#‘babies boiled to death!????’ ‘ya :)’ | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

8aji · 2 years ago

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.”

1K notes · View notes

starry-eyes-love · 1 year ago

Text

Chapter 6- You're Forever Mine

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Summary | Things finally boil to a steaming head between you and Joel. After much discussion Joel decides to spend the night sleeping next to you to help calm you. He reads you a steamy bedtime story and then holds you after you wake up from a horrible nightmare (please read warnings about nightmare below before reading). You get a major dark glimpse into the reader's past and how she met Joel (he's the savior in her story).

Important Note: This chapter has a lot of very graphic scenes that are mentioned that happen to the f!reader during a dreamstate nightmare flashback. If you don’t want to read about these types of details, then skip the flashback scene at the Boston QZ five years prior in the story. You can still understand the story without reading the flashback scene. See warnings below.

Words: 12.0 K (I’m not sorry)

“Baby, if you can’t see why, then I’ve really screwed up. If ya can't see why I want you darlin’, then I don’t deserve you in my life. I’m not Dave honey, I never have been, nor ever will be. If you can’t see that then please honey, just let me go and see my daughter. I don’t want to be in a world where you think I’m a monster. Please.”

Warnings | 18+, Minors DNI for whole story

Flashback: Dark content during flashback with David (aka Dave): language, vio!ence, abu$e mentions several types, name calling, degrading references, death, b!ood and gore (please see note above, you have been warned this is very dark content).

Rest of story: Smut, language, Joel begging (it deserves it’s own warning), heavy knife references, references to abuse, tension (a lot scattered about), Joel referencing death and death of his daughter, angst, f fingering, m handjob, a lot of smutty parts (you have been warned), use of the word ‘love’, Joel and the reader being an ass (hey it’s relationship dynamics), Joel reading smut out loud to F!Reader (yeah, we’re doing it), fluffy parts sprinkled in, breast feeding kink via smutty book read from Joel, size kink, daddy kink, age gap (not disclosed), body reference (without being too specific), g spot reference, name calling (baby, honey, little girl, etc.)…and I think that is it. Finally the heat is turning up with these two. Enjoy :)

Story

Joel was wound up tight, stressed, and not in a good way. This thing between the two of you was starting to boil to a head and he didn't like it. He hated this back and forth that was going on. He hated that he didn't know from one day to the next if he was going to scream at you for fucking up his life, even in the best possible way. Or if he was going to give in and fuck you, just to get out all of his pent up frustration. God, he needed to relieve himself. It had been way too long, and this constant edging between the two of you was giving him the worst case of blue balls that he could ever imagine. He wanted to bury himself so badly inside of you, throw caution out of the window and give in to his body's needs to have you. That was what it was now, a deep rooted need to release all of his anxiety, anger, and pent up frustration of trying to be the good guy for you.

Joel wasn't a good man, he knew it. Sure, at one time he could be gentle, tender, and loving. He suspected that those emotions were still buried deep inside of him. But ever since the world went to shit, Joel had to survive. He had to kill people in order to survive, and he'll do it again if he must. But you, you were different. You were kind, soft, gentle, but also a fierce woman. There was no one on this Earth that Joel feared more than you, especially when you were pissed off at him.

Joel saw first hand how you handled frustration. You'd bottle it up inside and then explode later. He'd seen how you’d kill people with your knife, how you'd keep stabbing them long after they were dead to release that anger that you had. An anger that he was just starting to understand. People wronged you in life, took your innocence far before they should have. This fact made Joel want to scream and see red whenever he thought about it. People had prayed upon you, took advantage of you at your weakest, and he wasn't ever going to let that happen again.

Joel also hated seeing you feel weak. It didn't bother him that you couldn't do everything, hell Joel couldn't grow plants, and yet here you were making it work slowly in the house. You had your strengths; the ability to find things hidden, anticipate things, and even take a mothering role with Ellie. But one of your best abilities, Joel thought, was your ability to get underneath his goddamn skin and drive him crazy. This fact alone pissed him off, but also excited him because he loved your fire, attitude, and passion in life. The worst part, you knew you had this effect on him.

Joel was lost in thought, thinking about you when you were showing Ellie how to string together a bow and how to sharpen a knife. God, it turned him on to hear you direct her on how to stab and kill people. He knew that you could survive in this world, even if he wasn’t around. Most men wouldn’t like this type of independence or fierceness, but for Joel, this was the biggest turn on. The only thing that he wished for was for your nightmares to quit haunting you.

"And you turn it like this to secure it" you said to Ellie, showing Ellie how to finish attaching the string for a bow.

"That's so fucking cool y/n. Joel, you did a great job showing her this," Ellie said looking at the bow amazed.

"Not my doing Ellie, that's something she knew all on her own." Joel said, taking a slow sip of the whiskey that he was holding, a small find he got from the cellar outside.

"Seriously? You knew something Joel didn't?" Ellie asked, looking at you shocked.

"Who do you think taught him how to thread it?" you said with a smirk.

Ellie glanced over at Joel, who started to blush and rub the back of his neck in embarrassment. "Don't make fun of me darlin’" he said, shaking his head and laughing at how shocked Ellie looked that you had actually taught him how to do something.

"But Joel, I thought you like knew everything," Ellie said, pushing his buttons on purpose.

"I don't know everything, never have kid. And you,” he said shaking a finger at you, “Stop that damn smiling and laughing over there." You were quietly sitting on the floor next to Ellie, softly laughing to yourself at Ellie's statement, watching her push Joel’s buttons. The amusement of this entire situation was just as much for your enjoyment as it was hers.

"Didn't say anything" you said, trying to keep a straight face, but failing miserably.

"Look here smartass, I may not know how to make what you're doing" he said waving his hand, jestering towards the bow. "But you better believe I know how to shoot that darn thing." And with that you stopped laughing and got up. Shooting a bow was always a touchy subject, one that Joel knew you had.

You walked to the kitchen and started washing your hands, not that you needed to, but it was something to do to get your hands to calm down at the memory. Joel could sense your unease as Ellie continued teasing him. Joel was only half listening to her, the person he was paying attention to was you. He saw the way your breathing spiked and became labored, he also saw how your hands were shaking when you went past him. At the sink he saw you vigorously rub your hands underneath the water, acting like you were trying to wash off the signs of blood, which he knew was yours that you were seeing and remembering. Damn it, he thought, she’s having another fucking flashback.

As Ellie continued talking, Joel stood up and approached you slowly in the kitchen. When he approached you and saw that you were still rubbing your hands fast together, scrubbing hard and not acknowledging him, he slowly wrapped his arms around you. He placed his hands on top of yours under the water and said "leave it baby. He's not here. Come on.” Joel then shut off the water, took your hands that were still trembling, and turned you into his chest. As he slowly caged you in his arms he began to slowly rub his hand up and down your back, humming that little tune to you that he did all of those years before.

What you didn't realize was that you were shaking so bad in Joel’s arms that Ellie had noticed. Ellie approached the pair of you and said "Joel is she ok? She's shaking really bad and she looks like she's-"

"She's fine Ellie, don't worry” you heard Joel say. When you glanced up at him you felt a single tear leave your eye, and a horrible tremor went through your body at the memory of the last time you attempted to shoot a bow. “You're ok, shh I got you" Joel said, while tucking you gently back into his chest, and wrapping you up in his arms. “Just listen to my voice baby, just me” and then he began slowly humming that song to you again.

As he continued to comfort you, you felt him gently sway you back and forth, rubbing your back, and planting kisses to the top of your head. Your mind was so far in the past that you didn’t hear Joel tell Ellie to give you guys a few minutes alone. The only thing that you could hear was the ringing in your ears at a memory that you wanted to forget. ‘Stupid bitch. *Smack* I'll teach you a fucking lesson. *Smack, Smack.*’ Even after all these years, you still could feel the sting on your skin from the abuse Dave did. As soon as you involuntarily flinched at the memory of a hard hand to your face, you felt Joel tighten his grip around you while saying "it's gone. He's gone. You're safe with me baby, shhh. It's ok," and then he went back to humming that song that you loved until the memory of Dave left you once again.

You didn't know how long you stood there embraced in Joel’s arms before you heard him say "do ya want me to sleep next to you tonight baby?" When you didn’t answer he pulled away and then gently tucked a piece of hair behind your ear. "Might make the bad nightmares stay away if I sleep next to you honey," he continued in a soothing voice. You had to admit, not sleeping next to Joel has made the nightmares come back with a vengeance. You haven't hardly slept in weeks, which meant you were more susceptible to bad dreams and horrible flashbacks.

"I don't want to be a burden on you," you said.

"Ain't a burden love, never have been."

"Joel I-" you began to say before Joel interrupted you.

"Come on, let's get you tucked into bed darlin,' you look exhausted." Joel then took your hand and led you into your bedroom, holding your hand the entire way. Once inside of your bedroom he quickly got you situated sitting on the bed. “Hang on a sec,” he said and then disappeared back down the hall. After a few moments Joel reappeared with a worn out old flannel. He handed it to you and said "here, put this on. It’s mine and I know you like the way I smell."

Slightly embarrassed and turning a shade of red you took his flannel and said “thanks.” You did like how Joel smelled, but you didn’t think he knew it. “We both are getting comfortable tonight love” he said as he chucked a set of comfy pajamas for himself on the bed.

"Wow, aren't we both domestic" you said, shaking your head at seeing Joel change into an old T-shirt and fuzzy pajama pants.

“Yeah, well, I need it. And by the looks of ya, so do you darlin.’” Joel smirked as he unbuckled his pants and slowly took them off while looking at you. You knew you needed to turn away, but when you noticed Joel removing his boxers, you couldn't help but stare. God he was big. You could see that even in his softened state that his cock hung heavy between his legs. You didn't realize that you were staring with a slightly open mouth until you heard his Southern drawl.

“Baby, nothin’ good comes outta you looking at me like that. Come on, eyes up here darlin.’” Joel said teasing you.

You immediately felt embarrassed at what you were doing, starring at a grown man’s crotch. Yes he was your boyfriend, but you didn’t have that type of relationship with him at the moment. “Oh God Joel, I’m so sorry” you said, burying your head in your hands and turning 20 shades of red.

Joel chuckled and said “Baby, I love you looking. But I don't think it's the proper answer right now to our problems of lack of sleep between the both of us. So come on, let's get you changed and tucked into bed honey.” When you didn’t move Joel walked up to you and gently grabbed your hands and said “Come on, arms up for me.” When you slowly raised your arms above your head, Joel lifted your shirt up as you kept your eyes closed.

“Angel, open your eyes and look at me” he gently whispered. When you did, you found that he met you with dark intense eyes, like a wolf who just found his prey. As you looked at him you noticed that he lightly licked his lips while he eye fucked you. You noticed that he slowly looked down your chest, tracing the curve of your breasts with his eyes. When you unclasped your bra and let it fall to the floor, Joel just about fainted.

