nearly 3 months now and you haven’t seen him anywhere. Hearing about him, though? That was a different story. You heard about him everywhere. You started bringing headphones with you wherever you went. You didn’t look up at the TVs when you were out drinking at your neighborhood bar. You were starting to be able to block it out, tuning out when the name “Jack” comes up in conversation. You just told people you didn’t understand or care for sports. After 3 months, you were finally starting to feel safe in the city.

One Saturday morning, you walked into the same coffee shop you’ve walked into a few times a week for the duration of your stay in Jersey, ordered the same thing, and sat down at the same table to wait for your drink. You scrolled on your phone until you heard someone call your old nickname, a nickname you have been called in a long time. Your head snaps up to see who said it and seeing the owner of the voice, you could feel your palms start to sweat. Youngest of the Hughes brother, Luke was standing by the counter looking at you.

“Oh my god, it’s actually you.” Luke said as he started walking over. You stood up from your table, accepting the hug he was giving you. You expected for that to feel out of place. It almost felt worse that it didn’t. “What are you doing in Jersey?” You took a deep breath before forcing yourself to reply.

“I, uh, I live here now.” Luke’s eyes went wide.

“You live here?” You nodded your head, almost shyly. Luke looked perplexed. You decided to try to break the tension. You smiled with a light laugh and looked up at him.

“You really grew, Luke.” He laughed too, thank god.

“Yeah, I kinda did. Hit the big 2-0.” Your stomach sank. The reality of how much time has passed hit you like a truck. Luke was 15 last time you saw him in person.

“Yeah, I remembered.” There was a pause that felt so much longer than you’re sure it actually was. The barista called your names and Luke gave you a quick “be right back” and walked up to the counter to get both your drinks before sitting down at the table. Luke passed you your drink and you took a sip.

“How long have you lived here?” You took a deep breath.

“Uh.. almost since your birthday really.” Luke’s face fell a little bit.

“You didn’t call?” You cringed at the sadness in his eyes. Luke wasn’t just Jack’s little brother. He was like your little brother. You helped him with everything. You truly loved Luke like your own brother.

“I just didn’t think you would want to see me.” You answered honestly. Luke looked down at his cup and then back up to you.

“I’m always down to see you. I know Quinn would be too.” There's the other part. Quinn. God, you loved Quinn. He was your rock, almost more so than Jack. He practically helped raise you. Helped you through fights with Jack, picked you up from parties when you were too drunk to drive and too scared to call your mom, amongst countless other things. You missed him. You missed them all. You have for years.

“I just didn’t know where we stood.” You took a pause. “And I was too scared of you guys hating me it was just easier to not reach out.” Luke just nodded for a second before he looked up with a small smile on his face.

“Tell you what, you can make it up to me.” You let out a real laugh this time.

“Oh, how can I make it up to you, Luke?” You rested your chin on your palm.

“Come to my game tonight. We’re playing the Sabres, it should be a good game.” You let out a sigh and dropped your head a bit.

“I really don’t think Jack would want me there.” Luke leaned into the table a little bit.

“Never say never. I’ll leave you a ticket.” He noticed the deep breath you took and smiled at you. “Come.” You smiled at him and let out another sigh before looking back up at him.

“I’ll be there.”

#nhl fanfiction #cardigan series #jack hughes #jack hughes blurb #jack hughes fic #jack hughes imagine #jack hughes x reader #nhl imagine

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writersdare · 10 months

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All Too Well | Calum Hood

Pairing: Calum Hood x Reader (she/her)

Summary: It's the first time ever when Calum and Y/N didn't need to be apart, as they were going on tour together. However, things could never just be perfect, could they?

Warning: angst, fluff, a bit of cursing

Word Count: 1 725

Requested: yes

Author’s Note: This was the one I worked really hard to make it softer than it initially was. It'd say it's more of an angst story still, however, not too heavy, and there are sweet moments, too ♡ Inspired by Taylor Swift's short film "All Too Well". I hope you'll like it!

It almost felt like Christmas, when Y/N and Calum took a seat next to each other in the plane. It was the first time when the girl was going on tour with him, and both were very excited.

Cal was really glad they finally managed to go together, they didn’t need to be separated for so long again.

