#i'm just. tired. and i wish i could forget what happened today | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

fyorina · 4 days

Text

ᡣ𐭩 TO SOMEONE FROM A WARM CLIMATE

FEATURING: beast dazai osamu

SUMMARY: you're with him. you're actually with him. everything all of the other dazais have got to experience, he now can too. in his exhilaration, he almost forgets about the threats lurking on the horizon. until you slap him in the face with it, that is. {wordcount: 18k; fem!reader; romance & tragedy}

AUTHOR'S NOTES: PART THREEEEEEE i had a particularly terrible day today guys hahahh literally everything that could go wrong went wrong </3 i'm very tired, but i hope you guys enjoy this installment. for all of u who read badlands, we have a very anticipated parallel scene in this one. + i added a little surprise pov at the end heheh

GENERAL WARNINGS: again, i'll just leave this warning on every chapter - dazai struggles a lot with disassociation/derealization & losing himself in the pages of the book. + we have a bit more of unhinged thought processes on dazai's end which becomes particularly apparent during one of these scenes. as always please let me know if i forgot any warnings

SEE: UNREAL UNEARTH SERIES MASTERLIST READ: BADLANDS SIDE A

You wake up from what might be the best sleep of your life to the sun peeking through the blinds of an unfamiliar bedroom.

It takes a few moments for you to regain your bearings, yawning and stretching as you sit up in the bed, trying to figure out where you are. It’s fancy, fancier than anything you’ve ever come across before. The dark sheets are soft and silky against your skin, you swear that this must be what clouds feel like. The room itself is a bit odd—large but empty, there’s a dresser on the far wall and a nightstand next to the bed, but there are no trinkets or knick knacks that usually litter a person’s bedroom. It’s almost reminiscent of a hotel room, you think.

Your gaze drifts over to the side, where a vast window looks over the city. You can hardly see the view through the blinds, but you can tell you’re high enough that only clouds can be seen below, no sign of the bustling city that you know rests beneath you. Your hazy mind starts to remember what happened last night: the club, the convenience store, your apartment, the leak. Dazai.

Dazai.

Your face immediately feels hot, hand coming up to curl your fingers around your mouth as you realize whose room you’re in. Your eyes flicker around the room nervously even though you know he’s not in here with you. You wonder what time it is, you reach around for your phone to check but you must’ve dropped it somewhere in your exhaustion last night—hopefully somewhere in his apartment (can this even be considered an apartment? it’s huge!) Maybe he’s waiting for you out in the main room of his penthouse, you hope he is. You also hope that he got some sleep last night, you remember that he insisted for you to take the bed but you still feel bad that you usurped his room from him.

… Although it’s not much of a room. Big and fancy with a view that costs more than your life, yeah, but nothing that makes it his. Like a husk. A house, not a home. The bed doesn’t even smell like him—well, you can’t say you know for sure what he smells like besides the cologne he sported in your past few meetings with him, but you know it doesn’t smell like him because it doesn’t smell like anything. Only the faint smell of old detergent meets your nose, not a single other sign that someone has been living here.

You push the covers off of you and swing your feet over the side of the bed, stretching again as you kick your feet out with another yawn. You think this might be the first time in months that you haven’t woken up with an aching back or sore neck and you can’t help but cast a longing look back at Dazai’s bed, wishing you could steal it and drag it back to your apartment to replace your ruined bed.

You don’t bother changing as you drag your way out of his bedroom; you’re decent enough in a burgundy camisole and matching pair of shorts. Yes, you’d chosen your nicer pajamas because yes, you’d still been hoping maybe something would happen between the two of you. You hadn’t realized how hard the exhaustion was going to hit until too late.

Maybe something can still happen, you giggle a bit to yourself as you open the door to his apartment and then stop yourself immediately, horrified at yourself. You wonder when you became like this. You swear you don’t usually go around desperate for sex like this, you feel like a bit embarrassed, honestly, that your train of thought keeps leading this way but you blame Dazai because he’s plain cruel for flirting with you as intimately as he does without even sparing you a kiss. It’s like he’s trying to drive you crazy. You’re becoming even more convinced that the man set some sort of spell over you.

“Gooooood morning!” you sing, your voice still tinged with sleep as you exit the bedroom and catch sight of the object of your desires lounging back on the dark couch in the main room of his penthouse—penthouse, insanity—typing away at his phone with a frown. He’s dressed in the same outfit he was in last night, which is also the same outfit that he wore last week, and every other week before that—you wonder if he just didn’t change or if he has a dozen pairs of the same outfit.

Dazai doesn’t respond, gaze cutting upward, a bit too wide to be casual. The expression on his face is entirely indecipherable, something caught between shock and an emotion you can’t quite place, but it’s softer, you think, maybe a bit sadder too. You brush it off, wondering if he forgot you were here, which would be embarrassing but also a bit ridiculous. So, you think that maybe you just look like a mess after waking up. You should have brushed your hair before coming out of the room, you don’t even know if you brought a brush with you last night. You can’t remember.

You plop yourself down onto the couch next to him. Laying the side of your head against the cushions and curling up a bit, you position your body to face him as you say, “Your… apartment is so nice.” There’s a longing lilt to your voice as you speak. “If you’re not careful, I might never leave.”

It’s a joke, of course, you don’t want to intrude, but you think your life would be one hundred times easier if you were living in a place like this rather than your small, shitty apartment. Plus, you get a view and you’re not talking about the city. Dazai looks gorgeous beneath the mid-morning light, you think. Well, he’s been gorgeous every time you’ve seen him but you think especially so now, with the way his smooth skin glows and his dark eyes look almost gold beneath the sun rays, but you notice the dark bag beneath his visible eye and guiltily, you wonder if he got any sleep last night. He’d long abandoned his phone, attention on you, and you feel warm beneath his gaze.

“I don’t think I’d mind that all too much,” he murmurs, eye curved up as smiles softly.

You’re flustered, instantly, and your face feels hot as you avert your gaze to the coffee table in front of you. Your eyes focus on a familiar item sitting on it and you light up, reaching out for it. “My phone! You found it!”

You pull it toward you and unlock it, frowning when you realize that you must’ve left it open on your landlord’s contact information last night, trying to figure out what you should message him. You sigh as your tip your head back against the couch, realizing that you’re going to have to deal with all of this today. Fighting with your landlord about the leak, ordering a new mattress and a new laptop—god, you don’t even think you can afford that right now, you’re going to have to place a deposit down for your seat at school soon and then figure out tuition.

“You dropped it outside the room,” Dazai notes, drawing your attention back to him as he nods at the phone. “How did you sleep?”

“Better than I have in years,” you sigh wistfully, letting your head fall to the side to look at him. “You have to tell me where you got your mattress. This is the first time I haven’t woken up with a shitty back in forever… especially considering I need a new one because my ceiling decided to drop gallons of water on my bed.”

“Gin-chan would know,” Dazai says, and you can’t help but notice how his gaze seems to track down a bit to your lips as you speak. You try not to smile a bit. You think you fail. You do shift a bit closer. Subtly. You think he notices if the way his tongue darts out to wet his lips says anything about it. His words hardly register until he says, “I have to leave in a bit for a meeting, she’ll come make sure you’re okay and see if you need anything.”

Irrationally, your heart drops with the illogical fear that maybe you’re reading into things because who is Gin-chan and why does she know what type of mattress Dazai has? Maybe it’s not irrational, because that’s odd, isn’t it? Who would know what type of mattress someone has besides like… a wife? But wouldn’t he have mentioned a wife or a girlfriend in the past few weeks? Of course, he would have… right? You didn’t notice a ring, but you don’t want to be obvious and look down to check now. There’s no way he’s the type to cheat anyway, so you assume you’re just missing something—unless they’re not on good terms with each other but haven’t divorced? But… Your thoughts begin to spiral, rapidly and terribly, because you are not a homewrecker, you swear, but you don’t think you’ve ever wanted someone more than Dazai Osamu.

Dazai’s smile sharpens a bit, dark eye flashing playfully, as if he knows exactly what you’re thinking. He leans his head in a bit more, so close that you swear you can count every single individual eyelash, so close that your breath catches when the tip of his nose brushes yours. “Gin-chan is my secretary, I brought her off the streets when she was a child. She’s a sweet girl, I’m sure you’ll get along.”

Oh, you’re so cruel, Dazai Osamu.

You hate that you instantly feel relieved.

You hate even more that he definitely notices.

He leans in a bit closer, your breath hitches, but just when you swear his lips are about to brush yours for the first time, he pulls back to sit up straight again. His cheeks are dusted red, welcome evidence that you’re not the only one who was flustered by his proximity.

