#THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE A DRABBLE LMFAO

[essektheylyss]

Fearne had, in true Fearne fashion, wrapped herself like a personal pashmina around Dorian, which left Orym to curl into his chest.

They had slept this way dozens of times before. Fearne’s blackened fingers wrapped tightly around his forearm as she snored loudly into Dorian’s ear. Orym’s head rested on Dorian’s bicep, his arms folded together between them, and his bare feet were gingerly resting upon Dorian’s thighs just above the knees, as Dorian had coiled enough to let Fearne’s fuzzy leg stretch over his hip. They were exhausted, and this was familiar, and he should’ve been fast asleep.

But Orym’s mind buzzed.

Fearne had always been a strong source of heat, but now she was a furnace, and even without covers it was too warm. But Fearne was not the reason why Orym’s skin burned where it met Dorian’s.

He was a fucking grown man. He was fully capable of admitting that.

Admitting it didn’t change it.

Neither did it change his awareness that Dorian had been too still for the past hour, his breath too precise and measured to be natural as it fell upon Orym’s hair. Orym was not going to presume that the cause of this was the same thing afflicting him; there were plenty of other reasons Dorian would be lying awake tonight.

“My family will find your brother,” he murmured finally, and Dorian’s breath wavered for just an instant before he regained his composure and returned to his measured, singer’s breathing. It was so slight that no one else could’ve noticed it, but Orym noticed. “You said there’s a body— the Tempest can bring him back, or Fearne, honestly—“

“I know,” Dorian answered, and this too was so faint that no one but Orym could’ve heard. “I know,” he said again, as though this one was only to appease himself.

“Do you think… do you think any of Opal is still in there?”

“I don’t know. I could barely tell what was in there—“ he cut himself off. “I couldn’t even help my brother. I think Fy’ra Rai might’ve… she must’ve seen something. I hope so,” he added, inhaling, trying to capture an airy tone that he didn’t fully manage. “The Spider Queen doesn’t deserve her. She doesn’t deserve anything.”

Orym had nothing to say to this. He hadn’t cared what the gods did or didn’t deserve in weeks, but now he could see the vein of fury that sharpened Dorian’s edges. It didn’t frighten him the way it had frightened him months ago, when things had been simpler, when there was not a war to be fought. It simply saddened him. “I’m so sorry about Opal,” he said, after the silence had lingered. “But I’m,” he breathed out a single dark laugh at himself, his selfishness, “I’m real glad it wasn’t you.”

Dorian’s laugh matched his own. “I suppose that is a silver lining.”

“I’m so glad you’re here,” Orym admitted. It was easier to keep his voice from cracking at a whisper. “I’ve thought about seeing you again so many times— I wish the circumstances were better—“

“I’m here,” Dorian said, for the second time today. “The circumstances tried very hard to make even that impossible, but— I’m here.”

Orym pulled his arm gently out of Fearne’s grasp and raised his hand to Dorian’s cheek. It was too dark to see the tinge of lavender against his skin, but Orym could feel the warmth bloom beneath his fingers. He still couldn’t bring himself to attribute his friend’s insomnia to anything so self-serving as his own, but perhaps it was one factor.

He pulled his hand back. Was there a flash of disappointment in Dorian’s eyes? He couldn’t tell in the dark. But he brushed his fingers together, drawing upon the wellspring of life within the ground beneath this hastily-erected encampment. The Hellcatch looked like a barren wasteland to most, but that life was still present even here.

Perhaps not now, but after a rainy season, the valley would bloom with wildflowers. The seeds waited in the earth for their time to sprout. Life went on, even in the darkest of places.

He produced a small stalk of life from his hands, and held out the tiny bundle of forget-me-nots to Dorian.

He should’ve said that they were for Cyrus, to remember him by. He wanted to say that they were for Dorian himself, that a day hadn’t gone by that he hadn’t thought of him. He didn’t speak at all as Dorian’s hand wrapped around Orym’s, pinching the stem beneath his fingers but not letting go.

“Orym,” Dorian breathed, looking from the flowers to his face. Then a strange expression came over his face, a wrinkle of consternation as he stared into the middle distance. “Fearne, are you braiding my hair?”

Orym lifted his head an inch to peer past Dorian’s ear. He had noticed that the snoring had stopped, but he’d been too caught up in the conversation to process it. Fearne’s wide eyes stared back with perfect innocence, her hands indeed weaving Dorian’s hair into a loose braid.

“Just pretend I’m not here,” she whispered quickly. “I’m totally not here.”

When Orym dropped his head back to Dorian’s arm, he was met with a crooked smile. It was not meant to be disarming, but it disarmed him anyway.

“Just like old times, eh?” he said, but his hand was still around Orym’s.

Carefully, Orym moved to tuck the flower behind Dorian’s ear, bringing both of their hands with him, and then laced their fingers together instead. “No,” he said, and tucked his head so that his brow rested against Dorian’s chin, and pressed their entwined hands to his lips. “But I think that’s okay.”

[simpjaes]

CAN'T STOP THINKING ABOUT TELLING BOYFRIEND JAY YOU HAVE NO PANTIES ON AMD CONTINUING CONVERSING LIKE NOTHING HAPPENED PLEASE

warnings: they're in church lmfao, jay malfunctions, finger fucking, car stuff, jay is a needy dominate motherfucker fr

wc: 1.1k

note: ive decided anything over 1.5k will be posted separately from the ask. i still consider this a drabble lol

The words resonate in his brain, bouncing off every image and thought he had previously to you saying that to him. It's like he malfunctions before reacting, his entire body excited by the mere suggestion. "I'm not wearing panties." You had whispered right up against him through an innocent hug. So casually, with a voice so calm and balanced to him. Your tone was no different than when you'd tell him "I missed you" in a hug when you go to his house. Then again, it's not like the tone really matters. It's the words, the suggestion behind them. Given the fact that the two of you are in a place where it's considered highly inappropriate for his body to be acting this way. You manage to make it more inappropriate that you didn't wear panties in the first place.

The two of you are rarely ever found at church but on the rare occasion, your parents ask for you to be there. In turn, you always drag your boyfriend with you to save you from the long and boring few hours needing to be spent there. So, yeah, it's safe to say that the way Jay reacts is expected considering he can't actually react the way he wants or needs to right now. You did it to tease, to be cheeky and make him suffer even more. He can tell by the way you smirk, acting as if that hug you just gave him was nothing more and absolutely didn't involve dirty talk. He watches how you ignore his hungry gaze now, continuing a conversation with your parents and great aunt. He's supposed to be involved in this topic but instead he's too busy knowing that if he simply slips his hand up your dress, he could slide right in. 

You’re so…defiant, and all of it reminds him why he loves being with you. Always sweet, always beautiful, always fucking loving it when he’s suffering not only because of you, but for you.

And you continue to tease him through the event. You’re well aware that he’s in his head about it, considering he’s always ready to please and always unintentionally horny around you. You enjoy that about him though, because it lets you fuck with him in a place like this. 

Watching him suffer is funny, usually, because you know at some point he’s gonna break and absolutely break you along with him. But right now? You’ve never done this to him in a space where he couldn’t escape or lose his composure. 

It’s not funny now. It’s hot. 

Even the slightest grip of your hand on his bicep makes him release a small, frustrated sigh. Anyone else would think that sound is just him catching his breath, or perhaps pondering what heaven would be like for him. But you know what that sound is. You hear it most often against your neck or between your legs. 

A frustrated sound that tells you clearly how frustrated Jay becomes knowing he can’t devour you whole and keep you forever. A needy sound that somehow comes from the dominance within him to worship and praise every inch of your body with his mouth, hands, cock–

“Jay–” You whisper again, noting his stiffened body as he pushes through various hugs from people definitely wearing underwear. “What’re you gonna do to me?”

The way the remaining blood in his head rushes to his cock right then and there, snapping his eyes to you just as you pull away from him to give a half-assed hug to the pastor’s wife. The event is coming to a close and he can fucking see how excited you are to find out. 

He stares at you knowingly, looking you up and down, with the way you wore a dress far too short for this event anyway. Your mother commented on when she saw you, she even apologized to him for your blatant disrespect or something. 

Your mother may be against you flaunting your body, but Jay knew from the moment he saw you that you did it for him. To occupy him. To apologize for dragging him here with you. 

Only to fuck him up by telling him your pussy is literally out for him too, and now?! You want to know what he’s going to do to you?

Oh, baby. Just you wait. 

The final five minutes of the event feel like they lasted twice as long as the services, but eventually you find yourself in Jay’s car again. You knew he wouldn’t make it out of the parking lot, truly. 

The moment he gets into his car, his hand shoots straight between your legs as if he needed proof. Somehow, the force of his hand shocks you. He’s not gentle, he’s needy, forceful. You can tell by the way he lets out a breathy groan finding you not only naked under this dress, but dripping too. 

Jay can’t help himself. He slips two fingers in automatically, moaning at the pleasure he knows he intends to give to you. 

“You wanna know what I’m gonna do to you?” He finally asks, tucking his fingers deep in you before using the other hand to maneuver out of the parking lot. 

You note the speed of which he backs out and drives away, yet the stillness and pressure of his fingers still show the same eager need. 

“Mhm–” You nod, blinking at him innocently all while spreading your legs like the whore you know you want to be for him. 

Jay side eyes you at that, keeping his eyes on the road but feeling the clench of your needy pussy. He doesn’t need to look at you to know what sort of sly expression you’re throwing at him. You know what you did, and you know what you’re gonna get for it too. 

“I think you know exactly what I’m going to do.”

And while the two of you do make it back to Jay’s house, you don’t quite make it out of the garage and into the living room at the very least. His bedroom is out of the question, just a couple of feet too far, and a couple of seconds too long to wait by now. 

You’re not shocked to find yourself fucked open and making a mess from his fingers alone after a mere three minutes of him turning his car off, and he’s not shocked that you’re dripping all over him when he pulls his cock out and plants you directly on it without so much as opening his car door. 

He leans his seat back with ease, knowing you’ll have the control in this instance but he doesn’t mind. He’s not going to be done with you quite yet anyway.

You both know it.

[saeist]

my personal touya headcanons (yes i will make full on fics n drabbles with these in mind):

CHRONIC manspreader. literally takes up a whole love couch with the way he spreads his legs

can drive but gets motion sick easily so counting on him for a 2+ hour roadtrip? yeah pull over we’re switching seats

damaged hair from the constant dyeing but that won’t stop this baddie from dyeing it jet black every 2 weeks

only runs on 4 separate hours of sleep and snores like a truck. (u’ll need earplugs)

surprisingly tidy in regards to his room only because rei comes and checks their rooms and if its all messy they’ll get their asses whooped

doesn’t smoke cigarettes BUT has a box of disposables/juuls hidden in his sock drawer (GOD FORBIDS rei finds his stash)

^ in addition to that, contrary to popular belief his plug is unironically natsuo..

loves icy berry related related flavors too LMFAO

is supposed to be a junior in college on paper but since he keeps dropping and switching majors, he’s technically still a freshman

^ is currently taking chemical engineering (took business ad, computer science, finance, nursing (💀) and literally god knows what. his college majors that he dropped is between him, endeavor and god now)

since he’s competitive as fuck and is a perfectionist, took up multiple sports and extra curriculars growing up

prefers soggy cereal

drinks a lot but lightweight as fuck. after one bottle he’s out 💡 but that won’t stop him from drinking more!

knows how to braid girls hair thanks to fuyumi

cats warm up to him on the street cus he’s warm n shit

prettiest resting face but makes the ugliest faces known to man just for the sake of it (still pulls)

doesn’t approach girls, girls approach him

scares them away when he’s all like 😐🧍🏻

hooded eyelids + long eyelshes (both top and bottom)

genuinely starts tweaking when people say he got endeavor’s eyes solely bc hes a momma’s boy..

grew up being SPOILED rotten amongst his siblings so he doesn’t take no for an answer and will actually start stomping his feet

once he opens his mouth however.. everyone is gonna know he’s endeavors son fr ����

keigo is his closest irl friend but tomura is who he considers as his best friend even if they’re only internet friends

has a basic pc set up and plays valorant fortnite and roblox religiously

shits on children especially shoto and his two friends

once babysat the three of them in exchange for concert tickets

did i mention he has an indie rock emo band he formed when he was in high school? yeah

bassist obviously but sometimes he plays drums

will scare rei out of her wits when he would just magically appear on their couch when he’s supposed to be at his university

his room is in the attic

dresses like hes going to an opium concert but rei makes him change before they leave to go to church so ultimately he dresses up like a cottagecore mf but with piercings and box dye jet black hair

almost broke natsuo’s hand when he first got his nose piercing

embodies the trope of “best friends older brother”

has a soft spot for grandmas and will help them cross the road each time

picks up shoto from school with his beat up hand me down car. literally one slam on the break away from breaking (endeavor gave it to him as his 18th birthday present)

sometimes ends up driving shoto’s friends home too if shoto insists (more like demands)

will also intentionally go through a drive-thru and the kids in the backseat are expecting him to ask them what they want but touya just gets whatever the fuck he was craving, pays and leaves

