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awrkive · 7 months

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[DRABBLE] COLD NIGHTS & BLURRED LINES (m) — JJK.

you were used to jungkook making the first move every single time but this particular night, you couldn't help but change things up a little bit.

PAIRING jungkook x (fem) reader

GENRE r18+ (minors dni pls)

WORD COUNT 4.1k (this is def not a drabble anymore but its like 70% smut anyway saur 🤷🏼‍♀️)

WARNINGS/MISC jk in grey tracksuit 😢 oc is not a procrastinator everybody booed. kinda domestic vibes everyone wants to have what they have including ms delusional me !! this is my literally me fic kinda (this is literally just oc thirsting over jungkook OEBDIDHSJEB) also imagine 3D jungkook guys.... 🙏🏼 smut warnings: oral s*x (m&f receiving, 69 position), penetrative s*x, multiple positions, overst*mulation, creampies, unprotected s*x (dont fls 🙏🏼)

NOTES heyyy so i reread cnbl last night and scrolled thru unanswered messages on my inbox and found these 2 (amongst many IEBDIDHSHD) drabble reqs for cnbl and decided to write it bcs i love and miss them!! unfortunately i lost my ao3 password and i have nowhere to post this so whatever im gonna start posting here again LMFAOOOO. anyway, i hope u guys enjoy this 💗 this is most esp dedicated to the second anon i hate college as well i hope this drabble brings you joy ☺️

‼️CN&BL FULL FIC CAN BE READ HERE

You missed who you were thirty minutes ago.

Before Jungkook arrived, you were extremely focused on the essay you've been stalling to get done since last week.

You were set on finishing the paper tonight, determined to submit it a day prior to the deadline – which is two days from now. You've never been a procrastinator and you wouldn't dare start now. But ever since Jungkook called, arriving a little over five minutes after your conversation on the phone and entering your dorm room, you have never been the same. Gone was your will to finish your essay; it yeeted out the window the moment he came in.

It wasn't that he was doing anything wrong, per se. He wasn't pestering you or doing anything to distract you from doing whatever it was you were doing. During the phone call, Jungkook told you he just wanted to hang around and you were in on it. "As long as I finish this essay without you doing anything funny" – that, was what you said. Joking, a little pointed, when he came barging in your door, socks on and hair still slightly wet from the shower he most probably had at his own apartment.

When you said those words, the goof just wiggled his brows, smirking with a look of mischief written all over his face, and then kissed you in such an unnecessarily passionate way that had you internally keening when he broke away. That gave you an initial idea that he would, indeed, do some funny business. If you were honest to yourself, you wouldn't have really minded that at all.

That was thirty minutes ago. Jungkook surprisingly hasn't tried to touch you at all for the past thirty minutes. In the present, he is just sprawled on your bed watching something on your stupid iPad, airpods plugged in both ears, letting you work in peace on your laptop.

Thirty minutes ago, that would've been fine. Because ultimately, you could focus on your essay and finish it then pass it way before the deadline but no, your problem right this moment does not lie on phonology, it lies on why does Jungkook have to lean his back on the headboard, thick eyebrows meeting each other every now and then as he watched his movies, and put that white t-shirt and grey sweatpants on himself?

You've been having an internal battle with yourself trying to fight the urge to look over your shoulders for him every three damn minutes, groaning quietly as you thought about how Jungkook looked so ridiculously hot doing the bare minimum. Literally nothing. He was doing absolutely nothing. And he was making you feel weird in your belly!

Wait. Is it your period? It ended two weeks ago, though, so that is definitely not that. Maybe you are ovulating? You'd have to check your flow app.

Absent-mindedly, you let out the begrudging moan you've been trying to hide.

"God."

As if alarmed, Jungkook suddenly shoots up and speaks after what felt like centuries.

"You okay? Am I bothering you here?" He said, voice dripping with honey and face full of concern. You got even hornier.

Oh my god. You wanted to cry.

You send him a tight-lipped smile. "I'm fine. And uh, no. You're good."

Jungkook doesn't pry further and goes back to his binge. Meanwhile, you force yourself to think of something.

Another long five minutes later, and you are still halfway done with your essay. The unfinished document only seems to taunt you. So, you let out another sigh, quite quiet this time so you don't make Jungkook think he was being an inconvenience. You made up your mind and just decided to give in to your urges.

You shut your laptop down instead of pressing sleep as you are sure there is no way you can do any more work tonight.

Standing up from your seat, you approach Jungkook on your bed.

He looks up at you the moment you hovered over him, taking his eyes off the iPad. When the mattress dips from your weight, Jungkook's lips stretch into a cute smile.

Your horniness dissipates a little over his adorable face.

"Done?" He asks, lifting a hand over your face to tuck a strand of hair away that you didn't even notice. You shake your head. Jungkook leans down to kiss your cheek. "So, tired?"

You scrunch your nose. "Kinda."

He kisses your mouth when a pout forms there.

"Eaten anything yet?" Jungkook scoots over to the side to make room on the bed for you. You fit yourself in the space, albeit tight (this was a dorm room, alright), and Jungkook is quick to slide his arm under your neck while he still holds the iPad on the other.

"Just reheated some leftover pasta from last night." You cringe over your last meal. It didn't taste good at all but you were way too hungry and delivery took forever to your dorm.

Jungkook seems to know that that pasta was shit, but he doesn't comment on that. Just hums and kisses the side of your head.

Ugh.

"Wanna order something in? Thai?" He suggests, looking at you.

But right now, eating Thai or whatever is the last thing on your mind. Though you would like to eat something else.

You tell him so. Except the last part, of course. Please. You have decorum.

"Uhm, no. I think I'll pass on that. Unless you haven't eaten." you say, playfully pointing a finger to his chest.

"Nah, Taehyung cooked dinner. I'm pretty full." Jungkook says, chuckling.

You had a smart remark on your tongue, something along the lines of, "Then why'd you offer to eat if you already have, weirdo" but to be honest with yourself, you already knew why. Jungkook liked seeing you eat. Dude practically buys most of your meals, now that you think about it.

But your still horny-adled brain went to go and tell your hand to search for his bare stomach under his shirt. And so it did. Forget about having decorum, shame is out the door when you press your palm to the flat surface of his stomach.

"Doesn't feel full at all." You commented, feeling the hard ridges of his abs. You hate them right now. But you would also really, really, like to see them.

Jungkook only chuckles at that. Before he can say anything, you ask him, "Hey, quick question."

"Hm?"

"Can I suck your dick?"

"Huh?" Jungkook, ever the man he is, put the iPad away for the first time since he's been here. Confused, but still, you could not have mistaken the look of pure interest in his face the moment you asked him that.

"I want to suck your dick, if you let me." You say, clearing yourself up. You are putting on a brave face, but internally, you are screaming.

So what if this thing between you has been happening for like… ten months now, almost a year? Jungkook was usually the one to always initiate sex and blowjobs were almost a rare occurrence in your sex life because you told him it hurt your knees but the real reason was because you didn't think you were very good at it. Jungkook never asks for it either, and sometimes you feel bad for only reciprocating handjobs during oral sex quickies but! He never says anything about it so maybe that was fine? Anyway, it's not like this is gonna be your first time sucking him. It's just the first time you initiated with your own words.

"Oh, you're serious?" Jungkook scoots over to his side and lays sideways to prop himself up. "Really?" He has an excited smile on, and you know that because of the way his eyes crinkle.

"Don't make me repeat it." You say pointedly, pushing him a little bit. Jungkook doesn't even budge at the slight attack, only holds your hands in his.

"No, I just… I thought you said no fooling around tonight." He says.

You shrug. "Yeah, well."

You don't expect him to tug you closer to him using his hold on you, and you were thankful you managed to suppress a loud squeal when he laid on his back and caught your whole body on top of his.

"I guess you can't resist my charm, after all." Jungkook says, grabbing a handful of your ass.

"Jungkook, please, you're scaring my lady boner off." You roll your eyes as you adjust yourself on top of him to get more comfortable.

"Take care of my gentleman boner then, baby." He counters and just because of that you avoid the kiss he was about to give you.

"Don't ever say gentleman boner ever again." You pinch his nipple and he let out a laugh at your petty retort. You knew he was sensitive there. But even then, you were starting to feel the growing need concealed under his sweats, and you were set on giving him the blowjob of his life tonight for some reason.

"I have a suggestion to make," Jungkook says suddenly, stopping you from crawling down to his body. You arch your brow at him, he continues, "I don't think we've ever tried sixty-nine, yet, haven't we? Because I also really want to eat you out right now."

"Oh, well, yeah…" you nod. You find yourself heating up at the way he casually tells you the last part.

"So…?"

You haven't really tried that either, and not just with him, but also with your other sex partners that only really summed up to less than four people, and that's including Jungkook. Anyway, the sixty-nine position sounded interesting.

"Okay, sure." You shrug.

"Fuck, you're the best."

This time, you give in to the kiss he gives you and pretty much after that it turns into a heavy make-out session with Jungkook fondling your boobs underneath your overused highschool PE shirt while you ground down against his erection that only kept growing harder as seconds passed.

You are panting when you break away, a string of saliva in between your lips, breathing for some air. Jungkook kisses his way down your neck, suckling on your skin and soothing it with his tongue.

"Take your shirt off," you say, already impatiently tugging at the hem of his clothing.

Without a word, Jungkook frees himself from the fabric. "You too, and your panties. Please."

You chuckle at the "please" but nonetheless straddle him to take your shirt off. Jungkook looks up at you with hooded eyes, massaging the bare skin of your waist as you wriggle your hair out of the neckline. He grips your waist as you lift your bum off his stomach, pulling your panties and shorts down in one go one leg to another.

"Shit," Jungkook hissed at the sight of your glistening pussy that has gotten wet overtime, hands roaming all over your body like he doesn't really know where to touch. Always fascinated and in awe with what you show him, always so eager, so touchy. And you always love his undivided attention. Makes you feel like a princess for some reason. Doesn't help that he calls you that sometimes, too.

"Oh, fuuck," he groaned when you sat on his stomach. You couldn't help but let out a quiet moan, too, feeling his hot skin and your cold pussy touching together. "Angel, fuck, come here, let me kiss you."

You lean down to kiss him and he quickly reciprocates, his tongue entering your parted mouth, swirling and licking inside, taking your breath away. You could feel yourself smearing your wet mess on his abs but you couldn't really care less, not when Jungkook looked like he couldn't, too, squeezing every inch of you he could get his hands on. And they were everywhere, alright. Your breasts, your waist, hips, ass, his thumb on the inside of your thighs, all the while kissing you like he was hungry for it.

Jungkook jostles you a little when he lifts himself up a little to slide down the grey sweatpants you have a love and hate relationship with, his dick shooting up his abdomen and touching your ass as a result.

He stops kissing you.

"Alright, one more minute of you grinding against me will make me nut. Sit on my face now, baby."

Blood shoots up your cheeks, making you feel hot. A little funny, given what you are doing right now. But he can't just be so casual about it! He was asking you to sit on his face like he was telling you the grass is green. Regardless, you kiss him one last time.

"Don't suffocate." You warned him, already reversing your position as easily as you can so that your back is facing him.

You hear Jungkook chuckling from behind. "Please, I'll die happily suffocating in this pussy."

"Please don't talk about dying." You deflect, already feeling so shy about the whole thing. Indeed it was your first time to try this position, and you quite didn't know how to act. You wonder if he's done this already in the past, but found yourself irritated at the thought of him doing this with anybody else. You'd have to assess what that feeling of irritation means later.

"Hmm," Jungkook hums, grabbing the globes of your ass and fondling them before you could even properly place your knees on both sides of his head. With his hold on the flesh, he pulls you closer to him until you feel his breath on your core. "Ah, shit, will never get tired of this pussy, baby. Fuck, you're so wet."

You try to focus your attention on his hard dick against his stomach, veiny and rigid, red at the tip and shining with pre-cum. Wrapping your fingers around the base, you lean down a little more so that you can begin teasing him.

But Jungkook beats you down to it as he licks a long stripe across your pussy. It has you keening and stumbling a little over, feeling so good at the contact of his tongue against your sex. You hear him hiss before he says, "Come on, pretty, sit on my face, don't hover."

You hesitate before giving in, and Jungkook is quick to continue the ministrations of his tongue on your pussy. The position was so new to you but you couldn't help but think it was so good, feeling him this way, albeit still a little conscious about cutting off his air supply. But as Jungkook starts licking and sucking, you remember his cock in your hand and it prompts you to stroke him up and down; slow, because your mind is cloudy from the way you could hear the slick of your pussy from Jungkook's licking.

Leaning down, you kiss the head of his cock, licking his pre-cum off the top. There was Jungkook's groan again, and you thought that was a good sign, then continued to suck his tip a little just to see it getting even redder.

Jungkook suddenly gets more aggressive in the ministrations of his tongue, from his slow yet precise strokes, he starts increasing speed, fingers getting tighter on your asscheeks, the tip of his tongue prodding at your entrance giving you a taste of being full.

It prompted you to whimper, Jungkook only humming, seemingly pleased with himself. Letting out a shaky breath, you resume stroking his cock, twisting your fingers around the base. Soon, you lean even closer so that you can wrap your lips around the head.

Jungkook's groan was a pure sinful sound of pleasure as you did so. Nevermind that he was having his own feast on your pussy, you were determined to make him cum. And to do that was to suck on the tip gently at first, swirling your tongue on the cum that's building up on it. You joined the motion of it with your hand stroking the shaft up and down, cheeks hollowed and sucking the air in your mouth to create a suction that has Jungkook slightly jolting in his position.

"Oh, fuck yeah, baby, that's it, you're so good at this… shit," He says behind you, moving his mouth off your pussy and replacing it with two fingers. Jungkook slides them in easily, the squelching sound so apparent it cannot be mistaken for anything else if there was anybody but you two in the room. "You like this, baby? Hm? You're taking my fingers and my cock so well."

You moaned around his cock, heat starting to spread all over your body as Jungkook began to join his digits with his own mouth, devouring your pussy like he always does when he goes down. You start losing your rhythm on his cock, choking on it a third time now as you haven't really managed to fit it all in your mouth. You've always tried to, but he's always been a little too big for you. If it was a skill issue, you didn't care, Jungkook enjoys it just as much as you do.

When Jungkook rubs your clit, that's when you start shaking on your knees, threatening to crumble down.

As if he knew what was coming, Jungkook suddenly says, "Don't come yet, baby, not now." and you swear you would have actually cried.

What you didn't expect is Jungkook suddenly sitting up, his hands gripping your hips so that you don't jostle on top of him. You let go of his dick as he slides you off his body, and you let him manhandle you into sitting on his cock that slides in too easily like your pussy was fine silk. You now sit on top of him in what seems to be like a reverse cowgirl position, except that you aren't the one in control of your own movements.

"Oh, K-kook – Jungkook!" you yelped as he bounced you on his rigid dick, your body melting against his.

"Shh, take my cock, angel. You can do that for me, right? You're so pretty right now, I wish you could see yourself." Jungkook whispers against your hair, and you pathetically nod, craning your neck up at him to seek for his mouth. He smiles at you, the gentle nature of it so contrasting to the way he was controlling your hips, bouncing you in and out of his cock. "My pretty little angel."

He kisses you passionately, and as seconds passed his hands began to travel upwards to cup your breast, fondling it in his hand and pinching your nipple. You also started to initiate your pwn movements, meeting Jungkook's thrusts from below you, all the whole moaning in his mouth at the pleasure of his cock touching every crevice of your pussy.

The feeling of this never gets old even if you've done it exclusively and quite constantly with each other for the past ten months. Sex with Jungkook is always just so intense it always keeps you on your toes.

"K-kook, I'm cumming," you gasped in his mouth, feeling that build up in your belly

"Hm," Jungkook leaves your boob in favor of your pussy. Kissing you one last time on the mouth, he leans against your shoulder to watch as he spreads your nether lips. You look down to his hand there, fingers spreading the lips apart witnessing your own hole getting split open by his engorged cock. The sight was so lewd and obscene you couldn't help your moan. Then, Jungkook begins rubbing your clit again, fast and with a purpose, this time to make you finish. And he finally gives you the green light to do so. "You can cum now, baby."

And as if prompted by his simple words, you came, feeling a gush of wetness coming out of your pussy. You watch the way Jungkook kept his fingers in there, massaging your hole and kissing your neck.

"Jungkook…" you bury your face into the crook of his neck as you come down from your high, pussy throbbing and spasming from the intense feeling of cumming. He did edge you from when he ate you out.

"Good girl."

And again, Jungkook changes your position. From sitting up, you are now laid against the bed again, with him switching your positions so now he's the one hovering and you underneath him. He grabs your hips up and enters your pussy once again, sliding his cock in and out to chase his own orgasm. Your moans only encourage him to go faster, his grunts filling the room.

"Oh, that's it, Kook, you come for me too." You say, reaching for his stomach with one hand and fondling your own boob with other for his own consumption. Jungkook always liked seeing you play with them.

"Yeah, you're so sexy like that," he says, even picking up his speed higher.

Soon, he was cumming with a pained groan, and you didn't expect to cum a second time the same time he did.

Another gush of slickness slides down your pussy while Jungkook pulled out completely. But he was putting it in again a second later, rubbing his dick against your core. You sigh, partly at the sensitivity but also how pleasurable it all still felt even though you've come twice now in the span of almost what? – thirty minutes? Maybe an hour?

"Pretty fucking pussy you've got here, baby," Jungkook says before pushing his cum back into you, making you cry out. "Never gonna get enough of this. Of you."

You whimpered, clinging to his forearms as he continued his actions.

"Cum for me one more time?" He asks, staring deeply into your eyes.

And you couldn't possibly do that. Coming twice was not at all what you envisioned your night to be, thrice was a heart attack. But at the same time, you couldn't really resist his pleading eyes and his deep voice and his still hard cock pushing his creampie deeper into you.

So you nod your head, and Jungkook leans down to swipe the strand of hairs that sprouted all over your face overtime, wet on the hairline from your sweat, just before he slides his cock all the way in again, repeating that in and out routine, the slamming and the bottoming out, the quickening oh his pace and your toes curling once again that impeded your orgasm for the third time that night.

When you finished, exhausted and spent the fuck out, Jungkook laid on your boobs and kissed all over, playing with one of your nipples in his other hand. You were flat on the bed, dead weight, looking up at the ceiling and closing your eyes to cool yourself from what had just happened.

"Okay, that's enough, Kook, we gotta clean up." You say, massaging the soft curls on the top of his head.

He only let out a non-committal hum.

"Jungkook."

"Yes, baby?"

"Enough sex. I'm fried." You say, pulling his hair slightly to make him look up at you. But that was a bad decision of course 'cause he only seemed to enjoy the teasing.

"Just saying hello to these amazing boobs of yours." You rolled your eyes at his retort, nonetheless accepting it.

"Thanks, I guess."

Eventually, Jungkook stopped being clingy and finally found the will to fetch a wet rag from the bathroom. He cleaned you up and and you didn't bother dressing up except the panties you asked him to get for you. Soon after that, you cuddle together in bed.

"Hey," Jungkook suddenly whispers behind you, fingers massaging your hip, mouth press to your head. You hum. "I think we should do that more."

You try to look over your shoulder. "What? The sex?" you say, chuckling.

Jungkook pinches your hip. "Yeah, I told you we should have sex everyday. But that's not the point, I meant the sixty-nine."

"Well, first of all, having sex everyday is physically not possible," you roll your eyes though he couldn't see. "Second, I enjoyed that position, too. A little bit distracting, but definitely really enjoyable."

Jungkook agrees. "I think you just gave me the best blowjob of my life, if you wanna know."

"Really?" you confirmed, smiling up at him.

"Almost nutted when you sucked my head."

You chuckle, slapping his chest and roll your eyes again for how many times now?

"No but seriously…" Jungkook suddenly turns, indeed, serious. But he's still smiling, though, just a little less playful with his tone. "What was with you tonight? Did you finish that essay?"

Oh god, your essay. Right.

You feel your cheeks heat up a little remembering how you were basically thirsting over him him a while ago. And for no reason too.

Despite cringing internally, you shrug. "No, not really, but submission's two days from now and I just wanted to kiss you, I guess."

That made Jungkook's smile even bigger. He doesn't say anything more but only scoots even closer to your neck, kissing your hair.

"Hm, I always wanna kiss you too, and I do. But I love it when you ask for it."

You think you'll start doing it more, too.

#jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook scenarios #jungkook imagines #jungkook fanfic #bts smut #bts imagines #jungkook drabble #boyfriend jungkook #fic: cn&bl

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nezuscribe · 2 years

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𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐛𝐨𝐦𝐛!

pairings: eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: eddie munson feels terrible that a sweet girl like you has such a terrible boyfriend. it'd be a real shame if he couldn't help you out.

fic warnings (mdni 18+): reader is over 18, smut, cheating, blow jobs, eddie eating the shit out of you, fingering, teasing, heavy make-outs, mentions of weed/smoking weed, vaginal penetration, unprotected sex, creampie, eddie being a little bit possessive, corruption kink if you squint

Covered with ink, the smell of weed lingering in his hair, the Hellfire Club enthusiast could only leave so much to the mind's imagination. He liked to keep true to his name, to let people think their scandalous thoughts about him as he walked by, never asking because that would mean they were communicating with the sinner himself.

But Eddie Munson, alongside other things, was a fun person to hang around. He didn’t give a flying shit if the old ladies he passed by wrinkled their noses at his hair, or if people liked to gossip whether or not he made a deal with the devil. He was easy to talk to, comforting at times, and even caring if he truly tried hard.

With that, there were other things that only you could see. The little laugh he let out when you opened up your front door to him, shushing him as the two of you tiptoed to your room. Or the way he pressed a little kiss to your cheek before leaving out the back, waving farewell to you from your window as you suppressed the giddy smile that made its way to your face.

And it would be fine, really. Eddie could probably stay the night over, (maybe hide in your bathroom if your parents came up the stairs), but you two knew you could get away with it. And you could even stay over at his trailer if you wanted to, but both you and Eddie knew that there was one thing keeping you from spending the night tucked away in his arms.

It’s just that your boyfriend just wasn’t a big fan of Eddie Munson.