You clear your throat in a desperate attempt to regain some sense of control over yourself and then try to change the subject. “What type of meeting do you have?” you ask curiously, and then immediately amend the question, realizing this is your chance to question him about his job again, “What do you even do?”

Dazai hesitates, just like he did the last time you asked this question. You think he might try to avoid the question again but instead he says, “I took over my… father’s company a few years ago. I’ve been running it since.”

Your eyebrows shoot up a bit, impressed, although you notice how he seems a bit bitter at the mention of his father. “Really?” you ask, surprised. He can’t be much older than you. What was he eighteen, nineteen when he took over? “What type of company?”

“It’s a… sort of conglomerate. We have stakes in a bunch of different industries,” he tells you, dark hair falling in his eyes as he rests his head back against the couch. His eyes don’t leave you once, almost as if he’s drinking in the sight of you, you can’t control the way your heart races beneath his gaze. He reaches out, fingers brushing your skin in a way that makes goosebumps rise, and you can hardly breathe as he fixes the strap of your camisole, you hadn’t even realized it had slipped off your shoulder.

His fingers linger for a moment before he drops his hand back to his lap; you long for his touch again instantly.

“That sounds like a lot of work,” you say quietly, and suddenly Dazai looks a lot older and much more tired, gaze flickering down to his lap.

“Yeah,” he murmurs. “It is.”

You’re not sure what to say for a moment, so instead, you decide to reach out and grab his hand, intertwining your fingers with his and squeezing gently. He doesn’t hold your hand back at first, staring at where your hands are connected with a conflicted, unreadable expression, but you don’t let it bother you, holding his hand just a bit tighter before saying: “Well, I’m sure you’re doing a good job.”

He lets out a puff of air, sighing, and then finally, his fingers tighten around yours.

A bit too tight, but you don’t mind.

He doesn’t look like he believes you, and you think that’s a bit sad but you’re not sure what else to say, or even if there’s anything else to say. Dazai’s gaze flickers back up to meet yours and you think that you might not be breathing again. You’re hyper aware of his touch, the way his fingers curl around yours, thumb absently rubbing soft circles on the back of your hand. He’s close—you hadn’t realized just how close the two of you had gotten as you spoke. You’re leaning forward and he’s leaning in, both of your heads resting against the back of the couch.

You could kiss him, the thought rings through your head again. Your throat feels tight, the silence between you is comfortable but tense, as if he can sense the thoughts ricocheting through your head and is battling with his own. He shifts forward a bit more, gaze dropping down to your lips, and you brace yourself, tilting your face up a bit and then-

“Sir?”

You draw back right away, embarrassed, eyes cutting across the room where a girl with long dark hair stands, cheeks flushed and gray eyes averted up to the ceiling. She’s young, no older than seventeen or eighteen, and dressed in a sleek black suit. Is this Gin?

“Gin-chan.” Dazai confirms your suspicions as he greets the girl easily. “Is something the matter?”

“Chuuya-san is in your office,” Gin says, careful to keep her voice formal despite the way her face is on fire. “The executives have been waiting in the conference room on the thirty-eighth floor for twenty minutes. He says if you don’t come out, he’ll come in here and drag you out.”

Dazai sighs dramatically, eyes sliding shut. “Chuuya always has the worst timing,” he complains, rising to his feet. “Gin-chan, tend to my lovely guest while I’m gone, would you?”

Gin finally turns her gaze on Dazai, a bit surprised. “You don’t want me coming with you, sir?”

Dazai waves her off. “I’m giving you a more important job. I’ll make the slug take meeting notes. He’ll love that,” he says with an easy smile before looking down at you. “I’ll be back later tonight… wait for me?”

You stare up at him, breathless. You have to force yourself to nod. “Yeah,” you finally agree, voice wavering. “I’ll wait for you.”

The smile he gives you is brilliant, eye shining in a way that puts the night sky to shame.

You think you could stare at it forever.

His fingers burn.

Dazai can hardly pay attention to the meeting taking place around him as he stares down at his hand, the ghost of your touch still warming his skin. He feels giddy, his chest light and heart erratic in his chest. You’re upstairs. You’re in his room. You were in his bed this morning. You told him good morning. You came out and joined him on the couch while you were still in your night clothes. You almost kissed him. You almost kissed him. He almost kissed you. He would have, had Gin not showed up.

God, it was like something out of one of his dreams, one of the vague memories that haunt him when he’s at his lowest. When he’d wake up with wet cheeks and a tight chest, throat thick with aching desire and longing for a life that he never thought he’d have.

But he has it.

He has it.

He has you.

“Where is Gin-chan?” Kouyou’s voice tears Dazai from his thoughts. Dazai turns his gaze onto the woman, careful to keep his expression void of any of the emotions coursing through his body. “She is supposed to be attached at your hip, no?”

Dazai tilts his head to the side. “Gin-chan is busy with more important matters,” Dazai says dismissively.

Kouyou lets out a noise caught between a puff of amusement and shock, covering the lower half of her face with her fan as she watches Dazai with calculating eyes. Dazai wonders if she knows that you’re here, if Chuuya had mentioned anything to her already and this is just a test to see his reaction to her prodding.

“More important matters than the first meeting with all five of your executives in the same place in two years?” Kouyou presses, fanning her fan lightly as she tilts her head to the side.

“Yes,” is all Dazai says in response, not leaving any more room for conversation on the topic. He sees Chuuya roll his eyes from the corner of his vision, knowing just what Gin is up to.

“What is this meeting about anyway?” Ace suddenly speaks up, looking irate from where he’s sitting at the round table, leg folded over his knee as he looks around the room disdainfully. “This is disturbing my casinos, I had integral meetings with shareholders this morning that I had to reschedule.”

“If your casinos are so easily disrupted, perhaps they’re not quite as valuable as you keep making them out to be.” Piano Man gives Ace a demure smile as he speaks, veiling the venom dripping from his words—the most recently promoted of the five executives has no mercy when it comes to taking digs at the self proclaimed Jewel King.

Ace’s head snaps in Piano Man’s direction, lips turning down and eyes icy. Dazai wonders curiously if the man would snap something back with Chuuya sitting right next to him—that would be the end of that, Chuuya has always been viciously protective over his Flags. Dazai never liked Ace, knowing that the man is loyal only to himself, but he’s brought in masses of money and information to the Port Mafia. He considers whether or not he should step in, but decides to just watch idly, unsure of if he’s entertained or bored, folding his hands on the table and letting his head fall to the side lazily.

He wants to go back upstairs. Back to you. He’s tired of this already, every day it’s been something new the past few weeks—issues with the military police, issues with low ring organizations that seem to think they can play with the big leagues, issues internally. He wonders what you and Gin might be talking about, and then bitterly, he thinks it should be him sitting up there talking to you.

“This is about the Russians?” Verlaine drawls, looking severely unimpressed with the tension at the round table as he looks between Kouyou, Chuuya and Dazai. “I’ve heard from some of my birds that Nabakov’s men were spotted in the Sakae and Kanagawa wards. Interesting, no?”

Sakae and Kanagawa?

Dazai suddenly is a lot more attentive to the conversation at hand, if only because your apartment is around those wards. He was already reluctant thinking of letting you go back there, knowing that it’s not the best area in the city, but now? The thought makes his stomach churn, blunt nails digging into the wood of the round tables.

It’s not an option.

It’s not.

Kouyou raises a parchment between two fingers to show off to the rest of the executives before passing it over to Dazai, who stares at it distastefully for a moment before plucking it from her hand. He scans the words rapidly, lips twisting down into a deep frown the more he reads.

“What is it?” Chuuya asks impatiently, fingers thrumming on the table as Dazai reads.

“A missive from the Pale Flame,” Kouyou tells him, voice smooth and curious, eyes not leaving Dazai once as she waits for his reaction to it. “Nabokov wishes to personally apologize for not coming to the meeting himself two months ago. He claims that he’s coming to Tokyo to handle an issue regarding one of his major narcotics suppliers in three weeks and wants to host us under the guise of a business event to make amends and prove his dedication to our continuing alliance.”

The war in the mainland is over, the realization hits him hard, like he’s been doused in freezing water and struck with a train all at once. His vision begins to tunnel, just a bit, but enough for him to know he has to pull himself back together before it gets worse, but it’s hard because the implications of that-

“That’s not suspicious at all,” Piano Man sighs whimsically. “Since when does Nabokov care for apologies and amends? The man’s pride goes beyond the heights of the moon.”

“War must be going that badly,” Ace scoffs, amused. “I suppose we chose right in declining their pleas for support.”