“we got food at home!” - touya to a enraged shoto

also sometimes touya is shoto’s chaperone or the “parent” that goes to those parent teacher meetings when its time for get shotos report card and will deliberately say shoto has failing grades when shoto is part of the honor roll just to again, fuck with him

shamelessly flirts with the girls natsuo brings home just to fuck with him (he gets sucker punched later that night bc at the end of the day, natsuo is bigger than that man 😭)

when all the todosibs are fighting, nobody listens to him even if he’s the eldest. they all end up ganging up on him (fuyumi doesn’t stop shit, in fact she instigates further. she don’t play)

says he hates winter and likes summer more but whenever its summer time if he could he would live inside the freezer

hates the feeling of sweating 😮‍💨

sometimes goes on days without showering only popping a lil deodorant here and there so rei forces him to shower whenever he just so happened to pass by her

cooks decent meals but shoto hates it and intentionally makes gagging noises whenever he finds out touya was in charge of cooking that night

hates doing the dishes and fools shoto into doing it for him

when he goes on dates, he steals endeavors credit card and just pays for everything. will probably even take you to nobu just to do so

attempts to blame natsuo when endeavor caught on since his card decline at the supermarket but unfortunately touya cannot lie to save his own life even if he tried

OH! talks MAD game in bed but has never touched a woman in his life.. painfully a virgin. u have to teach this man PLEASEE 🙏

likes yeat and carti

basically teenager borderline adult core

[hypnagogics]

sometimes i'll randomly remember ellie's room is an actual garage. but she's made her space so cool and so her, that it doesn't even feel like you're visiting her y'know, in a garage lol. she'd love it when you visited, she'd organize her collectibles, kick all her strewn clothes under her bed, and make it as presentable as she could. but the first time you visited her, maybe you two were newly dating and the feelings and everything was all fresh and new, just blooming, she would be buzzing in anticipation as she waited for the knocks. she'd welcome you in and take a seat at the edge of her bed, fidgeting with her hands as she watched you walk around, inspecting the space. and when you asked her about a specific figurine, or what a poster was, she'd be over the moon excited to explain it to you. it'll be like, her eyes light up and sparkle, and she'd try to keep her cool and calmly explain and tell you about her favorite things, but the way you were looking at her in adoration, head tilted and eyes scanning her, made her stumble over her words and cheeks turn pink. upon realizing, you'd relish this, and pick up an action figure or something else from her shelf, and hand it to her as you move yourself closer to her, purposefully grazing her fingers with your own as you handed her it so she could tell you all about it.

"who's this, els?" "oh this one! she's one of my favorites..."

she'd explain and explain and even though you weren't totally knowledgeable about her interests, she would make sure you're paying attention and listening by glancing right at you, and asking if it makes sense with that familiar raspy tone in her voice we all know and love. and you loooved listening to her talk but to be honest with yourself, you aren't really listening to her words, but your eyes flicker down to her plump lips and you're mesmerized. suddenly needingwanting nothing more in the moment than to press your mouth onto hers. you feel your own cheeks heat up and reach to take the action figure from her hands, forgetting she's still rambling on about it.

sorry els. must do this first.

☆:quick drabble. nothing too fancy, kinda meh actually lmfao but i gotta make myself write something to fight off the writers block. i love thinking up random scenarios (feel free to request something, these blurbs are just the most fun to do i love em..and muchhh less intimidating than full fics lol, but i'll get to those soon enough) and this one feels decently canon i suppose. wish i could visit ellie's garage fr...

[huckleberrykai]

hueningkai ~ laundry basket

pairing: perv!fem!reader x mean dom!hueningkai summary: when kai finds his sweet precious girl with his dirty shirt in her face and her hand down her pants he has to teach her a lesson. genre: SMUT minors dni you will be blocked. warnings: perv reader, clothes sniffing, fingering, unprotected sex, oral (m receiving), cum eating, kai slaps reader with his dick LOL, kinda possessive?? not rly tho, gagging, swearing (i luv it when he says fuck lmfao sorry not sorry), mouth spitting, creampie, i think that's it?? maybe a lil angst at the end (insecurity) if u squint but fluffy ending notes: this was supposed to be a drabble but uh. yeah i got too excited. thanku anon for sending me the perv reader idea sjkdnhk i hope u like this ! and thanku ashlee for the brain fuel :3 word count: 3.6k click here for my masterlist!

kai first asked you out because he thought you were the sweetest thing he'd ever seen. your shiny eyes and happy smiles had him falling before he could think, and soon it was the two of you against the world. as time went on kai thought it was funny how adorable you were from the outside, but inside... you're absolutely insatiable.

you think he doesn't notice the way you're always drooling over him - the way you're always subtly feeling him up whenever he hugs you, squeezing his strong arms or letting your hand slip up his hoodie to feel his tummy.

he assumes physical touch is just your love language at first, which he loves, but then he sees how you react to anyone else touching you... shying away like you hate it. he never comments on it but it definitely makes him feel special <3

what he fails to see (or so you think) is just how much you're affected by him - how you rub your thighs together every time he picks something up and flexes his muscles or whenever he throws you a flirty comment with a wink. when first you got together a few months ago, you both agreed you'd take your relationship slowly... but you were starting to regret that decision every night when you'd fuck yourself open with your dildo wishing it was your big strong boyfriend drilling into you and spouting filthy, sinful words instead of a piece of plastic with his cute, completely clean voice notes echoing in the background.

you started to find yourself taking his clothes and basking in his scent every night when you'd fuck yourself to the thought of him, and it was all too much - but somehow still not enough.

he of course starts to notice his clothes going missing, frantically looking for his favourite hoodie he's so sure he left on his bed... he finds it a week later when he comes over to your house for a sleepover - crumpled next to your bed. he doesn't mind, he must have just forgotten he leant it to you - so you cuddle up and all is well.

until he asks if he could take a shower after dinner. he casually grabs his spare clean clothes from your drawer and leaves to the bathroom attached to your room. he slings his t-shirt he's been wearing the whole day into your hamper carelessly and waddles off to the shower. you stare at the hamper for a good few seconds, willing yourself to be good and not take it - but of course, his desperate pervy gf can't help but sneak in there and grab his dirty shirt >.<

you bring the soft fabric up to your nose and take in his natural scent mixed with the lingering of his favourite cologne he sprayed this morning. you feel an impatient dampness growing between your legs and jump back into bed, clutching the shirt tightly in your fist. you slide on his favourite hoodie crumpled by your bed - which has lost his scent by now - but it still makes you feel completely surrounded by him :3

you feel ridiculous. you're in his hoodie, shoving your face into his worn shirt... and you can't help but let your hand slip into your shorts. kai would be out of the shower soon, and you couldn't let him see you like this... so desperate and perverted and so so obsessed with him, but you need to get off. he was driving you crazy.

who in their right mind was that obsessed with their own boyfriend and still didn't have the courage to ask him to fuck them? you, obviously.

your thoughts wander to his big hands and how much better they'd feel down your pants than your own, and you whisper his name like a mantra as you move your fingers as quickly as possible so you could just cum and hide his shirt before he gets out. unfortunately for you though, kai finishes his shower quicker than usual and almost runs out of the bathroom when he can hear what sounds like crying and panting on the other side of the door.

he comes out in all his glory in only his sweatpants and a towel around his neck to check on you, just to see his precious girl humping her hand with his dirty clothes shoved in her face chanting his name >.<

"hey... what's all this hm? needy girl."

you panic and rush to throw the shirt away and pull your hand out of your shorts, which only makes him chuckle darkly - a scary grin gracing his lips and a look in his eye you'd never seen before.

"cutie if you wanted me so bad you could have just asked... but you chose to be a gross little pervert and go through my laundry instead hm? and you couldn't even get yourself off~ pathetic."

his scolding makes you tear up and try to look away, but he's quick to hover over you and grab your chin, forcing your eyes to meet his. he grabs the hand you had been playing with yourself with and takes the first few fingers between his lips to suck on them gently.

"you need some help?" he asks softly, pulling your fingers from his mouth and pressing a gentle kiss to your palm.

"'m sorry hyuka. you probably think i'm disgusting..." you sniffle. he shakes his head and laughs a little, mean facade breaking to make sure you really were okay with this. "it's okay baby. sniffing my sweaty shirt is a little gross though~" he teases. "is this the first time you've done this? or do you fuck yourself over my clothes all the time? hm?"

he's just trying to humiliate you at this point, but he can tell you're enjoying him bullying you a little. so he continues...

"do it all the time.." you hiccup in response. "'m sorry 'm so gross and yucky."

"'m sorry if you hate me... please don't leave." the tears stream down your cheeks again and he kisses every single one away between mean chuckles as you sob.

"ah i don't hate you baby~ i'm not going anywhere. but you understand i'm gonna have to punish you for being such a yucky girl right?"

you can only nod, still blubbering with red eyes and splotchy cheeks. to say you're flustered would be an understatement - to be caught in such a compromising position and then finally have kai hovering over you like this, hair damp, no shirt and being so passive-aggressive has you soaking through your panties. he was so sweet, you never expected him to fulfil your wildest fantasies of domming you so harshly~ but then again he never expected you to bring it out of him so fast either.

he makes quick work of pulling off the hoodie and your shorts, leaving you in only a bra and your translucent underwear. he pushes your legs open and settles himself between them, running his long fingers over your panties.

"so wet already... are you seriously getting off on this? on being a disgusting little pervert? you know i see how you look at me every day, i should have expected this from you."

"no!" you squeak in an attempt to save the last of your dignity.

"don't fucking lie to me."

his words are laced with venom, and he deliveres a harsh slap to your thinly covered pussy, causing you to yelp.

"now lets try this again. are you seriously enjoying this? me humiliating you like a pathetic little slut?"

this time you nod. there was no use in lying to him, especially when he's like this.

"words cutie."

"yes!"

"good. yucky girl isn't so stupid after all."

he rewards you with a sweet peck on the forehead before he pushes your panties to the side and finally touches you where you need him most. he rubs your slick over your folds before plunging 2 fingers into you without warning.

"ah-!" you whine at the protrusion, and kai kisses your lips harshly.

"shut up." he mutters against your mouth. you try your best to keep quiet, but whenever a sound would slip past your lips he'd slap your clit harshly. he fingers you quick and harsh, the feeling so intense you feel like you could burst at any second.

"please.. please let me cum!" you beg as his hand speeds up. you could have cried even harder when he decides to pull his hand away completely, placing your uncomfortably wet underwear right back in its place.

"no. no i don't think i will."

"please! no! no! please keep going!" you cry, trying to pull his hand back to your core. "hueningie please..." you pout, tears spilling from your ruined orgasm.

"being cute won't work on me. not after i caught you fingering yourself like a fucking slut. you haven't earned it yet princess~" he sings playfully as if he isn't torturing you. delicious torture.

"on your knees. on the ground." he orders. no please, no trace of your sweet boy on his face - you're in trouble. and you're LOVING it. clearly he is just as into this as you are, even slapping your ass hard as you crawl across the bed to get on your knees on the pillow he'd set down for you - he is a gentleman after all.

"be good for me and i'll fuck you just like you want me to okay? open your mouth."

you do as he asks with no argument, opening your mouth and fidgeting in your cold damp underwear. you almost start salivating at the sight in front of you as kai stands up and unties his sweatpants before pushing them down to free his gorgeously flushed dick. you watch as he moves over to your door, grabbing the belt tie of your bathrobe hanging from the back of it. you knew what was coming before he even had to ask, and so you hold your arms together behind your back.

"so now you're desperate for me to tie you up too? fuck you really are a pervert. come on. admit it." he spits from behind you, looping the fluffy rope around your wrists and typing them tightly - though not tight enough to hurt.

"wh-what?" you ask, bewildered.

"don't act clueless. tell me you're a pervert."

"i'm not-"

"i thought i told you already, don't fucking lie to me darling. it won't end well for you." he takes his place standing in front of you, the backs of his legs pressed against the bed. you're eye level with his cock - hard and girthy and huge. you open your mouth for him and lick up his shaft softly - but he pulls you back with a scowl.

"nuh uh. not until you say it."

he takes his heavy length into his hand and slaps your cheek with his cock harshly. "come on."

"i- i'm a-"

"louder."

"i'm a pervert! i'm a pervert for you kai!" you almost shout, tears threatening to spill at the embarrassment.

"good girl. not so hard was it baby? my pretty perv~ stick your tongue out."

he taps his tip against your lips and tongue before pushing himself into your mouth. he encourages you to suck him off properly and groans at the sight of you taking as much of him in your mouth as possible. you make eye contact every now and then - tears brimming to your eyes and spilling so beautifully down your cheeks.

"more."

you hum in protest, he's big - but he gathers your hair into a bunch anyway and pushes you down on him. his tip hits the back of your throat as your lips almost touch his pelvis - but you can't bring yourself to complain about gagging when he moans so pretty with his eyes squeezed shut.

you swirl your tongue around him as he fucks your throat, and he seems to like this since his whines only increase.

"so fucking good. little perv knows how to do something right- fuck. gonna cum down your fucking throat." he whimpers. his brutal pace makes your throat constrict around him which only brings him closer to his high.

"you better swallow every drop." he warns.

and you know better than to get him angry now, so you blow him until he shoots his whole load in your mouth. he pulls out fast and you splutter a little, trying your best to swallow it all down. he taps his tip on your tongue again, letting the last drops of his release land on your awaiting tongue.

"perfect princess.. my slut.. so good." he sighs. "you look so pretty with my cock down your throat like that."

you smile up at him sweetly while he tucks himself back into his sweats. your eyes are pleading for his help, and he figures you deserve your reward.

he's not making it easy though <3

"you want your reward? want me to fuck you dumb baby?"