But you think that’s what spurs Eddie on even more.

Of being the sole person that everybody despises, of being able to defile you whenever he wants. Of being just too loud to raise suspicion, to have him look just around the corner and into your room to see you getting ruined by Eddie “the freak” Munson.

Sometimes Eddie likes to play with fire, to challenge the devil as he leaves dark marks just high enough on your chest and neck so that most of your clothing could just barely cover it, and most times you’d resort to having to conceal it with makeup.

Other times he’d like to write his name on the inside of your thigh, knowing that your pure and angelic boyfriend wouldn’t go looking down there anytime soon, but the thrill of your skirt being blown up by the spring winds and revealing the sinister acts that lay upon your supple skin.

But what Eddie finds funny about the whole thing is that most of the time, you don’t even try to hide it. Your hickies are almost always peeking through the layer of makeup or your clothing as if you wanted people to see them. Or how you wore the shortest skirt you could possibly find in hopes of having it scrunch up by accident, leaving people wandering eyes to zero in on the black marker lining your thighs.

Something Eddie noticed about you was that you were a lot more sinister than you let on. Sure you went to school every day, acting as if you enjoyed it. And made the teachers happy with your grades and preppy attitude, but you were honestly a little minx that Eddie had never expected.

Last week, for example, Eddie almost choked on the water he was drinking when you strolled into the cafeteria, not looking his way, caught up in something that your boyfriend was saying as you gave him a fake little laugh. But Eddie could see how you peeked over at his table, a sly grin on your lips as you went to rub your neck, his rings littering your finger as his eyes widened ever so slightly. Even worse was that you were wearing his shirt, the one he left at your house over the weekend. All while your boyfriend had his arm wrapped around your waist, holding you protectively to his chest as if you were his girl.

So when he came by later that day, knocking on the door, twice, letting you know it was him as you ran past your parents to open it, you cracked it open to see him leaning on the frame, his hands behind his back, a sneaky smile on his face as you shielded him from your parents view.

“Eddie!” You hissed, watching him gleam at your annoyance at his lack of caution.

“What? Wanted to surprise you,” He whispers with a pout, eyes racking over your form as he lets out a low whistle, “Prettiest girl in the whole damn world.” And he knows exactly what to say to make you forget why you were mad at him.

It had been days without you two seeing each other like this, being so close that you could see his doe eyes watching you carefully, hoping that he wasn’t crossing the line showing up like this. But deep down, he knew he wasn’t. Because as lonely as he was without you, you could barely function properly these days spent without having him by your side.

You watch as he pulls out his hands and shows you a little bag, “Someone was selling these while I was driving by and thought you’d want some.” And your frown can’t stay there for long as he motions for you to pick a cherry, ripe as it was just the perfect time of year for them. You bashfully grin, obliging him as you grab the ruby-colored fruit, popping it in your mouth as he gave you a little wink.

You had no idea how he could remember the little things you told him alongside all the other things happening in his life. But he’d do little thighs like this; bring you food when you called him late at night, tapping on your window to let him in, remembering the little things you liked and bringing them up late in conversation. It just made you fall even more in love with him, and it was painful that at the end of the day none of it would matter.

“Y/n? Who is it?” You heard your mom call out, worried about your quick behavior change, peeking over to see who it was but you slammed the door shut. You quickly swallowed, spitting out the seed into your hand as you waved her worry off.

“It’s Chrissy! She wants to study for our test!” You paused, “Can I go with her?” And you knew your mother wouldn’t ever say no to you hanging out with Chrissy Cunnigham.

“Of course! Tell Laura I said hello!” And that’s all you needed as you said your haste goodbyes, sprinting out the door as you were stopped by long arms, his signature smell wafting around you as you giggled against his chest.

He held out the bag of cherries again, his eyes softening as you took another, nudging him with your shoulder as you smiled down into the ground.

“Trying to butter me up, Munson? I’m not going to suck you off while you drive, it’s a safety hazard.” You tell him with a raised brow as you chew, your lips tinting red.

“You know me so well Y/n,” He shakes his head, grinning to himself as he lets out a laugh, “But no, not today, pretty. Just thought you’d like it,” You roll your eyes, reaching for another one as you walk with Eddie to his van.

You were close enough to him that his hair tickled your nose, and his skin was hot as yours was he opened the car door for you with an exaggerated movement, causing you to laugh at his chivalry as he gave you a playful wink.

“Ladies first, sweetheart.” And you let go of his hand, letting him shut the door for you as he rounded the car, climbing in the driver's seat as the van roared to life. He placed the little bag of cherries in the middle, opening it towards you as you softened up at his little gesture.

You drummed your fingers on your thigh, glancing at him from the corner of your eyes as he caught your stare, giving you a sloppy kiss on your cheek as you laughed, unable to control yourself around him.

“My rings, huh?” He asked as he turned the corner, glancing at your fingers that were still littered with his jewelry, a sort of brand he had on you that even your pathetic excuse of a boyfriend couldn’t ever achieve, “Little bit risqué don’t you think?”

“Thought you’d like it.” You answer coyly, reaching for his hand as you played with his fingers, tracing his palm as he let you, his cheeks dusted in light pink as he tore his eyes away from the road for a second to see you mindlessly toying with the skin of his arm.

“Yeah, more than liked it,” He grumbled as he remembered you fidgeting with his rings that day, tugging at the collar of his shirt as you sneakily put his little love bites on display, “Almost ran over there and fucked you on the table.”

Your cheeks heat in embarrassment, but it didn’t stop you from tugging at his fingers playfully.

“Everybody would have rioted,” You joke as you put his hand back down to his lap, not missing the sound he made at the back of his throat, the one that told you he didn’t want you to stop as you grinned, “Think my boyfriend would drop from a seizure.”

You pause, your lips pursing as silence floods between the two of you. You knew how he felt about your boyfriend, even though he never outwardly said it. Though glances shared in between periods, walking down the hall with you in his arms and the glares Eddie would shoot him didn’t leave much room for questioning.

“Want a cherry?” You ask, trying to break the tense air as you plucked one from the bag, twisting off the stem as you held it up for him.

He leaned to your side, eyes never leaving the road as he opened his mouth, letting you drop it on his tongue as he heard you let out a chuckle, rubbing his hand on the gearshift as he warmed up under your touch.

“Still think apples are better but … not bad,” He murmured, spitting out the seed into his hand, “Better not be though ‘cause that shit cost me a fucking arm and a leg. Roadside vendors just rob you blind.”

You click your tongue against your teeth, your smile dropping at his words.

“Eddie…” You say with a sigh, pulling out another cherry as you held it up to his mouth, his brows furrowing as he shrugged at your tone.

“What?” He opened his mouth for another and you obliged, “My girl likes cherries, so I bought her some cherries.” Your heart almost stopped as he spoke, but he didn’t seem to pay any attention to his words, nudging your elbow with his as he silently asked for another cherry.

My girl.

This whole arrangement was supposed to be a one-time thing. Your boyfriend refused to touch you, saying that he’d wait until the two of you were married. He’d go as far as a peck against your lips, but your hormones were raging and you doubted his little kiss was going to cut it for you.

Ever since you saw him, you knew that in some way or another Eddie Munson was going to be your savior. At first, you only talked when you wanted an escape, and he seemed to always have it ready in that little bin he carried around.

Smoking with him at first was unusual, seeing how you normally did it in the confines of the forest, hidden away from the naked eye. But you slowly warmed up to him, your mind betraying you as you began to realize that the so-called “freak” of the school was probably the sanest one out there.

Since then, lingering touches turned into experimental kisses, kisses turned into long hours spent in his trailer, and soon Eddie was fucking you on every surface he could find. Ranging from the back of his van, his bed, your bed, and the woods behind the school. And at first, you felt guilty, you did, but you couldn’t feel that way for long when Eddie made you feel the way you did.

You told him that it would never happen again, that this was a mistake and you should have never played into lust's temptation, but Eddie Munson managed to reel you back, and after a while, it seemed like you truly longed for his touch.

And the worst part is, you don’t think you’ve ever felt this way about anybody before.

Not even your boyfriend, who seemed intent on sharing a future with you. You can’t recall the last time somebody had made you laugh as much as Eddie had, or held you close to his chest as if you mattered. He liked to talk about things, never focusing on just himself when he told stories.

You knew that you had said it was only beneficiary, nothing else, no feeling attached. But glancing over at Eddie as he drove, his head somewhere else as he hummed a tune to a song he had heard on the radio, you felt yourself wanting to break your own rules.

So instead of dwelling on your warping feeling, the mind-numbing hope that maybe Eddie felt the same way you do, you opted to do something else. You looked out the window, staring at the flashing trees and the road as you saw the familiar sign that welcomed you into the trailer park, and he could see how you almost perked in your seat as he slowed down the van as he pulled up into his trailer.

“Home sweet home,” He muttered, leaning across from you as he dragged your door open, the action making you let out a playful giggle as you lightly pushed his shoulder, kissing his mess of hair as you hopped out.

Eddie raced you to the door, opening it for you as you gave him a little curtsy, earning a hearty chuckle from his end as he followed you inside, thankful that his uncle was away at the plant because he didn’t want him around for what would be following.

You had become familiar with the flower-printed walls of the trailer, the scent of his recently smoked blunt lingering in the air. The bra you had forgotten here last week was probably somewhere hidden under his bed and you kept kicking yourself for forgetting to bring it with you whenever you come over.

“So…” You clap your hands together, turning around to find Eddie already getting his boots off, shrugging off his leather coat as he placed it on the nook on the wall, “Do you want to- mph,” Before you could finish the question you felt your back being pushed roughly against the counter, quick fingers kneading at the skin of your hips as his nose nudged against yours.

“Needy much?” You ask, your sarcastic nature peeking through as Eddie groaned, rolling his eyes as his hands eagerly moved across your body. He could barely think straight after everything you had put him through, much less try to be patient.

“If I parade around in that black shirt you like so much all day, you tell me how needy you are.” He lamented, biting at your neck as your eyes widened, hands trailing up his back as they found purchase tugging at his hair.

He was right. You’d jump him when you had the chance.

“I just…” Your voice caught in the back of your throat when his lips pressed against the skin of your jaw, hot as they pressed little kisses along your skin, “I just thought it’d be a good idea.” You whimper slightly when Eddie presses you deeper into the counter, the wood digging into your back as he pushes more of his weight onto you.

“Yeah?” You could feel his breath against your cheek, heat flaming upwards as you looked up into his eyes, “That was your definition of a good idea?”

And honestly, you would have answered him back had he not leaned back down, his lips pressing feverishly against yours as you let out a surprised squeal. He was rough, your teeth clashing with one another as he tried to put his emotions into his actions, his hands coming up as they cradled the back of your neck, thumbs resting alongside your face as he tilted your head upwards.

He kissed you in that particular way you liked, the one that he knew made you go crazy. With his tongue swiping against yours, toying with you as he barely let you get a breather. He could still taste the cherries he had bought for you, making him moan into the kiss as you tugged at his roots. You were wearing that lipgloss he liked so much, too, which just seemed to make him go feral.

“Taste like fuckin heaven,” He teased as he pulled away, his soft eyes looking at your dazed ones as you shot him a lazy smile. His thumb rubbed at the corner of your mouth, trying to clean it off the smeared gloss. He stared at your swollen lips, at the way you followed his every move and his thumb slipped through the corner of your lips.

He went to pull away, his movements too slow and you too fast as your tongue swirled around it, never breaking eye contact with him as he whimpered, pressing his finger tight against the roof of your tongue, hearing your sweet little sounds following shortly after. He gently pulled your jaw down, your compliance making it easy for him to move you to his command. Seeing how the spit was pooling around his finger, he could feel his pants getting tighter at the sight.

“Shit,” He muttered, “You don’t h-have to…fuck,” Eddie could barely think as you let go of his thumb with a pop, his cock straining as your hands pawed at the zipper, your eyes wide, silently asking him if it was okay. He wanted to laugh if he could; as if he’d ever say no.

He nodded, his lips slightly shaking as he watched you fall to your knees, slow in your actions as you played with him a bit. You knew he liked it when you looked up, his pupils blown wide when your nose nudged at the bulge, a twinkling look in your eyes, knowing he was going to be wrecked in a couple of seconds.

He saw your hands moving gracefully, tugging at the zipper, undoing the buttons of his jeans, gingerly taking off his belt as his pants quickly pooled around his legs.

You could see the contour of his dick against his boxers, the little beads of precum that stained the fabric. You grinned, fingers moving as they softly traced the outline, hearing his shuddering breaths as you squeezed the tip.

“Y-you're killin’ me up here sweetheart.” He muttered, a shaky sigh escaping his lips as he tried to smile.

“Be patient Eddie,” You giggled, pressing a little kiss to the precum forming, the salty taste familiar as you went to tug his briefs down. You watched as his dick sprang free, slapping you on the cheek as you let out a little moan, the size of him never fails to surprise you, “You’re so big - fuck Eddie.” He whines at your words, at the way your nails drag up and down the long vein that wrapped around his cock.

Eddie can’t wait anymore with your teasing, waiting days to do this as he grasps the back of your head, jutting his hips forward so that his dick pushes past your lips, a little groan escaping your throat as he keeps pushing himself deeper into your open mouth.

“Jesus fucking Christ - shit - just,” He shut his eyes for a second, trying to compose himself, “Just like that. You’re so… so good at this - shit,” He began moving after letting you get adjusted, your nose hitting his pelvis as it brushed against his little tufts of hair. You let him guide your head, let him set the pace as he let out the sweet little moans you cherished so much, “What would your boyfriend say if he knew - fuck - that his girlfriend was such a slut for my cock?” And even though you don’t answer, he knew how his words affected you.

When this whole thing started, he tried to be as gentle and caring as possible. You told him all about how your boyfriend would neglect you, leaving you to fend for yourself, and that you were shy and genuinely had no idea what you were doing.

So he’d coax you through it, tell you had to suck him off as you obediently listened to his every instruction. But now, after months of bending you to his will, Eddie couldn’t control himself when he was around you anymore.

“No one’s as good as you,” He stopped momentarily, shuddering as your tongue ran up and down his length, “Fuck, you take me so well…” And you did because Eddie taught you how. You hoped that after months of letting him fuck your throat you had picked up something, tricks that you knew made him go crazy.

And you could feel him shaking, his grips on your head weakening as his fingers tugged at your roots. He was getting close, but before you could feel him release down your throat he pulled away, your brows furrowing in confusion as you looked up at him.

“Thanks, sweetheart, but,” He murmured, his thumb rubbing at your lips, smiling as he went to collect a mixture of his pre and your spit, bringing it up to his mouth as he watched you clench your thighs at the sight, “Wanna finish with you tonight.”

Your chest was heaving, but you smiled, shakily standing up, feeling the sting of the carpet on your knees as you winced a little. Eddie cooed at your reaction, rubbing at your neck as he pressed a kiss to your lips, guiding you towards the direction of his bedroom as you followed him silently.

The familiar walls and smell of his room made you smile, a comfort you had been reaching out for in the last couple of weeks seeing that Eddie was busier with his campaign. Before you could look around too much he followed in, hands on your waist as he closed the door behind the two of you.

He didn’t want to waste any time as he pushed you down onto the mattress, his hands cradling your head so that it wouldn’t thump too harshly against the springs like it did last time and he smiled against your chin, almost forgetting where he was as you nudged his hips. He motioned for you to crawl on his lap, and you obliged, settling yourself so that you rubbed against his hardon, earning a little gasp whenever you tried to adjust yourself on his thighs.

“You are so gonna be the death of me.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing, Munson.” He laughs, the sound vibrating against your chest as he plays with the little necklace you had worn, staring up at you as you carded your finger through his chocolate curls. He stares deeply, not wanting to ever forget that he has Hawkins High's golden girl straddling his lap, looking at him like he exists. It drives him insane and riddles his mind every night about how you could possibly come back to him whenever you do.

“So pretty…” He murmured, sucking at your neck as you shuffled around in his iron grip, your eyes squeezed shut as he moved to your collarbone, “You’re always so pretty.” He hopes you know he’s not just saying it to make you like him more because the way you look right now could make him lift the world if he really wanted to.

Your nose wrinkles and his heart drops, worried that he did something wrong, that his room smells too much for you, but your brows furrow in that cute way, your tongue poking out as you try to think of what was different.

“Is that a new shampoo?” You tug his head closer to your nose, your attitude different from the one you had seconds ago as he chuckles, his chest vibrating against yours as he nods in your hands as he lets out a sigh of relief.

“Mhm,” He kissed your collarbone as you were busy sniffing his hair, “It’s that one I kept telling you about, remember?”

You nod, hoping that he knows you remember almost everything about him. How you want to remember because you couldn’t ever forget the little snippets of his life he tells you about. You know how he likes his eggs, where he places each ring (because he has a system - he’s not an animal), and how every nook and cranny of his room is decorated with memorabilia he collected over the years.

“Of course I do, that green one, right?” You mutter, and he nods as you kiss the crown of his head, “It smells really good.” He beamed, rubbing at your back as his hands slipped up your shirt.

You felt him tug at the hem of your shirt, a little sign you had picked up on over the months as you helped him as you lifted your arms, your shirt quickly coming off as he never left your tits and the lacey bra you were wearing.

He swallowed dryly, the sound audible as you raised a brow at his reaction, your lips tugging up into a little grin as his hands moved up your back to find the clasps. When he finally got it after seconds of playing with it he was quick as he tugged the straps down your arm, tossing the bra to the side, surely another one lost to the many you had left in his room.

“You’re acting like you’re in middle school Eddie,” You tell him with a chuckle, poking his sides as he glances at you, “It’s nothing you haven’t seen before.” And he shakes his head, his fingers playing with your nipples as your eyes flutter shut at the sensation. His rings drag against your skin, the temperature difference causing goosebumps to follow in their wake as your thighs clench at the feeling.

“Shut up,” He murmurs, flushing pink as he takes one of your nipples into his mouth. He rubs at the other one, not leaving it unattended as you, and you heat up in embarrassment as he flashes you a smirk, cupping them in his palms as he gives both of them a gentle kiss, “Let me have my moment.”

You groan, covering your face in your hands as he laughs against your soft skin, taking this opportunity to trail his fingers downwards, pulling at your shorts as he slowly rubs against your clothed mound.

“E-Eddie!” You squeal, squirming as he simply smiles, his thumb moving around to find your clit, your mouth falling slack as he continues to rub against it, the friction of the fabric causing you to squirm around in his hold, “P-please, oh…” You trail off when he quickened his pace.

“Please what?” His tone was taunting, the kind you hated because now you knew what he wanted, “‘M not going to give you anything if you don’t ask for it. Where're your manners, sweetheart?” You let out a little cry, your head falling into the crook of his neck as his other hands gingerly stroked your back in a comforting way.

“Eddie,” You whimpered against the column of his skin, searching for the spot that made him go weak, his breathing shuddering as you dragged your lips against it, “Please…god fuck, please touch me.” Eddie snorts, his hands stopping their movements as he raises his brow in questioning.

“Where?” His thumb presses up harshly against your swollen clit, dragging it down south as you whine again, “Here?” And you dumbly nod, not knowing if you had it in yourself to tell him what you want.

He didn’t have to be told twice as he hooked his fingers along the waistband of your panties, tugging them down as he flung them off into the abyss of his room. He could see how your chest was heaving with labored breaths, and he grinned inwardly knowing that nobody else would be able to see you like this.

He flattened you down on the bed, pushing down on your stomach as you followed his movements, watching as he stretched, flashing you a charming grin.

He pressed a little kiss to the inner corner of your thighs, each one closer to your awaiting cunt, his nose rubbing alongside your clit, giving it a little sniff as you groaned, your hands pawing at the bedsheets as he smiled against you.

“You’re such a perv, Eddie.” You mutter, turning your head to the side so that he couldn’t see your expression.

“Yeah, I know,” He chuckled, giving little kitten licks as you shuddered again, “But you like it, don’t you? Like knowing that I’m the only one that can touch you like this?” And you can’t answer him because you both know he’s right.

You can’t say anything as his tongues swirl against your folds, lapping up your essence as you moan, your cries growing louder and louder as he increases his movements. Everything he did was driving you towards the edge, especially when he looked up from between your thighs, smiling knowingly against your skin as he sucked loudly at your clit

“So wet - fuck,” He groans, his tongue moving past your entrance as he watches your eyes roll back, “Shit…and you taste so fucking good,” And the obscene sounds mixed with the way he swirls his tongue around your hole is enough to make you go crazy.

You knew he hadn’t been going at it for long but he was so skilled in knowing how to unravel you that you could already feel your thighs shaking, his grips on them tightening as he tried to hold you down. You carded your fingers through his hair, trying to move his head up and down the expanse of your cunt.

“Just like that,” He’d say, his tongue moving up to your clit as he pumped a finger in and out, his eyes shutting momentarily as he felt you clamp down on him, “S-sweetheart you’re so fucking tight. Even after all this time,” You let out unintelligible babble as he drew circles on the bundle of nerves, adding another finger as you cried out for him.

“Eddie! Fuck, s-shit,” Your words slurred together as he quicked his pace, feeling how you squeezed against his digits, “Don’t stop - umph!” You bit down at the back of your hand to muffle the scream you would have let out.

“God, Eddie, please, oh, just,” You cry out, “Faster, please!” And he obliges your change in nature from when he first met you only going south.

“Come on sweetheart, almost there,” He coaxed you through it, his fingers and tongue never letting up, “You’re doing fucking amazing, come on, cum, there you go…” You twitched around as your toes curled, white flashing before your eyes as you let out a scream, your climax washing over you as Eddie made sure not to waste a drop of your release, quick to lap it all as he sucked his fingers dry.

He grinned as he took in your wasted state; your legs spread wide open for him, pussy twitching from your orgasm, wet and shiny in the dim light of his room. He wanted to punch himself for forgetting to stock up on film to take a picture of this very moment.

“You look ruined.” He said teasingly, moving down as he balanced himself on his arms, pressed a sloppy kiss to your lips as you whined at the taste of yourself on him. He trailed down, sucking at your neck, just above your collarbone. He made sure to leave another mark for tonight, reveling in the way you’d groan at him, smacking him in the arm for not being conspicuous enough, but not even bothering to cover it up when the time came.