“I wouldn’t be too sure,” Piano Man says flippantly, side-eyeing Ace blatantly.

Ace’s expression twists, but as soon as it does, it smooths out again, and a slow smirk is curling at the edges of his lips. He parts his lips to dole out a side comment and Dazai chooses to tune out the petty arguments, focusing on his own dilemma.

It can’t be a coincidence. Right when he finally starts accepting you into his life, the three way war plaguing the Russian underworld comes to an end and the threat that Dostoevsky poses to you becomes all the more present. Fate, the word haunts him, curses him, he wants to spit in its face but every passing day reminds him that the gods must be laughing down at him.

Doubt begins to riddle his chest, festering and spreading—should he send you away? Pretend that the past few weeks never happened and send you off to one of your friend’s apartments? But what if someone already saw him with you? If the wrong person saw, and he sent you away, he’d be signing your death sentence himself.

“What do you think?” Kouyou addresses him, drawing Dazai from his spiraling thoughts.

“The war between Tolstoy, Dostoevsky and Nabokov ended,” Dazai says, staring down at the table as his mind races. “The missive is a declaration of war.”

“Why would Nabokov declare war on us?” Ace asks doubtfully, leaning back in his chair. “For not giving him support?”

“Nabokov is a puppet.” Dazai’s tongue slides against the back of his teeth, trying to piece together what the best course of action to take would be. He’d been sure that the territory wars in Russia would last at least another two to three months. He’s sure that Dostoevsky is behind the missive, he doubts that Tolstoy would make a move into Yokohama, he’d prefer to move west, but he needs confirmation. But if it is Dostoevsky… Why has this timeline sped up so much? Dostoevsky isn’t supposed to officially make a move in Yokohama until after the Guild. The thought is cold and unnerving, he doesn’t like it. He’s been basing all of his plans around his knowledge of the other universes, so why is everything changing suddenly? He turns his attention to Ace and Verlaine, “Find out if Tolstoy or Dostoevsky came out on top.”

He has his suspicions, but he needs it confirmed before he makes any more plans. He has to be careful now, excruciatingly so. He can’t risk anything now that you’re with him and the threat of Dostoevsky has become exceedingly more imminent. However cautious and meticulous he’s been the past seven years, he needs to up it tenfold. He needs Dostoevsky six feet under. He needs Christie six feet under.

And most importantly, he needs to keep you safe, locked in the ivory tower, ignorant to the looming threats until Dazai has properly handled them.

But to do that, he needs to convince you to stay.

How is he supposed to do that without setting off alarm bells?

“What of the business event that we’ve been invited to?” Piano Man asks, white hair falling into his face as he tilts his head to the side. “Do we attend or tell him to shove it?”

“How eloquent,” Ace digs, but goes silent when Dazai gives him a icy look, no longer in the mood for their petty back and forth.

“We attend,” Dazai answers, exhaling as he turns his attention to the side, looking out the bulletproof window giving a vast view of the city’s busiest ports. “If it’s under the guise of a business event, there will be plenty of legitimate corporations there to use as shields should things go wrong, but the Russians aren’t stupid enough for that regardless. They won’t spill blood on foreign land in view of people who live in the light, it’s the fastest way for them to get the Special Division or the Hunting Dogs sicced on them. This will be the easiest way to gather information… and to try to take out the mastermind.”

Chuuya does not look happy with Dazai’s declaration, likely already tallying all of the things that could go wrong. It’ll be the easiest way to get to Dostoevsky, yes, but it’ll also be the easiest way for them to get to Dazai. Dazai is not stupid and he knows he has to be especially vigilant now, but no progress will be made unless some gambles are made—Fyodor Dostoevsky is slimy and slippery in every universe, for Dazai to get his hands on the man, he’s going to have to take a few risks. Dazai just has to ensure said risks are minimal, because every risk he takes is a risk to you too.

God, he feels sick, his head hurts so badly that he thinks he might die. If he was any other version of himself, he could drag himself to you and bury himself in your arms, a surefire way of making the pain disappear. But he’s not any other version of himself—he’s him, and he’s so bitter, because even when he has you, he doesn’t really have you, not in the way that he wants.

“Meeting dismissed,” Dazai says coldly, hardly sparing his executives another look. He’s ready to go back upstairs and be with you, even if he’s not ready to put that mask back on yet, terrified of scaring you away. “Get me the information I asked for.”

There’s a few spattered agreements and farewells. Verlaine, Ace and Piano Man all file out of the conference room. Kouyou and Chuuya stay behind. Dazai’s eyes slide shut, waiting for whatever the two have to say.

“I hope you know what you’re doing,” Chuuya finally says, voice gruff and Dazai doesn’t have to look at him to know that his fingers are probably digging into his palms in frustration. “Things are about to get bad. Don’t let some girl distract you from what’s important.”

Dazai looks up at Chuuya now, slowly, gaze glacial. If Chuuya were anyone else, he would’ve backed down or apologized, but Chuuya is Chuuya, so he only raises his chin, jaw tightening when he realizes that he pissed off Dazai with that comment.

You are what’s important, is what Dazai wants to say in your defense. He’s done all of this for you—you and Odasaku, but he bites the words back, resorting instead to turning his gaze to Kouyou, dismissing Chuuya without a word. Chuuya scoffs loudly and then he spins on his heel with a swish of his coat and storms out of the meeting room.

Dazai tilts his head to the side, daring Kouyou to mention it. The woman only raises her eyebrows, a knowing expression painted on her face, as always.

“One of my girls got their hands on a Russian suspected of being a member of the House of the Dead,” Kouyou says, fanning her face gently. “We’ve been unsuccessful so far in getting him to reveal any information. It could be useful in figuring out whether Tolstoy or Dostoevsky came out on top.”

Dazai exhales, because of course he can’t go right back to you, when has life ever been so easy for him? He pushes himself to his feet, body on automatic as he makes his way out of the meeting room and toward the elevator.

It’s fine, he tells himself, he’ll be back to you soon.

He just has to make this fast, and Dazai is never as efficient as he is when he has you as motivation.

Dazai is careful to make sure that no blood stains his face or hands as he leans back against the wall of the elevator. Getting the information out of the rat hadn’t taken too long once he got there, but the following conversation with Kouyou took an eternity. He watches the floors tick upward from the twenty-second floor all the way up to the forty-sixth, back to his penthouse where you’re hopefully still waiting. An irrational fear claws at his chest, that you slipped away and left the building, descending back down into the city that’s quickly threatening to become an imminent warzone. He knows it’s illogical, Gin would have told him if you left so you must still be up there, but a part of him can’t bring himself to believe it.

“I’ll wait for you.”

Your face blends with another version of yourself as he lets his eyes slide shut. The image of his apartment shifting into an unfamiliar hotel room. The atmosphere is much more somber in the hotel room, Dazai feels anxiety swelling in his throat and hope bubbling in his chest no matter how hard he tries to push it away as those very same words ring through his head. In a desperate attempt to sideline the emotions he can’t seem to control, he leans in to press his lips against yours. His own breath catches as the memory floods through him—he can feel the pads of his fingers burning as he pushes you back against the bed, his heart racing as his body hovers above yours, his mind foggy and dizzy as he kisses you so deeply that he think he might die from lack of air to his lungs. His tongue brushes against your bottom lip, his body slides on top of yours, hips slotting between your thighs and then-

Ding.

His eyes snap back open as he’s forced back to reality, the sharp trill of the elevator drawing him from the maze of the pages just as the doors slide open. He’s hardly able to settle down, sweaty palms wiping at his black jacket and tongue pressing to the roof of his mouth as he steps out of the elevator and into his penthouse, praying he doesn’t look half as frazzled as he feels.

It’s so bright, he thinks to himself, unused to having so much sunlight in his penthouse, usually keeping the windows blacked out just as he does in his office, but he figured you’d find that a bit odd so he made sure to fix it before you woke up in the morning. His gaze drags across the room, and he hates that his pulse spikes when he doesn’t immediately spot you, but it’s only a momentary spike when he realizes that you’re laying on the couch with Gin, some unfamiliar show playing in the background as you waves your arms around, talking rapidly.

He doesn’t move for a moment, standing there, admiring you—the way your skin glows beneath the sun, the way you smile widely, eyes glittering as you speak. You’re so animated. So alive. Dazai just can’t get used to it. He wonders if this is what his life would be like every day, if you stayed around. Waking up to you in the morning, relaxing with you under the early sun before he goes off to deal with his work, coming home to you waiting for him on the couch. Realistically, he knows it’s not that simple—you have your own goals and dreams and Dazai swore that in this life, he’d make sure you’d achieve them, so you can’t just sit around his penthouse all day until he comes back… but maybe it’s a practical enough to hope for the next few weeks until Dostoevsky is handled.