"please hyuka.. need your cock please.. 't hurts."

and so he happily unties your arm restraints and lifts you up, throwing you on the bed like a ragdoll. you squeal when he drops you, and your eyes blow wide when he straddles you, ripping off your bra and forcefully grabbing your wrists, bounding them together with the fluffy robe tie once more- this time tying you to the headboard too. he has you right where he wants you.

"not a sound, okay? not until i tell you." he says before hastily pulling your panties off fully and throwing them on the floor.

he knew you wouldn't be able to stay quiet - it was all in his plan to humiliate you just a little more before you finally get your sweet release.

with how enthusiastically you agree he almost thinks you might be able to pull it off ~ ''m gonna be so quiet. just like a doll for you.. just please! please fuck me!"

but he takes that as a personal challenge to turn you into a screaming mess just so he can pusnish you one more time.

"okay.. you ready gorgeous? you okay?" he asks genuinely.

"'m okay hyuka. just- please!"

"still so desperate? pervy baby needs me inside huh?" he taunts, removing his sweatpants completely and lining himself up with your still sopping wet cunt. he takes the time to tease you, tapping his head on your clit and rubbing himself on your folds. he can tell you're already fighting back your whines- especially when he buries himself to the hilt all in one go.

he hooks a finger under your chin and rests his other hand on your hip, leaning close to your face. "not a peep."

he was lying. he wants you to slip up so badly, and so he sits back and grabs your hips so hard they'll definitely be bruised in the shape of his fingerprints tomorrow - and slams his hips into yours.

he laughs meanly at you biting your lip to prevent a moan and angles his hips just right to have you weeping once again. "so pretty.. how can someone so cute be such a disgusting pervert?" he rambles. his eyes are glued to your boobs bouncing with every thrust and your face so scrunched in concentration. he can't help but let a giggle escape him at how cute you are - and an evil thought pops into his head.

continuing his rhythm, hitting your sweet spot with every thrust, he moves a hand to fondle one of your boobs - attaching his lips to the other one and attacking your nipple with his hot tongue.

with your eyes squeezed shut you couldn't see what he was doing, and the sudden stimulation to your chest catches you completely off guard and... "ah-!"

you feel kai smile evilly against your nipple, and he leans even closer to bite it gently - just enough to sting. you yelp, then he sits back and stills his movements completely.

kai pulls out, and leans off the bed to grab the dirty shirt you had your face buried in not long ago.

"no! no please! please keep going! 't- 'twas too much! 'm sorry kai i'll be quiet.. plea- hmph!"

he balls up the shirt in his hands and holds your chin with one hand and shoves the shirt in your mouth to gag you with the other.

"that should keep you quiet. pervy girl probably likes this since you like my dirty clothes so much right? you asked for it, choke on it."

he wraps a hand around your neck and returns the other to your hip after entering you again, slamming into you even faster than before. you moan freely, letting the fabric muffle the sounds slightly while your boyfriend rails you beyond comprehension.

your fucked out face has kai mesmerised, and he lets his hands roam to squeeze your boobs again.

the closer you get to your highs, the closer he wants to be to you, so he decides to lift your legs, pressing them into your chest to get even deeper. this has your eyes rolling back, fucked out expression and drool dribbling into the fabric of his worn-out t-shirt in your mouth.

"such a s-slut for me aren't you?" he mumbles out, words hushed and brain elsewhere as he watches your tits bounce again. "couldn't keep your hands off yourself for 5 minutes? too embarrassed of being such a perv to ask for my help? fucking pathetic."

you started crying again, feeling so humiliated and overstimulated and just so horny. you started making noises, speaking nonsense words muffled by the fabric in your mouth as you nodded frantically. pathetically. desperately.

"tell me. tell me you're my slut. my yucky girl~ only i can catch you with your hands on your pussy~ ah! only t-thinking about me!" kai yanks the shirt from your mouth and throws it across the room, prodding your legs harder and thrusting into you at a brutal pace. "say it!"

"'m your sl-slut, 'm only gross for you! all for you hyu- hyuka!"

"that's it baby~" he coos, sticking his thumb in your mouth and pressing on your tongue to keep your mouth open. "this what you wanted? creepy little perv? wanted me to punish you like this?"

when you whine in agreement against his thumb he spits in your mouth.

"disgusting." he taunts.

he pulls his thumb from your lips and smiles at you adorably.

"swallow and i'll let you cum."

and so you do, sticking your tongue out to show him your empty mouth as he grabs your face to check.

"that's right baby- fuck! 'm gonna cum pretty, you wanna cum with me? is that what you want? my little slut~"

you nod frantically and moan embarrassingly loudly when he starts rubbing your clit furiously along with his thrusts. "where do you want it princess?" he pants.

"in- inside- ah! please! fill me up kai- plea- fuck!"

he smirks at you, pace becoming sloppy as he teeters over the edge.

"thought so~ i'll fill you up good baby. bet you wanted this? wanted me to get you all messy... fucking pervert."

kai cums right as you pant out your next sentence, filthy words sending him into overdrive.

"your pervert- all for you! 'm all slutty for you.. obsessed with you- oh fuck kai! kai i'm- oh my god-"

right as you feel him fill you up with his release, his attacks on your clit speed up and send you over the edge, your walls tightening around his cock has him seeing stars and stilling inside you as you let the relief wash over you both. he rests his forehead on yours and presses a few lazy kisses to your lips that you half reciprocate.

"you okay princess?"

he waits a few seconds for you to come down, dropping your legs and pulling out with a whine from you both. "earth to y/n? baby? did i really fuck you dumb?" he jokes and you giggle - letting yourself come back to reality from the most intense orgasm you'd ever had.

"i.. i didn't know you had that in you," you mutter hoarsely. he unties your hands from the bed, and at the sound of your voice he grabs your bottle of water from your nightstand and helps you sit up to drink it. "well i didn't know you'd be sat in bed jerking off with my shirt." he teases, laughing as he sat beside you and rubbed your back.

"are you gonna break up with me?" you ask once you chug half the bottle.

"and why the hell would i do that?" he answers back with another question.

"because i'm disgusting and desperate...?"

"i didn't mean that. i mean i was a little shocked when i walked in.. and that definitely isn't how i saw our first time together going but.. fuck you're amazing." he comforts you, smoothing down your messy hair and planting a kiss on your temple. "plus... you seem to like it when i call you disgusting and desperate." he chuckles, hand landing on your shoulder and hugging you close to him.

"so you don't think i'm gross for sniffing your clothes? and weird for liking when you degrade me like that...?"

"no way. maybe a little perverted, and kinkier than i expected... but i'm into it. my little slut~" you look at him making a silly sexy face you and both burst out laughing.

"let me clean you up okay? you want a snack? or i can boot up mario kart? cuddles maybe?" he smiles his cute goofy grin, sweet boyfriend back in full swing - so you nod to all of the above.

you feel happy and satisfied at the fact he still likes you as you are, and that somehow you bagged yourself the cutest sweetest guy who could absolutely destroy you in bed. nice.

you're pulled out of your thoughts when he hands you a towel and a package of cookies with a kiss to the forehead.

"and next time when you're horny.. just tell me. the real thing is better than whatever's in the laundry basket <3"

nsfw taglist: @subbyjvnnie @mazeinthemoon @n0-thisispatrick @banggyu0308 @majestyjun @pumpkinkaiii @beom-pyu @txtistheloml @nightlytyuns @dido-of-the-endless + @agustdiv1ne

[lix-ables]

✩ ⁺ . ‧ WORKS BOTH WAYS ; BANG CHAN.

⨳ ⁺ . ‧ chris has vibes of guy who riles you up and then leaves you horny and thinks it's funny but gets upset if you do the same to him lmfao ( anon )

‧₊ warnings — fem reader, teasing, edging, handjobs, fingering, chan is cocky tehehe

‧₊ note — this was supposed to be a drabble but its 1.3k sigh. but happy reading ‹33

“baby, not here please,” chan smiles in your direction as he passes the dish on his side of the table along to jisung. his free hand finds your wrist that currently rested on his thigh. your fingers spread across the material of his pants while his fingers wrap around your skin tight enough to stop you from touching him anymore. to be honest, it was just his thigh.

you knew the consequences of touching him when he’s busy or when you’re around his friends. of course, you did, but that didn't stop you from doing it over and over.

"but i'm not doing anything," you sigh, rolling your eyes at him slightly, your face turned away from him so he can't see you. "roll your eyes once more, and see what happens," chan smiles, nodding at something jisung said.

now, you would roll your eyes for nothing, except if you felt bratty. today was that day. a few minutes passed and you felt bored at the table, so your hand found chan's thigh again – this time, your fingers trailed a bit higher than before, inching closer and closer to his crotch. you smile at him when he gives you the side eye, before palming him slowly which makes him shift in his seat a little.

"what did i tell you, hmm?"

"nothing?"

"is that so?" chan sighs, moving your hand away and placing it on your own lap, before his fingers start to trail up your thigh. "remember the last time when you did the same thing? to me?" you hum, leaning closer to him. at this point, everyone at the table knew how into each other the both of you were that they decided to ignore your actions – including right now. intially when jisung had introduced the two of you, it was just shyness everywhere. until it turned into something more like the older people would say ‘sparks flying and fireworks.’

"maybe you need to remind me again what happened last time," chan mutters and his nose nuzzles your skin, while an arm moves to wrap its fingers around the chair to pull you close to him. "i need the exact details hm? from what i did, to what happened and how that night ended."

“uhm, right now? in front of everyone?” you clear your throat, your voice getting squeakier now. “nothing stopped you from grabbing my dick under the table, did it now?” chan had a point, you realised. from the moment you left your apartment, to the small quickie that you almost had at the parking lot of jisung’s place – you had been fantasizing. dreaming more likely – about how it felt just last week when chan pulled you into the bathroom of his friend’s house, to fuck your brains out. from the way his hands grabbed your hair and his hips thrusting into your face to the way the straps of your blue dress slipping from your shoulder exposing a bit of your chest, the way his eyes just stared right into your soul, because it felt like that. but by the time you were out of the bathroom, you were ready to go home – chan’s hands held you up while your fingers reached to wipe the little drool that still somehow managed to stay at the bottom of your chin. you looked a mess, and it was evident – but it didn't matter to you or him.

and the car ride back home? well, that ended with his hand grabbing your thigh, smiling every time you swatted his attention-seeking fingers away. his fingers trailed up, all the way to your crotch while hiking your dress up at the same time. chan runs his fingers up and down your bare thigh giving you shivers just as he reaches to run them over your underwear, right over your slit before pushing them to the side – this was enough to give him access to your clit. “stay still, sweetheart,” he had mumbled with one hand on the steering wheel and the other playing with the sensitive bundle of nerves which made your nails dig into the leather seats of the car.

whimpers and pleads leave your lips but chan showed no signs of stopping that night. you begged him to stop, but minutes later when you were close enough, you begged him to go faster, only for him to leave you high and dry – edging you to the point where you hit his arm away. your fingers reached to continue what he started and your legs spread as wide as they could in that tiny space of the passenger seat. “you’re not going to touch yourself,” chan started to say when he hears a broken whine leave your sore throat. “please, please … i just need to come,” you moan out your words, your free fingers reaching to hold onto chan’s wrist to bring them back to yourself, trying to replace your fingers with his own. “if you wait right now and don’t touch yourself, you’d know that i’ll let you come on my tongue,” chan clicks his tongue and then looks in your direction. his eyes stare at the way your fingers just brush lightly over your slit, wishing it were his hands instead.

but it was a game he always played with you – he thinks it’s funny, the way you’d just beg him to continue, the way your fingers would try to finish what he started and how you complained to him that it didn’t feel the same. the thoughts he was having about how he’d lay you down on the couch and start by leaving kisses all over, his fingers gripping onto your skin to hold you down enough to stop you from moving. how he’d let you grind your hips into his face and how he’d finish the night by eating you out like a man starved, only to leave you on the edge of coming just when you arch your back and grip onto the strands of his hair. he always thought about how funny it was – you, laying there helpless, begging for him to just finish the job. and when he told you it was funny, at the most random times, makes you come.

so tonight, it was your turn. your hands found his thigh and then his crotch from the moment you got into the car to head to jisung’s place. what he thought was just a simple touch, turned into something more at the dinner table. when your fingers move on their own accord to settle on his crotch, only to move up higher to undo the belt and zipper – just enough to allow you access to where you wanted to tease him the most. “you know what?” you reply while your fingers make actions of pulling out his dick, only to just rub your thumb to the tip. his leg hits the table, making everyone look at him, and he shakes off their question as he struggles to speak. “maybe i’ll just tell you at home. it seems fun, doesn’t it?” you smile at him once again and your thumb moves in faster circles on his tip, before your other fingers occasionally stroke the rest of his dick.

when one of chan’s other friends asks you if you wanted dessert, you nodded and at the same, remove your hand from his crotch just when you felt a little bit of precum on his tip. he stands up, grabbing you by your elbow to make you stand as well and adjusts his pants, mentioning how he had some work left over and you wanted to leave.

you show signs of protest but move in front of him to head to the bathroom, as he has his final conversation of that night with jisung. when you pass by him, he grabs you close, and grumbles “fuck you,” making you smile at the frown on his face. “aren’t you going to do that anyways when we get home? your poor dick must want to come so bad.”

he was upset that you left him like that at the table, but that’s okay. you thought it was funny as well.

taglist. @hwajin @starlostseungmin @chrisbahng @comet-falls @niijo @chvnnie @lixhues @joonszn @cherryhanji @blueberry-chan @dnadoublefelixx @ethereallino @stuckwithaphobiaa @chewryy @bangchanbabygirlx @zizis-world12 @aimeexx @whatudowhennooneseesyou @nightlychans @americanokisses @katieraven @hwan-g @svintsandghosts @idek-at-this-point-lol @es-kay-zee @writerracha @bbujiikseu @lethallyprotected @lino-jagiyaa @zoiescastle @compersian @jilixcuddles @teaspeungmin @eulaenthusiast ( bold & orange = cant be tagged )

EXTRA NOTE. and suddenly this one became my baby, please be kind to it, and consider showing it some love if you can ‹3

©lix-ables 2022. do consider reblogging.

masterlist

[504py]

ahh requests open !!! can i request yan!america headcanons or a short drabble ? your choice 🌼 thank you~

thank you for requesting anon!!! and so sorry for this being late omg this was supposed to come out earlier but i got sidetracked cuz i got sucked into stardew valley LMFAO 😭😭😭. but anyways, here it is!