“Because of you,” You muttered weakly, stretching your legs wider so that he could situate himself more comfortably. His fingers kneaded at the meat of your thighs, running down your calves, and he winked as he caught your stare.

His hands grasped at your ankles, moving them up and to his shoulders as you winced a little bit at the uncomfortable stretch. He pressed a kiss to them, a small thank you for being so acquiescent.

Before he could continue you saw how he paused, his fingers still rubbing at your calves as he looked at the drawer next to his desk. You followed his gaze, your mind working fast as you tried to contain the little grin that graced your face when you tapped his shoulder, bringing his attention back to you.

“Don’t have to,” You whisper, your voice thick as his brows furrowed in confusion before you continued, “I’m on the pill.”

And he chokes a little bit, his eyes widening as you giggle at his reaction. The idea of doing it raw with you had been plaguing his mind ever since he first felt you wrap around him, wondering just how warm you were, and he could barely think straight when he thought about spilling in you, his cum overflowing from your pretty pussy as he marked you in the most intimate way possible. He was so lost in the little trance you had placed upon him that he could barely register your gentle touch as you rubbed at his cheeks.

“Y’hear me, Eds?” You asked, worried as he seemed like he went to his little world as his grip on you tightened just a bit. And he nodded, looking back to you as he leaned back down, his hands moving away from your legs as your ankles slid down, catching you in an unexpected kiss. It was feverish and crazy how he moved against you, wet and sloppy as he tried to make it fast but he couldn’t with the way you held his jaw in your hands, looking up at him softly as your eyes searched his.

“Y-yeah, heard you just fine, sweetheart.” He said through a grumble as he cleared his throat, pressing another peck to your forehead as he moved back down, readjusting himself to where he originally was as he rubbed at his ears glowing pink.

“Make me go crazy, seeing you like this,” Eddie murmurs as he aligns his tip with your entrance, groaning at the feeling as you stroke his arms, your finger trailing upwards as they push the hair out of his face, “You’re so fucking hot, y’know that, right?”

“Eddie please just,” You press your lips together as he quirks a brow, “God - please - just fuck me already!” He laughs at your outburst, evading the little punch you threw at his chest as he pressed a kiss up against your knuckles.

“Whatever you want, sweetheart.”

He pushes his cock in, bottoming out in you as you scream at the feeling of him. It was much more different than you expected, feeling all of him in you as your lips trembled at the feeling of his veins dragging up your walls.

“Eddie! Fuck, ugh, oh fuck you’re s-so big!”

He whines at the way you grip his wrists, how tears spring up to your eyes as you try to get used to his size.

He can feel your nails drag along his back, the pain not enough to hurt him as he tries to control himself, knowing that you had to adjust for a couple of seconds before he continued. It was evil the way you had him wrapped around your little finger, acting like he knew everything when he was a total mess whenever he was around you.

Your eyes squeeze shut at the sting, his dick still managing to stretch you out after months of taking him.

“S-stop,” He moaned out as you dragged your hands across his chest, your psalm freezing as he shivered, “Stop clamping down on me s’much sweetheart, gotta…” He breathed deeply through his nose, still trying not to move, “Gotta loosen up, j-just a little bit, fuck, p-please…” And you try, really you do, but he’s just so big that you don’t have the opportunity to do so.

So Eddie gives up, his hips betraying his mind as he pulls back out, slamming back down into you as your screams and moans wrap around him, holding his body like a vice as you grip at his arms, begging him quietly through your choked words to just slow down a little bit.

You can feel every little inch of him in you, his veins dragging up and down your walls as his tip teases that spongy part inside of you, his hands trailing down to where your bodies connected as he rubbed frantically at your clit, your eyes squeezing shut in ecstasy.

“Shit - fuck, Y/n you feel so fucking amazing like this, fuck, fuck, fuck…” He groaned, his hands searching for yours, sliding them up as he curled his fingers with your, the bead of sweat trickling down his face as he kissed the tip of your nose in the loving way he always did.

It wasn’t that you weren't used to this, how he fucked you up and down on his cock.

Eddie Munson just always seemed to know how to fuck you stupid.

Words were incoherent from your mouth as you babble on about how amazing he was, his dick repeatedly hitting your g-spot as you gripped whatever you possibly could, your hands searching for something to hold because you felt like you’d be slipped away sooner than later.

He hoists your leg up to his shoulder, leaning down as he nuzzles into your neck, letting out a choked moan as he kisses your breasts, sucking at them and leaving little bites all over them as he felt himself going insane with the way you clenched tightly around him.

The smell of sweat and sex was defiling you all over again, Eddie's cologne mixing with the perfume you had spritzed on earlier that day, and it became addictive, the way you searched for it, something that only the two of you could create.

“Eddie, please, mphf!” You moaned as he captured the sound in a searching kiss, his tongue running along your lips wet with spit and tears, “Please, p-please cum in me, I wanna feel you so fucking b-bad!” You cried as his finger swirled faster against your clit. The feeling that mixed with the way he rutted his hips against you, his balls slapping against the flesh of your ass as it became drowned out by the sound of both your sobs.

Both you and he could feel each other releases coming, with the way your walls began to clamp down even tighter and how he faltered, his legs growing weak from the weight of it all crashing down on him, his hold on your waist growing tighter than ever before as his hips slammed back down into your pelvis with less force than before.

You trailed your fingers down to where he was circling your clit, all of it working together as you let out a little squeal as you gushed around him, your release coating his skin as he sputtered against you.

“Shit! Fuck, oh god, Y/n, fuck, I’m c-coming…” He couldn’t finish his sentence as you felt his cum coating your walls, hot against your already burning folds as he slumped down, groaning into your chest as your hands stayed limped on his back.

His dick was still pulsating inside of you, a little bulge from everything and he slowly pulled out, his cock growing soft as he watched his cum spill out of you, the sight nearly enough to make him hard again.

“Holy fucking shit,” He muttered softly, his fingers going to your aching cunt as he tried to shove it back in there, not missing the way you moaned as he accidentally rubbed against your swollen clit, “Y’look so fucking hot right now.”

And even in your dazed state, you managed to laugh, the sound warming up his chest as he engulfed one of your hands in his, bringing it up to his lips as he left tender kisses on your fingertips, trailing down to your knuckles as you melted at the gesture.

“Shit, shit,” He muttered quickly as he notices all the marks littering your chest, his rings scratching alongside your waist from how tightly he was gripping you and he grimaced, “Sorry for hurtin’ you, didn’t mean to be so rough,” You would have argued if you weren't so tired. And regardless, you watched through blurry vision as he quickly jumped off the bed, tugging on some boxers as he sprinted out of the room only appearing minutes later with a wet towel.

“Here,” He motioned for you to spread your legs a little bit so he could clean the mess between them, “There you go, just like that sweetheart,” He tried to be gentle, cooing at you as you winced as it dragged against the tender skin of your cunt, delicate kisses lining your entrance as he looked at you through his long lashes.

“Y’did so fuckin’ amazing.”

With a little giggle and a knowing smirk, you shrug, pulling him by the back of his neck as you kiss the corner of his lips.

“I know Munson,” You push his hair behind his ear as he smiles into your lips, “You never fail to mention.”

He grins, flopping down beside you as he tosses your shirt back towards you, averting his gaze as he tugged it on, his innocence in moments like this making you fall for him even more than you already thought was possible.

Eddie glanced at the clock on the wall, groaning at the time and you followed his gaze, the sinking feeling filling your stomach as you realized that it was beginning to get late and you’d have to go home soon.

“Wish you’d just stay,” He whispered truthfully, turning his body so that he could press against your neck.

“I know,” You kissed the side of his head as you nudged his jaw with your nose, wanting him to look at you as you smiled a little bit, “Soon.”

He perked up a bit, eyes widening as he tried to decipher what you could mean.

“Soon?”

“Soon,” You say with a giggle, laughing against his lips as he brings his hand up to cradle your face, smiling gleefully into the kiss as he gently bit your lip, pulling it forwards as your hands ran up and down the expanse of his naked torso.

“Really?”

“Really really,” You say and he scoffs, almost not believing you as he raises his brows.

“You honestly mean it?” He sounded so optimistic, so tantalizingly precious that you couldn’t help but break into a wide grin, nodding against his face as he gripped your hips gently, kissing alongside your jaw as he could practically feel his heart beating sporadically in the limited space of his ribcage.

“Cross my heart.” You say, doing the motion as his forehead relaxed, hugging and pulling you closer to his chest as his fingers trailed across the curves, the little dips your body allowed only him to see.

The beating of his heart was loud, yet peaceful enough to lull you into a state of calm, your breathing slowing down as his hands mapped every crevice of your torso, pinching playfully at your thighs as you giggled in his grasp.

“Think I’m starting to like cherries more,” He murmured against your skin, his lips hot on your shoulder as you smiled up at the ceiling, eyes twinkling as Eddie traced little shapes onto your stomach.

“Yeah?” He hummed a bit as you couldn’t help but laugh at it all, “Why’s that Munson?”

“Apples just don't...” He paused trying to think of how to phrase it correctly, “They don’t cut it anymore, if you get what I’m saying.”

“I’m sorry but,” You chuckle as he smiles against you, “I don’t think I do, Eds.” It was these little conversations that you cherished more than anything, where both of you were carefree and the world around you didn't matter because the way he held you tightly against him made you feel so many different things at once you couldn’t process the emotion somethings.

“Yeah, well,” He gave an exaggerated sigh, “Cherries have the annoying seeds and they charge fifty times more for them but,” He licks your neck and you heat up, “They remind me of you. Apples now remind me of Henderson and his lunches packed with that god-awful smelling baloney.” You give him a hearty laugh, turning around as you kiss him, not able to stop because he always managed to toy with your heart in this particular way that made you wonder why you hadn’t met him sooner.

The night faded out with him bringing you back home, dropping you off with a tender kiss and a farewell wave, acting like your very own knight as he left you beaming by your front door, your feet digging into the concrete as you reached up on your tiptoes to wave goodbye to him. And you Realized at that very moment that Eddie Munson had total reign over you now, and nobody could match up to him again.

So when you meant soon, you really did mean it.

That following day you strolled into the cafeteria, straying away from the boy attached by your side as you ignored his confusing calls, wondering why in the world you were walking towards Eddie Munson.

Your smile was bright and gleaming as he watched through a calculating gaze, leaving everybody in that lunchroom stunned and speechless as you leaned up and dragged him down by the neck to press a sloppy kiss to his lips, his smile apparent even as you pulled away, his hands never leaving your hips as he raised his brows.

“New gloss?” He asked, feeling the eyes of everybody in that room as he motioned his finger to his lips, and you shot him an apologetic look as you wiped it off with your thumb.

“Mhm, it's cherry!” You tell him with a little giggle, “Thought you’d like it!”

Eddie Munson was a man long gone after that, groaning as he swooped you back into his arms, not caring that your boyfriend was shouting loudly behind you, demanding to know what in the actual fuck was happening.

Because now, Eddie could finally kiss that obnoxious flavored gloss off your lips and knowingly stare at the world with a cocky smirk because you were always going to be his.

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shima-draws · 2 months

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OK, so thinking about a Sanlu au where Luffy is a Pirate King who gets so many marriage requests but does not want to get married. And so he instead insists that he gets to choose his partner through a contest where all the princes and princesses of like the countries around them or other pirates can like bring him a meal and if he likes it, you get married. The problem is that whenever people bring him food he'll just eat it and move on.

And so obviously the vinsmokes are like. Oh s***, we should get in on that. New Ally? And so they try with some of Sanji's others brothers, but none of them like work because they just made their cooks make their meals and everything.

Then eventually sanji, who wants to escape hears about this. And he knows that he can cook so he makes this amazing meat dish He is ready to present his meal towards the Prince in hopes of like maybe escaping his country and living there with Luffy. But like as he's on the way there, there's like this little girl who's starving, and so he gives her the meal instead. It was a one in a million shot anyway.

Anyway, either Luffy sees him doing this or if this was like the true test for kindness for all his partners, and sanji passes the test. Luffy's like get bring this man to me! So sanji goes before him, and luffy asks if he has a meal for him. All sanji has is like, this old sandwhich that he made for himself for the journey here, and sanji tells luffy that. Luffy tells him to bring it to him anyway, and after a lot of protests, he does. Luffy finally eats it and says that its delicious. He and sanji definitely get married.

Sorry for dumping this on you, but your artwork made me literally fall in love with sanlu so I wanted to share this middle of the night idea with you lol.

SCREAMING CRYING THROWING UP ANON THIS IS EVERYTHING.......I'm a SUCKER for AUs like this, ones that kinda give off that Cinderella vibe? The whole 'Well if I have to get married to a random stranger I'm gonna do it my way' trope is always so fun to explore

Luffy's one requirement for a spouse being that they have to cook well is SO on brand for him tbh. I feel like that's something that would be canon too. (Thinks about a situation like that in canon where Luffy's like well nobody can cook better than Sanji so I'll just marry Sanji! And Sanji double takes like wait what hold on a second--)

Even funnier would be if Luffy just met Sanji's brothers and was like. I don't like their vibes they seem mean. And all three of them being SO offended at that lmao

SANJI GIVING HIS DISH TO A STARVING GIRL THO AAAHGFHFHF THAT'S SO. CLENCHES MY TEETH he's so selfless and giving he would absolutely give up all of his dreams just to make sure someone doesn't go hungry I am GOING to cry. And Luffy immediately noticing that, pointing at Sanji and going "Him. I want that one" AGHHH 😭😭😭

ALSO YES THE CALLBACK TO WCI with Sanji's little lunch basket...the food is a total mess it's been rained on and dropped and looks awful but Luffy eats it anyway and says it's delicious...and Sanji's like oh oh oh I think I'm in love with him. Uh-oh.

DON'T APOLOGIZE THIS IS SOOO ADORABLE I'm so glad I got you hooked on Sanlu they are so underrated!!! Going slightly off topic here but I think it's really funny how predictable I am when it comes to getting into new media. Step 1 I watch a show and slowly discover who my Favorites are. Step 2 I end up shipping those favorites together. Step 3 I make that everybody else's problem. Also that ship almost always ends up being the less popular one for some reason?? Which is SO funny to me. Looks at Trustedpartner/Diode, Yujikiri and Tododeku as the most obvious examples of this along with Sanlu

ANYWAY anon I really want to write this can I write this. No guarantees to me actually finishing a full blown fic but oh my godddd this is such a cute idea and is so in character for both of them I'm weeping real tears

#Shima answers questions #I'm going to blow up this is SO THEM!! SO SANLU #I love them so much hahfhghfsanda #I love Cinderella-esque AUs anon you're a GENIUS #Sanlu #One Piece #Lusan #Luffy #Sanji #Monkey D Luffy #Black Leg Sanji

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piratefalls · 6 months

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“You are", he says, "the absolute worst idea I've ever had.” - me @ ao3 after watching the movie and thinking "there's probably fic for this."

i like lists. i've lost sleep reading fic like it's gonna disappear the second i look away. i'm making my problem yours. i'm sure a lot of these won't be new to people since they pre-date the movie and it's far from comprehensive but. i'm late to this party. i also can't make gifs, so enjoy the basic canva header.

(baby) don't make me spell it out by extasiswings

One night near the end of first semester 1L finals, just a few weeks before the two-year anniversary of their first kiss, Alex finds himself looking up from his desk with its messy piles of color-coded notes and tabbed textbooks to see Henry asleep on the couch, clearly having dozed off waiting for him to come to bed, and unbidden he thinks, God, I’m going to marry this man. It startles him, the spike of adrenaline that floods through him waking him up and bringing the parts of his brain turning over concepts like proximate cause and strict liability to a standstill as he stares at Henry. I want to marry this man.

God Save the Blessed American President Mom by zipadeea

["June stopped by at lunch; she showed me a delightful channel called Hallmark, which repeats the same story every hour after they swap one round of white, straight, small-town conventionally beautiful actors for another. It was entertaining.” “June and I used to play a drinking game with those. Take a shot every time someone goes ice skating, sledding, or leaves the big city for their tiny hometown.” “Good lord, you must’ve been sloshed in the first ten minutes.”] -- On December 4, 2021, an attempt is made on President Ellen Claremont's life. Alex gets shot instead.

Familiar Gravity by cmere

“Yeah,” Alex breathes, and he pulls back to look Henry in the eyes. “I’ve been fantasizing about you fucking me in this chair for, like, weeks. Every time you sit down here with your stupid book.” Henry likes it when Alex speaks Spanish and Alex has a request.

Am I the Asshole? by everwitch

AITA for spending Valentine’s Day with my roommate instead of my boyfriend? It’s well past midnight on a Saturday and hardly the first time Alex has scrolled aimlessly on his phone instead of trying to sleep, but it’s definitely the first goddamn time Alex has discovered his roommate has made a lengthy post about last night’s curry debacle to r/AmItheAsshole — a post that’s apparently gone fucking viral. -- In which Alex and Henry are college roommates, and a few thousand strangers think they should fuck.

Everybody needs good neighbours by railmedaddy

To nora(9.37pm): So a funny thing happened My hot neighbour brought me the mcflurry i ordered and we fucked From nora (9.38pm): WHAT DETAILS NOW Which neighbour? Wait, you only have one hot neighbour. Alex, did you fuck a guy?!?!?! ALEX Or Alex meets a hot new neighbour. Shenanigans ensue.

A Picture on Your Corkboard by bleedingballroomfloor

It happens on a random morning in May when Alex, age fourteen, pads into the kitchen to greet his mother and steal a waffle from June's plate and sees a man sitting at their breakfast counter, reading a newspaper, a cup of coffee raised to his lips. Like he belongs. Like it's the most natural thing in the world. June doesn't seem to give the man a second thought. She merely flicks Alex on the forehead and takes back the waffle. Ellen isn't worrying, either. In fact, she's talking to him. Asking what his schedule is like. Making plans for dinner. Alex has never seen this man before in his life.

this is the worthwhile fight by dearhappy

It's not that Henry's scared of their future, he's never been more sure of anything in his life. The thing is they're still trying to figure out how that future is going to look. And he worries about how it'll affect Alex's career in politics.

Déjame Ver Cómo Es Que Floreces by 14carrotgold

Oscar gets in close and bluntly asks, “Earlier. In the bathroom. Did you do it?” Alex scoffs, “No. Don't be a perv. Why would you wanna know that anyway?” Oscar rolls his eyes. “Mind out of the gutter, chamaco. Did you propose?” Ah. - Henry is introduced to the extended Diaz side of the family at their matriarch's birthday. Shenanigans (and romance and feelings) ensue.

Please Don't Let Me Be So Understood by chamel

“I’m glad you both see it that way,” Dr. Chen says. Then she closes her notebook and folds her hands on top of it. “I think I’m starting to get a sense of where the issues lie. The good news is that you’re both here, and you’re both willing to work on this relationship. That’s promising. Not all of the couples I see are even at that point.” “Sorry, what?” Henry says, voicing Alex’s stuttering thoughts as well. (After one too many fights at work, Henry and Alex are assigned mandatory reconciliation therapy by their boss. Except the therapist thinks they're there for couples therapy... and surely, a bet on who will break first makes more sense than actually correcting her, right?)

Such a Burden, This Flame on My Chest by allmylovesatonce

Alex Claremont-Diaz is relocating back to Austin to join his dad's firehouse. His days as a firefighter in Washington D.C. ended badly, but no one knows that, or knows why. And he plans to keep that close to his chest. He has to shove it back down if he wants to seem like a normal person, if he wants to do the job, if he wants to get along with his new crew, and most of all, if he wants to get to know the hot British firefighter on the squad. No one can know what really happened.

thinking (about last night) by rhosyn_du

“I hope you know that I am literally never going to stop reminding you that you said that. I’m going to, like, take out an ad in the student paper. Maybe hire a skywriter or something. I am definitely telling Pez." "I hate you," Henry tells him. "Lies," Alex says, still laughing. "You know you love me." Henry lets out a heavy sigh. "Well," he says softly, "that's rather the problem, isn't it?" “What, you think we’d be better off if we still hated each other?” “I think," Henry says slowly, "I’d be better off if I could figure out how to stop being so stupidly in love with you.” It takes a few seconds for the words to really register, as distracted as Alex is by the heat of Henry’s breath and wondering how much it would cost to actually hire a skywriter. Once they do, it takes a full minute before Alex can move. Can breathe. Can think. Finally, he forces out a whispered, “What?” When that gets no response, he tries again. This time, his voice actually cooperates. “Wait, what?” The only response he gets is a soft snore and Alex realizes that Henry, the utter fucking asshole, has passed out on his shoulder.

you're the reason i let myself fall by perfect-porcelain (tedddylupin)

Alex doesn't quite know what to expect when he walks into a room with a glowing screen separating him from the person in the other pod. The entire experience makes him skeptical. How can you fall in love with someone you've never met? Or: Love is Blind AU

Sharper Head, Wilder Heart by Dawg1515

"This could work out,” Henry offers. “It could,” Alex replies. “That’s good, then. Someone’s going to have to walk me through the brilliance of Empire Strikes Back, after all.” “Sweetheart, if we’re legitimately dating now, I’m forcing you to watch every movie that has Harrison Ford in it.” “Duly noted.” Or: When the Queen decides it’s time for Henry to settle down with a woman, she arranges a courtship between him and Alex Claremont-Diaz, closeted political powerhouse. Alex secretly tells Henry he’s trans, and Henry tells Alex that he’s gay. To say they become an amazing couple would be an understatement—but nothing is ever that easy for a prince and a president’s son.

every version of you (i love) by coffeecatsme

“So,” the voice narrates as the man squishes the dog’s cheeks and laughs at himself. “There’s this guy that lives next to me with the cutest beagle in the world and this little guy climbs to the fence every day to drop his toys off at, like, 5:30 on the dot, I’m not kidding.” The camera shows the man boop the dog’s nose and press a little kiss to his forehead. There’s a ball in his hands that he hands to the dog, but it slips from his mouth all over again, making the man reach down to grab it. He glares at the dog, but even then he’s still smiling. “And this guy always walks by and picks up the stuff and it’s the cutest fucking thing ever you have no idea.” The camera zooms in farther into the man’s smile, genuine and wild, as he pushes his wild curls away from his face. His eyes flicker up when another figure walks into the frame, his blonde hair falling over his forehead in waves. The man’s smile, impossibly, widens. “Oh. I’m also pretty sure he has a crush on my neighbor.” Or, 5 times David greets Alex with something that belongs to Henry, and 1 time he greets Alex with something that belongs to both of them.