But first, he has to make sure you stay here and not try to go off with one of your friends, which will be a trial in itself. He’s not sure how to go about it yet, so he just needs to have faith that it’s not something you bring up right away.

Gin catches sight of him first, rising to her feet instantly, hands locked behind her back. “Sir,” she greets, nodding her head down a bit in respect.

You perk up at her words, leaning up to finally catch sight of him, peeking your head over the back of the couch and then raising your hand to wave at him. “Welcome back,” you say with a grin. “How was the meeting?”

Gin bids you a quiet goodbye before making her way out of Dazai’s place back into the office, leaving Dazai alone with you.

“Agonizing,” he answers truthfully, voice a low drawl as the corner of his lips instinctively curls up at the sight of you. He doesn’t come any closer, leaning back against the wall as you prop yourself up on the back of the sofa to look at him, resting your cheek on your folded arms.

A smile spreads across your face at his words, amused, and he wonders distantly if you would be even half as amused if you knew what the meeting was about or what he had to do afterward. The thought nearly makes his own smile falter, throat spasming. No matter how easily you might’ve accepted him and his past in the other universes, he knows that it won’t be the same in this one because it’s not his past. Not for the first time, he’s viciously jealous of all of his other selves—not only because of their relationship with you, but because they hadn’t needed to go to the depths of hell that he has had to in the name of keeping you and Odasaku safe.

It’s so hard. Lonely. The other Dazais always liked to insist that they were alone but they weren’t—not really. They always had so many people surrounding them even if they refused to accept it, meanwhile he-

He has nothing. Even now when you’re here, he knows that he’ll never be able to have you as intimately as the other Dazais did. He’ll never be able to open up to you like they did, rely on you like they did. He can’t because of the risk it would bring to the fragile stability of this world. He can’t because if you knew the truth, it would drive you away.

He’s so tired.

He’s not sure what you must see on his face, but your expression falls a bit as you look at him. You push yourself to your feet and he can’t help but notice that you’d changed out of your pajamas into a pair of leggings and a burgundy sweater. He also notices, a bit more dreadfully, that the duffle you’d brought last night is sitting outside his bedroom door, packed.

“I messaged one of my friends,” you say, voice a bit awkward, a jolt of panic shoots through him, realizing that you are bringing this up right away and he hasn’t had time to figure out how to go about convincing you to stay. “She said I could stay with her until my apartment is fixed, so I won’t be bothering you much longer. Thanks for letting me stay the night.”

Dazai hardly refrains from sighing and letting his eyes slide shut in frustration.

He really can’t get a break.

“I…” he trails off, unsure of what to say. He could tell you that it’s not a bother, but he doubts you would believe that, and how is he supposed to insist without coming across as shady? He has to try though. “It’s not a bother. You can stay here as long as you want.”

It won’t be enough, and he knows it from the way you immediately shake your head, sitting back on your heels to look at him head on. “I appreciate it, but I don’t want to intrude.”

His mind races as he tries to figure out what to say but it’s hard to think with dark talons pulling at his brain, images of you flashing before his eyes—limp in his arms as he tries to shake you awake (futile, your skin was already cold when he got back from work), unmoving on the floor of your apartment as he stands at the door (he’d only stepped outside for a moment), the fear in your eyes as you topple back over the side of the roof (he can’t get to you in time. he never can.)

“It’s no intrusion… Truthfully, it gets a bit lonely here on my own,” Dazai finally admits, his voice sounds faraway to his own ears as he struggles to ground himself from the foreign memories, he hopes it doesn’t come across that way to you. He can see your face shift a bit at his words, brows furrowing and lips turning downward—not pity, thankfully because he hates pity, but more so understanding. Hooked, he realizes and then deals what will hopefully be the final blow: “I really wouldn’t mind the company.”

Your lips part to say something but no words leave them. You stare at him for a moment, looking between your duffle and your phone and then back to him. He waits, breathless, because he doesn’t know what he’s going to do if you say no, if you insist on leaving. He can’t let you leave, not until the threats have been dealt with, he refuses to sign your execution warrant—he can live with you hating him, even if the thought makes him sick, he can’t live in a world without you.

Finally, you give him a smile.

“I mean, it would definitely be easier getting my work done here than in her cramped apartment, it’s hardly big enough for her and her boyfriend, much less me on top of that,” you say with a laugh, rubbing the back of your neck. “If you’re sure…”

Dazai has to physically restrain himself from letting out a sigh of relief.

“I’m sure,” he murmurs.

You light up and then look back at the television. “Well, I found a few movies I want to watch, if you’re up for it?” you ask with a hesitant smile.

Dazai gives you a soft, matching smile. “I’d love to.”

Oh, god, how did you end up like this?

You can hardly breathe properly, legs tossed over Dazai’s lap, head resting on his shoulder, his arm curled around you. The movie is still playing in the background but you’re hardly following the plot anymore, too focused on the feeling of Dazai’s thumb rubbing idle circles over your hip. You don’t even know if he’s aware he’s doing it, but it has your entire attention—your heart is racing, you’re sure he must be able to feel it, he’s just being courteous in not mentioning it, and your body feels hot. Every now and then, his thumb dips a bit lower and you swear he must know what he’s doing but he’s barely sparing you a glance, engrossed with the movie playing on the disgustingly large television mounted on his wall.

The movie that you had been excited to watch but now can’t even recall what the plot is.

And it’s so odd. You don’t like cuddling. Or, you thought you didn’t like cuddling. Whenever your past partners tried to cuddle up next to you to watch a movie, or at night before bed, you’d grimace and try to subtly shift away, but now? You’re leaning into him, you find comfort in the arm draped around you and the fingers drawing absent patterns on your hip, you find warmth in the way your body is tucked against his.

It’s absurd, you think, why is he so different from everyone else?

Your friends think you’re crazy. When you texted one of them to ask for a place to stay until your apartment is fixed, and then abruptly said nevermind because Dazai offered to let you stay at his, you were hit with five calls in a row and a spam of texts ranging from: “wym ur staying with that random guy you met at a bar two months ago???” to “girl ur crazy, this is stranger danger 101. you were literally just complaining about how you know NOTHING about this man. i am NOT coming to ur funeral.”

The last one is a lie, Kei would come to your funeral and she’d cry like a baby while stuttering through the eulogy, but it’s no issue because there won’t be a funeral. Regardless, you still shut your phone off because the vibrations were getting irritating, but now, you kind of wished you still had your phone to peek at because you can’t focus on the movie and you need something to distract you from Dazai’s touch otherwise you’re bound to make a complete fool out of yourself.

You spare a look up at him—just a quick glimpse, but it proves to be a fatal mistake.

He’s already looking at you.

There’s a fond expression on his face, a warm look in his eye. When he realizes you’ve caught him, his lips tilt upward and he says, “You haven’t been watching the movie.”

A soft accusation. Teasing. It leaves you a bit flustered. You want to look away but you can’t bring yourself to.

“Guilty,” you manage to get out, giving him a sheepish smile.

“I thought you wanted to watch it.” His voice is so soft and light that it makes goosebumps rise to your skin. He keeps his tone low so as to not disturb the atmosphere between the two of you, and it only serves to further the yearning you feel for him, eyes darting down to his lips as he speaks. His gaze sharpens a bit, pupil dilating when he notices where your eyes had tracked down to. Your mouth dries.

“I did,” you whisper, leaving the implication in the air that something far more interesting has caught your attention, breath catching as your eyes lift back to his, wishing that you could know what he’s thinking. You can see his mind racing, as if he’s fighting with himself about something and then-

And then he kisses you.

He leans in just enough to brush his lips against yours, brief and hesitant, as if he’s just testing the waters. And it’s electrifying, you don’t think you’ve ever felt anything quite like it. Every other kiss you’ve had pales in comparison to the faintest brush of his lips to yours. His eye searches your face as soon as he pulls back, as if to make sure you’re okay with this; you can see the hint of something edging on desperation as his gaze flits back and forth between your eyes. He wants to know you’re okay with this, needs to know.

You don’t waste a second as you lean forward, hand coming up to cup the side of his neck as you press your lips against his. You don’t have the same hesitancy that he does, heart thudding in your chest as your fingers intertwine with the curls at the nape of his neck, your body flush to his. His lips are chapped, but you don’t mind—it feels familiar somehow, almost comforting. You can feel the rough material of his bandages brushing your cheek but you only press closer. He tastes like fine whiskey and faintly of iron, a strange combination but you can’t get enough of it.