“Fuuck” Joel growled, looking at you standing before him with nothing covering your chest. If he was a better man he'd turn around and give you privacy, but he wasn't. It had been too long since he had a beautiful woman standing before him half naked. When you slowly bent down and pulled off your pants and panties, Joel almost came right there on the spot.

As you stood in front of Joel completely naked, you found yourself slowly tracing your hands along your curves. You cupped your breasts and said “do you want to touch them?” as you slowly twisted your nipple while letting out a soft moan.

“Baby, you- you can’t do this. Fuck woman, I’m-I’m not gonna be able to-” Joel said, slowly reaching out to touch you, but stopping midway before he did. He wanted to put his hands overtop yours, to feel the softness of your plump breasts underneath his callused hands. But Joel knew he couldn't, while shaking his head he said in a low voice “look at me scolding ya about starring, and I’m doing no different. Finish getting dressed, and let's go to bed baby.”

With a satisfied smirk you turned your back to place on his flannel, and then buttoned it up. You decided to forgo putting your bra back on. You grabbed a pair of clean black lace panties, a rare find but something that you were glad you found in storage. As you turned around you saw Joel staring at you wide eyed. “Baby, I- that’s not” he said, glancing between your chest and ass. He was trying to figure out how he was supposed to sleep next to you tonight, knowing you were practically naked next to him.

“Look here cowboy,” you said in a sarcastic tone. “I ain’t sleeping fully clothed so you can just fuck right off now if ya think I should.” When you approached your side of the bed, you froze. Chewing on your lip for a moment you finally asked, “is it safe for us to be dressed like this and all relaxed Joel?” You stared down at yourself, picking at the edges of your clothes, thinking that how you were dressed was both silly and stupid.

When Joel glanced over at you, he noticed your meek expression, lack of confidence, and the fact that you were chewing on your lip in a worried state. Sleeping fully relaxed in this world wasn’t something anyone could afford to do anymore, but he knew it was something that you both desperately needed tonight. "I put up new defenses around here. I also installed two deadbolt locks to the door. I think for one night we can let our guard down a bit. I don't know about you baby, but I need one night where I'm not on the fucking edge. I'm so wound up honey that I-”. That's when Joel saw it, fear mixed with longing behind your eyes, and that was a dangerous combination. With clearing his throat he added, “ya darlin’, it’s safe for tonight.”

Joel wasn't kidding about needing to be comfortable. He had reading glasses, a book, and a lamp that was turned on, giving the room a soft glow. When he sat down, he sat with his back against the wall. His rifle and his knife were set next to the bed, just in case. After he was situated, he looked over at you and said "come on baby, come to bed" while patting your side of the bed.

Shaking your head and giggling slightly you said, "I never would have thought in a million years that Mr. Joel Miller would actually say 'come on baby, come to bed.’ Kind of a special occasion, if ya ask me."

Joel glared at you and then quipped, "ok smartass, just lay down and don’t give me any more of your sass."

Smiling to yourself at his little quip, you laid down next to him, facing him. After you got situated, Joel tucked the blankets over you, bent down, and kissed the top of your head saying "now go to sleep baby." He then put his reading glasses on as he sat there and silently started reading to himself.

As you laid there you listened to Joel slowly breathe. You focused on trying to match your breaths with his, and in time you felt yourself finally starting to relax. The longer Joel read, the more you saw his muscles unclench, and his brows unfurrow. You laid there curled up in his flannel, holding the sleeve up by your nose, while slowly inhaling his scent. Joel was right, you did love the way he smelled. He smelled of pine, cinnamon, wood, and Joel. An intoxicating scent that left your head spinning, but also something that you could describe as home. You were somewhat in a daze, thinking about stuff that has recently happened when all of a sudden you heard Joel say, "Ya need to stop thinking so hard."

"What?" You said, slightly shaking your head in an attempt to focus.

"You're thinking too hard darlin’," he said, still reading his book.

"How am I thinking too hard?"

"Baby, you're breathing hard, shifting your legs, and sighing to yourself."

"Oh, sorry. I didn't realize that I was doing any of that" you replied in a meek voice.

"S'alright darlin'. What were ya thinking about anyways?" When you didn’t respond, Joel stopped and looked over at you.

"Just wondering where you found those glasses" was all that you said.

Joel cocked his head saying "that’s bullshit darlin'. That's not what's got ya all twisted up. But to answer your question, I found these in the cellar outside. They're regular reading glasses, and just so happens they’re the type of ones I need.” Joel then returned to reading his book.

You laid there quietly, chewing on your lip and thinking about some things that were bugging you a lot recently. Somehow Joel must have seen you out of his peripheral vision as he said with a sigh, “So what are you really thinking 'bout?"

“Just wondering what you’re reading?” you said, pressing your thighs together, not wanting to voice your actual true concerns. Laying this close to Joel wasn’t helping your sex drive. You haven’t been able to get yourself off recently due to how stressed out you were. But tonight your mind kept wandering to what Joel looked like when he changed in front of you, and you wondered how he'd feel again inside of you. You couldn't believe how delicious his cock looked, all hanging heavy between his legs. You could practically feel the rush of arousal out of you when you saw him earlier. You didn’t think that telling Joel, nor asking for his help, would be appropriate tonight. You remembered how he dealt with your starring earlier. He told you that you two shouldn't do anything, and for you to stop.

Joel looked over at you as you kept shifting under the covers. He knew that you really didn't want to know what he was reading. But Joel wasn’t in the mood to argue with you tonight. Replying with a bit more sarcasm than he intended Joel said, “a book darlin.’ I’m reading a damn book.”

“No shit sherlock, I know you’re reading a book Joel” you said with a sarcastic eye roll. After a moment of shifting around uncomfortably again you added, “can you, um, maybe read it to me out loud?”

Joel froze and looked over at you. “Darlin’, this ain’t one of those types of books.”

“I know what type of book it is Joel, Jesus. I know the author. She likes little Westerns that have two people- um. You know they- uh. They-

“Fuck.” Joel said, finally looking down at you with one eyebrow raised.

“W-what?” you said, looking back up at him with innocent eyes.

“She has them fuck darlin’, is that what you’re trying so hard not to say? You're fumbling with your words and acting worse than a toddler trying to talk.” he said, while closing the book and looking at you.

“Jesus Joel, an asshole much?” you snapped, completely turning red at his reference. Tonight was just not your night, so you turned away from Joel and laid there facing the other direction. You mumbled under your breath “you know, you can just fuck off. You don’t even understand what it feels like to not have someone want to fuck you, or to not be able to get yourself off.”

If Joel had to describe your mood tonight it would be moody, emotional, and down right irritating. Of course he understood what it was like to want to be with someone. Jesus, you were wearing his flannel with black panties on with no bra. He hadn’t had sex with anyone, specifically you, in months. He's attempted to get himself off, but again hasn't been able to. He also understood what it felt like to be frustrated, and God damnit, he wanted to smack some sense into your ass at that statement you just said. God help me, this woman is trying my fucking patience tonight, he thought.

For the next several minutes you heard Joel silently turning the pages of his book. Usually the silence wouldn't bother you, but tonight your nerves were on fire. All you wanted was for your so-called boyfriend to kiss you, make out with you, do something to take away these weird feelings that you had. You were hopeful that laying in bed next to him was going to lead to maybe some other things. Hell, that’s why you agreed to lay next to him in the first place. But apparently Joel wasn’t interested. Truth be told, he never really was interested in you anymore. So with another big sigh, you realized that you were just going to be sexually frustrated for a while. Yeah, great, fucking perfect.

Joel was attempting to unwind by reading the book he held. God, he was wired. He was so turned on and sexually frustrated by watching you earlier that he wanted nothing more than to bury his aching cock deep within your warm walls. He could practically smell your arousal tonight, the honey sweet aroma that he knew and grew to love. He thought reading a simple Western would help him calm his nerves. What he didn’t realize was that the author wrote a lot of graphic sex scenes in the book. And those graphic sex scenes weren't helping his frustration nor the hard on he had for you.

After a moment of contemplating, and hearing you sigh once again, he decided to say fuck it, and read out loud to you. What’s the worst that could happen, he thought, if anything maybe tonight I’ll finally get fucking laid. So with a big inhale, and deep exhale, Joel started reading to you out loud.

“After a night of blissful romance, by morning’s first light he was gone again. She could tell by the way the growing baby in her belly was kicking, that it missed their Papa as much as she missed her strong man. She tried convincing herself that he’d be back before winter, but she knew deep in her heart that was not the case. Winter turned into spring, and with it, came the birth of her son, Joshua. Giving birth was hard, especially when her man wasn’t by her side. But the neighbor lady, a woman who had 5 children, helped her with the process. Then one day when Joshua was 3 months old, a familiar Southern drawl came from across the room “fuck darlin’, ain’t you beautiful.”

As Joel read out loud, you turned back around to face him. You glanced up and saw how his natural curls slowly swayed at the turn of each page. How he’d use his tongue to gently lick his finger right before he’d turn the page. You also saw how Joel would periodically lick his lower lip, as a way to moisten it as he slowly read out loud to you.

“He watched her from across the room as she fed his son. After not being around a woman for many months, he found the soft suckling noises, and the light bounce of her breast, as his son fed to be something exotic. He slowly felt himself become hard at watching her nurse him. There was something so incredibly sexy about a woman feeding his child, and he was desperate for proper release. He found a chair in the corner of the room and slowly took a seat. He quietly palmed his cock in his jeans at the sight of you.”

“When he watched you switch sides, he nearly exploded in his pants. You left your other breast hanging out of your bra. It swung heavy, gentle side to side motions as you rocked your son. He studied it, the curve and slope of your engorged tits. He saw a little bit of milk drip out from where his son had just finished feeding from you. God, he wanted to walk over there and pick up your heavy breasts and massage them. He knew they hurt you, being twice the size from what they normally were, he could see how much they made you ache. He also wanted to taste you, to lick the little drop of milk off from them, and then finish milking you dry with his mouth. He wanted to taste the warm, wet rush of milk in his mouth as he suckled from you, nipped you, and got you to moan for him. He knew your breasts were always so sensitive, but right now he knew he could get you to cum just by nursing from you himself. Feeling himself strain hard against his pants, he slowly unzipped himself and took out his aching member.”

Joel stopped and took a deep breath to steady himself before reading on. God his cock was fully erect right now, leaking precum and throbbing against the sheet. He wanted you to put your mouth on it, to touch it, something to help relieve the desperate need and ache that he felt. In an attempt to get this situation under control, before he made a fool of himself, he said in a breathy pant, “maybe uh, maybe we shouldn’t finish this darlin’, It ah, shit, it kinda gets really vulgar in a second.”