The Duke Who Loved Me by annesbonny, Inareskai, schmulte

This Author knows as well as anyone how much you, gentle readers, enjoy a scandal and a love story. And what could bring more delight that two young gentlemen who bring both of those wherever they go? Join the Duke of Mountchristen and the, untitled, Mr Claremont-Diaz as they attempt to find a Love Match amongst the gossip of the ton.

The Edge of Glory by politics_and_prose

Subject: CD-10 To: Alex Claremont-Diaz ([email protected]) From: Natasha Wallace ([email protected]) Alex - You know how you jokingly told me to let you know when Mayfield was vulnerable and/or not seeking re-election? Tash

lying in the low light by smc_27

The thing about having a one night stand with the guy your sister is close friends with and gatekept from you is that it becomes really fucking important that she never knows. Or, Alex and Henry have a one year stand. Or, Alex and Henry are in a relationship, only they’re the only ones who don’t know it.

what we might do (if we stop keeping a secret) by indomitablelove

'This isn't how I wanted to tell people. I thought we'd get the chance to do it right.' - Red, White and Royal Blue, Casey McQuiston, p.327 --- or, in another world, Alex and Henry get to do it right.

Who Could Love You The Same as I by MariaDmitrievnaLikesSundays

Inside was exactly what Alex had found himself dreaming about ever since that night at Kensington. The kind of dreams that he forced himself to forget once he woke up, but dreams all the same. A gold band, simple and smooth, with a single square diamond embedded on top. It was small, modest, exactly to Alex’s taste. ”Holy shit,” he said again. “Holy shit.” That was a ring. That was, unmistakably, an engagement ring. Hidden in his boyfriend’s coat. And he had just found it.

—— Or, Alex finds the engagement ring that Henry had hidden, and does exactly what you’d expect him to.

As the World Falls Down by 3bowtruckles

So while we all knew that the 2020 written in the book would be glorious fiction, we didn’t realize that reality would throw us something to take 2020 even further away from the book’s events. This story is where I attempt to merge our 2020 reality and the fiction of RWRB, using research (a LOT of research) to try to figure out what the trajectory of reality might have been. The story starts picking up the timeline after their late-February trip to Paris. After that, it's strictly AU, but I try to keep a lot of the intents of the events in the book (for instance, Alex's trip to confront Henry in Britain after the lake) while still making them fit the narrative I've created.

We'll Change the World Yet to our Dessire [sic] by cresswells

Alex and Henry are engaged and ready to share their announcement with the world, but after the media circus surrounding their forced outing Queen Mary wants them to do things properly this time. To Alex’s surprise, ‘properly’ apparently means taking a Royal Tour around Europe as an official couple. Ten days, five countries and lots of unnecessary wardrobe changes. What could possibly go wrong?

where clouds look like mountains by weather_stained

Four months after the election, while still learning to navigate the complexities of being in a public relationship, Alex finally has the chance to show Henry around Austin.

We'll Invite Something In by smc_27

Alex is grinning a little too hard. This is absolutely idiotic and pointless and fun. The cover of Hello UK with a photo of him pulled out and a photo of His Royal Highness Prince Henry Fox-Mountchristen whatever the hell the rest of his names are (Alex knows; he being a dick) with the admittedly stupid but flattering headline which reads: His Royal Highness: He’s just like us and crushes on Pres ACD.

Henry's Cold, Empty Tower by DracoWillHearAboutThis

“I want you,” Henry said, slowly but clearly, “to leave.” When Alex storms Kensington Palace, Henry sends him away. Then, their relationship gets leaked, and it's Henry's turn to fight for Alex.

behind the diamond-shaped glass by Celaestis

Five times Alex and Henry used tea and biscuits to communicate, and one time they don't need to.

The Byline by rosetintednerdglasses

Press Secretary Alex Claremont-Diaz serves at the pleasure of the President, and he does it excellently until a new White House correspondent darkens his press room: Henry Fox, The Guardian.

we've been here forever (here's the frozen proof) by r_holland

Objectively, I am aware that you – a stranger – cannot tell me my own sexuality any better than I can, however... Can you, please? Tell me? It’s 4am and I have been thinking about this for hours, and I can’t sleep. Warmest regards, ACD *** It’s four in the morning, and Alex Claremont-Diaz has managed to follow a research spiral straight down into a personal crisis. It isn’t the first time.

words on the tip of your tongue (but please don't say them) by viciouslyqueer

So close. He was so close to saying those words that have lived inside him for so long, and now it's gone, a moment that slipped right between his fingertips before he could grasp it. Now he’s floating in the middle of the lake alone, the ghost of Henry’s touch still lingering on his skin and an unknown, heartbreaking feeling in his chest. — Or: canon-divergence where Henry doesn't leave the lake house.

The Grand Tour by lucky (revolutionbarbie)

When Henry returned from an audience with Queen Mary looking stony faced and grim, Alex had immediately feared the worst. She had requested to see Henry – and Henry alone – the moment their plane had landed at Heathrow on a visit to Pez’s new shelter in London. Alex had suggested that they go to see her together just to spite the old hag, but Henry wanted to keep the peace. Since moving to Brooklyn, they had entered into an uncomfortable détente with Queen Mary and Henry was loathe to be the one to break it. “She wants us to go to Australia. It would be an unofficial Royal Tour, of sorts, with stops in several cities and a short visit to New Zealand. Three and a half weeks in total.” “She wants to send us on an all-expenses paid Australian getaway? Count me in.”

come and get me by rizcriz

The email arrives 8 days after Henry left the lake house. He contemplates deleting it without reading, but it sits in his Alex inbox, where there are over seventy emails favourited, and somehow it feels wrong and weirdly impersonal. As if leaving without a note were any different. He stares at the from line with an aching longing that seeps into his veins. It settles on his heart like a tangible thing; something warranted and cruel that casts shackles around the aorta and locks them tight so that he might never love again. -- or, alex sends an email instead of flying to KP.

Never Did Run Smooth by clottedcreamfudge

"You and me? Best friends. Stellar. Love that for us. But we could absolutely fake being in love. Dating. Whatever. I know literally everything about you—" (No you don't, Henry thinks firmly) "—and you know everything about me. We would absolutely fucking annihilate the other contestants.” "You're too drunk to apply," Henry points out, like he himself isn't about as wasted as it's possible for him to be without curling up and going immediately to sleep. "I doubt you could spell your own name right on the application. Or mine." Alex grins and pulls something up on his phone; it looks like it takes him a few tries. "Wanna fucking bet?" *** Or: Henry's life is a comedy of errors; a patchwork of oopsie-daisies; a quilt stitched together with hauntingly terrible mistakes. And at the centre of it all is his best friend, Alex Claremont-Diaz; director of said comedy, threading together his oopsie-daisies into a flower crown, rolling around in the quilt of his own making, and this analogy is going to shit because Henry's so in love with him he wants to die.

idk I'll do a part two if anyone wants.

#rwrb #firstprince #red white and royal blue #fic rec #fic rec list #i try not to do multiple authors on the same list so #just assume if they're here i read all their stuff plus their bookmarks lmao #for the record I have 100% read the book I just didn't think there'd be fic for it lmao #rwrb rec list

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imaginedisish · 1 year

Text

Home (Din Djarin x fem!Reader)

A/N: Hey everybody! Here is a new Din Djarin fic! I don’t know if I’ve done this trope already...there’s a good chance I did. I had a version of this fic in my WIPs for a while, and I don’t think it ever made it out of the doc, so here it is. I hope you guys like it! It’s heavily based on “Home” by LCD Soundsystem.

Summary: Din learns the truth about your past...

Warnings: SMUT, 18+ fingering, unprotected PIV (wrap it up), praise kink for sure, hurt to comfort, friends/idiots to lovers, Jedi!reader (implied conflict/is training Grogu), implied kidnapping (Inquisitors kidnap reader as child), cursing, Crest still exists because I’m lazy, probably grammar mistakes because again, I’m lazy.

Word Count: 3,661

Your lungs burn painfully as you sprint through the forest, dodging trees, maneuvering through the thicket. You swear Grogu is giggling in his little carrier strapped carefully onto your chest. “This is not funny, little guy,” You mumble in between breaths. Grogu babbles and giggles some more in response.

This was not how this training session with Grogu was supposed to go.

BANG! You flinch a bit to the left as a blaster shot whirls by, smashing violently into a tree, leaving a burning gaping hole in its wake. You make a sharp turn to avoid the tree as it crashes down in front of you. The dark troopers were closing in on you and Grogu; you could feel it. It was only a matter of time until they circled around you, blasters pressing at your back.

Another. BANG! The tree to your right comes crashing down a few feet away. You turn around for just a split second, searching for Din, for something, for a way out. They were gaining on you, you could see them coming from over the hill.

You press a button on your comlink. “Hey Mando?” You practically shout into it. “Things are getting a little messy over here.” Your words are panicked, jumbled.

“I’m almost there,” He reassures. “What’s going on?”

“Well, they’re-,” BANG! That answers his question.

“Just hold on, okay?” You can hear the fear in his voice; it wasn’t something you were used to. Din was normally confident, but this time there was a sense of insecurity, as if this time was going to end differently than all the others. As if he was afraid you weren’t going to make it.

You take a deep breath and navigate away from the now burning, fallen over trees. You turn around; the troopers were even closer than they were before. You swear there weren’t this many a few minutes ago. You turn to the left, trying to find another way out, but it’s too late. You were surrounded. You weren’t fast enough. Maybe this was the end.

“I am not getting killed by a bunch of droids,” You huff, raising your hands above your head. But the troopers don’t stop, they continue to creep closer towards you and Grogu, raising their blasters, readying to shoot, aiming to kill. “We are not going down like this kid,” You whisper, Grogu’s ears picking up as the words slip from your tongue.

The troopers finally stop, their metal joints freezing in place. Their blasters are still pointed towards you and Grogu. You swallow harshly, staring at your reflection in the metallic armor of the dark trooper directly in front of you. You watch closely as their robotic fingers hover over the trigger. You had one shot, one chance to get this right. You shut your eyes, waiting for it.

All at once. CLICK. BANG.

Your hands extend out. You can feel the energy pulsing through you. It’s controlled and stable. You slowly open your eyes, and hovering in the air are at least twenty violently shivering blaster rays, threatening to finish the job if you let go. You can feel the rays dancing under your fingertips, struggling against your grasp. You shut your eyes again, the tension of each one growing. You couldn’t hold this forever.

A new feeling abruptly shocks your system. It’s a certain power you haven’t felt in years. It rattles your bones, sending shockwaves throughout every inch of your body. There’s something delicious about it, tempting even. It’s powerful, yet intrusive, quickly invading your senses and taking over. You allow it to course through you fully. You can almost hear something calling out to you. Let go.

And so you do.

With a swift motion, you release the energy building up inside of you. It’s a radical feeling, but still somehow familiar. The shocks flow through the palms of your hands and out of your fingers. There’s a slight sting. It’s almost painful. And that’s when you remember exactly what this feeling is. Your eyes open wide, and you watch as electricity, and the blaster rays, shoot out towards the dark troopers, decimating them immediately.

Fire consumes the trees around you, embers quickly filling the air. You’re not sure if the electricity you just shot out of your hands caused this, or the blaster shots, or the dark troopers themselves. Most likely, it was some sort of messy combination of all three, which meant that you were in part to blame.

“Cyare?”

And Din saw the whole thing.

He’s standing just a few feet away from you. You can see the flames and carnage reflecting against his armor, and in the center of it all is you. This wasn’t a side of yourself that you wanted him to see, or even know about in the first place.

But it was too late for that now. “Din, I can expl-,”

He cuts you off, curt, emotionless. “We need to go.” You nod, taking slow strides towards the ramp of the Crest. You pass Din along the way. You want him to say something, to look at you, to move at the very least. But he doesn’t. He’s motionless, frozen in the aftermath of what you had done, of the secret you had tried so very hard to cover up.

You reluctantly step into the Crest, taking Grogu and his carrier off your shoulders, placing him in his crib. You throw the carrier to the ground. He gurgles something entirely unintelligible. There’s a tiredness in his grumblings. Good, you think to yourself. At least he’ll be asleep when you and Din have it out.

Din’s steps echo against the walls of the Crest. You know he’s disappointed. You can feel it. You should’ve told him the truth, told him who you were, told him that person isn’t who you are anymore. It’s certainly not the person you are with him. Din makes your past seem like some non-existent, intangible, fictional far-off tale. It was like he made you forget. No. He changed you, altered your brain chemistry, made you feel like you mattered. And not because he had to, but because he wanted to.

You needed him, and it scared you. You were almost afraid of the connection, of the dependency.

But he needs you too, you just don’t know it yet.

You wait a minute, trembling a bit in the hull, watching as Grogu’s eyes struggle to stay open. Within a few seconds, they’re closed. Din’s figure finally appears in the doorway. He’s apprehensive, tentative, as if he hasn’t made up his mind about coming inside. Your stomach knots, twinging as he finally steps all the way inside, pressing a button as the ramp shuts behind him.

He looks over at Grogu, fast asleep in his crib. A modulated breath escapes from under his helmet. It’s a sigh of defeat, of dejection. You build up the courage to stare into his visor, half expecting to get an indication of how he’s feeling. But there’s nothing, no sign of life save the shallow breaths slipping through his vocoder.

“Din, just let me explain.” It’s a plea, a solicitation for forgiveness.

But he isn’t buying it. “Did you lie to me?” There’s no anger in his voice, no agitation, not even an ounce of annoyance. It’s hurt, pain, possibly even betrayal, and that feels far worse than any vexation or outrage ever could. “Last time I checked, Jedi don’t use the force like that.”

You swallow the lump in your throat, your eyes breaking away from his glare. You know he’s staring at you under his helmet, searching for answers, trying to convince himself that what had just happened was a figment of his imagination. But it wasn’t. It was you. The past had caught up with your present, and now they’d fight for control.

“No, they don’t,” You pause, breathing deeply before continuing. “The Inquisitors kidnapped me when I was a kid. I was saved just a few months after the first Death Star was destroyed.” There’s a moment of relief before the fear of waiting for his response kicks in. You had told him the truth, and he wasn’t running away. Din was still in front of you, listening to every word you had to say.

He takes a few steps toward you, slowly closing the distance between you and him. “You could’ve told me that,” He whispers. “You should’ve told me.” He’s more assertive the second time around.

“I didn’t want you to think that I-I was still like that.” You can feel tears prickling at the corners of your eyes, begging to be blinked away. “I d-didn’t want you to t-think I was some monster.”

“What are you talking about?” He finds himself being drawn even closer towards you, his gloved hands gravitating to yours, his fingertips brushing against your wrists as he presses his palms into your own. Home. The word flashes in your mind in big bright lights, your hands fitting perfectly into his. “How could you think I’d ever see you like that?”

“I could tell you were scared, when you saw what I did…” You trail off, your heart beating wildly out of your chest. “Maybe I shouldn’t be training the kid. Maybe I’m not…” Din shakes his head. “Not what?”

“Not good enough,” You mumble, fighting back sobs. “If I can’t let go of my past, let go of those feelings…”

“No.” There’s no hesitance in his statement, no question, no consideration. Din means it. “Don’t think like that, mesh’la. You’re more than enough, more than the kid and I could’ve ever asked for.”

“But I-,”

He cuts you off again. “You protected Grogu. You protected me.”

“I lied to you, Din,” Your voice is soft, quiet, timid. “I did something I’d promise myself I’d never do again.” You blink a few times, letting the inevitable tears stream down your cheeks.

Din squeezes your hands lightly and lets go. Before you can internally grieve the loss of contact, he pulls you into his chest, his arms wrapping around you. He had never been so gentle with you, so kind, so soft. This was so unlike him.

You sob into his beskar covered chest. The cold metal feels good against your burning cheeks. “I-I’m sorry.” You croak out, your voice reverberating through his armor.

“It’s alright,” He mutters, the top of his helmet coming down to rest on your head. “I’ve got you, it’s gonna be okay.” You sniffle as he whispers sweet reassurances in your ears, reminding you that you’re good enough, that he’s right next to you, that nothing bad is going to happen. “You should get some rest.”

You nod, and Din pulls you from his chest, stepping away from you and into the cockpit. You wish he was still next to you, his body pressed against yours. The closer you get to Din, the more dangerous things become. Luke and Ahsoka had told you the dangers of maintaining connections, building relationships. Ahsoka had been more forgiving, given that she believed in a more balanced way than the Jedi did. But Luke…Luke had been warning you for years.

Honestly, you didn’t care anymore. You wanted to forget Luke’s grating voice, to dispel each ideal he forced into your head. You wanted Din, needed Din. He was all that mattered now.

Forget your past This is your last chance now And we can break the rules Like nothing will last

Luke’s warnings fade away as you search through your clothes for something more comfortable to wear. Naturally, there’s nothing clean, nothing that Grogu hadn’t spit up on.

There’s one shirt of Din’s that you had borrowed a few nights ago when he was out on a hunt by himself. It still smells like him, feels like him too. You like how you look in it, the way it hangs too long on you. You like that it’s his and not yours. You slip it on and walk out into the hull and towards the cockpit as the Crest takes off.

You can’t see it, but his eyes settle on your reflection in the viewport. He turns around to get a better look. His shirt is massive on you, falling just above your knees. He hadn’t expected to see you in his clothes, but fuck did you look good. He couldn’t hold back anymore, not after today, not after you had sobbed in his arms.

He needed to remind you of who you are. He needed to tell you what you meant to him. Maker, he needed you to know everything, how he wants every inch of you, how much he cares about you, how much he loves you.

You can tell he’s looking at you now. You’re suddenly incredibly self-conscious. “I-I’m sorry,” You stutter. “I took i-it the other day without asking…should’ve told you I had it.”

He clutches his fists as the Crest comes out of the planet’s atmosphere. He presses a button, putting the ship on autopilot. “You need to stop apologizing,” He says, pushing his palms into the arms of the pilot’s chair and standing up.

You tilt your head to the side, confused and somehow even more apologetic than you were before. “I-I didn’t mean to offend you-,” “You’re not offending me, you never could.” He closes the gap between the two of you with one small step. “So stop saying sorry.” There’s an urgency in his voice, and an undeniable sense of certainty, like he had thought hard about what he was going to say, as if he had wanted to say this for an incredibly long time.

“Sorr-,” You cut yourself off, a smirk spreading across your face.

Din’s hands hover over your waist, softly settling down, waiting for you to protest. But you don’t. “Is this alright?” He asks.

“Y-yes,” You stutter. Din’s grip becomes firm against your hips. You hum at the contact, slowly pushing your body closer to his until your chests are flush against one another’s.

The tension is palpable. This is no longer him simply trying to comfort you; this is much, much more than that.

He makes the first move, taking a step in between your spread-out legs so that your back presses into the wall behind you. You can feel a pulse of heat shoot down to your core. “You need to know what you mean to me,” He whispers, his knee pressing lightly into your clothed cunt. You hold yourself back from grinding against him. “Need to show you how I feel about you, how you make me feel…” He trails off, letting himself get lost in the moment

Your hands snake up to the base of his neck, where his flight suit and his helmet meet. Your fingers slip under the fabric, exploring the exposed skin there. You’ve always wanted to feel him, to let him feel you. But this was never the deal, this was never something you expected. These were uncharted waters, a feeling that was so far shoved to the back of your head that you were positive this would never happen.

But this is happening.

He tugs the shirt up so that his hands can slip underneath. “Take off your gloves.” Your voice is breathy as the plea slips out. “Wanna feel you.” Din nods, quickly pulling them off before gluing his palms back to your skin. His calloused fingertips graze over your stomach, sending chills down your spine. “Din,” You whisper as he trails towards your bra, dipping underneath. His thumb brushes over your peaked nipple. You shut your eyes, letting your head fall back against the wall.

“What is it, pretty girl?” He asks, teasing you, his fingers pinching your nipple lightly. “Tell me what you want, need to hear you.”

He was going to be the death of you. “I-I want you to f-fuck me,” You beg, shamelessly grinding against his knee, searching for some sort of relief. You can feel your wetness pooling in between your legs. “N-need you to touch me Din, please.”

Din nods, his hands slipping out from under your shirt and down to the waistline of your panties. He drops to his knees as he slips them down your legs, practically tearing them off of you in the process. His fingers glide up your inner thigh as he stands. His palm finally settles against your cunt, the heel of his hand pushing into your clit, his fingers teasing at your opening.

“Fuck, you’re so wet, such a good girl,” He praises, moving a bit so that his fingers find their way to your clit. You moan out at the sudden pressure. “You like that? Like my fingers there?”

You hum a yes, unable to pull any sort of coherent thought together as Din’s fingers swirl around your clit. “N-need more,” You mumble. “W-wanna feel you, please.” You can feel his erection against your leg, throbbing in his flight suit. But Din doesn’t stop, his fingers continue their unrelenting circles at your core.

He moves his hand ever so slightly, shifting the angle so that his thumb brushes against your clit, and his fingers begin to tease your folds. Your head falls against his shoulder at the feeling. His fingers suddenly thrust into you, pumping in and out.

“You’re so perfect,” His honeyed, modulated voice rasps. He watches as your chest heaves against his shirt, your back limp against the wall of his ship, your head pressed against his shoulder. Fuck you looked so good like this, taking him, letting him make you his. And Maker, you felt good doing it. Nothing would ever compare to this, to the feeling of having him this close to you. “Doing so good for me.”

“Din,” You whimper. “I-I’m so close.”

He smirks under his helmet. He was going to make you come on his fingers. You clench around him, his fingers hitting the spot you need him in most every time. “That’s it sweet girl, just like that,” Din whispers, his thumb mercilessly toying with your core. You can feel yourself coming undone around him, like a wire snapping in two, heat spreading fervently across every inch of your body.