He’s still hesitant, you can feel it in the slow way he kisses you. His fingers twitch from where they’re resting on his lap, as if he’s itching to reach out and touch you but doesn’t know if he should. Your hand slides up from his neck to the back of his head to pull him impossibly closer, tongue darting out to drag against his bottom lip, and that seems to be all of the push he needs.

His hand comes to rest on your waist, fingers biting a bit too deeply into your skin but you don’t mind. One swift motion and he’s laying you back against the cushions, body sliding on top of yours, his other hand shifting upward, large palm cupping your cheeks as he tilts your head back to deepen the kiss. Your eyes flutter shut, you let out a soft, pleased sigh into his mouth when you feel his tongue tracing your inner lip.

You think you could kiss him forever, you realize, heat pooling in your stomach and a fluttery feeling spreading through your chest. The hand on your waist slides down a bit to your thigh and your breath hitches when he parts them just enough for him to slot his hips between them, and god, you want him.

You think your heart might fly out of your chest, and you don’t know why you’re so nervous. You have casual sex all the time to relieve stress but nothing about this feels casual, it feels so intimate; you let out a shaky breath as Dazai’s lips drag from yours to kiss the corner of your mouth, trailing down to your jaw, nipping at the spot behind your ear that always makes you shudder (god, how does he know your body so well already? it’s unfair, you might die), tongue tracing the underside of your jaw lightly, he kisses down your neck, teeth ghosting your pulse point and one of your legs instinctively hooks around his waist, dragging his body closer until you can feel him pressed up against you and-

A screech comes from the television.

You jolt, he jolts, both of you startled, having forgotten that the movie was even playing in the background, too lost in the feeling of one another. Your chest rises and falls rapidly as you try to reorient yourself, leg slipping from his waist to rest back down on the couch.

The moment is ruined, naturally, all too hyper aware of the scene playing in the background and embarrassed by how quickly that had escalated. Dazai’s cheeks are dusted red as he shifts off of you back into a sitting position, and his lips are wet and swollen, and so very tempting.

You want to kiss him again, so you do.

You sit up and cup his cheek to tilt his face in your direction, pressing your lips to his in a short and sweet kiss. You smile against his lips before pulling back and tucking yourself back into his side, gaze focusing back on the movie.

He lets out a puff of air that sounds distinctly close to a laugh before he wraps his arm back around you, warm and comforting, casual, as if it’s something he’s done a thousand times before, and you think Kei can suck it, because you’re starting to think that the ‘random stranger at the bar’ might become the best decision of your life.

A few days later, you’re stretching on a yoga mat looking out down upon the vast city below, Akutagawa Gin is sat pretty on a barstool next to where you’re stretching, one leg crossed over her knee, rapidly tapping at her phone as she finishes up some emails for Dazai, who’s god knows where dealing with whatever business Dazai Osamu deals with.

“It’s a bit weird that they’re taking so long to fix my apartment, isn’t it?” you ask absently, grimacing as you shift into a pose that pulls at all of the wrong muscles. “Usually it doesn’t take more than a day or two.”

You still don’t really know what Dazai’s company is, you were only able to find vague scraps online about the Mori Corporation: a massive, affluent conglomerate that formed seven years ago. Apparently, it has a hand in just about every industry from technology to shipping, so you suppose it makes sense that Dazai is hardly ever around, but you’re finding yourself increasingly bored. There’s only so much time you can spend in the same apartment, no matter how big or fancy it may be. The days have been incredibly repetitive with Dazai leaving for his work meetings, you relaxing and getting some of your work done, talking to Gin, and then Dazai coming back late at night.

“You’re probably not the only apartment that had a leak,” Gin says, astute as always. “Your landlord might just be getting to the others first, and if they’re half as bad as yours was, it’ll probably take a bit.”

You scowl. “It would be just like him to leave me for last,” you say, half to yourself as you sit back on your heels, looking over at Gin. “I swear this man has had something out for me since I moved in. Did I tell you about the time he took three weeks to get back to me about a work order I put in for my sink? Three weeks. I had to wash all of my dishes at my neighbor’s place. How embarrassing is that?”

Gin looks amused, gray eyes lifting from her phone to look down at you from where she’s sitting. “Multiple times, in fact.”

“Well, I’m going to tell you again,” you say matter-of-factly before launching into a tirade that you can recite word for word in your sleep from how often you’ve vented about it to people over the past two years. In your defense, it was absolutely ridiculous, it never should’ve taken that long, but you digress.

You like Gin, you decide as she listens intently to the same rant she’s heard at least three times over the past week, nodding along and adding supportive commentary when necessary. Well, you decided you liked her the first time you met her, but you’re just reaffirming it now. For as formal and professional she is, she always gets a certain gleam in her eye when she talks to you, and you can actually see her for the eighteen year old she is, rather than just as the secretary of the boss of one of the biggest corporations in Japan.

You think she likes you too, you muse as you finish off your rant and go back to laying like a starfish on the yoga mat, not in the mood to do any more stretching. She always lights up a bit whenever Dazai tells her to spend the day with you instead of following him around. You’re not sure why he does it, you figure he’s probably making things harder on himself by not having her around, but you’re not going to complain because you think you’d go crazy with no one to talk to.

But even if she does like you, she’s still not very forward with information about Dazai and the Mori Corporation. She tends to change the topic whenever you bring it up, or sometimes she just gives you that look, the one that tells you that she isn’t going to say anything about it. You think it’s a bit weird that they’re so secretive about it, but you suppose she just doesn’t want to speak on behalf of Dazai when you ask about him, and the whole secrecy about the business probably has to do with trade secrets or something

Although you don’t really think you’re asking questions that could even scarcely tap into trade secrets, but you think that maybe they’re just paranoid. Probably for good reason if the business is half as influential and lucrative as the few things you’ve found online claim it is, but still, knowing that doesn’t make you any less curious.

“Hey, Gin-chan.” You decide to get an early start on today’s attempt to whittle information out of the girl. When she looks at you questioningly, you turn your head to the side to look at her. “Is Dazai okay?”

Gin looks a bit startled by your question, but you only wait for an answer. You think he must be having trouble with something regarding his business because every day he comes back to his place later and more stressed, you can see it in his face when he walks in, the dullness in his eye and the way he can hardly cover it up before you catch sight of him. You don’t know why he’s so intent on hiding the exhaustion from you but you wish he wouldn’t.

“Why do you ask?” Gin questions carefully, as if she doesn’t know how to answer the question which pretty much confirms that something is wrong.

“I figure he must be having trouble with something in his company,” you say absently, watching Gin blink in surprise, another confirmation that you might be onto something. “He comes back to the penthouse later every day, and more tired. And even when he’s here, he spends most of the time on his phone unless he turns it off. You’ve been on your phone more often the past two days too, so I figure it’s connected.”

Gin hesitates and then she says, “We are… having difficulty with a rival company,” she finally says, and you sit up to look up at her again, leaning back on your hands. “They are trying to push us out of some key industries in Tokyo and Yokohama. Their… CEO is hosting an event in two weeks that we’re supposed to be attending, along with many of our subsidiaries. We’ve been trying to prepare for it while dealing with some other internal issues. He’s probably just… drained.”

This time, you hesitate, a lump forming in your throat as her words register because how fucked up is it that he’s so drained from work and then has to come back to his penthouse and entertain you? Guilt swells in your chest, you don’t even know where he’s been sleeping because he’s been so dead set on you taking the bed that he won’t even hear your arguments on it.

“Should I… go stay with my friend then?” you ask hesitantly, and when Gin gives you a half-alarmed, half-concerned look, you elaborate: “I just… feel bad, I guess. That he’s dealing with so much work and can’t even have a space to decompress when he finishes because I’m here.”

Gin says your name with so much humor that you’re almost insulted, but there’s a glitter in her eyes as she looks at you, so any complaint you have promptly dies. “Being with you is decompressing to him,” she says quietly, and though warmth spreads through you at the words, you’re still doubtful.

“I don’t know,” you say, unconvinced. “I see the way he tries to hide how exhausted he is whenever he sees me. He shouldn’t have to put in so much effort to mask himself in his home just because I’m here.”

Gin doesn’t respond for a moment, gaze flickering down to the floor, but when she speaks, her voice is soft.

“He’s always so lonely,” she says, more to herself than anything else, but then she raises her eyes to meet yours, “no matter how many people are around him, he’s always so cut off from everyone, refusing to let anyone get close… except when he’s with you. In all of the years that I’ve known him, I’ve only ever seen him happy when he’s with you.”

You stare at Gin, lips parted to respond but no words leave them.