Y/N could compare it with a miracle, truly. The last month was very stressful, as she had to do a lot at work before getting a remote project. At some point Y/N even doubted she was going to finish everything in time. However, there she was, holding a hand in Calum’s, while he was quietly sleeping on her shoulder. There was no need to be homesick, because Cal’s home was right next to him. And Y/N didn’t need to learn how to live alone again, because she was in the company of a loved one.

Sometimes “too perfect” could bring unexpected problems. It couldn’t all go smoothly. The musician wasn’t exactly a pessimist, but he always agreed with that way of Y/N’s thinking.

However, Calum didn’t exactly expect his girl to blow up easily only because he didn’t pay much of attention to her after a concert. For Cal it wasn’t a big deal. Once they finished the performance, everyone went to have dinner in their dressing room, not being able to wait for any longer and go to some restaurant nearby. It was a usual evening, chatting with the bandmates and discussing how good the concert was. Y/N was happy that fans were welcoming and active during the whole show, and of course, she could share the joy of her boyfriend, but it still felt slightly uncomfortable. Even though they started dating a while ago, Y/N didn’t know Calum’s friends well. She surely didn’t mind him spending time with them, but the girl hoped for some little reassurance here and there; after all, it was the first time, when she went on tour. Few attempts to join the conversation were interrupted by her own boyfriend, and Y/N’s mood went down completely. Yet, she stayed polite and kept smiling lightly, ignoring unpleasant feelings inside. The girl didn’t ask for much, she only hoped Cal would stop making her feel that dumb, would stop as if reminding her that she didn’t belong there. As if she wasn’t there at all, even when Y/N tried to touch Calum’s palm. She wasn’t begging for attention, the girl only thought that as she came with him, they’d spend more time together. Wasn’t it the point? All of sudden Y/N felt like a mannequin which Cal would look at only when he needed it.

“You just walked in the room and behaved as if I wasn’t there!”

Y/N tried. She really tired. The girl promised herself she wouldn’t make a scene, she wouldn’t argue, because it was a very wrong place and time. However, Calum brought up the topic himself, saying she was “hell annoying” and looked “weirdly upset.”

“I was fucking tired! Exhausted, Y/N! I didn’t mean anything, I was just hanging out with my friends!” Cal blew up immediately, although by nature he was pretty calm. “I’d look at you if you’d jump around, sing for few hours, Y/N. Would you have powers for anything else after it?” the guy run a hand through his hair and sighed heavily, apparently analysing what he had just said.

Calum used to say he valued words a lot, the musician hated when people would tell things they didn’t actually mean. He never rushed up to answer on the interviews; Cal liked to think first, before saying anything, completely anything. Perhaps, that’s why sudden accusations shocked Y/N that much. If he said it, he probably really meant it, and that was quite upsetting. The girl never even dared to think that Calum wasn’t a hard worker or that his job wasn’t difficult. Of course, it was, and she knew it very well. That’s why Y/N was always there, supporting him no matter what. And yet, she couldn’t get the connection between him acting like a moron during the dinner and blaming her for saying he wasn’t tired. She never even said it.

“You know what? Back off," after a short pause Y/N realised that she was too overwhelmed to continue arguing. These past days were rather exhausting, the trip, so far, was very stressful as there were too many unknown faces, and Cal’s words didn’t exactly make the girl feel any better.

“Y/N…”

“No, Cal, you’re right," she nodded, being dangerously calm.

The girl grabbed a bag and threw a phone in there. Y/N wasn’t going to leave, it’d be too immature of her, but she desperately needed fresh air and time alone at that moment. Lately it was getting harder to breathe, and she finally admitted that she was simply choking. Being busy with tour and job issues the girl didn’t have time to check on herself. For some reason, Calum didn’t see it either, apparently, he was busy working, as well. She knew how it could be, so the girl wasn’t blaming him. At times Cal couldn’t take care even of himself.

"How would I know? You’re the only one who works hard," Y/N snapped, regretting she took that hell of a project at first place just to be closer to Cal. What for? Surely, emotions were speaking at that moment, and sometimes it was very hard to gain control of them. Suddenly nothing was working anymore, their relationship included.

“I didn’t mean it this way," Calum’s voice became small, too. He gently touched the girl’s wrist with his fingers, and felt a little relief, as Y/N didn’t attempt to break the touch. However, her eyes didn’t give him any hope.