Yandere America Relationship Headcanons

Gender neutral, manipulation, breaking and entering, stalking, long post ahead!

┊͙✧˖*°࿐

How the relationship started...

A total cliché, but Alfred would go for a damsel in distress. He met you on the stairs passing each other, you tripped, and he caught you in his arms in the nick of time. You quickly apologize and thank him with an embarrassed smile, and you continue on your way. Alfred tries to, but he can't seem to stop thinking about that flustered expression on your face, the sound of your voice, and the way you felt under your clothes...

He tries to shake the feeling off, but he just had to bump into you again.

Alfred's second encounter with you was when you two were at the counter at the convenience store, and you were a dollar short. Him, being the hero he is, leans over from behind you and puts a dollar down on the counter.

You look at him, recognizing him as the dude who prevented you from eating shit at that staircase. You blush at the embarrassing memory.

"Don't worry about it." Alfred smiles boyishly, noticing that same flustered expression. He relishes in the feeling of your warmth against his chest when he leans forward, and immediately misses it when he pulls away.

"Th.. Thanks."

You take your things and go, and Alfred is up next to pay for his things. His eyes linger on you as you exit.

Alfred can't wait for the next time you two have a chance encounter, so he catches up to you.

"Hey, dude!" He calls out, approaching you from behind. His heart races a little.

"Oh-" You are a little startled, he feels kinda bad. "What's up?"

"Cause of that dollar I gave you, I had to give up my potato chips!" Alfred cries.

He's lying. He's hoping to god they don't make a crinkle sound under his jacket.

"Oh, shoot, I'm sorry. Can.. Uh, can I pay you back some other day? I don't have any cash on me at the moment."

Alfred smiles. "I can give you my number, and we'll make out the details then?"

"Y-Yeah, of course."

His smile grows wider.

Expectations...

Because Alfred is just oh-so sociable and has such a friendly, extroverted disposition, it isn't very hard for him at all to quickly become one of your closest friends, and, one day, when you two were stuck in the rain after a late night fast-food dash gone wrong, he confesses his feelings for you. You accept, and he kisses you so hard your lips bled a bit from the impact. Of course, he apologized like crazy. You two look back at it now and laugh.

Alfred does his best to appear like a normal boyfriend. He is one who cares a lot about keeping up appearances, so he'd hate it if his weird tendencies slipped through and made itself apparent to you.

Yet another cliché, Alfred is one who yearns for the perfect American dream sort of image. Alfred really likes clichés, they're easy to predict and he can control them. He likes kissing in the rain, he likes calling you cheesy nicknames, and he wants to get married and have a kid and a pet dog with you. And he expects you to completely adhere to that fantasy of his.

Luckily for you, he won't get too violent if you're not the best at keeping up that appearance, since he has other methods of keeping you in line.

Punishments...

Since Alfred highly values appearing like a run-of-the-mill happy couple, he finds it essential that you don't suspect him at all or see him in any negative light.

So he takes to some really dirty manipulation tactics. He'd start with scolding you lightly and emphasizing every time you slip up or make a clumsy mistake.

"Oh-! Woah, babe, you almost tripped again. Thank God I caught you.. You really can't go anywhere without me."

"Did you mix up the laundry again? Damn, that's the third time this month."

He mixed up your laundry on purpose.

"Shoot! The food's burning... Ah, don't worry! I'll just order some takeout, it's alright, honey."

He totally left the burner on high while you went to the bathroom for a second.

Alfred just wants to plant a seed in your head that you're rather helpless, and need his assistance for many, if not all things. And assuming this works, you'll start clinging to him much more than you usually do.

He wants more, though. He wants you to fear the outside world so much that you have no choice but to stay in his house forever and see him as the one thing that could protect you.

He would very likely stage a break-in to get you to that point. During a moment where you're staying in your own home instead of his, he'll don a ski mask and clothing that would make him unrecognizable to you, and late at night, when you're getting comfortable, he breaks in.

Alfred doesn't mind destruction, and that's including towards other people. Like Matthew, violence would be a last resort to him, however, Alfred is much more unforgiving.

..He won't be pretty about breaking into your home. Glass will be everywhere, he'll set off alarms, and he won't be shy about getting caught on your home cameras.

Although destruction isn't his main intent, he just wants you to know someone was here. He'll move your furniture around, knock frames off of the walls, and take a few valuables, like jewelry. Nothing you should miss too much.

Then he sees you.

He never really intended for you to see him, but, now he was facing you, and to your eyes, you were face to face with a stranger who just broke into your home.

Alfred sees the panic and fear boil over in your eyes, and right before you run or scream or are able to do anything— He rushes forward and grabs you. His heart is racing

Instead of saying anything, in fear you recognize his voice, he raises a gloved finger to his lips, telling you to stay quiet.

You nod, and you're crying.

(Alfred hates to admit a part of him finds this exhilarating, but the way you're crying because of him makes him feel so horrible).

He nods his masked face at you, and goes to your bedroom to collect a few more valuables (your underwear).

As he's leaving your home, he turns his head to see you on your phone, and he panics, thinking you've dialed 911. He hurries up and runs off to a secluded area so he could take off the outer layer of clothes he was wearing.

As he takes off his jacket, the phone in his pocket rings.

And it's you.

He's frozen for a second, wondering why you were calling him. Did you know it was him? What did he do that set you off?

He picks up.

"Babe?" He cringes at how his voice shakes. "What's up?"

Then you're crying his name like it was a prayer, telling him what just happened and begging for him to come over and pick you up.

And his heart swells. You came to him first for protection? You trusted him the most with your safety?

He grins, and he can't help the way his smile could be heard in his voice when he tells you he'll be there as quickly as he can. He's so happy he's trembling. Luckily, you're still too shaken up to notice his strangely cheery tone of voice.

Then now you're clinging to him, much more than ever before, trusting him with your life, and the only thing you fear is being without him. Just like he wanted.

Rewards...

Alfred REALLY likes physical affection. He does show his love in many ways, but he's so physical that it may come off as creepy. He likes licking your face, biting lightly on your shoulder, and sniffing whatever he can, even if it's some embarrassing area... He's like a dog, really. He also likes taking you out on cheesy dates, like going to Disneyland or going to a haunted house, and taking lots of pictures to flaunt the two of you's oh-so-perfect relationship.

He has this habit of resting his hand around your neck and sorta rubbing it. I'm not sure if he'd be into asphyxiation, but he finds the action rather intimate. The throat is a vulnerable spot, and him having it in his hand so casually makes him feel good. He also has this other habit where he likes to sorta tickle your palm with his fingertips. When he hears your laugh when he does this, he gets an uncharacteristically demure expression on his face, and looks at you with hearts in his eyes.

Silence is his love language, I think.

He spends a lot of time being loud and untamed, and maybe it's a defense mechanism, who knows? So these little moments where he allows himself to be quiet, to be quiet around you, are his favorite ones.

He wakes up really early, at least earlier than you do. Maybe contrary to popular belief, I feel like Alfred is somewhat of a workaholic, so he naturally tries to get a head-start on the day.

He used to hate waking up so early, but with you, it's now his favorite part of the day. The only thing he hates is getting up to leave you for work. But he thinks it's all worth it, because it's all for you.

It's so quiet. And you're here. And no one else is around. It's just the two of you.

It feels like he's not real, during these early mornings. He knows you are, though. You're everything that's real to him. He reminds himself that this isn't a dream by touching and admiring your face while you slept. He can feel your soft breathing on his skin.

Alfred rests his forehead against yours, and he doesn't say this out loud, since he doesn't wanna wake you up, but it's also because.. He feels like you just get him. He believes you two are soulmates, and that you'll just feel whatever he's thinking, even while asleep.

"I love you." He says, in silence.

┊͙✧˖*°࿐

whew!! so sorry this got out so late, but here's the final request i'm doing for the 200 followers celebration! funnily, as i'm posting this, i've just hit 300 followers, so triple all my thank yous!! you guys are great! unfortunately, the requests got me feeling a bit burned out, so i'll probably do something different for this milestone.. i'm thinking i'll either do a "meet the artist", or do a whiteboardfox with you guys? i also have a whole bunch of ocs which were initially meant to be the main focus of my account, but not sure if that y'all would find that very interesting. please lmk what you think! thank you all again!!

[devilmademewriteit]

completely inspired by a gif set u reblogged. Javi helping you into a bullet proof/tactical vest. you’re scared and he just says a gentle “arms up” as he secures the velcro. he’s scared as well, doesn’t wanna lose you, doesn’t want you to get hurt. but it’s like the fear, the adrenaline, has your emotions haywire and you look into his eyes as he takes hold of your hand so gently and tells you that you’re gonna be okay, and you just want to kiss him, and he wants to kiss you too, but then it’s time to go, and he tells you “later”

IDK WHAT THIS IS LMFAO Javi brings the slut outta me

you’ve inspired me anon here is a TINY FIC/DRABBLE YEEEEEEEE

pairing: javier peña x fem!afab!reader

warnings: fem!afab!reader; use of pet name ‘sweetheart’; canon-typical allusions to violence; language; ANGSTY POO

omg I can’t believe there’s no smut. GUYS I WROTE SOMETHING WITHOUT SMUT. I loooove writing my javi tho so while im busting my ass working on Salvatore part 3 feel so free to leave me lil thingies like this.

-em<3

—

“Hope is a dangerous thing for a woman like me to have, but—”

It was never supposed to be like this.

It was just a summer job — something safe, boring, admin and agendas and addendums. Should’ve known better, taking a government job in the world’s most dangerous city.

She should’ve known better, taking a government job in the world’s most dangerous city. Shit. My chest feels like it’s on fire, burnin’ through kerosene.

Is she gonna clock how unsteady I am?

Javi’s footsteps echo down the nearby hallway; you recognize them immediately, and their slanted, hard-right-drag-left rhythm. He comes lumbering through the door, cradling tactical gear between his big, bulging biceps. God, you’d had… thoughts about those biceps.

Even now, with the embassy under cartel-siege, it’s oh-so-hard to push away the x-rated daydreams swirling inside your stress-addled mind.

And he doesn’t look scared.

Fuck, she looks so scared.

“Here,” he says, extending the protective vest towards you. Gingerly peeling your hips off of the desk at your back, you extend your fingers to greet and grab at the rough, thick canvas. The sheer weight of it makes your heart lurch into your throat. Neither one of you lowers your hands.

The dark-green-death-sweater you’d seen him wear so many times, cursing yourself for registering, for caring about what it meant.

That it meant Peña — schmoozing, cocky, effortlessly crude Javier Peña — was going into the field.

So neither of you let go.

The stupid vest had always served as a kind of divining rod, leading you both to the real source of your constant bickering, your irritation and the look of mutual, unabashed worry you had shared as a soldier came bursting into the office, panting in tune with the sirens, carrying news of the currently unfolding attack.

Caring without meaning to.

Giving a shit without wanting to.

“I-“ you swallow, trailing off, cursing the swelling bubble forming at neck-breaking speed inside your throat, “I don’t know what to do with this.”

Of course she doesn’t. That one’s on me. ‘Thing like her should never have to wear one of these.

Shouldn’t even have to see one of these.

“S’okay,” he mutters, taking the burden of the gear into his hands, brow furrowing into a look of delicate responsibility. “Turn around.”

Under different circumstances, those words might’ve (embarrassingly enough) enticed a very different feeling from you.

Now, they were simply effective.

Acceding, you rotate, painfully slowly as every hair along your spine lifts, one after the other. Peña shuffles, adjusting both himself and the gear to stand close — too close — behind you.

“Arms up, sweetheart.”

You listen, dragging your arms up into the static air, trying to ignore the soft edge in his voice. It reminds you of something.

Something like resistance.

Stifled want.

Desire with a sock shoved down its bone-dry throat.

And it’s so level, so calm. How is he so calm?

Can she tell I’m totally freaking out?

Your shoulders sag under the weight of the vest. Jesus. It’s so much heavier than you’d imagined. Not quite as heavy as the feeling of doom settling over you, grief from the naive sense of safety you’d walked into work with.

Just this morning.