Instead, Gin continues, “He… had to step up at a very young age. He was sixteen when he found me in Suribachi and even back then he was just so… empty. I’ve never seen him actually acting his age except when he’s with you, or talking about you. So-”

Gin is interrupted abruptly by her phone ringing. She looks down and gives you an apologetic look before answering the call and wandering off to the other room, leaving you to your thoughts. Your throat still feels swollen, but with a far more pleasant emotion now. A small smile tugs at the edges of your lips, hand pressed to your chest as if you can physically slow the erratic pace of your heart. Your face feels warm and a giggle slips from your lips as you flop back down to the yoga mat, staring up at the ceiling.

Or, well, it’s not entirely pleasant. A heavier feeling settles on your chest as Gin’s words about what Dazai used to be like—still is like, whenever you’re not around—process through your head. It’s not like you didn’t have any sort of inkling about it, you’ve known that there’s more than meets the eye about Dazai Osamu since the first night you met him, and the past week you’ve spent with him only has made you more sure of it. His mind drifts off so often, eyes faraway and expression so vacant that sometimes it takes a few tries for you to get him to come back to you.

You don’t mind, but it does make you sad to know that he’s been like this for as long as Gin has known him, and since the only time she’s ever seen him even partially happy is when he’s with you, you can’t help but wonder how many years he spent depressed and isolated. And you’re realizing, a bit scared, that you’re starting to care for Dazai a lot because the first thought that crosses your mind is that you wish you’d met him sooner so he didn’t have to spend all of this time alone.

You sit up straight, alarmed by your own thoughts, because yes, you’re enamored by Dazai and you have been since you met him almost two months ago, but you didn’t think you were falling for him yet—not like that at least. It’s absurd, you still hardly know much about his personal life. You don’t know about his family besides for the fact he took over his father’s company, you don’t know anything about said company besides the scraps you found online but… but you remember the way he kisses you gently, and the way his expression always softens when his gaze falls on you, and the way whenever you speak, he’s always giving you his full attention no matter how inane the topic might be, willing to listen to you ramble on about all of the books you’ve read and gossip with you about your ex-coworkers and drama happening in your friend group and-

Oh.

Yeah. You might be falling for him.

Your hand rises to your lips, mind racing and spiraling all at the same time and you realize that you really, really need fresh air. Promptly, you remember that you’d meant to ask Gin to order some groceries because Dazai’s kitchen is about as bare as his bedroom, and you’ve been craving some specific snacks anyway; you also wanted to have her order some actual food so you can make something to try to make Dazai eat more because you’ve noticed he doesn’t eat all too much and you don’t think that’s very healthy considering how much stress he’s under. You’re not the best at cooking, but you can make do and just pray that he likes it.

A perfect excuse. You’ll run out and grab some groceries, maybe take a walk in the nearby park to clear your thoughts and come to terms with the realization you’d just come to, and then come back and do something nice for Dazai.

Decision made, you bound over to the door Gin disappeared into so you can let her know where you’re heading, but when you peek your head into Dazai’s office, you see Gin in deep conversation with someone over the phone, brows creased and frown on her lips as she stares down at some of the paperwork on Dazai’s desk. She looks distinctly frustrated and slightly distressed, so you decide not to bother her. Instead, you just close the door quietly and make your way over to the elevator, stepping inside when it finally reaches the top floor and pressing the button for the lobby.

You won’t be long anyway, you doubt she’ll even notice you’re gone.

The elevator dings as it reaches the first floor of the massive building and you adjust your purse over your shoulder as you step into the lobby—it’s massive and bustling with dozens of people. You haven’t been back down here since he brought you here a few days ago, and you’d been too exhausted to really be able to gather your bearings, plus it had been the middle of the night and not as many people had been around.

You’re hardly able to peek around for half a minute before someone runs into you.

You let out a quiet yelp, startled, blinking as your gaze focuses on the man who’d bumped into you. He’s a bit on the short side with fair skin and light freckles dotting his nose and cheeks, bi-colored eyes—one brown and the other blue—narrowed as he studies you. He’s pretty, you think. Not quite as pretty as Dazai, but definitely attractive. Or he would be, if he wasn’t staring at you with such an unpleasant expression.

You half-think he’s about to demand that you apologize even though he’s the one who bumped into you, and you think if he does, you’re going to have serious problems with him, but instead, a vague recognition flashes through his eyes as he finally speaks. Although, you can’t help but notice he still is looking at you with distinct displeasure even after recognizing you.

“You’re the girl that’s been living up with the boss,” the man says, his voice is cool and guarded and you feel a bit uncomfortable under his stare. You’ve always been particularly good at reading people, and you can tell at first glance that he does not want you here. “Where are you going?”

You don’t know why it’s any of his business, but you say: “Out. I’ve been cooped up for almost a week. Plus, I don’t know how Dazai feeds himself, he has literally no food in his place.”

“Does he know you’re going out?” he asks, eyes narrowing onto you as he tilts his head to the side.

You bristle, not liking his tone. “He’s not my keeper.”

“No, but he’s gone out of his way to give you a place to stay when he didn’t have to. The least you can do is let him know when you’re going in and out.” The man matches your sharp tone with his own and you wither a bit, because he’s right, even if he is being a bit of an ass about it.

“Gin-chan was busy,” you mutter. “I’ll text him.”

The man lets out a sigh of what can only be utter suffering, lifting his head to look up to the ceiling as if asking a higher deity ‘why me?’ You have no idea what’s going through his head, and you just want to slip out of the building and drink in some fresh air and sunlight, but the last thing you expect is for him to look back at you and ask:

“Want company?”

You blink, wondering if he’s fucking with you, but he only stares at you, expression flat as he waits for a response.

“I-” You’re about to say no, you aren’t particularly looking for company, but then you realize that this might be a chance to try to gather some more information about Dazai. You quickly amend to a: “Yeah, sure… What’s your name anyway?”

“Nakahara Chuuya,” he tells you, voice a bit brusque. “Just call me Chuuya.”

Dazai comes home to an empty penthouse.

For a moment, he doesn’t react. The unconscious smile that had begun to curve to his lips while taking the elevator back up to the top floor of the headquarters falls instantly as his dark gaze sweeps across the room that you’re usually lounging in with Gin only to find it eerily silent, void of the laughter he’d become desperately used to the past few days.

He doesn’t let the panic hit right away, not even bothering to slide his coat off before making his way over to his bedroom, wondering if you’d decided to take a nap. He very much does feel a distinct spike in his heart rate when you’re not in there either. He stands there for a moment—Gin is still up here, she would have called down if she had to leave, so where are you?

Where are you?

Dazai suddenly feels sick to his stomach, a bit dizzy on his feet.

Did you leave?

Why did you leave?

Did you go into his office? Find something implicating his position in the Port Mafia?

Or did you just get sick of staying in the same place so many days in the row? Why wouldn’t you tell him if that were the case?

Maybe you were just sick of him.

His vision spins a bit, he presses his hand against the frame of his bedroom door to steady himself. Stop it, he tells himself, inhaling deeply once to try to get his head back on straight. But he can’t, he can feel numbness spreading through his chest viciously at the thought of you leaving. The void returns with a vengeance, consuming him entirely, and it’s only the thought of the chance of you being in danger out there alone that pushes him forward. He needs Gin to tell him what the fuck is going on.

What does he do if you left on your own voilition?

Dazai’s head is not sitting on his shoulders properly. It can’t be. Everything looks wrong, everything feels wrong. His hand drops down to his side, resorting back to the technique he had to use before he met you—he steadily taps your name against his thigh as he forces himself to walk across the room to his office, to where Gin must be, to get some answers. But even your name isn’t enough to keep him grounded.

He’s holding you in his arms. You’re so cold. There’s blood everywhere. They’re telling him to let you go. He can’t. He never can.

He’s reaching out to you, desperately trying to grab your hand before you topple over the side of the roof. He never makes it.

He has to make a choice. A life for a life. He always chooses to save you. It doesn’t matter—they always kill you anyway.

Nausea builds in his throat, he forces it back down, and when he opens the door to his office it’s a bit too aggressive. Gin’s head snaps up from where she was working at Dazai’s desk, flipping through papers with creased brows as she tries to put together the list of suspects. She stands up instantly at the sight of him, lips parting to greet him. He doesn’t let her.

“Where is she?”

The words come out cold and cutting, a far cry from the awful emotions wreaking havoc on his chest and mind. To his absolute distress, Gin only looks confused at his words, lowering the phone and bidding goodbye to who he can only assume is Kouyou as she asks:

“... What do you mean?”