“D-Din,” You stutter, pulling him against you, his fingers still buried inside you, his thumb still drawing gentle circles. You needed more, you needed him closer than humanly possible. You bring a hand down to his erection, jerking him off through his pants. “N-need you inside me, Din.”

He doesn’t waste any time undoing his belt, shoving his pants off. He’s so fast you’re not even sure any of it happened in the first place. He lines himself up with your entrance. “Are you sure you want this?” He asks.

There’s no question. “I’ve always wanted this, Din, always wanted you.”

He rests his forehead against yours. “…‘always wanted you too, mesh’la.” You gasp as he buries himself inside of you with one thrust, splitting you open. “So fucking tight, so perfect,” He praises you again, your eyes rolling to the back of your head at his words. He gives you a minute to adjust to him before pulling out and shoving himself back in. You’ve never felt so full, so whole, like he’s tearing you apart just to put you back together.

“Feels s’good,” You murmur as Din sets his pace. It starts slow, his hips rolling against yours with each thrust. He’s taking his time, exploring every inch of you. His thumb finds your clit again. The sensation is almost overwhelming. You’re already on the borderline of being fucked out.

You can feel your core pulsing as he works at you, toying with you. His thrusts become quicker, needier. “So perfect for me,” He soothes, his hand coming up to cradle your cheek, brushing away a tear you didn’t know had escaped your eye. “Taking me so well, wanted to do this for so long.”

You were already practically there. Every pump, every praise, every swirl pushes you closer to the edge, threatening to throw you over, to split you in two, and Maker, you wanted it.

“Din I-I-,” You can’t even get the words out.

“I know, pretty girl, I’ve got you,” He coos, fucking you into the wall, his thumb still beating away at your heat, his other hand still holding your cheek. Your legs are hooked around his waist, your fingers digging into the beskar that dawns his shoulders.

Your walls flutter around him, and you can feel yourself falling apart around his cock. Searing white heat floods your vision. You can feel a few cool tears against your hot cheeks. You look into his visor as you come. You want him to see you, to know how he makes you feel. “F-fuck, Din, I-I love you.” The confession doesn’t bother you as it slips out. It’s natural, like you had said it countless times before.

And you’ll say it countless times after.

It’s what sends Din over the edge. “S-shit,” His voice is shaky, breathy, broken, his cock twitching inside of you. You can feel him fill you up, pumping in and out a few more times before stopping, still buried deep inside you. His forehead rests on yours, your body limp against his. “I love you,” He confesses back. “So fucking much.” You shut your eyes, letting yourself melt around him. “Can we stay like this, for just a little while? Don’t wanna leave you yet.” You hum a soft yes in response. You didn’t want him to go anywhere either.

His arms wrap around you, pulling you in, keeping you held against his chest. There it is, that same feeling from before, the one you felt the very second you joined this little clan of three.

Home.

If you're afraid of what you need If you're afraid of what you need Look around you, you're surrounded It won't get any better

And so, goodnight

1K notes · View notes

8aji · 1 year

Text

too busy saving everybody else to save yourself. // s.s.

to think of a life without him filled you up with such sorrow you thought you'd let yourself drown just to be with him one last time. — or, an account of the events that transpired after the night of august 14, 2003.

pairing. shinichiro sano x baji!reader

wc. 18k

tags/cw. MDNI, angst with happy ending, fluff, hurt/comfort, best friends to lovers, baji!reader (reader is baji’s sibling), manga spoilers, shinichiro lives, anxiety/panic attacks, smoking, mentions of death, characters cry a lot, mentions of head trauma + hospitals + needles + blood, reader gets called 'nee-chan' a couple of times but other than that its pretty gn, very suggestive (one make/out sesh), takeomi is clowned a lot + please let me know if i missed anything!

a/n. its finally done sob i spent so much time polishing this as much as i could and what was supposed to be a 1k drabble mutated into this lmfao but all in all this fic is my baby, my child, and i love it so so much i just hope y'all will like it as much as i do !! a massive thanks to @tetsutits for betaing and to @mosviqu for letting me run the storyline through her !! hope all of u enjoy lots n lots !!

m.list ˖ tags ˖ byi/dni

One step, one blink, one breath, one step, one blink, one breath; like on autopilot, the pattern repeated itself over and over again. You could feel it beating inside your skull; the pounding of your heart resonated throughout your body, acting as the fuel behind your every move.

Your blurry gaze amplified all of your other senses, sending your brain into a downward spiral of emotional overwhelm; the loud keyboard clicking, the obnoxious chatter, the drinking and munching of coffee and donuts, all of it made you want to tear your ears off. How could the world keep turning, people existing like normal, while you were being consumed by the tightness enveloping your lungs? The thought made you want to light up the whole building, watch it burn as the flames simmered the concrete to ashes to relieve the turmoil brewing inside your body.

“I'm coming for Baji Keisuke?” You asked, barely managing to string the words together in a coherent sentence, head going a thousand miles per hour. “He’s my brother.”

The officer behind the desk pulled down his magazine, looking you over and taking in your dishevelled state. “Ah,” he sighed as soon as your brother's profile appeared on his screen. “Baji Keisuke, the little rascal with the breaking and entering charges, huh?”

lips forming into a thin line, you nodded, biting your tongue so as to not insult the man in front of you who, for some reason, couldn't help but chuckle, as if a twelve year-old kid being detained was funny.

“Can I see him?”

He gave you one last obnoxious glance, before typing on his computer.

“He’s currently under police custody,” he explained condescendingly as if you didn’t know, pulling a manila folder and pressing the button on the printer, handing you a pen in the meantime. “He's only got a minor charge compared to the other brat he came in here with,” He let out a quiet cackle, not wanting to attract anyone else’s attention. To you, it was like he acted this nonchalant to rile you up, make your blood boil. And, in spite of your reluctance to admit to it, it was working. Being in his presence made you want to punch him. “We’re betting on whether the other kid’s gonna get charged with manslaughter or not.

“And just between us,” he made a come hither motion, but leaned forward on his chair at your lack of reaction. “I’m betting in favor of manslaughter, so I'm crossing my fingers for the guy to die soon, ‘ya know?”

Had you been wearing long sleeves, he would’ve been able to see you rolling them up, emotionally prepared to be charged with aggravated assault against a police officer

Fortunately, another officer called out your name, catching your attention before you could act on the violent scenarios coursing through your brain. You didn’t bother excusing yourself before leaving to find your brother.

He looked small, smaller than he actually was, as he sat on the floor with both his knees close to his chest. His eyes were puffy and red, it was obvious he had been crying; though by the looks of it, he had yet to stop.

The cell door sounded like nails against a chalkboard as it scraped against the floor. It made him flinch in surprise, snapping him out of the borderline-dissociating trance as he looked up at the intimidating officer, trying to gauge his intentions while gathering all the energy he had left in his body to fight off the man just in case he needed to. But as soon as he made eye contact with you he could feel himself lowering his guard.

He didn’t even hesitate, his body moved on his own, running past the officer and straight into your arms, letting the harsh sobs he had tried bottling up rack his body, along with muffled apologies and incoherent explanations.

“It's okay,” you mumbled against his hair, trying to calm down his heart wrenching cries. He nuzzled his face against your neck, trying to get impossibly closer to the sound of your voice. You waited for him to nod, still clutching at your clothes with all the remaining energy he had. “He's strong, he’ll be alright.”

Though at this point you were unsure whether your words held any weight against the grand scheme of things; hopefully all your promises won’t turn into bold-faced lies.

You made your way out of the cell together, holding his left hand as he used the other to rub at his eyes, itchy and dry from all the crying. The two of you walked past a couple of cells before he stopped for what seemed like a millisecond, mumbling something under his breath in weak anguish. Had you not been hyper aware of everything going on around you, you wouldn’t have noticed the slight tug at your hand.

Kazutora sat on the floor the same way Keisuke did, knees pulled up to his chest, biting his cuticles raw to stop his brain from looping the traumatic set of events like a broken film; still, it wasn't enough to stop his whole body from trembling in shock. The distress fresh in his eyes made you want to drop everything just to hold him close, comfort him like you did with Keisuke.

But you didn’t have much time, the officer behind you pressured the both of you to move, and considering Keisuke remained under police custody, you weren’t willing to risk him getting locked up again now that you had him by your side.

“Wait for me over there, okay?” You said, pointing at the waiting area. “I just have to fill out some paperwork and then we can go home.” He held your hand even tighter in his grasp in response, as if he was scared to let go. “I’ll be quick, promise.”

Reluctantly, he dragged his feet as he walked, not wanting to stray far away from you. At least there was still some sort of stubbornness left in him. You’ve never seen him act like this, uncontrollably crying and apologising, devoid of the mischievous glint in his eyes. Knowing the Keisuke you knew was still there comforted you.

“How, uh, how much is bail gonna be?” You asked once he had made himself at home on the plastic chairs. Thankfully it was someone else behind the desk instead of the asshole you had the misery of interacting with.

You knew it wasn’t going to be cheap, already having a grasp of fines and bail costs thanks to your friends getting into trouble, but even with this knowledge, their response sent a shiver down your spine.

Maybe you could use some of your own savings, or part of your college fund. Using your mom’s money was also an option, but you didn't want to put the burden on her. If you skipped a semester it could give you some time to earn the money back, but you were already behind in a few classes, and the minimum wage from part time jobs wouldn’t stack up too much, so was it truly feasible?

Fuck, you knew they were children but you couldn’t help but curse at their recklessness, their stupidity and naivety. Did they actually think stealing a bike would be that easy? And now you have to pay for the consequences, quite literally. Of course, you could always leave him here, let him face the consequences straight on. There was nothing forcing you to bail him out. But who were you kidding, you’d kill for him, of course you were going to pay.

Making sure he was still where you left him, you looked over your shoulder back at him. He was slumped over his knees, aimlessly playing with his fingers as his eyes fixated on the corridor leading to the cells, a solemn sadness washing over his features.

No.

You weren’t going to. You were going to pay for your brother’s sins, or whatever the cheesy line says, and leave to never look back. You didn’t owe this other kid anything, most certainly when you couldn't afford it. But, after knowing him for so long, the thought of him staying in the middle of four cold walls until further notice broke your heart.

“Actually,” you sighed. This was gonna cost two semesters instead of one. “Could I pay for someone else’s bail as well?”

At first, he refused to acknowledge your presence, biting harder into his fingers. He tried self-soothing through slow back and forth rocking motions and the unintelligible words that spilled from his mouth, hugging himself tighter the closer you got.

He didn’t move, frozen in place as if the lack of movement would make him invincible to the naked eye. He didn’t cave in no matter what you did, not when you kneeled in front of him nor when you whispered his name in hopes he would acknowledge your voice.

It only took a couple of seconds after that for him to shyly meet your gaze, warming up to you in an instant and clinging onto you just like Keisuke had done, though he did so with a lot more desperation, this sort of comfort foreign to Kazutora. He felt so small in your embrace, burying his face in your shoulder, the only thing he could do was claw at your body for reassurance. Other than that, he didn’t speak, didn’t cry, he almost didn’t move, to the point it had you questioning whether he was actually breathing.

Once you coaxed him out of the cell and got a hold of your brother, your sole focus was on guiding the boys beside you out of the precinct as fast as possible, one hand holding Keisuke’s while the other rested on the back of Kazutora’s head. They didn’t need to spend more time than necessary in this place, surrounded by grimy cell blocks and seemingly socially inept officers who couldn’t keep their rambunctious laughter down.

Wakasa was sitting on his bike outside the police station waiting for the three of you, and though initially it was supposed to be just the two of you riding along with him, he wasn’t surprised you paid for your brother’s friend’s bail. He kept a fairly laid-back exterior, lit cigarette hanging from his fingers replacing his preferred strawberry flavored lollipops, inhaling back the smoke that seeped from his parted lips and freaking out on the inside.

The two of you were hanging out when multiple calls blasted through your phone, prompting you to rush to where you were now. First it was one from the hospital, one of the bearers of bad news that didn’t let you dwell on the fact that Shinichiro had written you down as one of his emergency contacts. Then came the call from the police station, sinking your heart down to the bottomless pit in your stomach.

“Everything alright?” He asked, putting out his cigarette, smothering the stick with his boot along with the other three he had finished while you were inside.

You hummed in response, words dying in your throat. The silence around you itched and burned, made your skin prickle with discomfort, and even so, no one dared say anything besides the occasional noise of acknowledgement. They weren’t dumb. They were one-hundred percent aware of what they were doing, and this wasn’t something you could blame on their age either. Yes, they were kids, but a twelve year old should be able to discern right from wrong; aware that stealing is bad and that murdering people is wrong.

And deep down, you knew this was even more fucked up than it appeared to be. You knew Kazutora wouldn’t have cared for the victim had it not been Shinichiro. The only reason he was shaking like a leaf, flinching when Wakasa fastened the belt of his helmet against his head, was because he hurt Mikey’s brother. That’s not to say Keisuke was innocent, it was clear he wasn’t. Intentionally breaking into someone’s shop to steal a very valuable, very expensive, piece of equipment and potentially complicit in someone's murder.

You wanted to tear your eyes off at the thought. Did they really think they could get away with this? That it would be as easy as stealing some candy or gum from the corner store? You wanted to curse them out for being so stupid, so naive. But looking down at their sunken faces, eyes bloodshot and teary as they sweated fear from every pore on their fragile skin, it made you want to excuse all their horrid behaviour, ignore the fact they committed a crime and in the process they mortally wounded an innocent man.

You held down an involuntary gag at the violation of your principals, the memory of what had just gone down stirring unwanted bitterness inside your stomach. You were no one to criticise the two kids sitting between Wakasa and you. They could be stupid, but you were the weakest of them all.

“Let’s get going then.”

You could question your moral compass later, first you had to get them home.

The voices of the characters talking in the background faded into an uncomfortable white noise as your muscles dissolved along with your bones, breaking through your skin and seeping into the cushions of the couch. Each time you breathed in the more stressed you became at the uncertainty of your friend’s mortal status.

You hadn’t received any news from the hospital, and though you knew that if they hadn’t called by now, they probably wouldn’t at least until tomorrow morning, that didn’t stop you from imprisoning your phone close to your chest. Maybe if you channelled all your strength into your hold then you’d lose the urge to cry.

In spite of their initial resistance, it didn’t take long to put the kids to bed. The two of them drifted off to a bitter, yet hopefully replenishing, sleep as soon as their heads hit the pillow. It wasn’t surprising, the whole incident had drained the both of them to their core.

“‘Sure you’re okay?” Wakasa asked, and had it not been for his voice you're sure you would’ve dissociated the rest of the night. Maybe the kids would find you the next morning still sitting on the couch, frozen like a statue as you stared at the ceiling, and freak out because they’d think you had died along with ‘Shinichiro-nii’.

You hummed, it was the only response you could muster it seemed, with your eyes zeroing in on his shoulders, then his cheeks and then his earrings. Looking straight into his eyes would do you no good. It’d blow your cover in less than an instant, and though it’s fair to say it was a shit cover, amplifying your grief through your dejected silence instead of toning it down, it made you feel safer from the imminent doom. Still, shitty cover up or not, Wakasa knew you weren’t okay. You wouldn’t be able to fool him even if he was stupid, and at this point, he’s convinced you wouldn’t be able to fool anyone; a single glance your way was enough to tell you were silently crumbling.

He let his head fall backwards against the back of the sofa, sighing in acknowledgement. No matter how many times he asked, deep down he knew you would only cave in at your own account, But at least his question somehow managed to bring you back down from the maze your brain had started fabricating to earth. And maybe, just maybe, if he gave you enough space that’d prompt you to speak. He didn’t mind waiting. Not for a couple of seconds, or the couple of minutes those seconds turned into, or the couple of hours they mutated into next, and so on until days and weeks and years had passed, until the scarcity of time felt infinite.

“He’s dead, isn’t he?” You broke the silence, biting the edges of your words as if you wanted to hide them back inside, voice shaky and heavy against your tongue.

He hesitated, sharing a seat next to you inside the same sinking uncertainty boat, “Shin-chan’s stronger than you think.” He tried reassuring you, or himself he wasn't sure, but at this point the more he tried to tell himself his friend was still breathing, the more it felt like a lie. Shin-chan was stronger than the two of you thought, but was he really? “He’d be heartbroken to know you had little faith in him.”

At least he got you to chuckle, “I’d be heartbroken to know that I was right.”

You fell into an uncomfortable silence not long after, the stakes of the conversation too high, and if you continued talking you’re sure you’d end up giving Shin up for dead. But like this, maybe you could finally force yourself to get some sleep. The weight of your eyelids had doubled, eyes growing heavier against your will, and though you didn’t want to, just in case something happened while you were unconscious, you knew you’d be of no use without at least a few hours of rest. Plus, you promised yourself you’d never lose any sleep over a guy, ever, and you weren’t about to make an exception for Shinichiro Sano.

Not even an hour in your slumber, you almost threw your phone to the other side of the room as its desperate cry pierced your ears. You’re sure Wakasa almost had a heart attack with how fast straightened up next to you, and it wouldn’t be a surprise if it somehow managed to wake up both Kazutora and Keisuke, although your brother was more of a chronic heavy sleeper.

“What are you waiting for? Answer it!” Feelings heightened in his barely awake, panicked state, the desperation was palpable in his words. And though uncommon for him to act in such an erratic manner, he had bottled everything up the whole night, it was time for the stoic facade to break.

But, even so, in spite of your friend’s heartbreaking desperation you didn’t move. Not after the third ring or the fourth. You didn’t dare move, staying frozen on the couch, groggy from waking up yet hyper-aware of everything going on around you despite your mild dissociation. The sole thought of moving towards made your brain press against your skull, screaming at you to stop.

Not answering meant that Shinichiro could stay both simultaneously alive and dead, his fate linked to whether you picked up the call. If you didn’t, maybe he wouldn’t die after all, he’d stay stuck in the unknown limbo of immortality until you made a call.

But then again, this was your only chance to get an update on his status. And it wasn’t only you anxiously waiting on any sort of news. Wakasa was waiting; Keisuke and Kazutora, although asleep, were as well, and you could only fathom Benkei and Takeomi’s reaction. Mikey and Emma were probably up to date, the hospital must’ve called their grandfather before they reached out to you. And looking back at the people that depended on you, it really wasn't fair to put your own self-indulgent selfishness over the needs of others, was it?

It wasn't. Of course it wasn’t, but after putting everyone before you for as long as you’ve lived, didn’t you deserve to be selfish? At least once, when it pertainted the condition of the unrequited love of your life, didn’t you deserve at least that much?

“Hello?” Wakasa answered through furrowed brows and twitching lips. From the way he spoke, you could tell he was biting on the inside of his cheek to release some tension, putting enough pressure to draw blood. “This is Wakasa Imaushi speaking,

“–can’t get to the phone right now, can’t you just talk to me?” Voice getting progressively louder, he challenged the person on the other side of the call. “He’s my best friend, don’t I deserve to know whether he’s alive or not?!”

Only when his voice broke at the weight of his own desperation did you manage to snap out of your trance, snatching the phone out of his grip, ignoring his glassy eyes as you spoke into the receiver, mumbling your name through a shakily put together voice.

You’re not sure whether you imagined it or not, almost choking on a withered sob, but you could feel the moment your teeth sunk into the skin of your hand, digging hard enough for blood to prickle to the surface, preventing any other noise from coming out.

With your vision blurry and a tightness in your chest you could not describe, your body had gone completely numb, and yet your nerve endings were scorching under any semblance of atmospheric pressure, forcing you to feel everything, everywhere, all at once.

Had Wakasa not been there to catch you, you’d have collapsed on the ground, a pitiful wailing mess. Tears soaked through the fabric of both your clothes as you held each other close. For what felt like hours, the two of you stayed like that. Face buried against his neck and his against the top of your head, he rocked you back and forth in his arms until your tears stopped mixing themselves with your spit, sharp inhales tuning down into soft sniffles. And though his eyes burned with unshed sorrow, he kept on humming at your unintelligible mumbling.

“See? I told you he was stronger than we thought.” He whispered, though it sounded closer to a whimper, and nuzzled his cheek further against your hair. As if trying to ground himself, he gave you a tight squeeze, still in doubt whether he was trying to convince you or himself.

Only after a while, once both of your breathing had evened out, did you raise your head up from its hideout, hesitant footsteps catching your attention.

“Nee-chan?” You heard a tiny voice coming from the hallway, a little insecure, as if he didn’t think he deserved a proper response.

“I’m sorry ‘Tora, did we wake you?” You peeled Wakasa’s arms from your body, rubbing the haziness of your eyes away. He shook his head in response, carefully moving away from the shadows after acknowledging your lack of anger.

“I couldn’t sleep.”

His puffy eyes shimmered red under the soft moonlight coming through the living room window. He took meticulous steps in your direction, side-eyeing Wakasa and still wary of you, not knowing how you would react after his intrusion. Each one was lighter than the other, the wooden floors refused to creek underneath his weight, almost as if he had trained himself to become weightlessly invisible.

Slowly as to not startle him, you stretched your arms in his direction, beckoning him towards you and silently encouraging him to trust you. Even after drying out his tears once you tucked him in bed, holding his hand a little longer while Keisuke slept next to him, you’re sure that wasn’t enough to reassure him you wouldn’t blow up on him. For Kazutora, interacting with most people felt like trying to navigate an active minefield.

Hugging him close to your body, you pulled him on your lap and softly rocked him back and forth; the same way Wakasa had done with you. He nuzzled closer to you, letting himself relax against your touch once he registered you weren't a threat, basking in your warmth.

The silence the three of you fell under was deafening, uncomfortable even, though you didn't intend for it to be. Kazutora had this question stuck in his throat, sitting heavy against his vocal cords while the bitter taste of bile stained his tongue.

“Is…” he trailed off, still doubting whether he deserved to be asking such a question. “Is Mikey’s brother going to be okay?”

He tensed up at the lack of immediate response. The lack of positive reassurance that he hadn’t completely messed up everyone's lives made the grip he had on your arm grow tighter in fear of you letting go.

You didn’t. You weren’t planning to do so. Even if nausea piled up at the end of your oesophagus as the conflicting set of emotions brewing at the pit of your stomach, you were sure he needed you as much as you needed him to keep yourself grounded

“He will.” You brushed your fingers through his hair, lips curled up into a smile once you felt him relax against you once again. “Right now he’s resting, we can visit him in a couple of days, if you’d like.”