Javi busies himself with the Velcro, uncharacteristically silent. His knuckles brush the insides of your wrists, and you try to resist it — God, you really do — but all efforts to keep those prickling tears at bay are undertaken in vain.

You quiver slightly, face burning in shame.

Is she shaking?

Gentle, unusually gentle when his fingers wrap around your upper arm, spinning you around to face him once more.

“Look at me.”

You do. His shadowed eyes swim, dance, rage with experience, and you’re left envious, wishing that you’d hardened yourself to the world in the same way. How many times had this man woken up, driven to work, drunk his morning coffee and smoked his morning smoke, accepting that it could be his last?

Knowing Peña, he probably found ways not to think about it.

For sure, he didn’t think about it.

But you did.

Every time that vest came out.

“Everything’s gonna be fine, alright?”

It’s an almost whisper, a mere brush of air against your brow. His own creases in earnestness as he utters the pledge.

“How can you do this for a living?”

You don’t mean for it to come out so rough and jagged, hissing for help like a neglected kettle on the stove. Javi offers you a smile of understanding as though remembering his own first time.

Then, before either of you can stop it, he places the flat of his palm to your cheek.

And you can’t keep from noticing how easily the calloused pad of his thumb molds to your complying skin.

“You get used to it,” he returns, and every word is coated, soaked in the sad, tragic truth. “Though this part’s always hard.”

Nothing exists beyond the smell of tobacco on his breath and the total absorption in his eyes. You’re sure the latter is mirrored in your own, too.

Timid, uneasy, begging him to ease the discomfort for you. “What part is this?”

The part where I lie to you. The part where I bubble-wrap the only thing in this country worth protecting into a shitty, almost useless accessory of war.

The part where I remember—

Is it the part where we remember how easily we could lose each other?

And we don’t even have each other, for God’s sake. Lookin’ up at me as if she can trust me, and the only thing I’ve been able to trust for years is that the moment will come, that moment where it all just gets to be too much and fuck—is this it? Maybe—

This is the part where we—

Kiss her, God, I just wanna fuckin’ kiss her—

Kiss?

“Peña! Time to move!”

Murphy’s voice slices — easily — through the tentative moment of uncertainty. It erodes the softness of Javi’s features into that familiar, hardened stone.

His hand drops from your face, but the tracings linger.

If you couldn’t trust the world outside, maybe you could trust Javi inside. Maybe he’d learned to live without something to lean on, but you weren’t yet prepared to go on—

She doesn’t know how much I fuckin’ need her. Or how many times I’ve tried to say it—and in so many ways—but every time I open my goddamn mouth it just comes out… wrong. Like it’s not enough. Like it’s not true that I can finally fuckin’ breathe when she’s… just… existing around me. Like losing her wouldn’t mean goin’ on—

Faithlessly. Radically accepting the confusing, overwhelming uncertainty of the world.

He clears his throat.

“I’ll see you after.”

Your gaze tumbles down, averting the twinge of dishonesty in his own at his promise.

“Yeah—yeah, see you after.”

He backs away without turning. For a moment, you think he’s gearing up to say something. Something like he always says, like, don’t be a fuckin’ idiot, or use your head or maybe even a smile, sweetheart.

But he doesn’t. He just shakes his head, his dark hair tumbling around and exaggerating his hesitation. Although it hurts, you force yourself to watch as he walks away. How he bows his crown, brings a hand up to anxiously rub at the side of his jaw, the roundness of his shoulder responding and near-bulging under the blue cotton.

Admittedly, a kiss from Javier Peña would’ve been nice.

But to be cradled between those arms, wrapped up in him instead of the goddamn tactical gear squeezing, robbing the air from your lungs…

That would’ve been it.

When this is all over, you think to yourself.

And as Javi greets Steve, apologizing for the delay, the hand squeezing his gun feels strangely empty, haunted by the novelty of touching your burning skin.

When this is all over, he thinks to himself.

Anyways, isn’t that what faith is? Making plans for later, as if anyone’s ‘later’ is promised, a guarantee? As if either of you could count on tomorrow?

Yeah, that’s gotta be it.

Joining the gaggle of scared, hopeless government employees, desperate for reassurance, for the realization blooming inside the depths of your knowing; you pause, letting it hit you, translating it into words…

“—I have it.”

—

[alienaiver]

Proposals Plus One

Iwaizumi Hajime x gn!reader

warnings: spoilers and references to Godzilla Minus One, it is gender neutral but you are being proposed to ! <3 also iwa gives oikawa the finger if thats not ur thing wordcount: 2.4k content: FLUFF, proposals, genderneutral reader, poc!friendly and body positive reader, Childhood friends to lovers trope, SFW, No use of y/n, canon compliant, post-timeskip, one-shot, established relationship, use of honorifics (iwa-chan is the only one, by oikawa of course), this was supposed to be a drabble hi, also oikawa appears at 5ish am in argentina, i salute him for his dedicated friendship

notes: when i describe iwaizumi watching the movie i basically just described myself LMFAO!!! anyways.. i wanted this to be a let-iwaizumi-experience-my-favorite-movie but it turned into... this! i hope u enjoy heheh <:) <33 PLEASE enjoy my title pun as a reference to Godzilla Minus One!!!!!

Iwaizumi’s hands are not still for more than a few seconds at a time during the little more than two hours you spend in the cinema. They shift between grasping onto his soda or taking the popcorn from you – only to put them back onto your lap, or grasp onto your hand like his life depends on it. Especially during the big, cinematic scenes. When Godzilla starts to charge the atomic beam attack, you hear him take a sharp intake and lean into you, like he really can’t contain his own mortal vessel.

It’s really cute.

You’re glad he brought you along with him, even if you’d been hesitant to begin with.

“Oikawa always goes with you,” you tried to argue, “I don’t want to take his spot.”

Iwaizumi had lowered his gaze and tried to hide his expression when he admitted that Oikawa wouldn’t be in Japan for the release. You genuinely thought he would, so you couldn’t hide the surprise at the admission. “So… you’re not imposing yourself.” he’d grunted afterwards and got up from the dining table, “but you don’t have to go if you don’t want to.”

Whenever there’s a big action scene, like when Noriko falls from the open and destroyed train free-fall into a pool of water or when Godzilla destroys the cinema, he leans forward in his seat before he looks at you and even through a dim cinema with lights only emitting from the screen, you can see the stars reflecting in his eyes, his mouth open in a smile you don’t see often on him. Like he can’t really believe what he’s seeing, and he’s checking with you to confirm it.

When the credits starts rolling and people start to leave, your boyfriend puts his palms on his temples as he uses a moment to process what he’s just seen. Then, very slowly like he’s edited into slow-motion he turns towards you. His eyes are wide and his mouth slack, but the more you get into view, the more the corners of his lips tugs upwards.

You laugh and grip his upper arm, squeeze it lightly, “was it everything you needed the 70th anniversary to be?”

The look he gives you is perplexed; almost like he can’t believe that you’re asking him that. He drags his hands down his face, dragging the skin with him and making a grimace, “what’s the time?” he then suddenly ask, real time seemingly catching up to his body as he hurries to check his watch.

“It’ll roll again at 6! That’s in 45 minutes! We can grab a quick bite and then”- he interrupts himself with a cough before he reminds himself and tenses his shoulders -”sorry, we have a reservation.”

You take him in for a minute, your underlip worried between your teeth as you weigh your options. The reservation isn’t important in and of itself; it’s just a small Yakiniku place that ended up being close to the cinema and you’re full from the popcorn and candy anyways.

You hum, dramatically as you pretend to be an actor for the effect. Iwaizumi’s already on his phone, checking the Google Maps route to the restaurant. You fish out your own phone and go to the cinema’s website to buy two new tickets. During the booking you see it’ll be shown in another of their screens, which only makes you smile mischievously.

When the booking’s confirmed, you start to get up with a sigh, “let’s talk about the movie at the restaurant, yeah?” you try to keep yourself neutral as to not give away your plan. Iwaizumi smiles and puts his arms through the sleeves of his light jean jacket. The summer heat is peaking, so he’d only worn it to have pockets.

You grab onto his hand and squeeze it as he gets up next to you, “thank you for coming with me, it means a lot.”

You kiss his him chaste on the lips before you start to drag him out. After you’ve both been by the bathroom, you pass by the snacks and tug at him, “can we go back in real quick? I really regretted not buying that chocolate bar when we browsed before the movie… please?”

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes at you but smiles widely and follows you, his other hand already searching his pocket for his wallet.

You grab two different chocolate bars, one you know that he likes and your own favorite. Then you go to the soda aisle and pretend to think it through deeply. Iwaizumi’s eyebrow perks up at your behavior, “what do you need soda for? The restaurant will have drinks. If you want something specific we can pick it up on the way home.”

You shake your head and tighten your lips into a frown, “yeah but look! They have this fun variant of melon soda. Don’t you want to taste?” you point to the small sign next to it, “it’s cinema exclusive.”

Iwaizumi is never really able to say no to you, but he is perplexed about the behavior you’re exhibiting. You bite your lip as you give him a pleading look, fearing your luck’s running out. The puppy eyes makes him shake his head and grab two cups to fill. You kiss his cheek with a laugh.

With renewed drinks and snacks (minus the popcorn, you can still feel the kernels stuck to your teeth) you go to sit down by one of their benches, pretending to tie your laces. Iwaizumi sees that your laces aren’t untied, but he stays quiet.

When you sit back up with a satisfied grunt, you grab your phone from your purse and find the tickets, “look babe! We’re in the middle row seats!”

He squints to look properly at what you’re showing him, his nose crinkling in a way you think is adorable. You wish you’d had a second phone to secretly record this reaction. There’s nothing like it. Warmth and blood rises to his face and makes his ears bright red as his eyes widen, mouth hanging slack.

“What did you- how… when did you?” he asks, clutching at his hair with his free hand. You laugh, proud to see him with revived excitement, “I booked them right after. We’re going to have so many snacks that dinner can be a little later… I’d rather experience that with you than that restaurant!”

Iwaizumi pulls back from you a little with a laugh as he drags his hand over his mouth, suddenly looking unsure of himself. You tilt your head to the side. He says, “but that restaurant’s really… uh… special.” You sigh and reach out for his hand, “yeah but you’re more special to me. We can always go some other time, right?”

You’re suddenly afraid he doesn’t want to watch it again, that it was just the adrenaline of excitement making him say it back when the credits where rolling. He mutters unintelligible words under his breath before he mumbles an announcement, “well now’s a good as time as any.”

He then looks at you, the blush returning as he puts the drinks and snacks down next to yours on the bench, “I uh- I need to call Shittykawa real quick.”

Your eyebrow quirks up at that, but you nod. Maybe he wants to tell him about the movie before you watch it again; this used to be their thing growing up after all.

You sit back down on the bench and take out your phone, scrolling through social media as you wait for him to make his call. You’re surprised when the sound of a FaceTime call starts ringing through the air and Iwaizumi looks annoyed. It’s not an uncommon expression on him, so you’re not sure you’re able to decipher the meaning behind it right now.

“Iwa-chan? That’s early! Doesn’t it take 10 minutes to the restaurant?” Oikawa gasps on the other end, “no way, did you get cold feet!? Iwa-chan!!” he suddenly scolds and Iwaizumi grunts out a shut up and you assume point the camera towards you because Oikawa’s voice greets you, strained and perfectly polite. It’s eerily unnatural when acted towards you and not a fan. Confused, you just wave at him and Oikawa gasps again. “In the cinema? That wasn’t the plan at all! Did you already do it?” he continues on, and you make a grimace to Iwaizumi. What the hell is he talking about?

Iwaizumi snaps at Oikawa and hurriedly moves out of earshot from you, mumbling into the phone. Then he comes back with his back straightened´up and stiff, legs seemingly wobbly under his weight. He puts his phone with Oikawa on the call up against the plant next to you, pointing it towards you. You can see Oikawa lying on his stomach on a bed, eye masks on and no light except for the screen – Argentina’s far behind Japan after all. Before you can ask what he’s doing, he’s jogged back in front of you and practically falls to his knee in front of you, wincing from the pain of landing unexpectedly hard.

You think you’re catching on.

Your breath catches in your throat as you keep your eyes locked onto the man in front of you, suddenly fearing he’ll disappear into thin air and that this is just a dream.

Iwaizumi clears his throat and opens his mouth to start talking before he catches himself and hastily goes through his pockets. He pats the chest pocket an extra time before his nimble fingers slide inside and come out with a blue velvet box. Your hands go to cover your mouth, because it’s the same color as Aoba Johsai’s turquoise.

“Why’d you choose Seijoh?” an angry-looking 15-year-old from your new class asked you during the rounds where you’re supposed to get to know each other. With a strained smile you admit sheepishly, “I loved the colors of the school’s volley uniform.”

When he sees your expression he laughs, “I planned to do this at the restaurant – but you willingly choosing to go to the cinema to watch my … uh, my thing, not once but twice. And in a day no less, well…” he clears his throat and looks away, “it kinda knocked me off my feet. I’ve known for a long time this was going to happen but… when you showed me your phone with that excited expression that I love? It’s like… well, it was like the entire universe conspired to confirm that it has to be you… you know?”

He shakes his head and apologizes for sounding so cheesy before he drags a hand through his spikes. When he looks directly into your eyes after gathering himself, you straighten your back and start nodding. He hasn’t even asked you yet but your legs are shaking with the intense feeling of your response.