“Finish reading the fucking chapter Joel, please,” you said with a rush to your voice. When he glanced at you he could tell that you were just as worked up. You were sweating, your eyes were closed and your legs were closed tight. You slowly rocked back and forth, trying to find a little bit of relief for the tension that was building fast in your core. God you two needed to blow off some steam together and soon.

“Look here little girl” Joel said with a bite to his voice. “Don’t go and snap at me cause you’re fucking frustrated. I won’t keep readin’ if ya can’t be nice.” Joel then noticed you shuffle underneath the sheets, putting your hand in-between your legs, and pressing your legs together again while whispering “sorry, it’s just hard.”

As Joel sat there he watched how hard you were pressing your thighs together, gently rocking yourself into your hand. Fuck, you looked hot and bothered, and he was hard as hell. He wanted to see how far you’d go to relieving yourself, so he continued reading out loud.

“Up and down he stroked his cock, working himself up. He noticed a good amount of precum drip from his slit at the sight of the woman nursing. When she looked over at him he growled low saying, ‘when you’re done with him, you’re gonna come on over here and bounce on this dick properly darlin’.”

“After she was done nursing, and had put the babe down to bed, she slowly sauntered over to the man in the room. She had no intention of riding him, but she couldn’t help with how worked up she’d been, and how long it had been since she had a man between her legs. She found herself straddling him and very slowly lowering herself down on his cock. When she was fully sheathed she started moving back and forth, up and down, and then back and forth. She worked him hard, giving him everything that she could with her hips, fucking him like she’d never see him again. The more she worked him, the more she felt that familiar coil tighten deep within her belly as her tits swayed and bounced in his face.”

“‘I feel it darlin’, keep fucking going’ he said as he started helping her rock faster into him and attaching his mouth to her nipple. When he bit down she yelped, saying ‘fuck yes, harder.’ He smiled as he continued to lick, nip, and suck her gorgeous swollen tits. He started meeting her thrust for thrust, jack hammering up into her, chasing his own high. ‘Why did I stop fucking this’ he said, moaning into her as he felt her walls flutter around him.

“‘Mama, I know you're close. Come on, give it to me’ he growled, grinding her hard on him. One, two, three hard thrusts in and she felt her coil snap hard in her stomach. She felt a gush of fluid rush his cock and then he tipped over the edge growling in her ear. He continued thrusting as he worked them both through their highs, grunting each other’s names in the process. As soon as they were done, he picked her up and took her to bed where he showed her what being home truly meant. They both tipped over the edge multiple times into eternal bliss, needing each other for forever more.”

When Joel finished reading the chapter he closed the book and heard himself panting hard. He looked over at you and saw that you had your eyes closed and was slowly rocking back and forth with your hand in-between your legs again panting hard. Fuck you looked hot. As soon as you noticed Joel had stopped reading your eyes snapped open and you glared at him with blown out pupils.

“Maybe uh-maybe we should uh-”

“Goodnight Joel” you whispered while you rolled over and laid there in silence. Joel just looked at you puzzled, about to ask if you wanted to maybe do something when you said “please turn out the light, I’m kinda tired and wanna go to bed.”

“Yeah sure” he said, turning out the light and slipping down into the bed. Joel laid there staring at the ceiling, thinking when he said “do you wanna-”

“No, goodnight Joel.”

“Yeah, ok. Goodnight darlin.’” Joel laid there confused, not understanding what had happened. He didn’t know if you were embarrassed at him seeing you worked up or if he somehow hurt your feelings. After laying in silence for a bit he was going to ask if you were ok. But before he did, he heard you say “before you asked what I was thinking, I was just thinking what we're gonna do once we find Tommy. Like where do I go? Do I live with you or am I supposed to be on my own or what?”

Joel didn’t answer right away, as he didn't know the answer. This was something that the two of you hadn’t discussed. He wanted you to stay with him, but he didn’t want to force you to stay either. Apparently his lack of communication right now upset you. “Just forget I asked,” you said. “I'll just figure it out myself." And with that you fell into a deep sleep. But as you started to dream, your mind decided to recall a memory that you truly wanted to never remember again…

Dreamstate- Flashback to Boston, QZ- 5 years prior

(graphic content)...if you want to skip this section go to “flashback end” in bold below to pick up the regular story again. Please read warnings before proceeding reading flashback, this is very dark content.

“You’re so fucking stupid, how can you not be able to do this. Like every dumb idiot can shoot a bow, well everyone except for you.” Dave snarled at you when you couldn’t even pull back the bow.

“Well I don’t know Dave, maybe teach me how to do it instead of ridiculing me. Like what the fuck is wrong with you, why are you acting like this? You’re supposed to be my boyfriend” you said, snapping at him.

“Boyfriend? Nope, I’m not your boyfriend” he said with venom, as he downed the last of the amber liquid in the glass bottle. “Boyfriends are people you care about, and you honestly don’t give a fuck about me. So why should I care about you in return? You’re just a stupid liability that I have to deal with, and one that I can’t seem to get rid of.”

You watched Dave drink, knowing what was in store for you tonight. When Dave drank, he usually became violent with you. It was a standard routine that the two of you had, and one you were honestly sick of. You wanted out, that was for certain. You wanted to get as far away from this piece of shit guy as you could.

In order to cope and deal with the fact that you hated your life, and that you wanted out and away from Dave, you took another job. You were smuggling goods secretly on the black market of the QZ and Joel Miller was the man that you were working with. Tess, Joel’s partner, had approached you after she had seen bruises on your arms during your normal QZ job. Dave usually never gave you any bruises that people could visually see. But something recently happened, and he no longer cared. So you walked around with bruises, where the world could see who you belonged to. When Tess saw this, it angered the hell out of her. So much so that she introduced you to Joel, in an attempt to help you earn enough money to get out and away from Dave.

“If you wanna get out of there, you come talk to me or Joel, and we’ll get you out, understand?” Tess said while working a shift with you. All you did was nod your head, but you didn't take her up on her offer until Dave broke your collarbone. That's the night you went to see Tess at home. She helped clean you up and then let you stay over.

When Joel got home he said “what’s she doing here?” while pointing at you.

“She's spending the night Joel, she got roughed up a bit and needed care.”

Joel approached you and lightly grabbed your chin, examining the bruise that was forming on the side of your lip. “Better get some ice on that darlin’ before it swells.” That night Joel slept on the couch and insisted that Tess and you took the bed.

You started doing odd jobs on the side for Tess and Joel. Joel never questioned you of why you wanted the side jobs. Just like he never questioned you of why you had bruises on your arms or hickies on your neck. The time you showed up with a swollen black eye though he said, “darlin’ it ain’t right what he’s doing, no guy is worth that.”

As Dave's anger increased, so did the extra jobs. Tess and Joel threw every side job they had at you in an attempt to help you get enough money to leave. Finally after months of pulling double shifts, you had enough money to leave. This made you happy as you no longer had to feel afraid of Dave anymore, but you were so wrong.

“You know what Dave, fine” you yelled snapping back at him. “I can’t keep doing this with you. I’ll just pack up my shit and-”

“Don’t flatter yourself Y/N, you know you ain’t leaving, where would you even go?” he said, baiting you.

“Anyplace other than with you Dave, so just fuck o-”

“Where you just about to tell me to fuck off?” Dave said, sneering at you. “Bad move honey. I may not be a genius, but I ain’t stupid. I found your extra stash of money, real sweet hiding it in a sock” Dave said while holding up the sock.

Dave reached in and grabbed the wad of money that you had earned. When he started the money on fire with a lighter you yelled “what the fuck are you doing Dave? My god, don’t burn that.” You lunged at the sock to try to put out the fire.

Dave kept pushing you back until all the money was burnt to ash. You fell to your knees defeated and angry that he'd take this last bit from you. You heard him laugh behind you saying, “think again sweetheart, you ain’t goin’ nowhere. Now get the fuck up.”

When you stood up you felt anger and bile rise up from the pit of your stomach. That was almost a year's worth of pay down the drain. You had pulled extra shifts, did side jobs, sometimes almost died, trying to save up enough money to leave. You put up with Dave’s shit, allowing him to mark you with his mouth when you hated the very sight of him, just so you could get up and do another job for cash. Now the asshole burned it up like ash, just so he could watch you seethe in anger. He didn’t care if he had extra money, money meant nothing to Dave. Power is what Dave craved. If money that you earned was going to take his power away from him, he'd burn it up just to make sure you'd lose all control.

When you turned around you didn’t care about playing nice anymore. When you first got to know Dave, you thought that he was someone who cared. You quickly found out that was a lie. “You’re an asshole” you yelled, smacking him hard across the face. As soon as you smacked him you watched his eyes glaze over, and then the other side of him came out.

“Ok, fine bitch. You wanna play like that, then let’s fucking play like that.” Your vision blurred as Dave hit you across the face. You then felt him hit you again, and again, and again, and again. When his one hand got tired, he then switched to the other but this time with a closed fist. You tried to fight back, but the more you struggled, the more he pinned you down on the ground. With both of his knees on either side of your arms, you couldn’t move. You eventually tried to relax, knowing that the more you fought the worse it was going to be. But this didn't stop him.

“You know,” Dave said, “I think I’m just gonna just take what I need this time from you. You seem to always run your fucking mouth off, saying you want to be my girlfriend, so why not take what's mine, right?” You then felt the rip of your jeans beneath you. You tried to fight him off, realizing what he was after, and what he was going to do. Dave and you had never had sex, and that was something that he always hated.

“Dave you can’t, please, don’t. I’ll stay. Just don’t do that, don’t take that from me” you yelled as tears streamed down your face as you tried to fight him off. You fought for your life, because honestly it felt like this was it. But the more you fought the angrier he got until you felt the snap of your ankle, and then the searing pain that went with it. He broke your ankle so you couldn’t run away. You then felt him take his knife and cut you deep on your thigh, right up by your mound as he said “gonna make sure this is deep enough, so you have a scar here forever to remember who the fuck you belong to.”

You tried to fight him, but you couldn’t. You couldn’t get him off of you. And then finally you felt it, the searing pain in your groin as Dave forced himself all the way into you. He took the last bit of innocence that you had, you were now truly broken.

You laid there crying, sobbing, wishing that death would take you. You must have been making too much noise because you felt Dave's hand on your mouth with a knife at your throat, yelling “shut the fuck up.” You thought ‘please, just cut me and let me die here’ as you heard Dave moan above you. He continued to take what he thought belonged to him.

“Fuck, why have you denied this to me for so long, huh?” he said. You knew it wasn’t a question that he wanted answered, it was just something he was saying. “Gonna do this every fucking day now with you, Jesus. Fuck, will you at least stop fucking crying and pretend to at least enjoy this” he said, as you felt another smack across your face. You turned your face away from him so only your bad eye was upright, the one he beat hard with a fist. You didn’t want to look at him with the side of your face that you could still see out of.