The silence amongst you became heavy once again, but inside Kazutora’s head the cacophony of your words bounced against the thick layers of bone and skin like worthless cries of distress. What he did was inconceivable, and in spite of that you still cared.

“I didn’t mean to,” barely a whisper, the words died out before they could be properly enunciated. They prickled and ached and stung at the walls of his throat. Something he couldn’t name but feel deeply inside his bones stopped himself from vomiting it all out. But mess after mess, like building blocks stacking one on top of the other, they piled up and pulled him down like a ball and chain made out of his own flesh and when he tried to pull at it to set himself free he could feel everything spilling out in a tangled cry. “I didn’t mean to hurt him, I’m sorry!” he cried, clutching onto your shirt and arms, anything he could get a hold of to ensure you wouldn’t leave him alone. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”

Holding him tightly and shushing his cries, you could do nothing more than let his tears wet at your shirt, mumble that it was okay even if it truly wasn’t; even if the two of you knew it was a lie. The weeping child in your arms did nothing but pull at your heartstring, conflicting feelings arising in your chest. In spite of the fondness you felt for the kid, the same fondness you felt for all of your little brother’s friends, you had unconsciously developed a grudge towards him, bitterness and resentment for hurting Shinichiro.

His lashes rested against his skin, casting thin shadows under the sunlight streaming through the window. He had always looked peaceful when he was sleeping, chest rising and falling as if following a metronome’s tempo. You can remember taking long summer naps next to him and the rest of your friends, you always being the first one to wake up. Every summer the three of them arrived late to at least five Black Dragon’s meetings because they had slept in. Shinichiro had developed this antsy habit of arriving weirdly on time yet slightly late ever since then, he couldn’t tolerate the idea of letting down whoever was waiting for him; you wonder how he’d react if he knew the shop wouldn’t open today.

So peaceful yet fragile., never in your life would’ve you remotely imagined you’d be sitting next to your best friend’s hospital bed, eyes puffy and droopy while his head laid covered in bandages. The beeping of the monitor filling up the unnecessary silence that wouldn’t have otherwise been there had he been awake.

Had he been awake, he would’ve talked to you non-stop, retelling everything that went down to the most insignificant detail, sprinkling hyperboles as much as he could just to appear a little cooler in front of you. But it's not like he had to try anyway, to appear cooler, that is, you already thought he was the coolest person in the whole wide world; though you’d go as far as saying he was the coolest person to ever exist. The sole idea made you smile, tears welling up in your eyes as you wondered if he’d blush once he found out how highly you thought of him.

And of course, had he been awake, he would’ve been worried about everyone but him. He would’ve asked about Mikey and Emma, if they had slept over at the hospital or at home with his grandfather, who he would’ve proceeded to ask about. He would’ve bitten his tongue to prevent himself from even mentioning the economic implications of his stay, but you would’ve been able to read right through him.

Then, had he been awake, he would’ve asked about Keisuke and Kazutora. He would’ve be worried about them, berated you with a flurry of questions, emotions switching from anger to guilt in less than a millisecond; angry at your deplorable encounter with the police, guilty because he was the one that called, and maybe if he hadn’t, then Mikey’s friends wouldn't have gotten in trouble.

He would’ve asked about the shop, if anyone was there watching over it while he was resting in the hospital, deflating a little after finding out it wouldn’t open for the day. He would’ve asked about Wakasa and Benkei and Takeomi, ask if they were aware of what happened, if they had already started making fun of him after finding out a twelve year-old sent him straight to the ER; he would’ve sighed at your response, shaking his head because instead of making fun of him his friends were worried.

Finally, he’d ask about you. And maybe you would’ve cried or laughed or screamed. Maybe tears would’ve pooled in your eyes, the fact your friend was breathing finally sinking in. Maybe you would’ve giggled at your past unjustified worries because he was here now and you never should’ve doubted him, not even for a second. Maybe you would’ve broken down, fatigue deep in your bones pulling you to the ground until you could do nothing but lay cold and empty and happy on the floor because you had not dared sleep but at least the existence of his consciousness remained.

But the only one speaking was the wind blowing through the curtains, kissing his forehead and messing up his hair just to give you the opportunity to put it back in place through the insecure brush of your fingers

Resting your forehead next to the palm of his hand, you sighed in defeat; maybe you should’ve let him rest alone. You had spent the whole morning next to him, ignoring any hunger cues alerting you it was time for breakfast or lunch or any sort of meal time that could fuel your body from complete exhaustion. Still, even if you wanted to fall asleep, it was like your subconscious wouldn’t let you. Every time you closed your eyes and felt yourself slip into a deep slumber, you were jolted awake to your own dismay.

Not being able to rest had started to eat away at your own sanity. Only eight hours had passed, but every second felt like a thousand and at this point, you had become a walking contradiction; hungry but unable to eat, tired yet unable to fall asleep. Your body was failing you, unable to react to any sort of external or internal stimuli, and you’re sure wouldn't be able to cry no matter how much you wanted to do so.

But even then, apparently you could still scream.

The weight of his hand on top of your head caught you off guard. It almost made you fall from the chair and smack your head against the bed’s metal skeleton. Maybe if you got a concussion and slipped into a weird pseudo-coma after a harrowing God-knows-how-many-hours-long surgery he’d feel guilty enough to make up for the tachycardia that had your heart beating where your brain should be.

“Hi.” He smiled, words a little slurred as the remaining anaesthesia wore off.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Oh, I see ‘you missed me alright.”

And you did. Even though less than a day had passed since the accident, picturing a whole lifetime without him was enough to permanently alter your brain chemistry. But he was here now, he was back and he was safe and the toothy grin he sported reminded you of home.

“Don’t ‘cha know it’s rude to eat in front of someone who can only chew on ice chips?” He joked, flinching as the nurse adjusted his IV drip.

You were forced to leave the room after a flurry of hospital staff came running at your volatile reaction; Of course, you were quick to reassure that your friend had only woken up and that everything was fine, before leaving for the cafeteria; giving them some space to work on Shinichiro would be good. Plus, not that he was ‘okay’ and you weren’t worrying about his health every second of every minute of every hour, you could address the sudden pangs of hunger poking at your stomach.

“I’ll buy you dinner once you get out.” You smiled, scooping some of the jell-o into your mouth through your innocent smile. But, again to your dismay, the mischievous glint in your eyes ratted you out. Shinichiro knew that ‘dinner’ meant the cheapest ramen you could find, maybe add an egg to spice it up, and ice cream you’d eat directly from the tub; a long lived tradition between the two of you. “I’ll even add chives this time.”

“Gee thanks,” he mocked, as if he’d rather do anything else than eat stale ramen with you. As long as he got the chance, he’d do anything. He’d probably lick the floor for you—not that he’d ever let you know, but if you asked he would, no questions asked. That’s what happens when you love someone. You’d be willing to do anything and everything for them even if it's irrational. “Can I choose the ice cream flavour at least?”

You hummed, focusing on scraping the plastic spoon against the plastic container in your hands to avoid his gaze. “Only this time though, so don’t get used to it.”

“Everything’s looking good so far, we’ll do another check up in a couple of hours.”

Right, you were still in here. Talking like everything was seemingly normal made you forget that you were still in the hospital, watching over your post-op, bedridden friend.

“Lay with me?” he asked, not before the both of you thanked the nurse who excused himself after gathering the remaining equipment. “Please?”

You shouldn’t, something inside your head made sure to let you know even if the urge to hold him close was overpowering. He had just barely woken up after a long emergency surgery, and you taking up space would be of no help for him to get the rest he needed. But the silent plea in the puppy dog eyes you had trained yourself so hard to resist, the subtle pout and the cute dopey-ness that had yet to wear off were far too tempting to resist.

His little celebratory cheer made you inwardly squeal as you slowly moved to his side, watching him wince in pain while he slowly shuffled himself closer to the edge in a clumsy attempt to make some space for you.

The thumping of his heartbeat reverberated in his chest, the stress melting from out your bones. You couldn’t help but sigh in content once you laid your head on his chest. Now that you were wrapped in each other’s arms, it felt like you could finally rest.

“Tired?” He mumbled against your hair, breaking the silence that had settled in the room as you basked in each other’s presence. You hummed in response, nuzzling your cheek against his body and almost purring like a cat at his warmth. Letting your eyes close involuntarily, you couldn’t help but be lulled to a premature slumber. With how comfortable you looked, and because your obnoxious yawning was too contagious, he wanted to do nothing but follow in your footsteps.

Instead, his eyes stayed wide open and stuck to the ceiling as if the off off-white paint that covered the concrete was the key to shutting down his brain long enough for sleep to take over. It didn’t matter that his blood had been infused with what felt like at least twenty hundred thousand milligrams of various pain-deafening substances that were sure to knock him out in a matter of seconds, falling asleep seemed to be an unattainable goal.

Whatever they had injected into his body increased his senses’ sensitivity, multiplying it times a hundred instead of dulling them down to nothing. And it didn’t stop at the uncomfortable overtly bright fluorescent lights or the suddenly deafening sound of unoiled wheels from hospital carts being rolled around. It was the way he could feel you barely resting your weight against his body, as if scared the least amount of pressure would make his heart stop. The way he was met with your now dull eyes, almost bloodshot but not quite, sunken with a thick coat of desperation, or fear, or some sort of premature grief, as soon as he woke up. Or how, in spite of only being gone for less than a day, it seemed like you had spent a lifetime unable to exist alongside everything you held dear.

Hyper aware of all those little details and more, it hit him without warning, and suddenly, he could feel the overwhelming urge to cry.

It prickled uncomfortably at his eyes, the skin around his charcoal orbs itching like it was on fire. His mouth felt cottony, smothering his airways and cutting his airflow while his tongue rested uncharacteristically heavy in his mouth with the weight of unsaid words. It broke all his bones at once, leaving him numb on the ground, still like a corpse, and unable to suppress the dooming feeling of his own life spilling from his pores, mixing with his blood until the air around him turned thick and metallic.

In the blink of an eye he had been one step closer to the grave, barely hanging onto a thread of consciousness as the view of his shop turned blurrier and blurrier, and now he was breathing. His lungs had finally regained consciousness and he could feel everything around him overwhelmingly loud and clear and close and real.

Now awake, he could feel you laying on top of him, almost passed out due to the immeasurable amount of stress he had put you under. And maybe if it wasn’t for his reckless habit of parading around life with his guard lowered or for the lack of proper security measures at the shop—because who on earth would rob him? There’s no way he could be that unlucky. Impossible. Or maybe it was his inability to dodge, to hold his stance in a fight because even if he was strong, without proper technique he was rendered useless and, holy shit– he could’ve died.

He could’ve died and then Manjiro would’ve been forced to grow up way too soon because he would have to take care of Emma and grandpa—although knowing both his siblings, Emma was more likely to turn into the head of the house. And then his friends would’ve been left to grieve his death, make sad speeches about the best moments they had together and, fuck was Takeomi terrible at writing; his speech would just be a big mess of incoherent words stuck together. And what about the shop? Who was he leaving the shop to? And what about Inupi? Inupi was just a kid and he can’t just leave him all alone; he had promised to himself to take care of him the same way he took care of his siblings— fuck, Izana as well. Who was going to look after his brother? He was planning to introduce him to all of you guys soon. The two of you would’ve gotten along so well and,

And you.

What about you?

You looked beyond heartbroken. Words couldn't begin to describe exactly what somberness mulled deep within that brain of yours. If this is how you reacted to the possibility of him dying, then how would’ve you reacted to him actually doing so?

A choked sob rips through his lips, the sound painful as it breaches its forceful containment.

“Shin–”

“I’m sorry.”

“What…” you trailed off. The strained cry had erased any speck of slumber. For a second you thought you had dreamt it, that your brain had finally gone off the rails and you were hearing imaginary voices. That was until you looked up at him, eyes welling up with unshed tears, body stiff as if to prevent them from falling. “What’re you sorry for?”

“I just remembered the beach trip we were planning for Manjiro’s birthday,” he sniffled, “and I think we’re gonna have to cancel.”

“That’s okay, we can reschedule—”

“Yeah but I– I know he was really excited for it, all his friends were.”

“We’ll talk to them, make sure they understand—”

“And you were excited about it too,” avoiding your eyes even after you had tried to coax him into meeting yours. He felt so far away, almost unreachable despite laying right next to you. “And I know how much you love the beach and I really wanted to go with you even if we were gonna have to chaperone six hyperactive children,

“And, and I know the guys were gonna come with and we had it all perfectly planned out with this huge dorayaki cake thing and now we’re gonna have to cancel because of me—”

“Wait,” you shush him as gently as possible, sitting up and holding his hand tightly between yours. “What do you mean ‘because of me’?”

Almost as if he had never started, your question managed to shut down his rambling like forcefully closing a water faucet. He had this estranged, far-off look darkening his face, eyes glassy, almost as if he were dissociating. It made your stomach churn with anxiety. Never in your many, many, years of friendship had you seen him lose himself like this.

“Because,” he paused, trying to swallow down the knot grappling at his throat, fighting off the urge to tear it off with his bare hands. “Because it's my fault we’re cancelling.”

“I– What’re you talking about?”

He groaned in desperation. Why was this so hard to explain?

“I’m the one who’s bedridden.” Still dizzy after waking up and to the best of his ability, he tried sitting up, wincing in pain to then give up and lean into his forearms. “I’m the one with random needles poking through my skin, fresh off the ER because my skull was bashed into with one of my own tools and maybe, just maybe, if I had been more aware at the time, I could've avoided the hit.”

“Shin, this wasn’t your fault—”

“But it is! Can't you see?”

“Shin–”

“D’you know what I did when I heard someone break the glass?” He looked at you expectantly, voice raised in frustration. “After I called the cops; do you?” You shook your head in response, knowing that any attempt to help him calm down would be futile. “I grabbed a wrench.

“After the operator told me to hide and wait for help because I told them it sounded like more than one person was inside, I grabbed a stupid wrench and decided to face them,

“I decided to face them even if I'm well aware I wouldn’t be able to take two people at once.”

And though he seemed to be dead set on believing that somehow he managed to land himself in the hospital, you wouldn’t allow him to give himself up to the restless thoughts, no matter how badly he wanted to indulge the bitter part of his brain that had gotten used to putting himself down.

“Someone hit you from behind,” you tried, “you were ambushed, of course you wouldn't be able to take them on.”

His defeated sigh gave you some sort of uncomfortable comfort. Knowing it made you glad that he had finally given up was a conflicting feeling you wish to never re-examine or experience again.

You sat up, swallowing the foreign relief down, and scooted further up the bed’s backrest. Your elbow rested well above the pillow where he laid, and you couldn't help but use your leverage to gently brush your fingers through his hair, only relaxing once he visibly melted against your touch.

“You didn’t do this to yourself, this wasn’t your fault.” You whispered, fingertips soothing his worries as they ghosted the skin of his forehead. “You’re not responsible for every single thing that goes wrong, no matter how much you try to convince yourself you are.”

He can’t recall a single moment in his life in which he felt like he was relieved from his self-imposed duty—the duty of an older brother, primary caretaker, and practically a parent. Someone who must put everyone’s needs above his own well-being. He’s responsible for everything going on around him, the good, the bad, the neutral, the everything. It only made sense that the break in and the subsequent series of events were, in part, his responsibility.

And he knew it was irrational thinking because how on earth would he have known what was going to happen? But he couldn’t help it, not when all the consequences of his actions reflected on the bigger picture; everyone relies on Shinichiro Sano, and it was his duty to fulfil.

“And I promise you no one is disappointed in you. Not a single one of us.” You press your lips against the top of his head, smiling through your own teary eyes at the little hum he involuntarily let out. “We’re all so, so happy that you're awake and talking and I bet Manjiro would rather move his beach birthday party a hundred years from now than lose his brother six days before his birthday,

“The beach is not going anywhere, and neither are we, okay? We are not going anywhere.”

And you knew it wasn’t not enough. Your words weren’t enough to shut up the swirling negativity spiral in his brain. But at least it was enough to calm him down, enough for him to fall asleep in spite of the dampness kissing his skin; he might have successfully managed to suppress the heart wrenching sobs, but he was not strong enough to hold back the tears that cascaded down his cheeks.

You follow through not long after, head lolling to the side in an uncomfortable position that would for sure leave your neck aching for days. But you wouldn’t have it any other way. There was no dreaming this time. No nightmares or worst case scenarios crafted deep within your subconscious. In spite of the gloomy circumstances, the two of you had fallen asleep. Finally, being in your arms was beyond comforting. Plus, indulging in the rest your body had craved for hours made it easier to regain consciousness once Manjiro decided to jump on the two of you in surprise, never minding the possibility of further injuring his brother by mistake.

Being on the receiving end of his lovable violence hurt more than you thought it would, one of his hands landing straight on your stomach and the other on Shinichiro’s chest, but you couldn’t blame the kid. Based on what Keisuke had confided in you last night, Manjiro had witnessed both his best friends’ arrest as well as his brother being pulled out unconscious on a stretcher out of the shop.

Beyond a muffled apology, he didn’t utter anything else, like his voice had given in. He clung onto Shinichiro’s body like his life depended on it.

A swift knock on the door caught your attention, though Manjiro didn't even bother looking up, face tucked against his brother’s body, letting himself relax as his brother’s fingers threaded through his blond locks.

Emma poked her head from behind the wall, hands holding onto the door frame for balance. From where you laid you could see how her eyes were almost as puffy as yours. They were rimmed with a bright red, the same shade that was splotched all over her cheeks and nose. Mansaku stood beside her, holding onto his hat.

You could physically feel the relief washing over Shinichiro the moment he saw his whole family entering the room. He laid lighter next to you, with a brighter smile decorating his lips. It was like his body had melted from hard concrete right into a puddle, your previous conversation seemingly forgotten as a twinkle of warmth returned to his pretty eyes.

Careful not to let Manjiro fall in the dent you were leaving as you stood up, you beckoned Emma over. She cuddled up to Shinichiro, clinging onto him while her soft sniffles filled the silent room, and you swore you had almost started tearing up again at the sight.

Mansaku placed a hand on your shoulder, making you flinch in surprise as he acknowledged your presence. Like a wordless thank you, he nodded at you before stepping closer towards the bed, letting his hand rest on Shinichiro’s, and gently squeezed as if making sure his grandson was truly there.

In no way shape or form was it the perfect family meetup—a perfect one wouldn’t entail the eldest-grandson-slash-parental-figure stuck in a hospital bed. But by the way they huddled together, Shinichiro pinching Manjiro’s cheeks, the latter not even fighting him off like he usually would, and patting Emma’s head in reassurance, with Mansaku displaying the ghost of a smile as he stood next to his grandchildren, the four of them gave off the feeling of everything being okay.

The familiar warmth between them left you to watch the scene like an outsider in a third-person point of view. It made you feel like you were intruding, messily glued to one of those fancy family portraits.

In spite of both your families spending the majority of their lives around one another, you weren’t a Sano. No matter how close Keisuke and Manjiro were, no matter how much Shinichiro and you acted like a married couple with at least five children, you were never going to be one. You knew this from the start, but even so, the knowledge didn’t stop the churning of a deeply seeded loneliness inside your stomach.

You didn’t bother with your goodbyes. Even if you had promised Shinichiro you’d spend the rest of the day together—pretending to be bothered and reluctant when you sealed it with a ‘pinky promise’ to hide the fact you’d willingly play nurse whenever he needed it—something from within told you it was your time to leave, you weren’t that important after all.

The question swirled inside your skull, bitter as it scratched your bones, as you leaned against the walls outside the hospital. At first, you intended to camp out in a waiting room, maybe join them after you had finally calmed down, but instead your legs had taken you right outside, landing you in a secluded area between the building and the many trees surrounding it so you could confidently retrieve the crushed package from your back pocket without disturbing anyone

Your thumb burned as you attempted to roll the sparkwheel of your zippo lighter, the metal forming uncomfortable crevices against your skin. You had to hold back the urge to bite down on the cigarette you had clumsily stuck between your teeth instead of your lips, frustration welling up and threatening to burst from the seams that clumsily held you together.

Waiting for the uncomfortable itch to burn at your throat, you traced the outline of the red koi fish at the corner of the lighter, eroded after thumbing at it like a nervous tick over the years. Every time you felt your eyes water you made sure to compulsively take another drag, as if the smoke could cloud your thoughts, mixing them up with the familiar nostalgia.

Anyone would think that after incinerating your taste buds with each stick you burn, you’d get used to the taste. Whoever said it gets easier the more you do it was a liar. They were as disgusting as ever, flavour the exact same as those you had tried when you were younger, fooling around with your friends. It first started when Shinichiro and Takeomi brought a couple of cigarettes they had stolen from his grandfather to one of your hang outs. It prompted the three of you to continuously choke and make fun of each other for doing so until there were only mustard coloured butts squished on the floor.

Neither Takeomi nor you had really enjoyed the experience, but for some reason, Shinichiro was quick to grow fond of the taste. He made sure to carry around a twelve-pack wherever he went, lighting up cigarette after cigarette in strategic places so the smell wouldn’t stick to his hair or clothes. Not soon after, the rather unhealthy habit had extended to the remaining two of you, who couldn’t help but carry your own packs to satisfy your newly birthed cravings.

Looking back, you’re sure younger-you did that to be a little more like Shinichiro, just like Takeomi, and for other even more childish reasons like appearing more mature and attractive in his eyes; you clearly remember him having a thing for older women for a while. Sure, the two of you were the same age but still, you felt like he didn’t see you like you wanted him to, and the only way for you to change that would be to gain some more common ground with him right?

So yeah, just like Takeomi, you wanted to be more like Shinchiro, but unlike Takeomi—as far as you know—you had started buying cigarette packets mainly to share back and forth with your best friend in, what you would call, a weak attempt at flirting.