Fuck. Dazai takes a step back out of his office, back into the living room of his penthouse. His head feels all hazy, his vision starts spinning more. Fuck. You had to have left on your own. There’s no way anyone is getting all the way up to the top floor through all of the guards, and if they did, they wouldn’t leave Gin alive. Fuck.

Where did you go?

There’s blood. Too much blood. Or is it water? He’s dragging you out of the water. And then his fingers are meeting air, the tips of his fingers just barely scraping yours before you plummet down, down, down.

Why the fuck did no one say anything to him?

He can hear Gin talking, but her words go in one ear out the other. Dazai pulls out his phone, double, triple, quadruple checking to make sure he got no messages. None from you (his chest hurts). None from either of the Black Lizard captains. None from Atsushi. None from Kyouka. None from Chuuya. All people who should have feasibly noticed you leaving the headquarters.

Dazai has never done well with emotions, negative or positive, but he thinks fear is the worst of all and he’s been plagued with it since the moment he’s come in contact with the Book. Fear of the future, fear of making a mistake, fear of fate.

Fear is the mind-killer. The quote rings through his head over and over again, damning and true. It’s the one emotion that paralyzes him, puts him into a state that makes him incapable of making decisions. Fear of one thing turns into fear of another—it’s a ceaseless cycle, and a ruinous one. Fear of you leaving him turns into fear of you being vulnerable and then to fear of you being targeted and then to fear of you being dead, and already he can feel numbness spreading from his chest to his limbs. He thinks he feels Gin touch his arm but he can’t even turn his head to look.

So he does the only thing he knows how to do: he channels it into something else. He funnels the fear into something more familiar, something more welcome.

First, it turns into frustration—another emotion capable of incapacitation, but one that’s far more manageable. He jerks away from Gin, grip tightening on his phone as he paces back across the room. His thoughts begin to race, a red fog clouding his mind as he wonders why the fuck no one told him that you left, and if no one knows that you left, then Dazai is going to have to have serious fucking words with all of the security details posted throughout the building because that sort of laxness is not acceptable.

He doesn’t even know who he should message. Atsushi? The boy might close in on himself and shut down for failure and Dazai cannot afford to deal with that. Chuuya? Not an option, Chuuya would be the last person to go to about you seeing how often he actively expresses his distaste for your presence in the building, Dazai doesn’t want to give him more ammunition about you. Hirotsu? Might be the best option, the Black Lizards are quick and efficient, they’ll be able to track you down fast, but if he sends the Black Lizards he needs to figure out what he’s going to do.

What is he going to do?

God, he doesn’t know. The red starts to tint blue as a helpless feeling sweeps over him. He doesn’t know what to do. You left on your own, he doesn’t know why and he doesn’t know if you have any intentions on coming back. He doesn’t know what to do if you don’t plan on coming back. His whole reasoning behind the decision to indulge in you was centered on the fact that he could protect you in this lifetime, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to keep you in the ivory tower forever but he hoped he’d at least have a little longer to try to figure out a plan.

And the fact that you didn’t even tell him that you were leaving doesn’t bode well—again, the fleeting, anxiety-inducing thought of you stumbling upon something that you shouldn’t have crosses through his head but he pushes it away. Maybe you left because you were bored, because he wasn’t around and Gin was busy, he can try to fix that. He can fix that. Maybe he’ll even convince you to come back.

But if he can’t…

He has two options:

He can put protection details on you, it would be an extension of Port Mafia resources that will face a lot of push back from his executives considering they’re approaching a gang war with the now united forces of Dostoevsky, Nabokov and Tolstoy, but he doesn’t give a fuck about what his executives think, you and Odasaku are the only things that matter in this universe so he’ll do whatever it takes to make sure you’re safe. But regardless of what his executives think, the main issue with this option is that your safety is not guaranteed. It’ll only take one slip up for your life to be forfeit and for everything that Dazai has built and sacrificed to be flushed down the drain.

That leaves option two. Forcing you to stay in the tower. Locking you up until he can ensure that there are no more threats to you (there may always be threats to you). You’d hate him, surely, and is he capable of living in a universe where you hate him? He has to be, if it means your safety. But that isn’t the life that he wants for you. He wants you to live, achieve all of the dreams you were never able to in all of the other universes, you can’t do that if you’re locked up.

Dazai feels sick. Regret starts to churn his stomach. He never should have approached you. He never should have indulged. He never should have convinced himself that he could keep you safe because he can’t. It’s fate. Fate. Fate.

The word twists the cloud fogging his vision, the ugly color that formed of the mixed blues and reds turns darker, until an inky black is creeping into his vision. Fate, he hates the word, he hates the inevitability, he hates himself for dancing right along with the strings that have been placed on him by the cruel gods above, even when he knew what would happen if he did. The weight of the gun hidden in his jacket starts to weigh all the more heavily, his fingers twitch toward it, desperate to feel the familiar weight of it in his hand. And then-

And then the elevator dings.

Dazai’s gaze cuts to the side, sharp and cold, and it’s only when the elevator doors slide open and your pretty laugh rings through the air that Dazai’s world is finally set straight again. The color returns, the numbness disappears, the void is pushed away for another day. His eyes land on you, and the bright smile painted on your lips as you bound back into his penthouse.

“You’re back early!” you say, delighted, and Dazai can only hope and pray that you can’t tell how badly he’s spiraled because you weren’t around. He thinks you can, of course you can, because your smile falters a bit but then it brightens again as you make your way over to him and-

Oh.

All of the tension in his body melts away as you make your way over to him with a skip in your step and lean up on your tiptoes to wrap your arms around his shoulders. Dazai lets out a breath, too sharp and too shaky for you to not notice with how close you are to his face, but he can hardly bring himself to care as he brings trembling hands to wrap around your waist. He basks in the feeling of your warmth and if any of the numbness had threatened to linger, it’s certainly gone now as he calms himself down by setting his heart in pace with yours as he feels it thump steadily against his chest.

“Where did you go?” His voice is hoarse, as much as he tries to make the question seem light.

“You have no food, Dazai,” you complain, and you don’t seem to care that he’s definitely hugging you for a bit too long, propping your chin on his chest to look up at him. “Plus, as fancy as your penthouse is, I can’t sit around in the same place for days. I wanted to go out on a walk. So I ran to the store to pick up some groceries. I thought I’d make it back before you, I wanted to try to make something for dinner. I saw a pasta recipe while I was scrolling through Instagram that I want to try out, although I should probably test it out on my own before feeding you any. It usually takes me a few tries to get a recipe down and the first few attempts are more akin to toxic waste than actual food…”

You ramble, probably because you can tell how out of it he is and it’s scary how easily you can see through him because he thinks it’s only a matter of time before you see through to what he really is. But for now, he lets his eyes slide shut as he loses himself in your voice, and he feels silly for thinking that you would leave without saying anything.

He knows you better than anyone else in the world. Anyone else in any world. Maybe even better than you yourself. He should have known better. You would never do that, no matter what you learn about him, no matter what he does. It’s not who you are—you’re always so stringent on communication, you can’t sleep until an argument is settled properly. It’s something he’s hated in other universes, because he’s flighty and can’t handle confrontation, but he thinks it’s something that he should rely on in this one, because he knows that no matter what you might learn, you’ll always sit down to give him the chance of a proper conversation rather than just ghosting him.

He spiraled for nothing.

He’s not drawn back to the present until he hears:

“... and Chuuya is so cool, by the way. Why didn’t you introduce me to him sooner? He has an ability, I’ve never met an ability user before. I made him carry all of the groceries, and he did it like it was nothing. Gravity manipulation? Did you know in undergrad, I wanted to major in physics—I tried to actually, but had to drop 101 because apparently my brain is not cut out for the sciences. Or mathematics. It was kind of embarrassing actually, who has to drop out of a 101 class?”

In your spiel, only one word—one name—matters. His eyes reopen, he makes sure to keep his body lax in your arms as you lean against him so you can’t feel his sudden shift in mood. His gaze is cold and cutting again, lifting from you to behind you, where he finally lays his eyes upon the person with you.

Chuuya stands there, dozens of grocery bags hanging off his arms, a faint red glow around each of them signaling that he’s using his ability. Dazai’s expression is lethal as he stares at his executive, but Chuuya’s lip only curls up in a half-snarl, as if daring Dazai to say anything, before he makes his way out of the elevator to bring the grocery bags into his kitchen.

And Dazai can’t say anything, not this time, because he’s already figured out what happened: you must have tried to leave on your own when Gin was busy because you were bored, and Chuuya ran into you and tagged along so you wouldn’t be defenseless should someone target you to get to him, in spite of how he feels about you and your presence in the building.