You laid there and tried to will the tears to stop, but they never did. You felt him tighten his hand around your throat as he squeezed the life out of it. “Fucking look at me, I know little lady you can still see out of one eye, not that fucking stupid. You look at who owns you, you hear me” he yelled, as he yanked your face towards him. When you looked up at Dave, you saw the monster that he truly was. Somehow in the last few years a man who was kind and gentle to you turned into someone who was this. You thought that maybe this was him all along. You tried to convince yourself of that as a way of coping.

As he continued you suddenly felt your head get dizzy from the lack of oxygen. You knew that you were done. That this was the day you were going to die. There was no more compassion in Dave’s face anymore, only a monster that was going to kill. You’ve seen this look in his eyes when he's killed other people before, so you knew you were next.

As you laid there accepting your fate you heard a deep voice yell “what the fuck are you doing, get the fuck off from her.” You saw Dave get yanked off from you by someone, but you didn't know who.

“Mind your own fucking business, old man” you heard Dave yell back in return. You then heard a struggle followed by three soft bangs of a gun. It was a gun that had a silencer on it, you knew this because it was sold on the blackmarket of the QZ, and Dave usually carried a gun with a silencer on it.

As you laid still you heard the person who shot the gun approach. At first you thought it was Dave, that he was coming back over to finish what he started. But when you heard the Texan drawl of “darlin’ are you ok?” the flood gates opened up and you fell apart. You knew that voice anywhere, the voice of Joel Miller.

Joel kneeled down by you as he gently sat you up. “Are you ok?” he said, looking you over to see what was all wrong. When he noticed the blood that was coming from in-between your legs, he shrugged off his flannel shirt, wrapped it around you and said, “ok, come on. Let’s get you outta here, and get ya cleaned up.” He then picked you up and carried you back to his house.

Once you were cleaned up Joel got you situated and laid you down on his bed. Tess wasn't home, she was out working according to Joel. In an effort to try to get you to sleep, Joel laid you on your side and tucked you tight into his chest. One leg went in-between your legs, and he slowly stroked soothing circles on your back saying “it’s okay honey, I got ya and nothing bad is ever gonna happen, just breathe.” He started humming that little tune that you’d come to know and love so well…Flashback end

Back to Regular Story

“y/n. Y/n. Y/N” you heard Joel yell, but it sounded muffled to your ears. The only thing that you could hear was the pounding of your heartbeat and the labored breathing that you were doing. “I can’t do this, he hates me, he wants to hurt me, I’m all alone" was all that you said out loud, still stuck someplace inside of your nightmare. You were drowning in anxiety, breaking out in a cold sweat, and not realizing that you were still in fact dreaming.

“Baby, wake up” Joel yelled, shaking you as he tried to get you out of the nightmare. You haven’t had this kind of a nightmare for a long time, and this fact burned hot in Joel’s chest. He didn’t want you remembering the past, remembering the night that he killed Dave. He knew that’s the nightmare you were having because you always said words like “please don't take that Dave, don't cut me. I'll be good, I promise” and finally you'd yell “please just kill me, I wanna go home,” like you were doing right now. If that son of a bitch was still alive, I’d kill that motherfucker yet again, Joe thought to himself.

Joel was rubbing your arms and trying to wake you up as you started to thrash in the sheets. “Baby come on, come on honey it’s me, you gotta wake up” he said, feeling his heart ache at you trying to run away in your dream with your eyes still closed. All of a sudden you sat up in bed and let out a blood curdling scream, clothes drenched slick with sweat, and body shaking all over. As soon as your eyes flew open you saw Joel was sitting upright, right in front of you. He grabbed you and held you saying “baby I’m here, I'm here. You’re safe. No one’s hurting you. It all was just a bad dream honey, all of it. It was just a bad dream.”

“Joel” you said, shaking, touching his face, not believing that it was really him and that he was there. “Dave, he, he-”

“Shhh baby, c’mere, I gotcha honey, I gotcha” Joel said while wrapping his arms around you and tightly holding you against his chest. “He’s gone baby, he’s gone. Shhh.” Joel felt the tremors and aftershocks go through your entire body, up your spine, as you came down from your nightmare. Joel slowly rocked you back and forth, and side to side, humming to you and reassuring you that you were alright.

"Baby, can you look at me." Joel said with the gentlest voice, after humming to you and rocking you for a while. When you opened your eyes you saw him look at you with the softest eyes. Your lip quivered hard as your tears kept falling. Why are men cruel, why do they always hurt me, and why can't anyone love me? you thought to yourself. What you didn't realize was that you voiced your thoughts out loud, and Joel heard them. You tried to calm yourself down, but your throat burned. After taking a few breaths to steady yourself you felt the world start to spin on its axis. Your heart raced and you felt the sob that you were trying to hold back escape your mouth.

"Oh baby, c’mere." Joel said as he grabbed your head and tucked you into the crook of his neck. He started humming to you that song again that you knew so well, the one he hummed that first night to you.

"It-it’s so beau-beautiful. Wh-what song is that?" you asked as you slowly finished crying yourself out.

"I used to hum it to Sarah when she was little. It's a song I wrote before she was born." Joel said as he wrapped his arms tighter around you, holding you firmer to his chest to protect you.

"It truly is beautiful, Joel."

"Yeah she is beautiful. She's right here in my arms, and she's all mine." Joel said while he rubbed your back.

"Joel I-"

Joel pulled back and cupped your face in his large callused hands while slowly swiping your tears away. "Y/n, let me get this out first baby, okay? I care so much about you baby, truly I do. It destroys me to see you like this. That fucker, Dave, he’s gone. Ya hear me? You gotta stop letting him in like this. No more baby, ok? Now c’mere.”

Joel then laid you down on the bed and tucked you into him, the same way he did that first night. “I'm not him mama, I never have been.” Joel continued to brush your tears away while whispering in your ear "stop cryin' baby. You forever have a home with me, for as long as you want it, Ellie too.”

“But for how long” you say muffled into his chest. Joel pulled you away and looked at you to continue, not understanding what you meant.

“How long do I have a home Joel? Am I gonna be the roommate that gets to watch you bring women back to your house and fuck them in your bed? Is your bed ever going to be our bed, or am I just the person you're forced to be with? Am I just a fucking doormat that you hurt over and over again Joel, someone you fucking forget because you're too afraid of feeling something. ‘She's too young, he's too old, you can't be together, it's wrong.’ It'll be worse than David. You're gonna hur-hurt me w-worse than he did. Why can't you just love me?" There it was, in the broken silence of the room, that you told Joel your biggest fear.

Joel couldn't believe it, that you didn't understand his feelings for you. You weren't a doormat, and he sure as hell wasn't that good for nothing David. "Baby, you ain't ever gonna be a doormat, ok. I honestly don't give a fuck what people think if we're together. They can all just fuck off if they don't like it, including my brother Tommy. You and Ellie, you're my whole life, and nothing is ever gonna change that" Joel said, holding you tight to his chest.

After holding you tight for a few minutes he then pulled back and said “I'm committed to being yours, ya hear me? Fuck mama, you feel that" he said while slowly grinding his hard bulge into your pelvis. You both let out a low moan at the sensation. The two of you were both so worked up from this back and forth edging that has been happening that any little friction sent you both over the edge into wanting to fuck the other person bad.

While looking at you, Joel adjusted the angle of his pelvis and ground down a little more into you. You could feel his entire outline of his cock right now, and God he felt good, and was rock hard. "You do this to me mama, just you. No one else. So quit your fussin' about it. Ya hear me? It's only you that I want in my fucking bed and no one else" he said with another delicious grind of his hips.

“It's you that I want.” *hip grind* “It's you that makes me happy.” *hip grind* “It's you that I wanna spend my life with.” *hip grind* “And it's you that I wanna fuck.” And with that admittance Joel crashed his lips into yours and kissed you with a deep hunger that he felt for you. As he skimmed your bottom lip, you opened your mouth to grant him easy access.

You both were so worked up that you couldn't stand it anymore. “Baby please” you panted. “Please, Joel, please.”

Hearing you say his name all wanton and needy like that unlocked something deep within his body. He had a primal urge now to have you. Joel quickly grabbed your shirt and ripped it open, which sent the buttons flying everywhere. He didn't care though, he desperately needed you.

Joel quickly started to devour your chest. Grabbing, sucking, and biting your nipples in a heated frenzy. He grabbed one of your legs and hitched it higher up on his hip to open you up. In a heated mess, Joel grabbed your thigh by the permanent scar that David had left. He dug his fingers into it while whispering in your ear “I'm gonna fucking mark you as mine properly, baby.” And that's when he felt it, you froze and started breathing erratically.

Joel slowly pulled back, realizing what he just did. He looked at you and saw a mixture of want and fear across your face. He just realized that you weren't fully out of your nightmare in your head. “Baby, I- I didn't mean it the way that came out.”

“I know” was all you said, taking a slow shaky breath.

“Fuck” Joel groaned as he sat up, dragging a hand down his face at his fuck up that he just did. “You know, I'd love a fucking smoke right about now” he said out loud, more to himself than you.

“Why?”

“Why what?” Joel asked.

“Why do you wanna have a cigarette now? Don't people usually smoke after sex, not when this shit happens” you say, jestering in-between the two of you.

“I don't know, maybe cause I'm embarrassed and now nervous.”

“Wh-”

“Are we now playing 20 fucking questions, y/n. Jesus.” Joel said, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“No Joel we're not” you snap. “I'm just trying to understand and salvage this fucking night. So why did you stop?”

“I think that's pretty obvious by the look you're still giving me.”

“What look?”

“Jesus, we are playing 20 questions. Y/n, just-”

“So help me God Joel, if you fucking tell me to leave it or drop it I swear to God, that the knife that is on your side of the bed will be stuck in your damn heart. So unless you wanna truly die tonight, I suggest you fucking start talking.” you said, snapping hard at Joel.

Joel looked down at you with a smirk on his face. There was that attitude that he knew and loved from you. Your anger and frustration was like an amazing fire, one that if Joel wasn't careful, would burn him to death. But the longer he sat there tonight, looking at you, the more he truly didn't care. He'd welcome the chance to get burned by your flames tonight. At least it’d make him feel alive, and that's something that he hasn't truly felt for a long time.

“I'd like to see you try it” Joel said, bending down to whisper close to you. “I don't think you have the fucking guts to do it.” As the stare down between Joel and you continued, you noticed that Joel widened his smirk. “Just as I thought,” he said, “you don't have the guts. You're all talk, and no fucking do y/n. And I'm not surprised. I honestly thought that you'd have the guts to do what you needed to do to survive. Apparently I was wrong.”