At least the cringe memory managed to rip you out from the insecurity whirlpool you were being sucked into, making you groan while softly hitting your head against the concrete wall. Thank god Wakasa existed to berate you into stopping the unhealthily embarrassing habit. Back then you were just a kid, but were you being for real? Were you seriously intending to build your whole life around a man to the point you’d indulge in one of the most common and deadliest habits in the world for a slim chance at a high-school romance? Fuck, was younger-you so painfully stupid to even think–

“One of you is already in the hospital, we don't need you to auto-hospitalise.”

The old man’s voice made you jump, fumbling with the cigarette until it fell to the floor. You tried to hide the coughing fit to the best of your ability while frantically stomping on the lit stick laying on the ground. It didn’t matter that you were an adult, you were still terrified of getting caught smoking by the man.

“Would you mind sharing one with me?” He asked, ignoring the way your face morphed into a confused frown. With nimble fingers, you opened your cigarette pack once again, handing him your lighter when he was unable to fetch his from his pockets.

“You still smoke?” You questioned, adding a hasty ‘sir’ once you noticed how informal you had sounded.

He chuckled in response, taking another puff. “I only stopped doing it in front of the children.”

This time it was your turn to chuckle, playing with the gravel underneath your feet to avoid looking at the man at your slip-up. Still, even with your gaze fixated on the ground you could tell he was looking at you in curiosity.

“I didn’t mean to laugh it’s just,” clearing your throat, you stumbled with your words, debating in your head whether you should come up with one of your horrid cover ups or tell the truth. “You always smoked around us when we were little, like you didn’t care.”

You thought he would’ve left you alone after that, knowing you were purposely disrespectful towards him. It would’ve been better that way. Then you would’ve been left to wallow in your own self-pity in peace, with no one to stop you from finishing the seven remaining cigarettes. But he didn’t, taking you aback as he stayed rooted right by your side.

Had you been anyone else, he would’ve called them out. To cover up his own embarrassment or to make up for the disrespect? Not even he could be sure. But he had seen you grow up next to his own grandchildren, sharing your love and caring nature with them along with your mild irascibility and your talent for keeping Shinichiro on a tight leash. He couldn’t help but grow fond of you, even if most of your one-on-one interactions had consisted of you running away from him before he managed to scold you.

He had only stopped smoking once Manjiro was born, self-awareness finally sinking into his thick skull as he watched his two grandsons play together. No one had questioned him back then, letting him sit on the couch undisturbed while he read the morning paper. It was only after Sakurako had passed away, that he had started to notice the many areas he was lacking, watching both Shinichiro and you fill the gaps in each other’s broken homes while he alienated himself from the responsibility of taking care of his family. The two of you worked so in sync, he would be of no help—or at least that was what he had told himself.

“I wasn’t the best grandfather.”

“You think?”

“I know.” He smiled at your attitude; snappy as always, the only difference was the way you now recoiled in embarrassment at your slip ups. Using his fingers to get rid of the ash, he tapped on the back of the cigarette before taking another drag. “Thank you for taking care of them when I couldn’t.”

Not even a noise of acknowledgement, your vocal chords had closed themselves shut at the man’s sudden mild vulnerability. Out of all the things you expected him to ever say to you, a ‘thank you’ was never on the list. He was always sporting his characteristic cartoonish frown, speaking to everyone in a clipped tone with pointed words.

“You’re more important to us than you think.” He stepped on the cigarette butt. “That is one of the reasons why I can’t let you believe what happened to my grandson was in any way your fault.”

“‘Sorry?” You mumbled in confusion, his words pulling yet another frown onto your face; did you miss any pivotal points in the conversation? How had the conversation switched from his apparent familial issues to you?

“I know you feel guilty for what happened, even if you weren’t involved.” He sighed, not bothering to look you in the eye before continuing his speech. “You’re not responsible for your brother’s doing.”

“Yeah,” you scoffed in mild amusement, as if that wasn’t something you’ve been trying to tell yourself; all Bajis share their fuckups. But then again, of course he wouldn’t understand. “Easier said than done.”

This time you didn’t try to make up for the way had snapped at him. And bless the man for being able to read the room, because he didn’t push the conversation further. Deep down he knew you needed the outlet; you may have already cried, but all your anger was still pent up inside of you. And after everything you had done for him and his family, it was the least he could do for you.

“It doesn’t matter what we believe, we’re always responsible for everyone’s mess.” You scoff in dismay. “It’s like we were born for our families to have a provisional caretaker.

“So thank you for trying to tell me I didn’t break into Shinchiro’s shop, I know I didn’t, but it's still my mess to fix.” The aftertaste of the words laid heavy in your mouth, trickling down your throat like bitter bile tearing through the tissue. You didn’t like how they sounded; they were too impersonal, too selfish. You took a deep breath, holding yourself upright in spite of the pang in your chest. “Not that i wouldn’t have taken care of Shin if someone else had been responsible for what happened, I lo– I– I care too much about him to just leave him be but its just—”

You cleared your throat, “If I had made sure I knew where Keisuke was going or, or if I had actually tried to listen to him when he told me he didn’t know what to give Manjiro for his birthday then maybe– just…”

You trailed off, unable to finish your sentence without breaking down the walls of the dam you thought you had finally managed to piece back together. You didn’t want the responsibility of rebuilding them back up, you don’t think you’d be able to do it as quickly as you’d want to. But you weren’t venting your sorrows to the wind. Mansaku Sano was still standing next to you, hands locked behind his back as he waited for you to continue, and though he was well aware of the times in which he had to remain quiet, he also knew when it was time to speak up.

“Then what?”

“Then,” you swallow, “then none of this would’ve happened, and he would’ve been okay.”

Your body itched for another cigarette, pawing at your skull for you to smother down the tears spouting from your eyes, even if the smoke would make your eyes teary once again. But with Mansaku Sano standing next to you, you didn’t dare touch a single one; it didn’t matter that you had just finished spilling your pent up emotions, you drew the line at smoking with Shinichiro’s grandfather. The thought sprouted a melancholic smile on your lips; Shinichiro would have a field day when he finds out what just went down.

The only thing left you had to ground yourself was the cold metal of your lighter, already starting to heat up at the warmth of your skin. You ran your thumb over it once again, the pattern already engraved in your mind. The habit had probably developed out of your need to be comforted by familiarity—of course the lighter was the right candidate, from its colour and texture, size and temperature, you had everything about it memorised like the back of your hand.

“It’s a really nice lighter.” You hadn't realised you were playing with it until he spoke up; twirling it between your fingers over and over again, flipping it open and close, lighting it up before shutting the lid and extinguishing the flame.

“Thanks,” you sniffled, and right after you finished speaking, your voice hoarse and tired, you regretted ever doing so. You felt like a child once again; like when your mom tried to comfort you after you had scraped your knee, or when a couple of older middle-schoolers had beaten your friends up. A child like when the day was finally over and you had to go back home from a play-date, or when your favourite toy had fallen inside the river while walking over a bridge. You regretted speaking the minute you had discovered your voice sounded as weak as you felt, and yet, at the mention of your beloved trinket, you felt the warm giddiness wash over your body forcing you to speak. And so, once again like a child, you did. “I got it at a summer festival, Shin got it for me.”

“I thought you said you wanted to come visit him.”

For a minute Keisuke didn’t speak. He looked straight at the ground, feet planted on the floors like roots had grown out of him as he held your hand.

Earlier this morning he had clung onto your waist while angry tears rolled down his cheeks. The moment he caught sight of you putting your shoes on the genkan he had broken into a run, letting his body smash against yours, and almost making you lose your balance. Both you and your mom had tried your hardest to calm him down for what felt like hours but to no avail. He persisted, begging for you to let him accompany you to the hospital.

Outside of Shinichiro’s room, it was a whole other story. All of a sudden he had decided he didn’t want to see him eye to eye. His reaction made you internally groan in frustration. Had you listened to your own gut feeling telling you Keisuke wasn’t ready to come with you, it would’ve saved him the stress of making a choice for himself. Instead, you were too weak to his puppy dog eyes and wobbly pleas, and now his eyes had started to water as he tried to hold back his own hiccups.

“I promise Shin-nii isn’t angry at you,” you cooed, kneeling down to the floor and looking up at him. When had he gotten this tall? When had he grown this much? Were your efforts enough to shape him into a decent person? “and if you truly don't feel comfortable we can go home, I promise I won’t get angry.”

He rubbed at his teary eyes with his free hand before nodding at you, trailing behind you as you stood up and knocked on the door.

“Hey!” you poked your head into the room with a smile, one that faltered as you tried to keep your mouth from falling open in awe once you noticed how the sunlight streaming from the window kissed every inch of Shinichiro’s skin as he quietly read the book you had given him as a joke. He looked up at you, pearly whites all up for display, and mumbled a soft mumbled a soft ‘hey’ right back at you; he looked so pretty he could be mistaken for an angel. “I brought Keisuke with me, ‘that okay?”

He hummed in response, marking the page he was reading before setting it aside. Even after the events that took place at the shop, you knew he wouldn’t mind your brother visiting—he had a soft spot for him after all. The verbal confirmation was more for Keisuke’s sake, who prompted by it, let go of your hand and walked into the room, a tinge of fear staining each step he took.

Shinichiro grinned, gently waving his way. And though the both of you had always found some sense of comfort in the warmth of his smile, it took less than a second for Keisuke to burst into tears. Sobs wracked his body as he stood frozen in the middle of the room, frantically drying out his cheeks with his forearms in vain. Tears kept pouring from his caramel eyes down to his cheeks until they stained his striped shirt.

At the sight of his distress, Shinichiro tried standing up as quickly as possible, almost ripping off his tangled IV. Thankfully, you managed to stop him before he could; the moment your brother had started crying you were already by his side wrapping your arms around his fragile figure.

Much like you had done the past few days, you combed his hair with your fingers while shushing his cries. It had become almost like a habit, Keisuke running to you in the middle of the day, hugging you close while you dried his tears for him. You’d think he’d ran out of tears by now, but something you didn’t take into account was how similar the two of you were, always feeling everything too much, all at once.

“You’re okay,” you whispered into his hair, “you’re okay, and Shin-nii’s okay, see?” you asked him, holding his tear streaked cheeks and motioning his face to meet your gaze, waiting for his breathing to even out before you coaxed him into looking at Shinichiro. “We’ve got you, the two of us, we've got you.”

He smiled at him once again, though you could see a twinkle of sadness in his eyes, as extended one of his hands for him to take. Warily, he warmed up to the invitation, wiping the remaining tears from his face before dragging his feet to the edge of the bed, asking if he could sit with him in a very un-Keisuke nature; it was unusual for him to ask before acting on his impulses.

Shinichiro softened once he felt Keisuke nuzzling his cheek against his chest. He ran his fingers through his dark locks, and as he did so you couldn’t help but think how his hair kept getting longer and longer with each day; hopefully no one from the school office would call you letting you know it was time to chop it off once classes were back in session.

In between hushed whispers, they talked amongst each other for a while. At first, Baji kept giving one word responses, still insecure in spite of your reassurance, but it wasn’t long before he started to loosen up, giggling between sniffles at Shinichiro’s questions and mocking his ‘honorary-brother’ back with teary jabs.

It was a solid dynamic they had been able to build after years of trust and consistent interaction; your two favourite boys extending their love to each other like they were flesh and blood. In that way, the two of them were similar, fiercely loyal and willing to give themselves up for those they loved. You were grateful that Shinichiro was there for Keisuke as he grew up, unknowingly making up for everything you lacked.

The mumble of your name caught your attention, popping your nostalgia blown bubble. Keisuke and Shinichiro alike were beckoning you over, the latter extending his arm as the two of them scooted over and patted the free space next to him.

He held your hand like you were a princess stepping onto a carriage, gingerly helping you keep your balance as you toed-off your shoes. You let out a sigh once you plopped yourself on the bed, letting his arm curl around your shoulders while he kept your hands interlocked, rubbing the skin with his thumb. In spite of the giddiness warming your stomach, you forced yourself to roll your eyes in response when he teasingly asked if you were comfortable, pretending to be bothered by his apparent clinginess

“‘Your sister made you try the jell-o cups already?” he asked Keisuke, the younger boy looking up at him through puffy eyes and wet lashes, and once he shook his head in response he whistled, turning towards you as if disappointed. “You haven’t made him try ‘em yet?”

“‘Came straight to see you.” You brushed off, pretending you didn’t feel his body tense beside you and smiling to yourself in subtle victory when he gulped.

“You should’ve gone to the cafeteria first.” He scolded jokingly, clicking his tongue as if that would help him hide his blushing cheeks that hurt from his own shy affection. Soon after, he switched his attention to your brother, ruffling his hair before speaking, “Remember those jell-o cups you used to share with Manjiro and Haruchiyo? The ones they sold at the konbini?”

“Yeah, but they don't have ‘em anymore,” Keisuke pouted, brows furrowed in thought. His sharp canines poked at his bottom lip, tilting his head up at Shinichiro and grinning. “Mikey almost fought the cashier guy when we found out they stopped selling them!”

“Yeah, I remembered that.” He chuckled, recalling the time he had heard the employee complain about Manjiro’s sudden aggression on one of his morning milk runs. “But guess what?” he sat on his forearms, dragging out the silence to build anticipation. He waited for the two of you to raise your heads from his chest, sharing an evident impatience as you urged him to continue. He took a deep breath before grinning once again. “They still sell ‘em over here.”

“No way! Really?!” The boy stood up in less than a second, forcing you to grab onto the neck of his t-shirt to prevent him from falling flat on his ass while he cried in glee, tears seemingly forgotten. Those jell-o cups in particular had been a staple of everyone’s childhood; you had been eating those snacks for years and years. You can clearly remember the clear disappointment in his face when he told you they had been discontinued, his somberness rubbing off on you.

“Yeah!” Shinichiro exclaimed back, scooting closer to your brother and placing one of his hands on the bed railing behind your brother, aiding you in your task of preventing Keisuke from falling to the ground. The memory had suddenly made its wake into his consciousness after mulling over ways to comfort your brother and coming up empty handed, until he had suddenly turned to his bedside table where an empty plastic cup sat with a flimsy disposable spoon. “Manjiro and Emma got a bunch from the cafeteria to take home, you could do the same.”

You were almost taken aback by the speed he used to turn his face towards you, surprised he didn’t give himself whiplash before he asked you with as much excitement he could muster, “Can we?! Please, please!?”

His pleading words made his bronze eyes sparkle under the fluorescent lights and though you know you shouldn’t, you can’t find it in yourself to say no. You smiled and nodded without a shadow of a doubt that you’d do anything in your power to keep the toothy grin you missed on his lips.

“Does that mean I can go get one now?” He pleaded, tilting his head and yet again putting on display the best puppy-dog eyes he could muster. “Please? I haven't had one in years, I wanna know if they’re the same as I remember.”

“Knock yourself out.” Shinichiro said before you could respond, ruffling Keisuke’s hair before the latter jumped down, ignoring the fact you didn’t give him a proper response before running off to the cafeteria.

You sighed unimpressed, turning towards the man beside you and letting yourself slump against his figure. His chuckle only made you roll your eyes.

“What? Were you planning to say no to him?”

He knew you too well for your own good.

“Shut up.” With a gentle push you force him back down on the bed, elbowing him lightly in the process and pressing your head back against his chest. You almost hum in satisfaction when he let himself fall back down without resistance, caving in under your touch. “I could’ve said no.”

“Yeah, right.” This time, he was the one rolling his eyes, mocking your mannerisms and chuckling when you smiled, hoping the apparent ‘nonchalance’ would mask his now increased heart rate, and the faster beating coming from the vital sign monitor.

“I could’ve!” You tried to sit up in retaliation, pretending to be annoyed, yet you didn’t resist when he pulled you back down. He held down his own giggling once he felt you cuddling up closer to his side, tracing random patterns on his dotted hospital gown and realising too late how close both your hands were. The proximity made you nervous; even if the two of you were practically laying one on top of the other, holding hands felt like a foreign act of intimacy.

Subtly enough, you tried reaching out for the tip of his fingers, moving what seemed like less than a millimetre per minute. Soon enough, he took notice of your plan; hesitantly, he moved his own towards you, letting your fingertips rest against each other for a couple of seconds, like he was asking for your permission, before interlocking his fingers with yours.

“You really can’t stay away from me, can you?” he teased, gaze focused on your entwined hands through his lashes as he felt too shy to look anywhere near your face. It seemed that hiding the pink-ish blush staining his cheek had become his number one priority; you were so close, so everywhere, he wouldn’t want it any other way, even if the closest he’d get to you would be through friendly teasing, bordering the line of ‘definitely, a 100% and unmistakably platonic’ flirting.

In your mind, you were desperately scavenging for any semblance of a comeback, preferably witty and with the same energy he was giving you.Instead, all you did was sigh.

“Yeah, you’re right.”

You blamed the gusty confession on a moment of weakness, likely born out of your depleting energy mixed with the way his hand fit against yours like two perfectly carved puzzle pieces. You weren’t sure why you had said what you did, the way you did; voice softening as the longing you had suppressed your whole life coated every syllable that rolled down your tongue.

He hummed in response, giddy and satisfied, before backtracking in confusion. The lack of sarcasm or annoyance lighthearted mockery caught the two of you off-guard, though it seemed to have a bigger impact on him as his body tensed up for a moment. If you were to look up at him, you’d probably see his head tilted to the side, with warm cheeks and the ghost of a frown clouding his features.

And that’s exactly why you don’t.

Not like this; you wouldn't allow yourself to do so, wouldn’t even dare. Not when the stakes were this high, multiple worst outcomes served on a silver platter for you to choose because once you look up at him he would notice the way you see him, like he hung up each individual constellation up in the sky on his own and then all of it would be over for you.

For the both of you.

“Do you, uh,” the slight shake in his voice made you gulp, like you had an inkling of a very possible question he could ask. Maybe this would finally be the end of your friendship which, to your own dismay, could be very easily broken by other things that weren’t death itself, “do you know if Keisuke has talked to Manjiro yet?”

You cleared your throat, holding back the sigh of relief, and shook your head. “I don’t think he knows how.”

“He’s scared?”

“I think so,” you pondered, “they’ve been friends since forever, I think he’s scared of losing…him.”

Knowing that both you and your brother’s situation overlapped in so many ways felt weird; both Baji siblings were scared to lose their respective Sano brothers. It sounded funny, almost cute, like both Bajis and Sanos were meant to stick together generation after generation. You would’ve giggled at the thought, explain the parallels between the two relationships to Shinichiro and laugh at the silliness of it, yet the fear that had taken possession of your body the last couple of days lingered at the thought.

Scared of losing him.

You almost choked on the words sitting heavy in your mouth, like you had confessed to a crime. Had you been alone, maybe they would’ve urged you to cry.

“Hey, ‘you okay?” You hadn’t realised that the worry had bled onto your face, dripping down your cheeks and coating your eyelashes with sorrow until he spoke up, tearing you away from your trance. But you couldn’t help it, the lingering torture you endured at the hands of your brain replaying past events, from the bailing your brother out of jail as he sobbed to having Wakasa answer the call for you, Kazutora crying in your arms and Shinichiro blaming himself for his own accident, the more you felt like losing yourself in his embrace, tightening your hold on his hand. “You left me there for a second I thought–”

“No.”

“What?”

“No, I’m–” you stuttered, “I don’t think I’m okay, I–”

Rejection after rejection, you’ve seen what felt like an infinite amount of his confessions go sideways, and yet he handled each and every one of them with grace. You’d attribute his resilience to the amount of first hand experience he’s had with it, and though at first it had taken a big toll on him. By now, rejection was nothing to him. He could make a fool of himself in front of anyone and he really wouldn’t care; he has told you so himself.

But you were not Shinichiro, and you could never be him.

You were resentful and impulsive, oftentimes reacting way before you think. You were impatient and whiny, though you tried your best to suppress that particular trait to no avail. You were a selfish, self-destructive being that somehow managed to keep the insecure neediness brewing inside on the down low.

And you could go on. You could go on because you were stubborn, volatile, melodramatic and a part of your brain really does think you were just setting yourself up for failure listing every single negative character trait that comes to mind. But it didn’t matter because that just further proves you're not Shinichiro Sano, that you were never going to be Shinichiro Sano because you were weak.

Too weak to answer the call, too weak not to try and escape uncomfortable situations, too weak to hold back the urge for a smoke, too weak to forgive Kazutora, too weak to confess your feelings for your best friend even after bawling your eyes out at the thought of a life without him.

Too weak, too weak, too weak.

Being weak is all you’ve ever known.

The thoughts poured and they wouldn’t stop, crashing against each other like the same bumper carts you rode along with Shinichiro at the funfair with your siblings. Back then, you were all smiles and laughter, and right now you wondered if the two of you would’ve held hands if it wasn’t for Emma sitting in the middle of you both.

And he was so warm next to you, not pressuring you to clarify whatever word-vomit you just spewed instead of a proper comeback. So sweet as he squeezed your hand to let you know he was there to help in whichever way he could to lull your worries to sleep. So kind as he took care of you when you should be the one taking care of him. Always so him.

You had no right to be a coward, at least not in front of one of the strongest and bravest people you’ve ever met. It wasn’t fair. Listing your flaws from the top of your head would never justify your body preventing itself from spilling the truth just so you could try and grasp at the fragile strings of self-pity to sew yourself back together as unspoken words necrotize your tongue.

The same way you wouldn’t dare look at him, you wouldn’t dare stay away from him. It’d kill you just to try. So fuck every martyrish thought in your head, fuck the burned cigarette butts stained with indirect kisses, fuck the many nights the two of you spent stargazing in his garden, the infinite amount of chocolates you bought him for valentine’s day to make up for the emptiness of his locker; and the countless times he had dropped everything he was doing for the chance to spend just a couple of minutes with you. Fuck the worn out red koi fish engraved on your lighter and the possibility of breaking the promise you two made of never straying away from each other.

“I can’t stay away from you,” you took a deep breath, ��I think I’d rather die than live a life without you,

“The sole idea of losing you almost sent me over the edge, and even after you were out of surgery I was a mess,” you stopped yourself again, giving yourself the chance to swallow down the knot in your throat; it didn’t work. “I was going insane without being able to talk your ear off because even when I talk about something you couldn’t give a shit about you still give a shit, you give so many shits when it comes to me, too many,

“You’re loyal and gentle and charming and you’re always smiling, and it's like, it's like you're absolutely everything good and even then you genuinely have no idea how wrapped around your finger I truly am,

“And I don't think I’ve ever properly thanked you for existing because I don't think I’d be the same person I am right now if it wasn't for you, and even if I'm not perfect, I- I wouldn't trade myself for a better version if that meant you wouldn’t be in my life.