“No, you did.”

“No, I didn’t," he hurried up to deny. "Look, I’m just stressed, I swear I…" her hand slipped through his fingers, and Y/N headed to the exit of the dressing room. "I know you’re… Y/N, c’mon! Don’t do this right now!" Cal outraged. "We’re trying to talk, and you’re running away again!"

"It’s you, who is trying to talk, Calum!" the girl turned around quickly, hoping her body wouldn't betray, and salty tears wouldn’t flow down the cheeks. "You can’t even understand me! I worked as hard as you to get here at first place! I don’t mind you hang out with friends and have a rest after the concerts, but since the day one of the tour you’ve never asked how I was feeling! I don’t even know these people! They are total strangers to me," she finally broke in tears. Cal didn’t dare to touch her and only watched from the distance. "And this evening I only asked for a small reassurance, I wanted to feel that you’re here with me, because I don’t feel damn comfortable here, I need time! And now you make me feel like a total dickhead for asking that, because you are damn tired, because you had a show to perform! Maybe it was a bad idea to come with you at first place. It could have been totally different," she shook the head and looked down, wiping the tears with her fingers quickly.

A storm was attacking inside, Cal wanted to say a lot, but words got stuck in his throat.

"I had no idea," he finally mumbled, feeling rather ashamed. "This tour… is really important to me," the musician continued, even though everything didn’t seem to have any sense once he spoke it out loud. "I was too focused on work, but it doesn’t mean I forgot about you, Y/N," Cal made a step forward and reached out to her uncertainly. The fingertips didn’t touch hers, he was waiting for the girl to do it instead, if she wanted to. Or waiting to give him a sign that he was allowed to.

The girl closed the eyes for a moment and shook the head negatively. She touched a handle of the bag to avoid Calum’s sudden affection.

"I know it’s hard for both of us," she spoke up quietly. "But we need to learn how to understand each other, and I’m tired of being the only one who is trying to do that. Relationships don’t work this way."

"I know. I fucking know," he lost it, made a step forward and squeezed Y/N in his arms, resting a head on her shoulder. For that Cal had to bend down a little, but it was worth it. "I’m sorry."

A heavy sigh left Y/N’s lips. She looked up on the ceiling, hoping to stop herself from crying again. Just some time ago Calum was behaving like a sick superstar, and now he was asking for forgiveness. Why was it always like a seesaw with him? And why did she still love him?

The girl closed the eyes and tilted her head to touch the top of his with a tip of a nose. Cal smelled with berries – a shampoo she bought him few days before the very first tour. Since that time she was always doing it, and Calum was always taking the black jar with blueberries on the cover with him. Funny, that smell reminded him of her. And to Y/N that smell reminded her of them. Them, being together, happy, in love.

"I love you," she whispered, feeling that sudden wave of affection after a long day and bitter argument that left a small but still a wound on the heart.

"I love you more," he whispered back and hid the face in a crotch of her neck, leaving then a short kiss on her skin.

The touch was too familiar to give up on everything they went through. Calum knew he needed to keep in mind that the tour was going to be be different, as his girl was there. He needed to give Y/N time, as it wasn’t normal for her as for him, who has been performing since a young age.

"I know I didn’t give you the best tour experience so far," Cal whispered in her ear after a long silence. "But, please, let me try again."

taglist: @dgrangaa, @gracieboogirl

– gifs aren’t mine and belong to the rightful owner, found the 1st one here @uservalentine & the 2nd one here @carriedawayfromhome –

All stories are original and written by me. Do not copy, trace and post anywhere without permission and credit. The stories are fictional, they do not correspond to reality and written just for fun ♡

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ghostbeam · 7 months

Text

empty til she fills | fuyumi todoroki x reader

You’re beautiful, really. It’s truly no wonder why they chose you for the job, every line and curve and fold. They’ll never be able to capture you the way you really are. Nothing compares to the real thing.

Her eyes gaze over your neck, down your chest, over your stomach, your thighs. That familiar hunger sits in Fuyumi’s stomach, aches in her jaw. She wants to bite you everywhere that she can, really make you bleed. But Fuyumi doesn’t feed from anything but animals, and it’s not like you’d satisfy her hunger anyway. She’s given up on that feeling a long time ago.