Joel knew he was playing a deadly game with you. But he didn't care, he wanted to snap you out of this problem you kept having thinking that you weren't good enough for him. So if he had to bite hard and yank hard on the Lion's tail to get a reaction, then that's what he was going to do. After a brief moment of hesitation, Joel saw something snap inside of you. In a blink of an eye he watched your calm exterior morph into something like an intense rage. You flung yourself on him and grabbed his knife. The two of you wrestled for a moment until Joel was finally on his back, his hands up in surrender as you held the knife to his throat.

Joel laid there with blown out pupils watching you. This form of anger turned him on, and made his dick twitch in his pants. Apparently you did have the balls to take him on. As Joel laid there he watched your outer exterior falter, and watched you start to second guess yourself. “Do it,” Joel said. “Y/n if you're gonna do it, don't think about it, just do it” he growled.

“I-I” you said, shaking your head.

“Come on baby, just do it” he said, looking at you with concern in his eyes as yours welled up with tears. “Baby, if you think that all men are like Dave, then fucking slice my throat. Let me go see my daughter, let me have my baby girl back. Just do it.” To emphasize his point Joel grabbed your wrist and pushed the knife into his neck more, but not where it was cutting him yet.

“Why?” you sobbed holding tight to the knife, but not letting go. “Why beg me, why not just do it yourself if you don't want to be here? Why do you need me?”

When Joel looked into your soft eyes it was then that he knew you couldn’t see it. That you couldn’t see that he loved you. He didn’t want to open his heart and say those three little words yet, but he felt it. He loved you. But he, himself, was also drowning in emotion at this fact, just like you were.

“Baby, if you can’t see why, then I’ve really fucked up. If ya can't see why I want you darlin’, then I don’t deserve you in my life. I’m not Dave honey, I never have been, nor ever will be. If you can’t see that then please honey, just let me go and see my daughter. I don’t want to be in a world where you think I’m a fucking monster. Please.”

Joel could see the war that was going on in your head, the struggle of wanting to say that every guy was like Dave and then not. You knew that Joel was nothing like Dave, but still you couldn't be sure. Joel was moody, quiet, and sometimes cold. But even in the coldest of moments Joel still found compassion for you. He looked out for you and even protected you by killing Dave, when Dave attempted to take everything from you. Truth is, you were scared to death. You were scared to death to give yourself completely to someone else for fear that he'd do exactly what Dave did. That he'd lie and then destroy you.

As you sat there straddling Joel, holding the knife to his throat, you felt a horrible burn collect in the back of your throat. Eventually you couldn't hold it in any longer and a horrible sob escaped your mouth. Your mind was fighting hard to break free from the abuse that had happened from Dave.

Joel could see you struggle with these emotions, as you wore them plain as day on your skin, unable to hide them. When Joel felt your grip on the knife falter he gently grabbed you and flipped you on your back. “I don’t want to be in a world where you hate me darlin’” Joel said, while putting the knife down and grabbing your hip to hitch it higher to open you up. He slowly moved his one hand down to trace the outline of your slit through your panties, his other hand held your hands above your head.

“You're denched, baby” Joel whispered as he rested his forehead against yours while slowly circling your clit on the outside of your panties. “I don’t want to live in a fucking world where someone else gets to touch this mama.” Joel slowly moved from your clit down to the center of your weeping hole and then back up to your clit.

“Fuck baby, I need you” Joel said, panting at how turned on he felt. “Something tells me that you need me too” and with that Joel yanked your panties to the side as he crashed his lips onto yours. He quickly made fast work on your clit, alternating between feather light tickles to heavy circles.

“We're going to stop working each other up darlin’” Joel said, making fast work of your clit. “I can’t do it anymore baby. I fucking need you.” And with that admittance Joel deepened his kiss. You two sat like that. Joel overtop of you holding your wrists above your head, while he slowly licked into your mouth with his tongue. Meanwhile his other hand kept circling your clit, trying to give you release.

“Joel, please I need to-”

“I know baby, I know. Let it happen, honey. Trust me, I got you. Let go.” And with that Joel felt your clit swell then spasm hard as your back arched off the bed. You sobbed and bucked your hips up hard against his hand, chasing your high, moaning Joel's name. When overstimulation started Joel released your hands and started to just rock back and forth into you. Grinding his hard bulge into your drenched heat. Joel had removed his hand from your clit, and placed it on your head, to caress your head. He also continued to deepen his kiss in your mouth. The two of you sat there for several minutes, exploring each other's mouth while Joel slowly rocked his hips into you.

Joel kept rocking into you, showing you how much he cared, how much he loved you. He couldn't say the words yet to you, soon, I'll tell her soon, he thought. The longer he made out with you, the more you both started to pant. You moved your hand down and slid Joel's pants off his hips as you started rubbing his swollen member. “Aw darlin', fuck” Joel said when you wrapped your hand around his head and gently squeezed. “Please baby, don't tease. I can't, I can't, fuck mama, don't tease me,” Joel panted and begged you to continue.

“Baby, shhh” you said as you stilled your movements. You immediately heard Joel groan in frustration, with his eyes closed, and his forehead touching yours. “Don’t worry baby, I’m gonna take real good care of you.” With looking down at Joel you noticed that he was throbbing hard against your hand. “Jesus Joel, does that hurt baby?” you asked running your thumb gently over the swollen reddened tip. As you did you heard Joel let out a hiss at the sensation. “I’m gonna take care of this baby, I’ll make it feel better” you cooed, slowly stroking him again.

“God please” Joel begged, breathless, panting hard when he looked into your eyes.

“What? What do you need Joel, tell me honey and I’ll do it.”

After a few more slow twists of your hand at the reddened tip of his cock you heard Joel let out a strangled groan followed by a breathy “Don't. Fa-fucking. St-Stop.”

“I won't, baby, if you promise to use your fingers. Joel fingers- ah- f-fuck me with your fingers. I want them deep baby. I promise though, I won’t stop touching you” you said panting.

Joel quickly shifted and yanked your panties all the way down. He also quickly removed his shirt, and finished taking off his pants the rest of the way. He wanted to feel skin on skin contact with you. When he looked at you he saw that you had blown wide pupils. “Come here and let me fuck you with my hand, Joel” you said in a sultery voice.

“Fuck woman, if ya talk like that you’re gonna kill me” Joel said, panting and quickly getting situated back between your legs.

Joel and you quickly found a rhythm. You stroked him while he fingered you. Joel also explored you with his mouth, kissing you passionately. The longer it went, the more the two of you were panting heavily and rutting hard against each other.

“God Joel, baby I need-”

“What do you need darlin’, come on tell me- fuck” he said moaning as you stroked him faster.

“I need to come Joel, I need it so bad” you whined.

“You’re gonna cum for me darlin’, gonna give me another one?”

“Joel fuck, baby” you said as Joel pulled your leg up to widen you out for him. He reached deep within you at the spongy part inside and your eyes rolled back in your head with a long moan.

“Yeah mama, daddy knows where that fucking G-spot is. Come on baby, soak daddy’s fingers with that beautiful pussy. Pretend it’s my cock darlin’. Come on, soak ‘em” Joel said growling in your ear as he picked up the pace fucking you hard and fast in your drenched tight hole. He added a second finger and your eyes rolled back in your head, hand stumbling trying to stroke his cock fast through it.

“Joel I can’t” you said as you attempted to relax with pleasure, plus try to get him off.

“Let me do it mama, just hold your hand on my cock and I’ll do the rest. I’ll fuck your hand as I fuck this pussy full with my fingers. Pretend I’m inside of you baby, now come on, let daddy fuck ya good.”

Joel picked up the pace, rutting hard into your hand chasing his own high. “Fuck baby, god you feel so damn good, mama. I haven’t- fuck- I haven’t fucked myself since I came in that pretty little pussy last time” Joel admitted out loud.

“Oh baby, fuck. Right there. Joel, honey, you need to come. Damn it. Come on Joel, you need to come with me, I'm almost there. God, Joel. Blow your load on me, let me see it.”

“Filthy fucking woman” Joel growled, snapping his hand and hips hard into you. “Filthy fucking mouth, I’m gonna fuck that beautiful mouth real soon. Make you take my cock all the way back like you’re meant to. Fuck y/n, I’m close, you’re gonna need to come soon darlin’, I can’t wait much longer.” You felt Joel’s thrusts become sloppy in your hands, so you added a bit of pressure and started moving your wrist faster to get him there sooner.

“Fuck- babe. Shit, I’m gonna, fuck I’m gonna-” Joel said while putting his forehead against yours as he came with a loud groan.

“Come Joel, come for me baby” you said while you felt him swell and then release his cum all over your hand and stomach. You followed him over the edge with your own release, coating his fingers as he kept pumping them in and out of you.

When Joel finally found release he felt his vision go white as his balls drained of all his pent up anger, frustration, and energy that he had from not being able to come since the last time you two had sex. As he came he heard himself swearing while gently rocking back and forth into your hand as white rope after white rope of his seed came out of him. When his cock was finally spent, and he started to soften, he opened his eyes.

“Hey you” you said as you both came back down to Earth. “You ok, did I do that ok? Was I too-”

“Baby, stop. That was- fuck woman. That was amazing.” Joel said as he continued to slowly pant, trying to get his breathing under control.

“Good,” you said while kissing his forehead, “I’m glad you liked it.”

“How about you?” Joel said while picking his head up and slowly removing his fingers from your soaked cunt. “Did that-”

“Fuck Joel, that felt amazing” you said while laughing and blushing.

“Good baby, so glad to hear.” he said, giving you a slow kiss to your mouth. When he was done he rolled onto his back and slowly calmed his breathing.

“We’re a mess Joel” you said laughing at how soaked you and him were with both sweat and both of your releases.

“Give me a minute for the blood to go back to my brain honey, and then I’ll get up and get us a towel to clean up with.”

“Has it really been that long for you? That you haven’t come since we had sex in the woods a few months back?” you asked while you gently nudged him.

“I said that out loud? Fuck” Joel said with a groan. “Yeah baby, it is, or was,” he said while sitting up and slowly standing up. Joel exited the room and went to the bathroom to clean up. After he was done cleaning himself up he came in with a wet washcloth and a dry towel and slowly cleaned you up. When he was finished he placed them in the dirty clothes pile, making a mental note to make sure he washed them in the sink with soap and water later.

He laid down next to you in bed, still panting as he slowly came down from his high. He only had his pajama pants on, and not his t-shirt. You had already grabbed his t-shirt and had put it on. “C’mere” he said while pulling you close to him and tucking you on your side, against his chest.

As you laid there and listened to him breathing, you heard that it was starting to slow and even out. “Did you mean what you said?” you gently whispered into the night.

“About what?” Joel said, with sleep lacing his voice.