He laughs when he sees you nod. The raspy and relaxed one, reserved for you. You stare at each other for a time, admiring each other’s eyes and being in this moment, this time in life carved for the two of you. Then he shakes his head and starts to open his mouth. It must take too long though, because your shared childhood menace of a best friend starts booing. You both look to him and Iwaizumi has a scolding ready on his tongue until he sees the fat tears shining on his screen, Oikawa’s nose red and wrinkled.

Iwaizumi decides to simply give him the middle finger before he turns back to you. He says your name with an embarrassed lilt to his tone and finally, at last, formally asks you;

“Will you do me the honor of marrying me?”

You laugh, unabashed and excited. In your bewilderment you shake your head in disbelief and the raw fear in Iwaizumi’s eyes makes you flinch and yell out a too loud “yes!” to make sure that you were merely reacting to the overwhelming situation in front of you.

People in the cinema are looking, silently clapping and smiling at you both but generally keeping a polite distance. You sniffle and lean towards Iwaizumi, foregoing the ring to fall into his arms. It takes him a moment to process before his arms wraps around you too, pulling you into him so tightly, shaky breaths leaving him as he keeps pawing at your back, your hair, your neck. Like he can’t really believe this is happening, either. You repeat the word “yes” like a prayer, your heart thrumming at intervals you’ve never tried before.

You pull back and wipe a tear from Iwaizumi’s cheek, “you better calm down before we watch it again, huh?”

Oikawa clears his throat from the phone, “the ring, Iwa-chan! The ring!”

Iwaizumi gathers himself and rather forcefully grabs onto your hand before apologizing, letting his finger caress your knuckles in apology. You let him, and he fumbles to get the ring out. It’s a simple one, so very like him. Oikawa chimes in with your exact thought, “he was so panicky at the jeweler! You should’ve seen him!”

You wish you had. Flustered Iwaizumi is your favorite flavor, but seeing him with shaky fingers fitting the ring onto your finger, warms you more than anything else.

You perk up, “is your war finished?” you ask and Iwaizumi’s eyebrow rise for a second before he hears the reference to the movie you just watched and beams, eyes glowing with an excitement you didn’t think could be topped moments before. He leans forward and says yes before he kisses you.

Oikawa cheers and you hurry to pick up his phone and show Oikawa the ring in detail, “you could’ve warned me!” you scold him and he shrugs, “eh, I honestly thought you already knew. And don’t worry, I took plenty of screenshots for your families and friends. There’s even a pretty romantic shot of you hurling yourself into his arms.”

You gasp in feigned insult, “I did not hurl myself!”

Iwaizumi stands before you with his hands in his pockets, a bright smile, “you did kinda hurl yourself.”

“Shut up! Both of you! I’m not taking you into the movie with me! I’m canceling your ticket!”

Iwaizumi pretends to panic but leans down to rest his forehead against you, “you can hurl yourself at me for the rest of my life, I don’t mind. Don’t listen to Shittykawa.”

You shake your head at your two friends.

No, your friend and your fiance. It feels surreal. You wonder how long it’ll take you to get used to. You can’t wait to spend the time finding out.

[blkkizzat]

No cause lowkey i need more head cannons of otaku!gojo cause i see he’s the type to used to have alot of hentai/porn in he’s phone but now its prolly filled with just him and oc doing kinky shit also, 100% HE WOULD MAKE HER HES WALLPAPER like a kinky pic too

fdiuhvsdfh omg nonny! he totally would. (but bunny isn't an oc. supposed to be bimbo!reader, i just pet named her so i wouldn't have to keep using y/n, lol because i literally read it in my head as 'your name' so it kinda throws off my writing flow i noticed.)

LMFAO i literally imagine us glancing down at his phone and it's just the upper part of our body bound and gagged in shibari, half passed out after cumming with a blissed out look. we're gonna kill em one day istg! cause how long did this man have this as a wallpaper!? who's seen this!? why are you showing your parents your improved shibari knot tie skills!? what kinda family did we just walk into... (but no, i imagine gojo's parents being very sex positive, knowing their son was a lil freak early on and so when they gave him 'the talk' teaching him although its okay to like what you like but you still need to establish boundaries, have respect and take responsibility for your partner's enjoyment and safety. he just unfortunately from that has zero shame and is not embarrassed to be like 'hey, look mom and dad im doing a good job! im tying safe knots!!' chdfsjhvsjkdfhss fucking freak istg lololol)

LOL imma make an m.list soon so you all can see all the stories/drabbles I have planned for him. (although i feel its gonna make the mob knock down my door more khdkfjhdkfjsh)

[8aji]

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.”

© 2023 SHINACHIRO ; Do not repost my work. Do not recommend my work outside of tumblr. Do not translate my work. affiliated with @tokyometronetwork

[fabbyf1]

happy lestappen-ring day, besties.

except... i'm not writing lestappen, i'm writing loscar lmfao.

just kate things.

this was supposed to be a drabble. then it was supposed to just be a quick pwp. now it's 5k of angsty loscar with absolutely no porn yet. i have no idea what this fic is because it's writing itself. honestly, i might be able to finish the fic tonight? once i get to the porn, it'll zoom by lmfaoooooo.

anyway, i hope everyone has a great weekend.

austria is always good to us.

angsty loscar under the cut! see you soon, besties.

“As soon as the announcement was made, you dropped me.” Just like Williams did. 

Logan looked away from him as soon as he said it, not wanting to see whatever might come across his face. Oscar was pretty good at hiding his emotions, so his expression probably showed nothing, but on the off chance he was hurt by his words, Logan didn’t want to see it. 

He looked over at the DJ booth and then at the exit. 

He could probably just leave. 

Nobody would stop him. 

“Logan,” Oscar said, but Logan still didn’t want to look at him. He should have never started this conversation, especially not here in an overly-crowded, too-loud club where neither of them could properly hear each other. Logan really should have just stayed home in Florida. “Logan.” 

“What?” Logan said, looking toward the end of the bar now. Anything to avoid Oscar’s eyes. 

“Logan.”

“Fucking what, Oscar?” Logan snapped, finally looking up at Oscar’s eyes. He was breathing heavily with anger, his heart pounding deep in his chest. But Oscar’s expression was impossible to read, his face showing no emotion. He wasn’t angry, he wasn’t upset. It was infuriating. 

One second turned into two and then into three. 

He still wasn’t saying anything.

Logan was going to throw up. 

And then, as if it was the easiest thing in the world, Oscar said, “I missed you.” 

“What the fuck,” Logan squeaked, his heart twisting miserably in his chest. “Fuck you. Don’t say that.” 

“Why not?” 

“Because.” 

“Because why?” Oscar asked seriously. 

“Because I’m—” Logan said, his words still squeaky and weird. He flashed his eyes to the people around him, but nobody was paying attention to them. It was loud in the club, and everybody was drinking, and nobody cared that Logan was about to start crying in the middle of the club. “Because I’m being a dick to you.” 

“So?” Oscar said, a hint of a smile forming. 

Logan whimpered. “So... be a dick back to me.” 

“Yeah, nah, I’m good on that one, mate,” Oscar said, bringing his beer to his mouth and taking a sip.

[alphabetatoes]

under the mistletoe (n. kento x reader)

summary: you're back in town for winter break, and gojo has a plan to get you with your crush: nanami kento. cue operation: under the misletoe + let the shenanigans begin. gen. info: college au, fluff, this could very well count as a crack fic, mdni please and thank u, no beta we post like men!!1!1! c.w.: slight suggestive content toward the middle of the fic, drinking games, alcohol, dub con*, some language, everyone involved is 21+, satoru gojo is a menace to society, mutual pining, maybe possibly ever so slightly ooc, why did i make it sort of angsty at the end lmfao w.c.: 2.8k (oops - this was supposed to be a drabble) *given that alcohol consumption is a part of a fic involving intimacy (even if its kissing), im playing it safe and tagging this as well.

“Did you see who’s back home for the holidays?” Gojo practically catapults himself through the door of Shoko’s apartment, eager to break the news of your arrival back home. Geto’s eyes widened slightly in excitement, shifting up from his slouched position on the couch. “Kento’s gonna be elated. He hasn’t stopped talking about her since she left.” Nanami had come to confide in the group, Gojo especially, about his qualms with your relationship. He felt like everything was one step forward, two steps back. And the worst part? It was no one’s fault but his own. Every time he saw you, he was rendered speechless. In awe that a person like you could allow themself in his presence. Utterly and unabashedly infatuated. However, when all the words he could seem to muster to you were short and curt, it made getting to know you better just a little difficult. But, of course, you were well unaware of this. “Is he actually going to talk to her?” Shoko questions, “Or is he just gonna do that brooding thing where he looks longingly from the corner of a room?” Utahime nods in agreement, but Gojo gives a smirk. “I have the perfect plan.” Gojo fills the group in on the grandiose idea he’s come up with to get the two of you to talk to each other, aptly named ‘Operation: Under the Mistletoe’. Everyone seemed to be on the same page for the plan, but Utahime raised a skeptical brow. “Just know Satoru, if this all goes to shit I’m kicking your ass.”

You feel the vibration of your phone in your back pocket, notifying you of a new text message.

gojo: holiday party at mine tmrrw night. be there or be ⃞ ↳ 🫡🫡 yessir

Once you sent your response, you pondered on how the night would go. Would Nanami be there? Would you actually get to say more than three words to him before getting too nervous and darting away? At this point, you were certain he’d pay you no mind. One too many awkward interactions to warrant anything other than a polite acknowledgement that the two of you were in the same room at the same time. Simple semantics.

You triple checked your location to make sure you didn’t accidentally drive into a gaudy Christmas postcard. The Gojo estate was breathtaking, adorned top to bottom in ribbons, lights, and greenery. Off to the left side of the house, there was a winding garden path leading to the guest house, which doubled as Satoru’s residence when he visited home for the holidays. You parked your car and made your way up to the guest house. Gojo was waiting on the porch for you, giddy at your arrival.

“You’re here!” He jogs over to you, holding out his arm so he could escort  you in.

“Sure am. Hope I’m not too late?” The simple banter was something you’d grown to miss while away at school. You were all too ready to fall back into the routine of being back home.

“Never.” Gojo opens the door for you, and you make your way into the house. It was just as ornately decorated as the main house, with holiday decor at every corner. Shoko and Utahime come up to greet you, giving you a hug and divulging how much they missed you. Geto joins Gojo, wrapping his arm around the white haired boys waist, and greets you as well.

Nanami was propped up against the doorframe leading from the living room to the kitchen. It was surprising how a man so big was hell bent on making himself look small. You give him a small wave, and he nods quickly in acknowledgement.

After some small talk with the group, Gojo calls the party to order. “I mean, now that everyone’s here, we can start the game.”

“What game?” You and Nanami questioned the white haired boy in unison, causing a light blush to brush against your cheeks. 

“It’s called ‘Cootie Shot’. You see the mistletoe around the house?” Gojo motions at various nooks and crannies adorned with the plant around the guest house. “If you and your partner are caught under it by a different team, you gotta kiss. Otherwise, for immunity, you have to take a shot of your choice. Cootie, shot. Cootie shot!” Gojo himself would be sticking to juice for the rest of the night after having his first shot. There were a handful of nights out drinking that were memorable to say the least. “Suguru and I are together, obviously. Shoko and Utahime are partners, and, last but certainly not least, you and Kento.”

You take the shot, feeling the gentle burn of the liquor as it goes down. 

“Let the games begin!”

It took all of 20 minutes to find yourself under a bushel of mistletoe with Nanami. Ever the eager one, Gojo was first  to notice.  You look up at Nanami, giving him a nod. He’s tall enough to where you’re standing on your tiptoes to lean into the kiss. A simple peck is what he gives you. His arm rested against your waist, keeping the two of you steady. But maybe he gave you a small smirk once you pulled away, just for the two of you. And you could taste the liquor lingering on his lips from the first shot of the night.

The game continued on throughout the night, with Gojo and Geto in the lead. They’d managed to catch Shoko and Utahime five times already, but neither seemed to mind the shot penalty. You and Nanami caught the former pair a couple times. Gojo opted to stick to the “cootie” part of the game after the first shot though, partially under the advice  of  his partner but also to make sure he didn’t make a complete ass of himself. The night was still young, and there was still plenty that could happen.

Gojo put on a holiday mix of music he claimed to have ‘curated perfectly’ and to set the atmosphere for the night. As if on cue, you could hear the piano chords of an all too popular hit from the 80’s. “What’s a party without a power ballad?” Shoko and Utahime immediately jumped in and began acting out the lyrics with him. It was a performance worthy of awards. You might have even shed a tear if you didn’t look over at Kento actively trying not to laugh at the sheer intensity of the show. And his laughter was contagious, with you yourself falling victim to it. Once everyone was able to collect themselves, you all decided to decompress for a moment. Soft holiday music began to fill the room as the six of you indulged in some much needed catch-up. Feeling the pull of the music, you walk over to Nanami and place your hand out, offering him to dance. He takes it with a smile, letting his hands rest on your waist. Yours found a spot comfortably around his neck. Swaying to the beat of the music, you take note of his cologne. It’s strong but not too overbearing, smelling like spice and wood. It was perfectly Kento.

“You two sure you don’t want to call it a night early? Catch up? Catch up?” Gojo’s eyebrows nearly jump off his face with the velocity he’s raising them up and down. Your brief moment of splendor was interrupted by a rather overjoyed Satoru.