Notes: Hiiiii everyone!!! This is the first installment of vampire empire and it’s all about fuyumi!!! It’s much shorter than I thought, but when it was done it was done u know? I love her I think she should be allowed to go apeshit and drink blood and not hold back if she wants to!!!!!!! Let her fuck!!!!!! Anyways yeah thanks for reading!! (title from vampire empire by big thief) u can listen to the playlist for the whole anthology here! Also I made a Pinterest board!

Warnings: 18+, minors dni, f! reader, explicit content, dark content, angst for like the briefest moment, violence, vampires, detailed descriptions of blood and gore (on both reader and another person), murder (u kill someone! It’s offscreen tho), blood kink, biting, drinking blood (fuyumi drinks from reader, u both drink from the dead man), biting and drinking from already open wounds, fingering, oral (reader eats fuyumi out!!! Yay!!!) (bloody), bloody sex, reader is sort of a masochist, soooo many commas, a line completely stolen from fascination (1979) cause I had to ajsjsjsjs, perspective changes between u and fuyumi like a lot idk I’m sorry she spoke to me<3

words: 4.3k

Fuyumi has always been a little unsure of what to do with her hands. When she sits, when she walks, when she kisses, while she waits. Where does she put them? Where do they go?

It’s the same, squeezing porcelain clay through her fingers, molding and shaping and running a wire through the middle and cursing when it doesn’t topple over. She’s bad with her hands, but she loves it, lumpy mugs and all.

And her mugs are lumpy, most of them break in the kiln, but whatever she’s proud of, she sends to her brothers.

She’s never been much of an artist, and all the years she’s lived (many, many years), none of it ever interested her. But when you’ve done everything, there’s no harm in trying. And so even though her pots and bowls end up twisted and misshapen on the wheel, she tries and tries until they’re at least a little bit useful.

The truth is that there, in the studio, surrounded by people who do all the same things that she does, mess up and try again, break things when they don’t turn out, or smash fragile wet clay held together by careful hands, Fuyumi feels human. She makes mistakes. She screws up. It’s something she’s never been allowed to do before.

Plus, you’re there.

The anatomy class pays you to model. Sometimes, she sees you run around in your long robe, buying snacks from the vending machines or remembering something you left in your car. She’s completely enamored with you, with your humanity, how free you seem. She’s envious, in a way, but really she just likes you, wants you—wants to bite you. Which is dangerous for Fuyumi because she stopped feeding from humans ages ago.

You collide on a Saturday night, left alone in the studio, separated by one wall. Fuyumi works late because she doesn’t sleep, and one of the owners of the building had given her a set of keys to lock up when she leaves. When she opens the door to the pottery studio, you’re out in the hallway, slapping your palm against the door next door and murmuring soft no’s as you peak through the glass. You have half a mind to just bust the thing down, except now you’re not alone in the hallway.

Fuyumi. The pretty vampire with streaks of scarlet through her ivory hair, cute glasses perched on her nose, and hands you think about way more often than you should steps out of the pottery studio. You’ve caught her staring at you before, and you can’t tell if it’s because she knows of the similar condition you have in common, or if she’s as interested in you as you are in her.

You both pause, caught staring at one another. The only thing on Fuyumi’s mind is that you’re probably completely naked under your robe.

“I—um, got locked out.” You say, finally, blowing air you have no need for out of your throat like a breath. It must be nerves. “My clothes are in there. My everything is in there.”

“Oh!” She shakes her head free of the thoughts of your bare body. Then a realization, “I have a key!”

You move out of her way and let her unlock the door, jiggling the key in the lock and pushing it open. You grin, press your hands into her shoulders and let out a squeal of delight. “Thank you!”

“Yeah, no problem.” She speaks, willing herself not to melt at the feeling of your fingers digging into her flesh for a moment. She turns to leave, satisfied with the interaction, enough to hold her over for a lifetime, maybe. Your hands on her shoulders, your robe against your skin, your neck.

“Fuyumi!” You call, and she feels like maybe she’s dreaming, or maybe she’s hearing things. But when she turns around, you’re looking at her expectantly. “Would you wait for me? I don’t really wanna walk to my car alone at night.”