“That I’m not a doormat, that you want me to stay with you, and that you only want me in your bed?” After Joel didn't respond you said “just forget that I-”

With a sigh Joel said, “Baby.” When you didn’t acknowledge him, he gripped you tighter saying “y/n.” Finally when you looked up at his face you saw that he was looking down at you seriously. “I meant every fucking word that I said. You're not a doormat and you belong in this bed with me, and only me. Now go to sleep.” Joel then tucked you into him once again.

After a moment you said in the darkness “I love you Joel” and with that, you fell asleep. When Joel knew that you were sleeping he also said out loud “I love you too sweetheart, always have and always will.” Joel knew that he had to tell you soon that he loved you. But this admission in the dark, when you were softly sleeping in his arms, was good enough for now. As sleep finally took Joel he thought to himself I love you and you’re forever mine.

That was the first night the both of you had a decent night's sleep since this whole thing started. You both were wrapped up tight in each other's arms, not letting go, locking the world out for just one night. If you could describe the feeling you both felt, that feeling would be home. You felt like you were at home, safe in each other's arms. And that was something worth fighting for.

-End chapter-

Taglist: @punkshort @shotgun-shelby @strawbunnyx @orcasoul @pedritoferg @chiogarza @jesfreedark @untamedheart81 @rainbow12346 @nandan11 @swiftpascal @eliza-8 @joeldjarin @vickie5446 @nastiasnow @staywildflowahchild @ratoonstown @l3laze @its-always-420-on-the-moon @kirsteng42

119 notes · View notes

irondad-defensesquad · 4 months ago

Text

I Need Some Sleep

Also on AO3! TRIGGER WARNINGS - past character death, grief/mourning, and suicidal thoughts. DO NOT SHIP PETER AND TONY. P/ROSHIP DNI.

“Boss, I’m detecting activity in the Spider-Man suit.”

Tony stops whatever he’s doing to focus on the screen, which gives off a small Spider-Man sign. The man checks the time – it’s three in the morning.

“What the hell is he up to,” Tony mutters under his breath, intrigued. “Any injuries, FRI?”

“None detected.”

That’s good, he supposes. He just hopes the kid isn’t goofing off with the suit on a school night. But something tells Tony that is probably not the case. When he opens the Baby Monitor, nothing is going on, apparently. He just sees… New York City up from a building. Besides two bouncing, uneasy legs going back and forth. Everything is quiet.

“You’ve been very quiet, Peter,” Karen points out. “Would you like me to call Mr. Stark?”

“It’s okay. I don’t wanna bother him.”

Tony’s annoyed frown immediately disappears once hearing the utter defeat in the kid’s voice.

“I’m sure you wouldn’t be bothering him if you wanted to talk,” Karen reassures him.

Peter sighs. “Can I just… talk to you instead?”

“Of course, Peter. What’s on your mind?”

The teen is quiet again. In the meantime, Tony sees how Peter’s patrol has gone today. According to the Baby Monitor, nothing went wrong. Same counts for the previous patrols. However, it seems that Peter hasn’t been sleeping adequately.

“I know you… probably don’t think about it, but…” Peter hesitates. “Do you ever think about dying?”

Tony freezes, attention back to the live screen.

“No, I’m afraid not,” Karen replies, unsure as far as A.Is are concerned. “Do you?”

Peter might lean in a bit to look down. It’s… quite high from up there.

“Sometimes.”

Perhaps reading Tony’s mind, F.R.I.D.A.Y. is preparing the Iron Man suit, but he doesn’t act for now. He wants to hear more from Peter. He wants to understand so he can help.

“Y’know, Karen,” the boy speaks up again, “I think my aunt hates me.”

“Why?”

“I’m the reason my uncle is gone.”

Tony tenses. He has never heard Peter talk more openly about his deceased uncle. He never brings that up with Tony, even if his guilt is always there.

“I was such a brat to him, and then I couldn’t even say sorry. I was too late,” Peter reveals, bitter. “So imagine how it must be for Aunt May to look at me every single day and be reminded that this stupid kid killed her husband.”

“Peter, you didn’t kill him.”

The boy’s heartbeats quicken in rage.

“... why didn’t that guy shoot me, then?”

Karen doesn’t reply.

Peter boils.

“WHY DIDN’T HE SHOOT ME?!”

He growls and sobs at the same time. Like he doesn’t want to cry and the fact there are tears coming out is angering him. As if he doesn’t deserve to cry.

Tony doesn’t realize he’s also crying until he sees a teardrop on his desk.

He’s never heard Peter this furious before. Least of all towards himself.

Goodness, he’s just a kid.

Before that rage can take over Peter – because Tony certainly knows what this kind of rage does if left unchecked –, the billionaire takes a deep breath, and says, “FRI, call the kid, will ya?” He dries his own face as well.

“Incoming call from Tony Stark,” Karen notifies.

“Wait, Karen, no, DON’T–”

Peter can’t stop the call even if he tries.

“Kid?” Tony says.

“Um. Hi. H-Hi, Mr. Stark.” Peter uncovers half of his face to dry his tears. He can’t hide his vulnerability.

“Hi. What’s up? Everything okay?”

“Y-Yeah, sure. Totally…”

“Couldn’t sleep or something?”

Peter sniffs. “Uh… how come you’re not mad at me using the suit at this hour?”

“I thought I’d check on you. You don’t look so good, kiddo.”

“Wait…” the kid frowns. “Did you… hear what I said to Karen just now?”

Tony can’t really hide his heartbroken expression, so Peter immediately groans.

“Oh, right, how could I forget about the Baby Monitor,” he hisses to himself.

“Kid, it’s fine, I’m not angry. You just wanted to talk to someone, right?”

“Yeah, but I didn’t want you to hear all that.”

“I know it’s hard, bud. But how long have you been bottling it up?”

Peter inhales angrily and doesn’t respond.

“Is your aunt home?” Tony asks instead.

“No. Night shift.”

Tony hums. “And what’ve you been up to?”

“Nothing.”

They grow silent. Neither hang up.

“... I kinda had a bad dream,” Peter admits.

“Yeah?”

“It was a mess, I can’t really explain it… but I remember seeing my uncle. I haven’t dreamed about him in a while. Things were fine, until they weren’t. He was bleeding in my arms again and he said, ‘why didn’t you say sorry? Why didn’t you say you loved me? Did I make you this miserable?’. And he was gone again.”

Tony listens.

“I hate that… that it can’t just be a nightmare,” Peter vents. “I hate waking up and not running to him and hugging him like I used to. And I hate that he won’t wake me in the morning with a kiss on my forehead and call me for breakfast. Why can’t he be here with me? Things would be so much… easier. But they won’t be ever again. I’m never going to see him again. My aunt won’t see him again. And it’s all my fault.”

The way Peter hugs his own knees…

It’s clear he doesn’t want to be alone.

“Hey, kid,” Tony calls, “do you want me to come over there?”

“What? Why?”

“You need someone right now, kiddo. And I don’t want you to be alone tonight.”

“B-But aren’t you busy?”

“I could never be too busy for you.”

There’s a dim but hopeful light in Peter’s eyes. Yet it seems to fade almost instantly.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to…”

He doesn’t finish the sentence, but it might sound like, “I don’t want to hurt you, too.”

Tony smiles for him. “Of course.”

Peter looks at him like a lost puppy.

“Just give me… fifteen minutes and I’ll be there,” Tony tells him. “Okay?”

“Yeah… okay.”

When Tony summons his suit…

“Actually,” Peter clears his throat, “could we go eat somewhere? Like the Waffle House or something?” He sighs. “Sorry, that was dumb.”

“No, no, not dumb at all. You hungry?”

“A little, yeah.”

“I could use a bite, too.”

“Oh, okay, great.”

“Okay, I’m on my way. You wanna keep talking to me?”

Peter contemplates. “Actually, I think I’ll be fine, Mr. Stark.”

“You sure?” Tony asks concernedly.

“Yeah. I know you’ll come,” Peter smiles for the first time in this exchange.

He really trusts Tony with his life…

“Alright. If you need me, don’t hesitate to call me again, okay?” Tony insists.

Peter nods, certain. “Okay.”

Tony wants to cry.

“I’ll see you soon, Peter.”

“Okay, see ya, Mr. Stark.”

“Bye.”

The call ends.

Tony sighs deeply.

When he gets to that building, Peter is looking up, readily expecting him to arrive. Tony takes him to the Waffle House, and no one bats an eye at Iron Man and Spider-Man just hanging out there at nearly 4 AM.

Peter isn’t very talkative today, so Tony does most of the talking for him, not that he minds it.

He doesn’t see Peter’s face here since he has to keep his identity secret, but Peter does look a little better now.

Tony already lets May know he’s with Peter, and he takes the boy home. They arrange it so Peter won’t need to go to school tomorrow.

And most importantly, Tony makes sure Peter doesn’t wake up to the empty apartment tonight.

He glances at the old pictures while Peter takes a shower. Tony might sit on Peter’s bed. There’s actually an Iron Man poster on the wall that he never saw before. Peter probably hides that kind of stuff from Tony.

In fact, the red-faced teen immediately removes the poster when he gets back. That gets a laugh out of Tony.

After that, Peter lies in bed, looking wide awake despite his exhausted eyes.

Tony joins in. Peter looks surprised but he doesn’t protest.

They stare at the ceiling. Peter will glance at Tony every now and then.

“... How about a story?” Tony suggests, seeing the insomnia taking control over them.

“Like what? I have no idea what books are lying around…”

“No, no, I’ll tell you my stories. They’re obviously more interesting.”

Peter scoffs. “Yeah, right.”

“Oh, is that a challenge? What if I told you the Avengers’ biggest secrets?”

“Really?!” Peter suddenly fanboys.

Tony snickers, knowing that would catch his attention. Peter looks like a little boy.

The man tells him all kinds of stories, mostly how awful they were as roommates.

Peter is already asleep when Tony starts reminiscing about the Avengers’ departure, and the fact he hasn’t seen any of them in forever.

And how empty the Compound can be when Tony wakes up after a bad dream.

…

Peter’s breaths are there to remind him he’s not alone tonight.

Tony grins, giving him a light forehead kiss so as to not wake him.

“... thanks, kid,” he whispers. “For everything.”

#irondad #fics #my fics #death mention tw #suicidal thoughts tw #suicide mention tw #grief tw #anti starker

33 notes · View notes

gvfgal · 3 months ago

Text

14. Funeral of Innocence

Barbarian. Biker!Jake

18+ story, minors DNI

A/n: I apologize for the wait! I’m in an extremely busy season in my life and I’m doing my best to work in writing into my schedule. We’re getting very close to the end, so if you just stick with me a little while longer, I promise I’ll make it worth your while! Thanks again for all your support. ❤️

Content Warnings: mentions of death & grief, graphic violence, depictions and descriptions of injury and death, heavy drinking, fluffy dad Jake (I fuckin love dad Jake).