Utahime gives Geto a look of dissatisfaction. “Can’t you put him on a leash or something?” 

“I would say yes, but, knowing him, he’d probably like it.” Geto remorses, rubbing the back of his scolded lover to soothe him.

 “I could always tranquilize him.” Shoko deadpans. Despite her drunken stupor, it wasn’t a half bad idea.

“Cootie shot.” Shoko catches you in the middle of a conversation with Nanami. It takes you a second to register what she’s talking about, but the interruption gives you an idea.

“I mean, I was starting to get thirsty anyways.”

“Me too.” You took his hand and led him to the kitchen, taking note of just how big it was compared to yours. And warm. While your hands were typically frigid, Nanami’s provide solace. 

You settle yourself on the kitchen island, letting your feet dangle off the edge. Nanami plays bartender, grabbing two shot glasses from the cupboard and setting them next to you on the island. “Pick your poison.” You ponder momentarily, but select a tried and true. “Shot of vodka.” He pours the shots and hands you one, placing his glass in the air. Your glass joins his as you toast to being caught, once again, under the mistletoe. “Cheers.” Once the subtle burn of the shot wore off, you took initiative to ask a question that had been plaguing your mind ever since you arrived. “So what made you decide to come tonight? I thought you didn’t do parties.” Nanami’s face turns serious for a moment, retreating from the relaxed demeanor he had come into during the night. “I was told you’d be here.” You’d blame the everpresent blush on your face from the liquor, but it was all too obvious what the real cause was.

“Do you want to go somewhere else? Be able to actually talk away from all…” You motion to the party and its attendees, “-this?” He takes you up on your offer, helping you get down from the counter so you could find a place more secluded. There’s a small guest room at the end of the hall connecting to the living room, near enough to not draw too much attention during your absence. 

Once you shut the door, you join him on the bed. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since you left, and I missed you… and I had no fucking clue what to do about it.” He starts to ramble as you take his hands in yours, hoping to soothe his racing thoughts. You look him in the eyes, let him have your full attention. “What can I do for you now?”

“I want you so fucking badly.” And you can see it in his eyes. Everything about you has him under a trance.

“So show me.”

He held you close, but with care, like you were the most delicate thing to exist. Scared that you’d shatter into a million shiny pieces if he were too rough. And much like the first kiss, this one was soft. You could feel his heart going a million miles per hour when you rested your hands on his chest. He was holding back, scared to ruin what was going so perfectly. You deepen the kiss, moving your hands up to play with his shirt collar. Emboldened by your advances, he hooks his fingers in your belt loops to bring you as close to him as possible. He moves a hand to run through your hair, pulling gently. You give a sigh of approval into his mouth and it drives him wild.

A knock on the door breaks the two of you apart. You mouth a simple “Sorry” as Kento gets up to investigate.

‘Can I get you kids anything? Some water or a snack maybe?” Satoru calls from the other side of the door. Nanami gets up and straightens himself, throwing you an apologetic look. He opens the door and leans on the frame, daring Satoru to comment. But Gojo isn’t stupid, taking note of the new wrinkles on Nanami’s shirt collar and the disheveled state of your hair. He throws Kento a cheeky smile. “Glad to know the two of you are having fun.” Kento rolls his eyes and shuts the door. He pulls you up off the bed and into his embrace, resting his head in the space between your shoulder and neck. He whispers in your ear, soft enough so the man on the other side of the door can’t decipher. “We’d better get back out there. God knows what rumors Satoru will be starting if we stay here any longer.”

The night was winding down, and you all found yourselves gathered around the fire pit on the patio. You sat on one of Nanami’s legs, and settled into him. Nanami wrapped one arm around your waist to keep you anchored to him. HIs other arm rested plush on one of your thighs, kneading the flesh softly. The glow of the fire illuminated your surroundings, and you could just barely make out a single bushel of mistletoe tied up near one of the patio banisters. You nudged Kento, raising your brows as you looked up at the plant of topic. 

Nanami picked up on your cue and gently moved the hand on your thigh up to cup your cheek. 

But something felt different about it this time. Not that the others were unwanted, but there was less pressure with the kiss. An organic expression, something just for the two of you. Sickly sweet, yet everything that dreams were made of.

“Not even prompted this time.” Gojo elbows Geto, drawing his attention to the pair of you. “Guess Operation: Under the Mistletoe worked!” Geto just crosses his arms and smirks, ready to watch the mini-circus about to happen from his revelation.

“Satoru, this-“, Utahime motions at his general Gojo-ness, “is precisely why we don’t let you drink. One shot and you’re done for.”

“I can still tranquilize him.. just saying.” You might just have to take Shoko up on her offer at this point. 

And as Gojo divulges into the inner workings of the ‘operation’, you can’t help but laugh to yourself. It seemed everyone was privy to the fact that you and Kento liked each other except the two people involved. You hope Nanami can see the humor in the situation. But in all honesty, he’s just relieved that you reciprocate feelings.

As the night drew to a close, you prepared yourself to make a quiet exit. Satoru and Suguru were entangled in each other and passed out on the living room couch, and Shoko was helping Utahime nurse a bottle of electrolyte solution in the kitchen.  You found yourself curled up into Nanami on one of the recliners, resting your head against his chest. He played with your hair, occasionally tucking the pieces that would fall in your eyes behind your ear. If you didn’t get up now, you’d probably never leave. You tap Kento’s leg to cue your departure, and he wraps his arms around your waist to pull you back into him. “Stay here?” There was a slight whine in his voice, not wanting to have to give you up yet. But it was nearing dawn, and you were ready to recline in the comfort of your own bed. Let sober thoughts prevail tomorrow. “At least let me walk you home.” You only lived a couple blocks away, but decided to take him up on his offer to escort you home. It was still dark outside after all. 

Shoko sends the two of you off with a simple salute, and motions for you to text her once you get home safely.

Snow coats the street, freshly fallen and devoid of impurities. Your footprints are the first to break the layer of snow. The walk home is quiet for a bit, only accompanied by the sound of snow breaking below your feet. Kento helps keep you steady as you wane off the last bit of a buzz you had worked up during the night. He’s also the first to break the silence. “I had a lot of fun tonight.” His voice is soft, speaking out of earnest. It was nice to see him be so organic with you, the awkwardness at the beginning of the night a mere glimpse of the past. ”Yeah, we should do it again.” You give him a quick smile and squeeze his hand. Gojo had suggested a New Year’s Eve party earlier in the night  (no covert mission involved this time), so there was ample opportunity to get to see him again. Get to be with him. 

The rest of the walk home returned to quiet. He stops in the middle of the sidewalk in front of your place and turns to you, making sure he has your full attention. “I really did miss  you, you know.” The cold winter air only aids in the blush tinting your cheeks and the tint of your ears. You give him a hug and a kiss on the cheek, but he holds on to you for a bit. His broad frame engulfs you into his chest, not quite ready to let you go. But all good things must come to an end, and you see him off on your porch.

“I’ll see you on New Year’s Eve, Kento.”

“I’ll be waiting for you.”

Once you got inside your house, you nearly passed out on the couch, drained from the events of the night. You sent Shoko a quick text to let her know you’d made it home safe, and let yourself fall asleep.

a.n.: this was supposed to be out on christmas (oops). also me struggling not to write 'y'all' instead of you/you all- i am born and raised in texas, it's like breaking muscle memory for me ;-; also i needed this OUT of my drafts, could NOT keep looking at it

[dwaekkicidal]

apologies for all the spam that has happened/will happen today!! im super hyper and i have a lot of energy so im:

[1] working on easing txt into my blog,

[2] catching up on kinktober, AND

catching up on super old asks lol (they will be in drafts until like tomorrow or the day after)

i also just noticed [3] how many notes chris' kinktober got???? so i wanted to comment about that LMAO

this will just be a mash of random crap i wanted to say but i rather not spam so i wont make separate posts for it

1. the most "important" (not really important) thing is the txt stuff!!

im going to start posting txt stuff now!

i will be writing for them soon enough! (maybe by the end of next week i should have 1-2 drabbles posted per member? ...maybe) im still creating/editing the new masterlist and all that before i post what i have written for them :3

that being said, i have some reposted txt fics that im going to post! ill post like 6/7 today to get the tags preset, so apologies if u have my notifs on! and the other ones are queued to be posted throughout the week :3

^they will still be tagged under "#sian's reposts <3" but theres gonna be 6 new repost tags that im gonna use for them!

2. i should be caught up on kinktober by/before wednesday! im aiming for tomorrow if im being honest but i will not promise it if i'm not 100% sure i can do it lol

that being said! i also changed the very end of kinktober a little bit. there were supposed to be 2 mxm posts on the same day but i realized that i was stupid and i physically cant link 2 things at the same time, and changing the post would drive my ocd nuts, so!! im making the ChangSeung post a whole separate thing!

also somebody had asked a few months ago to add Changbin x Seungmin to my masterlist & i never got to it, and i just so happened to plan a post for them for kinktober so i will just post that stuff separately instead!

3. why the fuck did chris' kinktober post get 3k notes? LOL

when i tell you guys i HATED that post.. to the point where i was debating a few hours before i was supposed to post it, if i should scrap it or not and call off kinktober...

its so funny to me that you guys loved it, and its my first ever post to hit 3k notes LMFAO so thank you <3

also felix's got past 1k i believe? u guys r demons i love u

if you made it this far, thank you for coming to my yap sesh

but thats all!! love you guys, make sure youre drinking water <3

[historicalvandal]

Fandoms and requests! ✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

Said I'd make a post about this, so I can't slack off rn and not do it- plus my blood is sufficiently boiled at COD so I need something to let off steam lmaooo-

⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅ ୨ ♱ ୧ ⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅ This is going to be a pinned post about fandoms I'll write about/characters I suppose! Although you can always request any character! Fandoms ; PoTA/KoTPoTA, RDR2, Kingdom of Heaven, ATLA, Avatar (blue ppl) and MW2/3. Not many fandoms but I don't want to be completely swamped lmfao- Characters I'll more then likely write for ; Noa, Soona, Anaya, Proximus Caesar, Caesar, Rocket, Winter, Koba, Blue eyes, Ash, Bad ape (platonic), Maurice (platonic), Arthur, Dutch, Sean, Hosea, Lenny, Micah, Sadie, John, Kieran, Charles, Eagle Flies, Baldwin, Tiberius, Salahuddin, Aang, Sokka, Zuko, Toph, Katara, Ozai, Azula, Ty Lee, Mai, Hakoda, Neytiri, Jake, Kiri, Ao'Nung, Neteyam, Lo'ak, Spider, Quaritch, Tonowari, Tsi'reya, Ronal, Tuk (platonic), Lyle, Simon, ⍰⍰⍰⍰⍰⍰, Price, Gaz, Valeria, Rudy, Alejandro, Graves, Nikto, Makarov, Nolan, Horangi, Farah, Alex, Gromsko. (No I will not write for Konig, I know that's mad but I just don't enjoy his character that much, no hate to the Konig lovers though! He's a great character he just isn't a fave for me :PP)

⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅ ୨ ♱ ୧ ⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅ Please feel free to send me in any asks, bring me stuff about headcanons, drabbles just anything you'd like to share! My asks are always open :]

[mochees]

— two tortured souls

dazai osamu x chuuya nakahara | wc: 3k | crossposted to ao3

TAGS: drabble, angst, depression, post-corruption ability use, soft/comfort, generally low mental health mentions, chuuya has a BATH, use of petnames for teasing.

A/N: hihi!!! long time no write!!! remember when i dropped the most depraved, disgusting, self indulgent eremin fic ever and then dropped off the face of the earth with empty promises? me neither, moving on! anyway. been wanting to get back into writing lately but yknow..... the undergrad life........ but i find myself with too much time now that the semester is over so have a drabble thing i wrote a year ago and then just never posted lmfao. it was supposed to be longer but i just couldn't get the ending right so i left it kind of open i guess? anyway skk is real to me

Willingly sacrificing your autonomy is so much more than physically exhausting. Corruption leaves Chuuya feeling truly empty and insignificant. It makes him feel as though he really is just a vessel for something else. An empty, fleshy shell that doesn’t even belong to him. Unlike the physical exhaustion, however, the feeling lingers. It hangs around like a morning fog, obscuring everything as far as he can see. It’s disorienting and restrictive. Most of all, it’s loud. The voices that dwell in the fog are so loud, much louder than anything Chuuya has ever heard, and they echo. They echo, bouncing off of each other and amplifying every emotion, every word, every moment of despair.

Chuuya can’t remember how many days have passed since he used corruption. At least two, maybe even three. The fog is so thick that days eventually just blur together, and time turns into molasses. Resigning himself to a night or two in darkness, he tucks his knees against his chest and covers his ears with his arms, attempting to block out as much of the noise as possible. 

But you can’t silence your own guilt. 

It was pitch black in the house by the time Dazai arrived, which was unusual, but he figured that Chuuya was either tucked in and fast asleep already or strewn across some surface with a movie.

“Chuuya ~,” he sang. “I’m back ~!” Concern grew on Dazai’s face when the routine groan of usually completely false annoyance didn’t sound. He counted all the hats in the closet as he tucked his own clothing away and muttered to no one in particular, “he’s definitely here…”

The detective took a few steps before he sounded again, “Chuuya? Where are you?” The absence of an answer worried him further. No matter how tired, angry, or drunk Chuuya was, he always made a point of greeting his partner as unenthusiastically as he could.