It’s a good excuse, you think. Fuyumi’s got that bleeding heart (or lack of one). She won’t leave you alone.

“‘Course! Yeah, I’ve gotta lock the front, anyways, so—yeah, I’ll wait.” She nods, stepping back into the room and letting the door fall shut behind her. She watches you untie you’re robe at the middle, and she spins on her heel, facing the door again. She hears you chuckle, and it makes her feel a little silly. You’re naked for, like, four hours every day. It’s not like you would care if she watched.

But Fuyumi cares, because she doesn’t want to see you naked for the first time like that. She doesn’t want to see you naked and know she won’t be able to touch you.

“Okay, you can turn around, now.” You speak now that you’re dressed. She turns and you walk toward her, locking elbows. She leads you outside, locks the door with your hand against her arm like she’s yours, and walks you to your car.

“Guess I’ll see you next week.” She tells you, pulling away from you to walk to her bike. You call her name and it’s deja vu.

“Do you want to go get coffee?” You ask, stopping Fuyumi in her tracks yet again. She turns.

“It’s eleven o’clock at night.” Fuyumi says like an idiot.

“I just—I wanna keep…hanging out.” You say, and well, so does Fuyumi. Of course, she does. “Your bike’ll fit in the trunk. I’ll drive you home after.”

So, she says yes, stuffs her bike into your trunk with the back seats folded down, and ducks into your car.

You drive like a maniac, and you listen to your music way too loud, and Fuyumi hopes she doesn’t look as terrified as she feels despite knowing she can’t die in a car accident. But you can, she thinks, so yea, she’s terrified. And you drive like this all the time?

But you both make it in one piece, skirting into the parking lot of a diner with a yellowing neon sign out front. Everyone knows you inside, greeting you with happy smiles and asking you questions about your life, details Fuyumi hopes to know after tonight.

You take her to a booth in the corner, sliding in next to her instead of across, thighs pressed up against each other as a waitress brings you both a mug of hot coffee. You order apple pie with ice cream, and Fuyumi envies the fact that you’re even able to eat it. Since becoming a vampire, she’s lost any appetite for anything that isn’t blood.

“So, when were you turned?” You speak, licking vanilla ice cream off the back of your spoon, head resting on you fist as you stare at her. If Fuyumi had a working heart it would be beating out of her chest right now. “I don’t think you’re all that old. You actually seem pretty young. Tell me, maybe in the mid nineties, early two-thousands?”

Fuyumi opens then closes her mouth, unsure of what to say. How could you have possibly known (besides the fact that you got the decade way off)?

“I was turned in ’87 by an old boyfriend who couldn’t control himself.” You shrug, revealing the information like you hadn’t just told her that you, the little human she’s been so fascinated by lately, are a vampire.

“You’re a vampire.” She says—a statement—not a question, because of course, you’re a vampire.

“You didn’t know?” You ask, softer. She shakes her head, stares at the booth in front of her. She feels your fingers underneath her chin, and she’s not sure how she never noticed it before, but you’re hands are freezing. She lets you guide her to look at you. “Hey, are you okay? Did I freak you out?”

And it’s not that you’re a vampire. It’s not even that you’re a vampire that she was convinced was human. It’s that she wanted to bite you, wanted to feel that pop and gush, drink from you what’s not actually even being pumped through your body anymore, blood that’s lying dormant in your veins. And the thing is, she still wants to.

“I think I’m just shocked.” She speaks, willing herself to calm down, accept the situation, adapt. “I haven’t met another one of us here in town. It’s new, but it’s…good. I’m actually a little excited about it.”

“You don’t sound excited.” You observe, letting your hand fall to her thigh.

“I am—no really. I am.” She grins, leaning toward you. “How come you can eat real food?”

You think maybe she still hasn’t processed everything yet, the smile on her face a little unnerving. And there’s something in her eyes, raw, dangerous, hungry. It makes you shiver. “I never lost the appetite.”

“It tastes good to you?”

“So good.” You nod, unknowingly moving a little closer. Two girls pressed up against each other in a booth in a dark corner. Two vampires. Two monsters.

You’re there later than either of you expected to be, fingers intertwined, hands brushing away stray hairs, and words whispered against ears, tucking your face into her neck when you laugh at something inappropriate.