Word Count: 4.3k

Two Months Later

Jake sat on the worn-out couch, staring at the black TV screen as the heavy rain pounded against the roof of the trailer. It was the anniversary of Jaxon’s death, a day that seemed to drag the storm clouds with it every year. Even here in Nevada, where rain was a rarity, the gloom found him, like it was drawn to the darkness that lived in his heart on this day.

His thoughts were far away, lost in the memories of that night. No matter how hard he tried to distract himself, his mind always wandered back to the moment that changed everything. The pain was still there, raw and jagged, like the wound had never truly healed.

His phone vibrated on the couch beside him, the screen lighting up with an incoming call. Ace’s name flashed across it, and for a moment, Jake considered letting it go to voicemail. He wasn’t in the mood to talk, especially not today. But on the last ring, he answered.

“Hey, Ace,” Jake’s voice was rough, the weight of the day pressing down on him.

“Hey, kid,” Ace’s voice came through the receiver, a rare softness in his tone. Ace knew what day it was; all the Barbarians did. They had all lost Jaxon that night, but Jake had lost more than a brother in arms—he had lost the closest thing to a real brother he’d ever have. “How ya holding up?”

Jake shrugged, even though he knew Ace couldn’t see him. “I’m alright, I guess.”

There was a pause on the other end of the line, the silence heavy with unsaid words. Ace wasn’t the type to offer comfort in the traditional sense, but he was always there, a steady presence in Jake’s life. They didn’t need to say much; they both knew the pain, the loss.

“I’ve been thinking about him a lot today,” Ace finally said, his voice low. “Hard not to, y’know?”

“Yeah,” Jake replied, his voice barely more than a whisper. “Me too. Every year, it’s like the wound gets ripped open again.”

Ace grunted, a sound that was part agreement, part frustration. “Ain’t nothin’ gonna fill that hole, kid. But you keep goin’, for him. That’s all we can do.”

Jake nodded, “yeah, I know. Doesn’t make it easier, though.”

“No, it don’t,” Ace agreed, his voice tinged with a shared pain. After a brief pause, he added, “Just remember, you’re not alone in this. We all miss him.”

Jake clenched his jaw, resisting the urge to scoff. Sure, the other Barbarians missed Jax—he was a presence that no one could forget, both within the club and beyond. But no one felt the loss like Jake did. None of them carried the burden of knowing that his own father set the chain of events in motion. The thought alone made his blood boil.

“Yeah, I know. Thanks, Ace.”

Just then, Jake heard the soft, familiar sound of your footsteps as you approached from the back room. When he looked up, he saw you glowing, your damp hair cascading over your shoulders, still fresh from the shower. The sight of you, six months along, with your belly now a prominent, rounded bump sitting high on your midsection, filled him with a warmth he couldn't find anywhere else. You and that baby were the only light in his otherwise shadowed world. Seeing you like this, Jake finally understood why Ace had given you the nickname Sunshine.

He couldn’t help but grin as you came over to him, standing by his side. Without thinking, he wrapped an arm around your waist and kissed the bump over the oversized t-shirt that nearly swallowed you whole.

“Promise me you won’t sit around and mope all day,” Ace's voice crackled through the phone, pulling Jake’s attention back. “Some of the guys and I are headin’ to the Tavern later. You should come.”

As you ran your fingers through his hair, Jake leaned into your touch, feeling the tension slowly ease from his body. The warmth of your hand was soothing, but it couldn’t fully extinguish the torment raging inside him.

“I’ll think about it,” Jake replied, knowing full well he had no intention of going. The thought of being around the guys, pretending everything was fine, was the last thing he wanted.

After a few more words of goodbye, he hung up the phone and turned his full attention to you. You sat down beside him, your hand instinctively moving to your belly as Jake’s hand found its way there too, rubbing gentle circles over the growing life inside.

“You okay, baby?” you asked softly, your eyes full of concern. You knew what day it was. The past few weeks, Jake had been unusually on edge, and today, the tension had reached its peak. His sleep had been restless, and more often than not, you’d wake in the middle of the night to find him absent from bed, only to spot him through the kitchen window, standing on the porch with a haunted look in his eyes.

“I’m fine. Just tired,” he lied, the words coming out far too easily.

You didn’t believe him, but you didn’t push. Instead, you wrapped your arms around him and pressed a gentle kiss to his temple. “Do you wanna get out of the house today? We could go into town, grab something to eat, even if it’s raining. I’ll even eat at that one terrible barbecue place you like,” you teased, trying to lighten the mood.

Jake chuckled, appreciating your effort. He squeezed your leg before returning his hand to your stomach. “Nah, baby. Really, I’m fine. I just wanna hang out here with my two girls and watch some terrible ’80s movies.”

You saw the strain in his eyes, the way he was forcing himself to push through the day. But you also recognized his effort to be present with you, to not let the darkness consume him completely. So, you agreed to the movie day, knowing that it was his way of coping. He could’ve easily shut you out, but instead, he chose to stay close.

Jake headed to the kitchen to pop some popcorn while you sifted through Riley’s collection of movies, eventually settling on The Toxic Avenger. It was cheesy and over-the-top, just the kind of distraction Jake needed.

The two of you curled up on the couch, sharing a blanket that was almost too small for both of you. You laughed at the ridiculousness of the movie, and for a little while, Jake managed to push the pain to the back of his mind. But it wasn’t long before you, in your pregnant state, drifted off to sleep. Jake wasn’t surprised; these days, you seemed to nap more than you stayed awake. He found it endearing how easily you’d fall asleep, your head resting on his shoulder, your soft snores filling the room.

He stayed still, not wanting to wake you, and watched the rest of the movie alone. When it ended and you were still fast asleep, Jake carefully slipped out from under you, making sure you were comfortable before turning off the TV and leaving you to rest.

Moving quietly, Jake made his way to the kitchen and retrieved a half-full bottle of whiskey from the back of the cabinet. He grabbed his helmet, laced up his boots, and pocketed his keys before stepping out into the cool air. The rain had stopped, but the sky remained a threatening gray, the gloom hanging over everything like a shroud.

Jake stashed the bottle in his bike’s trunk compartment, mounted his motorcycle, and revved the engine. The roar of the bike was a familiar comfort, a temporary escape from the heaviness that threatened to swallow him whole like the shirt you wore. Without looking back at the trailer, he pulled out of Cactus Creek, the wheels kicking up gravel as he sped off in the direction of the town cemetery.

The sun dipped low on the horizon, bathing the dusty road in a warm, golden glow. Two small boys, Jake and Jaxon, pedaled their worn bikes with all the energy their seven-year-old bodies could muster. Their voices filled the air with the imagined roar of motorcycle engines as they raced up and down the street, the sound of their laughter breaking the stillness of the quiet trailer park.

Their bikes were far from the shiny, top-of-the-line models the rich kids in Crystal Bay flaunted, but to Jake and Jaxon, they were the coolest choppers in the world. Each push of the pedal, each turn of the handlebars, was a taste of the freedom they dreamed of. One day, they knew, they’d be tearing down the open road on gleaming Harleys, just like the men they idolized. For now, though, these battered bikes were more than enough to fuel their wildest fantasies.

As they skidded to a stop near a patch of dirt, Jake noticed Jaxon’s usual grin had faded. The weight of his recent loss was evident in his hunched shoulders and the way he absently kicked at the gravel.

“Hey, Jax,” Jake called out, his voice softening as he pulled up beside his friend. “You okay?”

Jaxon shrugged, keeping his eyes on the ground. “Just thinking about my dad,” he mumbled, his voice barely audible.

Jake hesitated, unsure of what to say. He’d heard the adults talking about Jaxon’s dad, about the horrific accident and how Jaxon’s mom was nowhere to be seen, leaving him alone. But Jake didn’t see Jaxon as alone—not really.

“You know,” Jake began, trying to sound confident, “as long as I’m around, you’ve got family. My dad says you’re gonna be staying with us for a little while.”

Jaxon looked up, a glimmer of hope in his teary eyes. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Jake nodded firmly. “We’ll be like real brothers. Always will be, no matter what.”

Jaxon’s lips curved into a small smile. “Yeah, we’re brothers.”

Jake beamed, feeling a swell of pride in his chest. “And when we’re Barbarians like our dads, we’ll have a ton more brothers. We’ll ride together, just like them.”

The boys shared a moment of silent understanding, their eyes reflecting the innocent dreams of a future where they’d be inseparable, bound not just by friendship, but by the brotherhood of the club.

But as the sun dipped further below the horizon, casting long shadows across the dirt road, an eerie stillness settled in the air. The boys, lost in their fantasies of roaring engines and leather jackets, couldn’t sense the dark clouds that loomed over their future. They didn’t know how the very dreams they cherished would one day become a nightmare that neither of them would be able to escape.

Jake parked his bike just outside the cemetery’s chain-link fence, knowing the Barbarian emblem emblazoned on the side would deter anyone from daring to touch it. The cemetery was larger than one might expect for such a small town, serving as the final resting place for the dead from three neighboring communities. Most of the headstones were shrouded in weeds, the graves neglected, their living relatives long gone or uninterested in tending to the past. But one section stood out: the back right corner, reserved for the Barbarians. These were the only headstones that remained meticulously cared for, maintained in a silent rotation by probee members to ensure their fallen brothers had a fitting final resting place. A few stones loomed larger than the rest—those were reserved for the fallen leaders.

Jake meandered toward the newest and largest of them, his bottle of whiskey dangling from his hand. Rex’s full name was chiseled into the gaudy headstone, and a well-known photo of him in his Barbarian attire was prominently displayed in the center. Jake stood there for a moment, staring at the face of the man who had once loomed so large in his life, offering what little respect he had left for him.

But he didn’t linger. His real destination was further back, where Jaxon’s headstone lay. He’d deliberately avoided this spot on the day of Rex’s funeral, unable to face it then. But now, on the anniversary of Jaxon’s death, after a decade away, it felt like a duty—a painful, necessary duty, to pay his best friend a visit.

Jaxon’s headstone was modest in comparison to Rex’s, and Jake couldn’t help but find it absurd. Rex had drunk himself to death, while Jaxon’s death had been a true sacrifice for the Barbarians, a life given for the good of the club. Yet here was Jaxon, buried under a simple stone. Still, it was well cared for, the inscription clear and clean. The photo of Jaxon at seventeen—sandy curls, blue eyes, and that familiar wide grin—was heartbreakingly youthful.

Jake lowered himself to the ground beside the headstone, the weight of ten years of absence pressing down on him. He didn’t say a word, just sat there, the silence of the cemetery wrapping around him as he finally faced the grave of his best friend. The familiar ache of loss and guilt surged through him, the memories of their last days together rushing back, vivid and painful.