Dazai made his way through the house, checking a few rooms before he found Chuuya. Scrunched up in the far corner of the bedroom, his faint form was desperately trying to be swallowed by darkness. Even for someone who consistently allowed themselves to actually be swallowed by the darkness, seeing Chuuya in such distress and anguish was deeply unsettling for Dazai. Chuuya always surrounded himself with people, and for him to look so alone–

Dazai shook off his thoughts and made his way over to the man, crouching low a few feet away.

“…uuya? Chuuya?” When he didn’t respond, Dazai raised his volume a fraction.

“Are you alright?” Chuuya jumped a little, unaware that someone had crossed into his world of anguish.

Dazai chuckled. He couldn’t help but find it a little humourous; it’s not often he was able to get the jump on him.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to–”

“Dazai?” Chuuya’s voice was hoarse and distant, and Dazai immediately steeled himself.

“Are you– what happened?”

The executive didn’t answer. He just stared—not through Dazai or at anything; he just looked ahead with no purpose. Chuuya could hear something but could not decipher the sounds for the life of him. He only realized they were words when he noticed Dazai’s mouth moving.

There was nothing about Chuuya's demeanour that told Dazai he was conscious. But he also wasn't unconscious. God knows Dazai is all too familiar with Chuuya's unconscious mind, and this wasn't it. There was no light in his eyes, but they weren't lifeless. It was as if Chuuya had trapped himself in his own body, caught between two states of being. He didn't know if Chuuya could even process what he was saying in this state, but he also didn't want to stop. Perhaps Dazai believed in a silly idea that the sound waves might reach him, that they would guide him through whatever limbo he was in. 

Once he finished, Dazai rose from his place on the floor and made his way to the bedroom door. Chuuya could see him leaving, but he couldn’t hear his footsteps. All he could focus on was the voices getting louder again, and the second that Dazai was out that door they started to echo again. Unwilling to fight them, Chuuya lowered his head back down and let the pressure build in his chest and ache his muscles.

Physically, the pain was no different from a hard day's work, but emotionally, it was excruciating. Every breath was hell. Each inhale wound a cord up tightly, but breathing out did nothing to release it. All of the fibres in Chuuya's body felt like they would snap and finally grant him a moment's release, maybe even exhaust him enough to sleep, but they didn't. Instead, they grew tighter and tighter, digging into every strand until it inevitably cut him into a million little pieces.

When Dazai returned, he was greeted with a sight more devastating than before. Tension was emanating from Chuuya like heat from a grill, and he looked positively hopeless.

“Chuuya,” Dazai’s voice was uncharacteristically soft—unfitting, really—but he hoped it might help Chuuya focus. “Will you come with me?” He waited a few moments, giving the redhead extra time to process.

To Chuuya, the sounds outside his head would die before they could fully reach him. The echo was good at drowning everything out like that. 

But luckily, Dazai always did have a talent for evading death.

“You don’t have to do anything, I promise. I’ll–” He hesitated. How can you promise to take care of someone else when you’ve never been able to care for yourself?

“–I’ll help you. Please, Chuuya. If you stay here, it’s not going to get any better.”

Chuuya Nakahara knows that he is right. Of anyone, Osamu Dazai would know, wouldn’t he? It takes him a little while, but with a few shaky breaths and silent tears, he lifts his head and places his hand in the one outstretched before him. This won't fix him, but he has to admit that when Dazai rubs his thumb along his skin, it releases some of the tension in his shoulders. Dazai leans forward and slowly reaches for Chuuya’s other hand, stiff from how tight he was grasping onto his other arm.

“Okay, up we go.” Wasting no time to get Chuuya out of the isolation he'd built for himself, Dazai does his best to support as much of his weight as he can while holding his hands. He doesn’t know how long Chuuya had been sitting there, but he reckons his legs have probably gone numb. As if on cue, Chuuya almost falls right back down before Dazai has a hand on his waist.

“Careful.”

Chuuya's eyes are red and puffy, and his agony has left trails down his cheeks. Chuuya has always been beautiful to Dazai, stealing heartfelt glances when the former isn't looking. But seeing him like this is, in a way, even more breathtaking to Dazai. It means that after all these years of being so sick of each other's mere existence that Chuuya, his rival, his partner, trusts Dazai enough to shatter before him completely. Bringing Chuuya's hand up to his mouth, he lets his lips linger for a few moments as they wait for Chuuya's legs to regain feeling.

Once Chuuya is stable, he lets go of the shorter man’s waist and leads him with one hand, still petting his thumb across the freezing expanse of his hand.

Chuuya doesn’t know what his partner has been doing, or maybe he does. He can’t remember right now; he doesn’t want to. Wherever Dazai is taking him, it takes no longer than twenty seconds, but he feels like a stranger in his own home, wading through the thickest pool of molasses. He can see a straight hallway ahead of him, but it seems like an endless maze of twists and turns. One foot in front of the other, he tries to tell himself, but it’s hard to tell your feet what to do when you feel like a stranger in your own body to. He can feel his face growing wetter as they arrive at their destination. However, in a brief moment of relief, he realizes that they're not tears but steam.

For the time that he had disappeared past the threshold, Dazai had run Chuuya a hot bath and made him something simple to eat. Knowing all too well what feeling this way does to one’s motivation and desire. But honestly, the last thing Chuuya wants to do right now is to bathe. It’s far too much work, and he’d rather be back in the dark in the corner or under a blanket. Even if it meant he’d be alone with his stupid fucking thoughts.

“I know it seems like a chore, but it will help, Chuuya.” Dazai’s familiarity with the muddied waters of one’s own psyche was currently vastly irritating. Chuuya knows that he’s right. He does, but even then, it’s still too much for him to handle right now.

Dazai takes Chuuya’s other hand back in his own. “Do you want me to stay?”

“I– I don’t know.” His voice sounded better to Dazai, the steam probably settling in his throat.

“It’s okay not to know, but I can’t stay here with you if you don’t know.”

Chuuya snaps his head a little at that, shooting his partner an exhausted expression. Dazai gives a slight smile at the motion and gives the others' hands, still in his own, a reassuring squeeze. Perhaps it’s a little morally wrong given the circumstances, but he thinks that he could have a little, tiny bit of fun with this.

“Would you like my help?” He asks again, and Chuuya nods his head before practically collapsing into his arms.

Oh, it is absolutely morally wrong, but he can’t help himself, so he softly teases the man. “Such a gentleman! Flirting with me before we spend the night in each other's company!”

That earns a tired groan from Chuuya who is not willing to put up with Dazai’s usual jeering, but also not unexpected of the brunette to choose the completely wrong time to make his jokes.

“I’m sorry, my darling.” He uses the pet name, knowing he’ll be able to get away with it tonight since Chuuya is too tired to fight him. He runs his fingers through red strands, waiting for Chuuya’s breathing to even out in his hold before moving his hands down to the hem of his shirt. Deft fingers slip underneath and rub small circles into the skin there.

“Is this okay?” He whispers, pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

Upon receiving a satisfied hum of approval, he lifts Chuuya’s shirt over his head and drops it onto the counter. Staying out of your head is hard when you’re alone. Knowing Chuuya has already surmised his partners' intentions of distracting him, gently, Dazai pulls him back into his chest and runs his nails down his back. Chuuya’s skin was already freezing before, so he can’t tell if his goosebumps are from chills, or from him. He hopes it’s the latter. After a few seconds, his movements shift into steady pressure trying to work out the tension that Chuuya had cultivated. When he feels Chuuya fall further into him, Dazai is pleased with his work already.

“Chuuya,” he presses harder when he finds a particularly knotty spot at the base of Chuuya’s neck. “Unless you want to get in with your pants on, you’ll have to take them off.”

This earns Dazai a particularly unimpressed look when Chuuya pushes off his chest.

“What?”

Chuuya continues to stare.

“Did you want me to do it for you?”

Well, Chuuya supposes that Dazai can’t help the fact that he is an idiot. After all, he did promise to help. He rolls his eyes and lets out a particularly rumbly sigh, and drops his pants himself, kicking them to the side.

“So forward of you~” teases Dazai.

Turning towards the tub, Chuuya grumbles. “I hate you.”

Dazai grins again. Even if he still feels worse than shit, he’s glad to see Chuuya with a little bit of his fire again. “I know you do. Here, let me help.”

Holding onto Chuuya’s forearm, Dazai helps him settle into the bath. Chuuya resumes his form from earlier in the night, but much more open. His arms are propped on top of his knees, hands hanging down, and fingers just dipping into the water. Dropping his head in between his shoulders as the heat surrounds his aching body, blue eyes fall shut. Then, he releases a deep breath he didn’t even realize he was holding in. Dazai has his arm across the edge of the tub, resting his head with eyes full of admiration. With Chuuya completely bare in front of him, he traces the flow of his body with his eyes. Stopping often to archive all the little things he loves. Soft red hair that he can't help but play with. Shoulders that he's cried on. The gentleness of his otherwise blood-soaked hands. Even the scars littered across his skin, Dazai loves. They look much better on Chuuya than on him. He reaches out and just barely grazes the sides of Chuuya’s fingers above the water.

“What are you so happy about?”

Dazai hums in response, and Chuuya blows a ripple on the water. They spend a while like this—still, just next to each other, the only sound being an occasional jittery breath.

Dazai interrupts the silence by dipping his fingers into the water and letting the droplets roll off onto Chuuya’s shoulder. 

“Feeling better?”

Chuuya wiggles his fingers in the water, trying to find an answer below the surface.  

“C’mere, and turn around.”

Chuuya turns his head, resting it along his arm and staring the man down.Dazai can read it in his eyes: For what. 

“You’re still tense. So come here.” He presses his finger on the edge of the tub. “I didn’t get to finish getting all the knots out.”

Dazai is not as good at hiding his intentions from Chuuya as he thinks he can be. “You just want to play with my hair.” 

Dazai knows this. He feigns being insulted anyway, throwing his hands into the air. “And so what if I do? Is that a crime? Is it wrong of me to want t–”

“You’re real insufferable, y’know.” Chuuya turns his back to the side of the bathtub.

Dazai smiles sweetly. He likes that so much of their relationship can be left unsaid. Sure, sometimes it probably shouldn’t be unsaid, but it’s fine. Dazai is happy. “It’s why we work so well together.” 

He gets to work on dissipating the rest of the fear and anger in Chuuya’s bones, occasionally and very intentionally, getting sidetracked and twirling a lock of hair around his fingers. At the mercy of Dazai's frighteningly deft hands, a particular spot just above Chuuya's shoulder blade earns Dazai a groan—one he oh so graciously accepts. Working lithe fingers around it, Chuuya leans his head back onto Dazai as the little ball of stress is pulled apart, strand by strand. 

Chuuya's neck is deliciously bared, and Dazai is an opportunistic man. He trails kisses up to just below red lashes, slow and endearing. He continues massaging throughout, placing a final one on fluttering eyes before dragging his lips back down to Chuuya’s ear. 

“The water’s getting cool, my love. You should really get out soon.” Dazai is very pleased with himself when Chuuya shudders.   (He is an opportunistic man, after all, and it truly is such a wonderful opportunity to be the most annoying man on the planet.) He lets his mouth fall down to Chuuya’s shoulder, resting for a moment and trying very hard to hold back the biggest, dopiest grin. Of course, Chuuya can tell. He can sense the smallest shifts in Dazai's behaviour. Although, this time he could tell by just feeling Dazai's facial muscles straining against his shoulder. But Dazai doesn't need to know that. 

 "...Shut up. Get me a towel." Chuuya does a very bad job of hiding the blush on his cheeks. 

Dazai just smiles at his partner, he can't see, but it's a smile full of fondness. One with admiration, love, and as much as he'd rather die than admit it, respect too. Letting someone see you have a complete breakdown, watching as the industrial strength glue you've used to keep yourself from falling apart rapidly starts to degrade, and still trusting that they won't think any differently of or diminish you, takes so much courage. It takes so much trust to rely on someone, even someone you love, to help you set the pieces back together. 

That's something Dazai has never been able to do. He can't let go of that vulnerability, and he cannot have it used against him. Of course, deep down, Dazai knows that Chuuya would never do that to him, but it's hard to turn off those thoughts. It's hard to think of yourself as worth loving and caring for when you have never loved or cared for yourself. 

"Hey, are you okay?" The smile on Dazai's face is forlorn. Realizing that Chuuya is reading him like a book Dazai masterfully shifts his expression, changing the atmosphere around him. This is not about him, and he shouldn't be making it so. 

"I'm just peachy, Chibi!” Chuuya doesn't press any further.

Dazai wraps the towel around him, pulling at the ends to bring his partner closer. Taking a second to look over Chuuya, he notes that his eyes are no longer red and puffy, and his skin has a sheen from the moisture in the air. He truly is the most breathtaking person Dazai has ever had the displeasure of meeting. 

With Chuuya at his chest, he leans down and kisses the man. It's needy, in a way. Soft and tender, but full of so much want, so much need. Like if he couldn't be close to Chuuya anymore, he would simply explode. Dazai doesn't know how to express it though. How he would articulate these thoughts in a way that feels right, so he settles for something simple. Maybe it's not as meaningful, but he trusts that Chuuya understands anyway.