When you leave, Fuyumi tugs on your hand, interlocks two fingers as you walk to your car. You drive just as bad, but she doesn’t think she minds it this time. To die by your side, and all that.

When you drop her off at home, you scribble your number on her wrist with a green glitter gel pen and resist the urge to do something drastic like kiss her or invite yourself in.

Fuyumi realizes she’s left her bike in your trunk, her only mode of transportation to the studio besides walking. She eyes the green glitter on her skin and opens her phone.

left my bike in ur car:/ pick me up to go to the studio tmrrw? Read 2:22am

be there at 10 sent 2:24am

u can sit in on my class sent 2:25am

…

She does sit in on your class the next morning. You hold her hand and show her where to sit, a view of both the artist’s sketches of you and the actual you draped over a couch. It’s probably inappropriate to sit there all horny in the middle of this art class, but you won’t stop looking at her. You know exactly what your doing, mimicking the rise and fall of your chest like you’re breathing when she knows you’re not.

When the class ends, Fuyumi leaves to make more misshapen mugs, taking a few out of the kiln she thinks she’ll give to you. As the sun sets, both of you get ready to leave, and you’re at the door to the pottery studio by the time Fuyumi is done cleaning her space. You’re a little disappointed you missed watching her on the wheel, her pretty hands shaping the clay like you’ve seen her do many times before. You knock on the door frame, and she looks up at you, grins. Her hair is tied up, pieces of hair falling over her face, her cardigan falling down and exposing her right shoulder. You can’t get over how pretty she is, a little messy.

“Hi.” You speak.

“Hey. You ready?” She asks, throwing her bag over her shoulder and walking towards you. You always want to watch her walk towards you—never away.

“I’m ready.” You nod, intertwining your fingers with hers when she makes her way towards you. You drive Fuyumi to your house, your arm over the console and your hand on her thigh.

Your place is small, really just big enough for you. The walls are a mauve color that Fuyumi decides she likes, tiny star shaped twinkle lights hang over each window instead of curtains, a bundle of violets stuffed inside a beer bottle sit on your coffee table, books and dvd’s and records all stacked against one another with what seems to be no sense of organization in your bookcases. It’s really not much for a vampire.

She sets her tote bag carefully on the counter, red and white checkered, pulling two of her signature misshapen mugs from inside. One painted blue with tiny yellow stars and the other lined with terribly drawn strawberries.

“These are for you.” She tells you, turning to face you as you’re bent over your stereo, looking for a station you like. Bits from the past stick with you like a refrigerator magnet. Fuyumi wants to remember the look on your face when you turn around and see her gift for the rest of her life.

“I love them!” You gush, rushing over to pick both of them up. “They’re perfect. One for me, and one for you. We’ll drink blood from them with our pinkies up and cheers to LeFanu.”

Fuyumi laughs, says nothing about the blood. “I’m glad you like them.”

You turn around, opening one of your cabinets open with a finger, setting the mugs down on the counter and moving two snoopy holiday mugs on one shelf towards the back. You set the gift down in their place and wave a hand over it like your presenting them on a gameshow, “I’ve replaced the snoopy mugs with them. That’s a big deal, you know.”

“I’m honored.” Fuyumi grins, moving around the counter to stand near you.

“You should be.” You lean a little closer to her, let her hand brush against your hip, hook her fingers in your belt loops. You nudge your nose against hers, and she takes that as a sign to kiss you.

Chapped lips meet yours, hungrier than you expected, much less soft than the girl before you. There’s a burning in your gut, her hands, those hands you’ve payed so much attention to, pressing into your hips, pulling you flush against her front. You let out a moan when she swipes her tongue against your lip, your bodies pressing closer and closer like you’ll become one person. She moves her leg in between your thighs, pressed up against you, and your mouth falls open in a gasp, one she wastes no time taking advantage of, all tongue and teeth, all her, her, her.

The two of you end up on your couch, unable to make it to the bed. If you had to wait any longer, you think maybe you’d both explode. She eats you out, there in your living room, makes you come three times in a row, familiar hungry eyes never stray from your own.

…

She doesn’t talk about the vampire thing. Ever. She goes quiet when you bring it up, busying herself with something else like washing the dishes in your sink or trying to find something to watch on tv. You mostly let it go because you know Fuyumi. You know how fascinated she is by humans, how she envies them, how that envy and fascination is the very reason you’re together now.