“It is a Barbarian’s sworn duty to always serve this family. You have a duty to live and die by the Code of the Barbarians,” Rex barked, his voice harsh and unyielding as Jake struggled to catch his breath. The taste of blood filled his mouth, and he spat it onto the dirt at his feet, the metallic tang lingering as Rex’s words drilled into him. “It is your duty to lay down your life, if need be, for the good of this family. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” Jake choked out, his voice strained, the pain in his ribs nearly unbearable.

Rex’s eyes narrowed, his voice rising to a thunderous roar. “I said, do you understand, probee?!”

Jake forced himself to stand taller, summoning every last ounce of strength he had left. “Yes!” he shouted, his voice stronger this time, defiant even in his exhaustion.

A smirk tugged at the corners of Rex’s mouth. “Boys, I think he’s ready.”

Jake turned his head, catching sight of Jax standing beside him, equally battered and bruised. The two of them had endured the same grueling initiation, their bodies screaming in protest from the punishment they’d taken. But despite the pain, they both wore blood-soaked smiles. They had finally done it—after years of dreaming, they had become Barbarians.

The ceremony concluded with the presentation of their jackets, the final symbol of their acceptance into the brotherhood. As the celebration commenced, the aches and pains began to fade, numbed by the countless drinks that were thrust into their hands.

"We did it," Jaxon said, his voice rough with excitement as he playfully shoved Jake. "We finally did it, man. We’re Barbarians."

Jake grinned back, his heart swelling with pride. "That’s right. Real brothers now."

Jaxon shook his head, his sandy curls swaying with the movement. "No, man. We’ve always been real brothers. This just makes it a hell of a lot cooler," he added with a smirk.

They laughed, clinking their glasses together, spilling liquor onto the ground as they toasted to their achievement.

That night, they crashed at Ace’s house, still wrapped in their new jackets, the leather worn but loved. Even as the sun crept up, the sounds of the party filled the house, the energy refusing to die down.

Jaxon groaned as he sat up from the couch, clutching his side where the bruising had already begun to form. He lifted his shirt to examine the damage, wincing at the deep purples and blues blooming across his ribs. But despite the pain, there was a sense of pride that outweighed it all—because they had made it.

Jake shifted on the sofa across from him, groaning as the pain in his muscles made itself known. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes, blinking until his gaze locked with Jaxon’s. For a moment, they just stared at each other, taking in the sight of their battered and bruised faces. Then, as if on cue, they both broke into laughter.

"You look like shit," Jaxon joked, grabbing his head as his hangover set in.

"Right back at you," Jake shot back, wincing as he leaned too hard on his elbow.

They gathered themselves as best they could, then dragged their aching bodies toward the backyard where the party was still rolling.

When the rest of the Barbarians saw them, a cheer erupted, beer cans raised high despite the early hour.

"There they are," Rex boomed, pride evident as he clapped them on the shoulders. The boys pretended the movement didn’t hurt like hell.

"How are you two feeling?" Ace asked from a lawn chair, feet propped up, his own hangover evident.

"On top of the world," Jake replied with a smirk, just as a sharp pain shot through his head. "And a little bit like shit."

"Same here," Jaxon agreed, gesturing to his bruised body. "I was drinking to numb this, but I think I might’ve made it worse."

"Bullshit," Riley called from the Blackstone where he was whipping up breakfast. "All you gotta do is keep drinking, and you won’t feel a thing."

"Nothing cures a hangover like an ice-cold beer," Ace chimed in, tossing two beers to Rex from the cooler beside him.

The men cheered as the boys shotgunned the beers, then Riley appeared with a disposable camera while Steeljaw took over the grill.

"Alright boys, smile," Riley instructed as he focused the lens. "We’ve gotta capture this moment."

"We’re proud of you boys," Ace added, raising his can in their direction.

"Damn straight," Rex agreed.

Jaxon threw an arm over Jake’s shoulder, the two of them grinning at one another before turning to the camera. The flash went off, capturing the moment—two brothers bound by blood, brotherhood, and the all too iron-clad loyalty of the Barbarians.

Tears streamed down Jake’s face as the drizzle turned into a steady rain, each drop mingling with the wetness on his cheeks. That memory had once been a beacon of joy, a reminder of simpler, happier times. Now, it was tainted, a bitter reminder of loss.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t save you, man,” Jake whispered, his voice thick with grief, as if Jaxon were sitting right beside him.

“I shouldn’t have listened to Rex. I should’ve been down there with you. Maybe if I was, you’d still be here. Or maybe…” His voice cracked as he lowered his head, fresh sobs wracking his body. “Maybe you’d be here instead of me. You should be here, Jax.”

Jake sat there, the rain soaking him to the bone, but he didn’t care. The bottle of whiskey lay forgotten beside him—somehow, even that wouldn’t dull the pain.

“Jake?”

His head snapped up at the sound of your voice. You stood there, a zipper jacket pulled tight over your growing belly, hood shielding your face as you squinted through the downpour, struggling up the slight incline to reach him.

“Cherry?” Jake’s voice wavered as you drew near, your figure becoming clearer through the haze. “What are you doing out here?”

“I was worried about you,” you replied, breathless as you finally reached him. “Thank God for modern technology and location sharing.”

Your attempt at a lighthearted joke fell flat; Jake’s face remained shadowed with sorrow. Without a word, you lowered yourself beside him, resting your head gently on his shoulder.

The two of you sat in silence, letting the rain pour over you, Jake secretly thankful for the way it disguised the tears that continued to spill from his eyes.

“I miss him,” he confessed, the pain in his voice almost palpable. “He’s supposed to be here.”

“I know, baby,” you murmured, your hand finding his, squeezing gently. Sometimes, there were no words that could offer comfort, only the simple acknowledgment of grief. “I know.”

Jake’s hand unconsciously moved to your round belly, his thoughts drifting to what life would’ve been like if Jaxon were still around, if he could be here to see Jake become a father. He knew, without a doubt, that Jaxon would’ve made the best uncle. They had spent countless hours talking about what it would be like to have little Barbarians of their own. The fact that Jaxon would never see that dream come true gnawed at Jake’s soul.

Just then, a gentle nudge pressed against Jake’s palm. The baby shifted, a tiny movement, but it made you both freeze.

“Did she just…?” Jake’s voice held a glimmer of joy, a sound you hadn’t heard from him in far too long.

You nodded, placing your hand over his, a soft smile playing on your lips. “Yeah, she did.”

For weeks, you had tried to get the baby to move for Jake, but she always seemed to be still whenever he was around. It was as if she was waiting for just the right moment.

Jake closed his eyes, a bittersweet smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. In his heart, he took that small kick as a sign—a sign that your little girl already knew her uncle Jax. For all Jake knew, Jaxon was watching over her, waiting for the perfect moment to send her down to meet you both.

Jake gently pressed on your stomach, and the baby responded with another, stronger movement, more pronounced than before. You both laughed in amazement, marveling at the little life inside you.

You sat together in silence, captivated by the way your baby seemed more active than ever.

“She’s never moved this much for me,” you said, laughing softly as you watched Jake’s face light up with wonder.

“So she is a daddy’s girl after all,” he grinned, eyes never leaving your belly.

After a moment, Jake exhaled a deep, weary sigh. “I wanna go home,” he said, his voice heavy with longing.

You placed a gentle hand on his cheek and kissed him softly. “Then let’s go home,” you whispered, your words filled with love and comfort.

Jake stared into Jaxon’s lifeless eyes, desperately willing him to blink away the blood pooling in them. But no miracle came. The cold reality hit him like a sledgehammer; Jaxon was gone. With a trembling, blood-soaked hand, Jake gently closed his friend’s eyelids, sealing the finality of it.

The gunfire had long since ceased, and the roar of engines retreating into the distance signaled the rival gang’s hasty departure. The battlefield was eerily quiet now, save for the anguished shouts of the Barbarians as they scrambled to regroup. But Jake felt detached, like he was watching everything unfold through a thick fog. He wanted to scream for help, but no sound came from his throat, he was paralyzed by the shock of it all.

His eyes swept across the chaotic scene, landing on Nicky, who emerged from behind a large boulder several yards away, the same boulder Jaxon had dashed from when the first shot rang out. The sight of Nicky, unscathed except for a graze on his arm, ignited a slow burn of rage in Jake’s chest.

Just then, Madcap jogged over, his eyes widening in horror as he took in the scene before him. “Oh shit,” he murmured, his voice barely audible. But Jake didn’t acknowledge him, his focus was fixed on Jaxon’s pale, still face.

One by one, more men gathered around, forming a silent circle. Ace was there, his expression stony, and eventually, Rex arrived. One of the men clasped a hand over his mouth, turning away to hide his reaction to the gruesome sight. They all stood frozen, unsure of what to do next. The weight of what had just happened settled heavily over them.

Rex, usually the first to bark out orders, seemed momentarily at a loss. His stern gaze faltered as he looked down at Jaxon’s body, and for a brief second, even he seemed human—vulnerable. But the hesitation was brief. He quickly hardened, barking out commands to the men. “Get him up. Now.”

The men moved slowly, as if reluctant to touch Jaxon, as if moving him would make this tragedy all too real. They began to pry Jake’s arms away, but he was frozen in disbelief, his mind refusing to register the reality of what was happening. He still couldn’t tear his eyes away from Jaxon’s face.

That was when Nicky joined the crowd, clutching his arm where he’d been grazed. Jake’s eyes finally snapped up, locking onto Nicky’s face with a deadly intensity.

“You false fired,” Jake spat, his voice low and filled with venom.

Nicky blinked, feigning confusion. “What are you talking about?”

Jake’s expression twisted in fury. “You fired before the signal,” he growled, his voice gaining strength with each word. “You left me and Jax exposed. And you didn’t even cover him.”

Before anyone could react, Jake lunged at Nicky, his fist connecting with Nicky’s jaw in a vicious punch that sent him reeling. The men rushed in to pull Jake off, but not before he landed another blow. His anger was white-hot, boiling over, his grief fueling every strike. It took several of the Barbarians to finally drag him away, his breath coming in ragged gasps as they held him back.

All Jake could do was watch as they carried Jaxon’s lifeless body away, his heart shattering into pieces he didn’t know how to mend. The reality of what had happened finally started to sink in, leaving a hollow pit in his chest.

This wasn’t just the death of his best friend—it marked the burial of their innocence, the final toll of a life they could never return to. Jaxon’s funeral wasn’t merely a farewell to a fallen brother; it was the funeral of their boyhood dreams, the loss of the idealistic belief that their bond was unbreakable. In its place, a harsh reality settled in—one where loyalty and brotherhood had been betrayed, where the very code they lived by had demanded this terrible sacrifice. This was the true funeral, not just of Jaxon, but of everything they had once held sacred.

Taglist: @edgingthedarkness @earthgrlsreasy @wetkleenex-gvf @hollyco @dannys-dream @slut4lando @josh-iamyour-mama @gretasfallingsky @takenbythemadness @scoreofinfantryvines

23 notes · View notes