“So, yeah, I guess you’re right, I don’t think I can,” you let your shoulders sag, like the confession finally burned years upon years of cover-ups and excuses and fake scenarios you had come up with before bed stored in the darkest depth of your brain. “Even if I wanted to, I wouldn't be able to stay away from you.”

Pensive, he melted further against the pillows, letting his muscles melt at the sound of his own sighing. Even if you weren’t directly looking at him, you hear his smile reverberating throughout his body, and the sole idea of him possibly reciprocating your feelings made you impossibly giddy; a little too giddy. It was easy, after all, to get your hopes up once you lose yourself in him, his warmth and comfort. And for less than a second, you can see your hypothetical future with him pass right in front of your eyes, forcing you to accept a premature victory. But as the silence between the two of you started to drag itself out, you couldn't help but reluctantly welcome the acrid heartbreak tearing through your skin.

“I’m sorry,” you tensed up, “I shouldn’t have–”

“No, no, it's–,” he blurted out tongue tied as if your words had snapped him out of a trance, mirroring the same giddiness you had displayed with the same hint of hesitancy, “no one has talked about me like that, I guess it just caught me off-guard.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, I don’t– don’t think I'd be able to stay away from you either– not that I want to, of course it's just– sorry give me a minute.” Looking off to the side, he tried to collect himself, clearing his throat and pinching his cheeks, the skin already stained with all sorts of shades of pink. For him, it was inevitable not to become all shy and flustered, the least he could do was bite his tongue so as not to break into a fit of giggles, prevent himself from swinging his legs and twirling his short strands of hair like a lovesick middle schooler. All because of you. “Just, um, just to be clear before I look like an absolute fool, not that I don't look like an absolute fool on a daily basis, but this is a confession, right?”

You raised your head up in confusion, tilting your head and furrowing your brows. Had you not been so baffled by his self-explanatory question you would’ve fawned over this version of him, giddy and soft and in love with you because just by looking at his eyes you could tell he was looking at you like you hung the moon up in the sky—it was easy to decipher; after staring at him the exact same way countless times, you were bound to familiarise yourself with such display of devotion. And had he not looked this adorable, you would’ve teased him for being so painfully and hopelessly dense, but you didn’t have it in you to do so, only managing to nod in response.

“So you like like me?” He continued, waiting for your reassurance, either a nod or a smile, or any signal that he was right. “So you are in love with me?”

“I mean, I wouldn't say I'm in love but if that's what makes you sleep at night.” The more you stared at his face, the dimples on his cheeks, the creasing of his eyes at your words and the giggle he couldn’t help but contain, the wider the smile creeping at his lips became.

“Will you say it then?” He prodded, moving closer to you, now unable to hide the twinge of pink that grew what seemed like a thousand shades per second.

“I don’t know,” your legs innocently dangled from the side of the bed, trying to win back control of the situation by cutting down on your proximity, and sitting up properly from your half-lying position, “will I?”

“Please?” he begged, cupping one of your cheeks with the palm of his hand and pulling you closer until you could feel each other's breaths. His skin was warm against yours, the roughness of his palm from working non-stop at the shop offset by the tenderness he carried around for you.

And though you wanted to drag this on, enjoying the back and forth, you were so whipped for this man that you couldn’t stop your nonchalant act from crumbling as soon as you heard him once again let out a shy giggle after he nudged your nose with his.

“I love you.”

Voice dreamy and saccharine sweet, like confessing to your lifelong desire, you whispered, and just before your lips touched, through lidded eyes and uneven breath he whispered back ‘and I love you’.

After his own confession, you were unable to pay attention to anything that wasn’t him. All your senses were muted as his soft lips gilded against yours. The taste of the honey chapstick you applied almost compulsively melted against his tongue, and he wondered if like him, you could still faintly taste the strawberry chapstick you had gifted him a while ago; the same one he hadn’t stopped using since, going as far as asking the hospital staff to retrieve it from the pockets of the jeans he was wearing the day of the accident for him.

He bit back a whimper when he felt you bite down gently on his bottom lip, unable to ignore the way you smirk against the kiss once your hand makes its way up to the side of his neck to rest on his pulse point, in the perfect position to feel his heart doing somersaults underneath your touch. It made him want to melt right against you; the more you wandered down his body, the bigger the urge to hold you grew.

His calloused yet delicate fingers traced your skin, running from the apples of your cheeks down to your chin, coaxing you to fully give into him as he traced the tip of his tongue against your lips. He could feel himself grow hard once you gave him permission to enter, basking on the hidden whine you let out at the feeling of the warm muscle enveloping your whole body, drool pooling at the corner of both your lips.

Away from your face, he trails his hands slowly down your torso confidently ghosting the skin before the facade is broken the moment he almost freezes up once he gets to your chest. The blush on his cheeks deepened as you took notice of his apparent nervousness, laughing it off before he continued his path down to your hips,

He was sure he was ready to die right here in your arms the moment you softly suck on his tongue, his eyes almost rolling towards the back of his skull as you hands grazed his clothed dick. The teasing touch made him groan, the vibrations against your lips feeding the urge to get closer to him. And almost like he had read your mind, you shivered at the tight grip of his hips guiding you over lap until you were resting flush against him.

“‘Want you so bad.” He panted in between giggles, nudging your noses together and pecking your lips over and over again. You barely managed to catch your breath between his kisses; when he leaned away you pulled him in, and when you did so he tried to follow the path of your lips until they were once again interlocked with his. The two of you ignored the satisfying burn of your lungs like the feeling of your bodies close against each other was good enough of a replacement for oxygen itself. “–Waited so long for this.”

He pulled you down a little harder against him, bucking his hips against your. Mewling into the kiss, you wrapped both your arms around his shoulders, perhaps taking too much enjoyment in the minimal friction against your core. The sensation of him rutting desperately against you forced you to meet his attempts for more with an equal amount of want.

“You feel so good.” you cooed, whimpering as he sucked at the skin behind your ear. “Shin, Fuck, you’re so good at this.”

Before he could stop himself, he was groaning at the praise, peppering kisses along your jaw and neck and refusing to come back up to meet your lips to hide the raging blush tinting his skin, spreading from his cheeks up to his ears.

“You like that? Like it when I say you're doing a good job?”

He hummed, though it sounded more like a whimper, and waited no time to pull your face back against his, connecting your lips again in a messy kiss, to, presumably, stop you from teasing him. He took the opportunity to indulge himself, once again tracing the outline of your lower lip with his tongue and nipping at the supple skin in retaliation.

In spite of your own reluctance, you broke the kiss first, finding the way he tried to chase your lips with his eyes half-lidded in pleasure, indescribably cute. You took a minute to fully take in this version of him, his breath uneven and with a thin sheen of sweat making some of his black locks stick to his forehead. His lips were puffy, glistening with saliva as they part involuntarily in an enrapturing appetite.

He looked so pretty like this, you didn’t think you’d have it in you to control yourself.

Once you had lowered the sheets covering his legs, one of your thumbs proceeded to draw circular patterns on his exposed thigh, chuckling at the way he flinched before relaxing against you. Gently ghosting your fingernails over his skin, you hiked up his hospital gown until you had full access to the band of his boxers, toying with the elastic but doing nothing aside from that.

“You want to do this here?” He pulled back, eyes wide and dazed with need yet frazzled at your sudden boldness, as if nearly dry humping in a hospital wasn’t bold enough. His hands played with the hem of your shirt, sending shivers down your spine every time his fingers grazed your skin. He looked like a deer caught in headlines, a way cuter version of Bambi, and you couldn’t help but nuzzle your nose against his cheek before kissing him gently, once, twice, thrice.

“Only if you want to.”

“I do,” he swallowed, clearing his throat to keep himself lucid as he felt the tips of your fingers breaching the hem of his underwear, cold against the warmth of the covered skin. “Fuck, I really do, I need you s’bad I–”

“You fucking disgust me.”

Like a pair of surprised kittens, the sudden interruption had the two of you jumping away from each other, almost falling off the bed while desperately trying to pull the sheets back into place. In turn Shinichiro tried helping you regain your balance, grabbing your arm before you crashed against the floor, nearly pulling down one of the hospital monitors in the process.

“Don't you know how to knock?” You bit back, taking his comment more personally that you should’ve.

“Didn’t think it’d be necessary.” Wakasa crossed his arms in front of his chest, shifting the lollipop in his mouth from one side of his cheek to the other. Standing beside, Benkei held a teddy bear and a lavender flower arrangement, mixed along with baby’s breaths and eucalyptus. If anyone had to guess, the bewildered expression he sported only meant he’d rather have his friend die than see whatever blasphemous activities you were performing. But then again, he probably expected to see his friend bedridden and weak instead of the free front row tickets to your ‘dry humping a post-concussed Shinichiro’ expectale. “‘Thought the worst thing we’d come across was him sleeping.”

“Why did you think coming across me sleeping d’be the worst case scenario!?” Shinichiro butted in lightheartedly, though you wouldn’t rule out the possibility of him actually being serious. “Are you saying I look ugly when I sleep?”

“No, you dumbass,” Wakasa deadpanned; even with his usual unbothered facade you could tell he was grateful for the ordinary banter, questioning his stupidity with a hidden smile. “How’re we gonna talk to you if you’re asleep.”

“Wait, what happened? I didn't see,” Takeomi joined in, panting as he held a couple of balloons that had ‘it's a boy!’ written all over them. “These two assholes left me while I was getting something to eat.”

The two of you groaned at the sound of his voice, pressing the heels of your hands against while Shinichiro hid his eyes behind his forearm. Even if you wanted to be lowkey about the whole situation, sweep it under the rug to avoid facing the embarrassment over again, you knew you wouldn't be able to hide it from anyone, not even Takeomi, and he wasn’t the brightest.

Shinichiro’s hair was a tousled mess and his skin was dusted pink. Both of your lips were puffy, glistening under the fluorescent lights, and your breathing was uneven still. No matter how much the two of you tried to regulate it back to normal, it seemed to follow the rapid rhythm of each other’s heart beat.

“Nothing happened.” You grumbled, willing to attempt a lousy cover up in spite of your friend’s, including Shinichiro, giggling. Once he found out, it would be impossible for him to let it go. But even so, it took a lot of effort not to join in your friends’ laughter; it was funny to fuck with him—not literally—his puzzled frown as he borderline begged for someone to let him only feeding in your teasing. Still, once he found out. “We were just talking.”

“Yeah, talking about fuck–”

“Wakasa!” “Dude!”

The two of you exclaimed as the blond tilted his head to the side, making his earring jingle. A teasing smile stretched on his lips as the four of you waited for Takeomi to process what was just mentioned. Knowing the speed in which the neurons within his brain transported information, it’d take a little while.

To everyone’s surprise, it only took him a couple of seconds to do so. You could visibly see it in his expression, morphing into one of amazement the minute realisation hit him straight in the face

“Did’ya– No way, you finally fucked?” And though his lack of decorum made the two men beside him laugh louder and the two of you groan as if to muffle his voice, he paid your reaction no mind other than using it as an affirmative response to his question. “No way, congrats dude! Who would’ve thought you needed to almost die just to lose your virginity.”

“I hate you so much.” Shinichiro playfully complained, a stupid grin threatening to make its way onto his lips disproving his claim. Seeing his four best friends standing around him right after waking up from what could’ve been a tragic accident made him feel all sorts of things he found himself unable to explain. It almost made him want to cry once again—happy tears this time.

“Anyway, now that you’ve got someone to stay with,” you changed the topic, interrupting yourself to fix the stray hairs sitting on top of Shinichiro’s head before caressing his cheek with your thumb, “I’ll go check whatever Keisuke’s doing, I‘ll be back in a sec.”

“Wait no, don’t go…” You had to resist the urge to give him another quick peck at the way he dragged out the ‘go’, and instead, grabbed your phone from his bedside table to respond to the missed messages coming from your mom. “Don’t leave me with these people.”

“Very funny Shitty-chiro.” Takeomi fake laughed, letting himself fall on one of the chairs nearby, stretching his arms before fully slumping against the backrest and looking at you. “But’s fine, I left Haruchiyo in charge, Senju’s with them as well.”

“Well that doesn't make things any better, does it.” At your snapping voice, he raised his hands up in surrender, as if the idea of letting a 13 year-old in charge of two 12 year-olds didn't have multiple flaws. Doing a 180° turn, you turned towards Shinichiro, grabbing his hand and giving it a squeeze. “I’ll be quick, promise.”

“Wait, before you go,” Wakasa interrupted, stopping you from slinging your bag over your shoulder. He took the bright red candy out of his mouth with a pop, using it as a little wand to emphasise his speech, before he continued. “Who confessed first?”

“Yeah!” Takeomi sat at the end of his seat, gaze switching from Shinichiro to you and vice versa. “How did Shinichiro confess to ya’?”

Again, faster than the usual processing speed of his cognitive skills, he managed to string the hints together, gasping at the silence that settled between the two of you as you tried to silently decide who should say what. Shinichiro opened his mouth like a fish, as if trying to come up with something to appease his friend’s reaction before giving up and averting his eyes, pointing at you with his thumb.

Wakasa’s smirk only grew the more Takeomi seemed to sink back into the chair in dejection. “‘gotta pay up Omi-omi.”

The ruffling of bills and the complaints birthed out of the apparent loser’s mouth distracted you momentarily. You were about to laugh at the scene in front of you, two of them waiting with their hands stretched out as Takeomi reluctantly placed the wrong amount in his palm, grunting when Wakasa noticed it wasn’t the amount they had agreed on, before it clicked in your head.

“Pay up,” you mumbled to yourself, “Pay up, pay up? Wait, did you three bet on us?”

“Kinda,” Benkei sent you a reassuring smile, counting the hundred yen bills that were handed to him once again; when it came to money matters, Takeomi wasn’t someone you could trust. “We bet on who’d confess first.”

“And you didn’t bet on me?!” Shinchiro exclaimed, a little louder than he intended.

“Sorry man, ‘didn't have faith in you,” Wakasa folded the five crinkled bills in half before stashing them in his back pocket. “After your failed attempt I kinda accepted you weren’t going to win, Benkei was always betting against you, though.”

“But ‘ya admit it!” Takeomi jumped from his seat, waving his now empty wallet in the air like he was fencing with the worn out leather rectangle. “He did confess first!”

“Hell no, it only counts if it was a successful confession.”

“So the bet wouldn’t count if one of them got rejected? What's the point then!”

Wakasa groaned, pressing his temples with his thumb and middle finger, “It only counts if the two of them understand whatever was done was a confession.”

“But the lighter was him confessing!”

“Takeomi, that was the vaguest confession to ever be seen by the entirety of mankind.”

“What confession are you talking about…?” You interrupted the animated discourse with a question. In spite of enjoying the banter between your friends, you remained in the dark. Shinichiro had never confessed to you, or even remotely tried to do so. You were a hundred percent certain, after all, had he done so you were sure you’d be dating by now.

“The lighter you always carry around,” Takeomi responded, “the fish one.”

Instinctively, you patted the pocket where your zippo lighter sat, carefully trailing your thumb lightly over the red imprints as you pulled it out. It looked almost exactly the same way as it did during the summer festival. The only difference, aside from the way the metal reflected the cold hospital lights instead of fireworks and paper lanterns, were the couple of dents on the metal and the previously well-defined engraving softening over the years.

“S‘not just a fish,” Shinichiro chuckled, letting himself fall back on the bed while hiding his flustered state behind a seemingly lame explanation. At this rate, he was sure his skin could be permanently stained a pinkish-red. “It's a red koi fish.”

“Wait,” you snapped your head from the lighter to him, letting your mouth fall open in surprise, “you, you meant that?”

“What do you…mean?” Shinichiro poked, voice twisting and forcing the ‘mean’ to come out strained. Watching your shoulders tense up and, somehow, simultaneously relaxed made him wary of the whole situation, like the universe itself was playing a prank on him. And though unlikely, he wasn't ruling out the possibility of random cameras popping up from behind the door or through the window or maybe from underneath his bed with a huge poster reading ‘you’ve been pranked!’.

He had given you that lighter seven years ago, the engravings were probably faded by now, there was no way…

“Red koi fish mean romantic love, don’t they?”

It took him a couple of seconds to properly run your words through his brain, before his eyes widened in amusement mixed with the mild disappointment his seventeen year-old-self had forced himself to ignore after his confession had gone wrong. “You knew!?”

“Uh…yeah? We learned that in literature class.” You shrugged with a sheepish smile in an attempt to tame down the laughter that had started bubbling in your throat at his mortified reaction. He groaned at your response, throwing one of his arms over his eyes, the sound mixing with a cry as the movement pulled on the IV digging into his arm.

He licked his lips a couple of times and rubbed the skin above the needle in an attempt to soothe the ache. Stalling, he was trying to buy time before he asked anything that could potentially hurt him. “Why didn’t you say anything?” Aside from flustered and pouty, slightly amused at his own failed attempt, he appeared to be a little sullen, perhaps even sad. It was obvious to you, though you didn’t know why; maybe he was blaming himself for losing the opportunity to get in a relationship with you way earlier. Or, maybe he blamed himself for putting any sort of pressure on you; back then, he wasn’t a hundred percent sure how you felt about him, so maybe you had purposely ignored his advances because you didn't want him. But that couldn’t be it, could it? Less than a couple of minutes ago the two of you were confessing your love for each other, so if that were to be the case, when did your feelings for him start to change? “Did, uh, did you not like me back then?”

Looking at his hopeful yet gloomy expectant features, he appeared so small and vulnerable in front of you, you wanted to give him a hug. The question had visibly caught you off-guard, your brows furrowing as soon as he was done talking. Who would’ve thought that a seemingly innocuous event from your past would come back transformed into an apparent irrational insecurity. It prompted yet another silence upon the two of you. And though it felt eternal, it lasted only a couple of milliseconds, interrupted by both your annoyance and Takeomi munching on the chips he bought at an inflated price on one of the hospital’s vending machines.

“Do you mind?” You turned towards the obnoxious mistake you had chosen as a friend, snickering as he shrugged in questionable indifference, mumbling a muffled ‘go on’ before motioning you two to continue with a shake of his hand. But at the lack of positive feedback from anyone in the room he stopped himself to explain.

“What? It’s like watching a live romcom,” he shoved more chips into his mouth, “The ones we watch every friday, ‘ya know what I mean?”

“Okay,” Benkei clapped both his hands together, gathering everyone’s attention before he pulled Takeomi into a standing position and pushed both him and an amused Wakasa towards the door. “Seems like all of us are hungry, we’re heading to the cafeteria real quick, we’ll send Baji back up when we’re done, sounds good?”

“Sounds good, thanks, Benkei.” You smiled at him, watching the three of them leave and sighing in satisfaction when you saw the way the gentle-giant punched Takeomi’s arm once they were far enough for his complaints to appear silent. “But to answer your question,” you turned towards Shinichiro once again, sitting at the edge of the bed and resting your hand on top of his. You could see the way he visibly relaxed against your touch, the warmth of your skin coaxing his insecurities away little by little. “I did like you very much back then, too much for it to be considered healthy, I'm pretty sure…”

“Why didn’t you say anything then?”

“Well, I, you know,” you stumbled over your words, suddenly feeling the embarrassment for your younger self was all over you. Why didn’t you say anything? Well, in hindsight, you didn’t think Shinchiro had it in him to use a literary reference as a means of confession. Not because he was stupid, that was Takeomi's role, but because it was very un-Shinichiro. You had been witness to the countless failed confession attempts and nothing included anything as subtle and detailed as the lighter he had gifted you. Back then, he professed his brimming infatuation with an honest smile, the well-rehearsed question ‘would you go out with me?’ and absolutely nothing else. And though the ‘courting’ period included him acting all whipped and soft, he was usually very blunt when it came to asking people out, gentle but direct.

Although, thinking about it a little bit more in depth, he had always been very romantic, sometimes cringy with the shitty pick up lines, but during movie nights he had always chosen movies with clear romantic subplots, and you can recall that one romance poetry book he kept borrowing from the library, unable to finish it before returning it—at least that’s what you thought, by the amount of times he had taken it home.

When you were both in middle school and high school, he would watch couples holding hands with a gentle smile, sometimes going as far as spacing out and letting a dreamy sigh fall from his lips—he always brushed off the person asking the reason behind his sighing, but you were paying attention to him more often than not, so of course you knew—and of course, you couldn’t forget the many times he had shared hypothetical scenarios with the four of you, most of them consisting of him fantasising out loud the sort of dates he’d like to have with his hypothetical s/o or what he would do for them before being relentlessly teased by all of you.

So, in retrospect, him trying to confess through a pretty much evident symbol extracted from one of your favourite books was a very un-Shinichiro, Shinichiro thing to do, if that made any sense.

“I think…I might’ve gaslit myself into believing it was a coincidence, didn't wanna get my hopes up.”

“I thought, I– I thought it was pretty obvious that I liked you.” He chuckled, scooting to the side in order to make more space for you to lay, next to him, the same you had done most of the days you had spent here. “Everybody knew I did.”

“Wait, really? I thought you were being friendly!” You let out a laugh, watching him soften up even more at your obliviousness and simultaneously hold back laughter of his own. “Don’t laugh at me! You were flirtier with Wakasa than with me!”

“You can’t blame me!” He finally laughed along with you, interlocking your fingers together and pulling you close until you were squished next to him, and waited for you to get comfortable before continuing his spiel. “Waka’s my best friend, we’ve always been like that, and you know it.” He nuzzled his cheek against your head, muttering the words in the quietest way possible, like he didn’t want to be heard by anyone but you. “Plus I couldn't flirt with you, I'd blush and cry afterwards.”

“Yeah, I’d’ve cried if you flirted with me as well.”

“Hey!”

“I mean it in a good way! Happy tears or whatever.” You sighed with a giddy grin, caressing his cheeks with the back of your hand before smushing them together, forcing a pout and giving him a quick peck on the lips. “I promise I’ll forever be in love with you.”

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