And maybe it should hurt you, the fact that believing you were human was the one reason she’d been so interested. But you know her, bleeding unbeating heart and all, she loves you. She loves you and your monster, she just doesn’t love her’s.

It’s difficult to drag the body through your house alone, vampire strength being something you hadn’t been blessed with once you’d turned all those years ago. Fuyumi sent you a message that she’d be at the studio late and would probably just end up going home instead of coming over. You figure you have time to drain this guy of all he’s worth, pack him up into little tupperwares in your fridge and be done with him by morning.

You’ve done this a million times before, dragged a body out to your back yard, fed from it until your satisfied before saving the rest. It’s enough to last you a couple of weeks. It’s a good system.

You don’t hear the sliding door open, you just hear Fuyumi say your name. You look up at her, blood on your mouth, your neck, your hands, fangs poking out underneath your top lip. You’re sure you look terrifying, but it’s the look on her face that scares you.

It’s disgust, and betrayal, and anger. It’s tears welling up in her pretty, gray eyes and her mouth falling open and closed at the sight of you.

But Fuyumi, well, Fuyumi wants to join you. It’s taking everything in her not to fall to her knees and sink her teeth into the neck of this possibly innocent man. She wants to drink and kiss you, and drink, and touch you, and then drink some more, this time from your neck. But Fuyumi doesn’t kill for blood, and she thought that neither did you.

“I can’t believe you.” Her words are quiet. If you both hadn’t been outside on a completely silent night, you don’t think you would have even heard her.

“Fuyumi…” You begin, standing up from where you’d previously crouched down, blood on your hands falling against the concrete in sticky splatters. She takes a step back like she’s scared of you.

“You killed him.”

“Fuyumi,” another step.

“Stay there.” You stop. It’s not supposed to be like this. She’s supposed to love you. She does love you. You have to tell yourself that.

“I’m a vampire. What did you expect? This is who we are.” You try to explain.

“It’s not—it’s not who I am.” She shakes her head, flashes of red appear behind her eyes, the teeth of her brothers, her hands covered in blood the same way yours are now. Laughing, hollering, arms tangled together, the last time they’d all been with each other, the last time they were happy.

“It is. It is who you are. Fuyumi, you’re starving.” Your words seem to do something to her, her mouth falls closed. A decision is made, and her feet take her closer and closer to you and the body on the floor.

She wraps her hand around the back of your neck, thumbs through the blood you’re covered in and kisses you. She licks the blood on your lips, moaning from either your tongue or taste, you’re unsure. You pull her close, blood smearing against her white t-shirt. She pulls away from your lips, kissing your jaw and your neck, poking her tongue out to lick up the mess. You place your hands on her cheeks, pulling her back to look at you.

“Come here.” You whisper, pulling her down as you crouch to the ground. “I want you to drink—I want to share.”

She lets you pull her down, taking your hand in hers, slippery, slick. You move away from his neck, leaving it open for her, urging her. This is what she wants. There’s something about drinking from your bite in the man’s neck. You’ve been here, you’re bite is her bite is her blood.

And, god, is it delicious. She drinks, lets it fall down her throat in large gulps, dripping down her chin and neck. A sound escapes her throat, guttural, everything she’s deprived herself of having, here in between her teeth. She watches you while she drinks, eyes looking up through white lashes, reaching a hand out to hold you by the wrist, grounded. She pulls away, heaving, even though she has no need for breath. Her lips, saturated in red, begging to be tasted.

“You’re beautiful like that,” You speak, squeezing her hand, “with his blood on your mouth.”

She kisses you, all tongue, her fangs catching on your bottom lip. She pulls away and pushes you down, lets you bite the other side of the dead man’s neck, pets your hair as you drink. It goes on like this for a while, kissing, drinking, touching, whispers of please and oh, god and both of your names over and over until you’re a jumbled mess of words and sounds and blood and guts.

You stumble, half naked through the door, Fuyumi’s hands and lips all over you. You don’t make it to the bed, a habit the two of you have seemed to form, falling down on the hardwood, limbs all tangled. With her shirt already discarded outside, you thumb the hooks of her bra open, throwing it to the side. Blood has dripped from her throat down between the valley of her breasts, and you lick it up, feeling her back arch as she hovers above you.

She kisses your neck, almost frantic. Her fangs brush against your skin like she might sink into you, but she doesn’t, just kisses you so sweetly.

“Can I bite you, please?” She moans. “I need to—I’ve wanted to—”

“Yes.” You interrupt her, throwing your head back against the floor and baring your neck to her. She wastes no time sinking her fangs into your flesh, blood pouring into her mouth. Coppery and sweet, a hint of licorice and cherry—Fuyumi thinks she can’t get enough. You gasp, hands grabbing at her waist, fingers digging into her sides enough to leave a mark. You’ve never felt pain like this, all agony and bliss.

She smiles at you, bloody, when she pulls away. A part of you is her’s now, nestled between her ribs, living in her stomach. You taste yourself on her lips, hands pulling at her jeans, your leg moving between her thighs to grind against her cunt.

You flip her onto her back, sucking on her neck, venturing down her body. You pull her jeans from her legs, along with her underwear, spreading her legs. She’s so wet, thighs sticky with arousal as you run a finger through her folds. A whine escapes her lips as you thumb over her clit. With your eyes on her, you press your tongue to her entrance, watching how her face contorts in pleasure. It reminds you of the way she’d stared at you while drinking from the man, hand clutched to your wrist, not once daring to look away, With one hand, you reach up to do the same, bloody fingers circling her wrist as you devour her.

She writhes, arching her back and grinding against your face, a mess of slick and blood pooling in your mouth as you bring her closer and closer to orgasm.

“Please!” She cries, “please! Oh my god!”

Her moans only spur you on as you speed up the movement of your tongue, squeezing her wrist as you let her move her hips against your mouth. She comes with a strangled cry of your name, legs shaking around your head, falling limp against the floor as you lick at her swollen clit. You pull away, rising from your place in between her thighs to hover over her.

“Like that?” You ask her, placing soft kisses against her jaw. She manages a soft mhm before moving her face to kiss you.You run your hands up and down the sides of her body, “so pretty…”

“Let me touch you.” She begs, pushing herself up onto her elbows. You nod, letting her maneuver you so you’re on your back again. She kisses you again, swirling her tongue against yours, tasting herself. In a way, part of her is yours now, too.

She slips her hand into your underwear, gasping at the feeling of how wet you are. You take the opportunity to lick into her mouth, moaning against her lips as she slips two fingers inside of you. She pulls away from your mouth and eyes the open wound on your neck. You lock eyes with her, nodding in approval, allowing her to bite you again.

She bites and curls her fingers inside you at the same time. A choked scream escapes your throat at both sensations. You move your hips as she pumps her fingers in and out of you, her throat bobbing with each drink she takes from you. It’s overwhelming, and so satisfying, being the consumed for a change.

Her thumb brushes over your clit and you jolt, gripping her waist as she brings you closer to the edge.

“Kiss me!” You cry, “Fuyumi!”

She pulls away from your neck, watching how the blood flows from the wound, continuing her movements against your pussy. You pull her down to kiss you as you come from her fingers. You’re both moaning against each other, passing your blood between your tongues. She pulls her hand from between your legs, stares at the pink-tinted slick and how it webs between her fingers before wrapping her lips around her fingers and sucking them clean off.

She smiles down at you, hair a mess, glasses-less as they’d fallen off much earlier. You press your palms against her cheeks, admiring her. This Fuyumi is hungry, and bloody, and the furthest thing from human. You love her like this. You’ll be her’s forever, if she’ll have you.

You pull her into the shower with you, washing the blood from her hair and her back, taking turns and watching the blood swirl down the drain. She cleans the wound on your neck, and places a bandage over it, though you know it’ll be healed by morning. You place her glasses back onto her face. The two of you fall into bed, finally, arms and legs tangled together, huddled closely. She rubs over the bandage on your neck.

“Next time, I wanna bite you, okay?” You ask, nudging your nose against her. She lets out a laugh you’re excited to hear for the rest of your immortal life and nods.

“I can’t wait.”

#fuyumi todoroki x reader #fuyumi todoroki x you #fuyumi todoroki x female reader #bnha x reader #bnha smut #ghost.writes #ghost.fic #vampire empire

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