Dazai bites his tongue, for once, and instead focuses back down at you. His expression softens when he catches you looking up at him, curious, and he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear.

“You should have texted me,” he murmurs. “I would’ve told you I had a quick day today, we could’ve gone together.”

Your expression twists a bit in irritation. His eyebrows shoot up in surprise.

“I did text you,” you say, indignant, and Dazai’s brows furrow and you immediately draw back to pull out your phone. He misses your warmth instantly, but forces away the longing. Your lips part a bit as you look down at the screen, a sheepish expression on your face as you say: “... I thought I texted you, evidently, it did not go through.”

Dazai lets out a puff of air, half-amusement, half-disbelief, because of course it was a matter of miscommunication, and he thinks again that he should have known better. Logically, what he assumed was so unlikely that it shouldn’t have even crossed his mind, but evidently, you turning him into an illogical and emotional fool is something universal across all of the different worlds.

But he still remembers the one fleeting thought he had earlier—that you were bored, and probably lonely sitting up here all day, especially when Gin is busy dealing with Port Mafia matters. This is bound to happen again, and next time, he might not be lucky enough to have someone catch you slipping out of the building.

So, he’ll have to do something about it himself, make sure you’re not bored enough to leave the building and unwittingly place yourself in danger, he decides, pleased.

“Would you…” Dazai hesitates as he looks down at you, uncharacteristically nervous. You tilt your head to the side curiously. “Would you want to go on a date with me tomorrow?”

A smile splits across your face.

“Is that even a question?”

Dazai’s woken up by someone shaking his shoulder.

Realistically, he knows that no enemy is able to make it to the top level of the Port Mafia’s most well-protected tower—it’s impenetrable, if the masses of armed guards on the lower floors aren’t enough to keep out intruders, then the Black Lizards on the middle floors would be more than enough, and if even they aren’t, Atsushi and Chuuya are stationed on the higher floors, ready to jump into action at a moment’s notice. Still, he’s startled, unsure of who would be in his office waking him up at this time and caught off guard because he hadn’t even meant to fall asleep, so instinctively, he’s reaching for the gun hidden at his side, eyes a bit wild as he jolts up, trying to figure out what’s going on.

“Sorry.” He only settles down when he hears your voice coming from his side, apologetic and little over a whisper as to not alarm him anymore than he already is. Instantly, his fingers loosen around the grip of his gun, a lump in his throat when he realizes that he almost pulled a gun on you. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Dazai shakes his head as soon as your words process, still trying to gather his bearings. He’s in his office, he must’ve fell asleep while looking over paperwork at his desk—plans for the upcoming event hosted by Nabokov, and a list of all of the possible informants that could be leaking information to Dostoevsky’s rats because one too many of the Port Mafia’s warehouse’s have been raided by the military police in the past few weeks for Dazai to be comfortable with, and he knows Dostoevsky is behind it because the man has been leaving little clues like it’s some sort of game to him. Dazai thinks that they should just kill all of the suspects and be done with it—if someone is even being suspected of having betrayed the Port Mafia, then they’re doing something severely wrong, but Kouyou advised him to go about this the right way.

Subtly, so as to not draw your attention, he shifts to cover the papers and then gives you his full attention, curious as to what you’re doing up so early because the sun hasn’t even risen yet. He’s been trying to make sure that he wakes up before you so that you don’t come looking for him in here, knowing where this is the most likely place where you’d stumble upon something that incriminates him as a mafioso rather than a businessman.

“You didn’t,” he lies through his teeth, voice a bit hoarse from sleep. “Is something wrong?”

You’re still dressed in your pajamas, but you have a fluffy rube wrapped around you and a soft smile on your face that makes Dazai’s chest swell. Your eyes are bright, gleaming with a type of excitement that has him tilting his head in curiosity, waiting to see what you have to say.

“Do you have access to the roof of the building?” you ask him, voice still hushed but tinged with more enthusiasm. When he nods, a smile splits across your face. “Can we go up there?”

Dazai doesn’t have the willpower to deny you anything, so there’s no hesitation as he says: “Of course.” But then as he rises to his feet, pulling on his long, black coat that he’d shrugged off at some point last night, he looks at you and asks, “Why?”

“I like watching sunrises,” you say, bounding over to the elevator and waiting for him to follow. He does, of course. He would follow you anywhere. Everywhere. He dreads the day you go somewhere he can’t follow. It’s inevitable—he doesn’t believe in the existence of heaven, but if there is one, you would go there, and he won’t. There’s too much blood on his hands, staining his skin no matter how much he scrubs it raw, and the blood that runs within him is black and corrupted, beyond any type of remedy. “I want to see one from the highest point in the city.”

Oh. Dazai’s heart leaps to his throat when he realizes what’s about to happen, pulling his access key from his pocket and swiping it against the pad to allow access to the roof. Some things differ across all of the universes: the way you meet him (although you’re always the one to find him), the way you die (he always finds you though), sometimes it takes a while for the two of you to progress past the friends stage, but it’s usually not too long.

Everything varies except for one thing: the sunrises. In every universe, you have an obsession with them: you like watching them, seeing as many new ones as you possibly can. You explained to him once that it was because it helps you move forward, gives you hope, a reason to wake up each morning. The infatuation with them began after your brother’s death in the other universes when you couldn’t find any reason to keep going on your own so you sought one out in the sunrises—although this is something you only opened up to him about in one universe, in all of the others, you’ve hidden your past struggles with depression from him. He’s not sure why, maybe just because you don’t want to burden him with them.

It would be just like you, trying to share the weight of all of his burdens but shouldering yours on your own.

He wonders if you’ll tell him in this one. He wonders what made that universe’s Dazai so special. He feels viciously jealous and for a moment, irrationally hates his other self, only finding solace in the fact that all of the other Dazais would probably feel just as scorned over the fact that only one of them got special treatment.

He thinks you can sense the deterioration of his thoughts, because you reach out and lace your fingers with his as you lean against the back of the elevator, waiting to get to the top floor. His grip on your hand is a bit too tight, he thinks, but it keeps him grounded. You’re here. You’re with him. All of the other universes don’t matter. Only this one does.

His lips part to speak, to fill the silence, but no words leave them. He thinks he’s spoken more these past two months with you than he has in his entire life. He never has any desire to speak unless he’s with you, and then he’ll find any reason to speak if it means he can hear your voice.

“You don’t have to sleep in your office, you know?” you say abruptly, voice quiet. You’re not looking at him, he wonders if you’re embarrassed at whatever you’re about to say because you hesitate as you add, “I know I’ve pretty much commandeered your room but… I wouldn’t mind sharing a bed with you. This is your place, you should be comfortable too.”

Dazai thinks his face might be on fire, all of the air whooshing from his lungs at your words because of course, it’s something he’s thought of, dreamed of, but he never imagined you would just offer it up like that. He’s quiet for too long, evidently, because you seem to be more embarrassed. Just as he’s about to force something out, the elevator doors slide open and you’re rushing forward, yanking him along, as if to pretend you never said anything and Dazai can’t help the small smile that curves onto his lips.

“That would be nice,” he tells you quietly, he doesn’t know if you hear but he thinks you do because your grip on his hand tightens.

The air is bitterly cold as high up as the two of you are, and the wind is wicked. He thinks that you’re definitely not dressed warm enough, a robe isn't nearly enough to shield from this type of cold, but you look unbothered, an exhilarated smile painted on your face as you drag him dangerously close to the edge of the roof, and Dazai can’t help the way his anxiety spikes—not for his sake, but for yours. His grip on your hand tightens a bit but you only plop down at the edge of the roof, tugging his arm gently as a way of beckoning him to sit with you.

He does. Of course, he does.

His legs dangle off the side of the roof, thigh pressed against yours, and you keep your fingers laced with his, holding his hand on your lap. You stare ahead, eyes bright and excited as you wait for the sunrise. He stares at you, captivated. A part of him is still convinced this is all some twisted dream that his mind conjured to torture him—that he’s going to wake up slumped over on his desk to an empty apartment with only the faint memory of you to console himself with.

Desperately, he wonders if there were any other universes like this, if this is just another spiral into the pages of the Book, just one more intense and more vivid than all of the rest. He knows there were universes where he stayed with the Port Mafia, universes where he became its boss—but he was older in those, in his mid or late twenties. No, this is his universe, it has to be, right? Right?

He doesn’t realize that his grip on your hand has tightened until you look over at him, and instantly, he loosens it, but you only tighten yours in response. Your eyes meet his and suddenly Dazai is breathless, unsure of what to say or do. You always look at him as if you’re looking into him, not at him, not like everyone else. It’s unnerving. He hates it. He loves it.

“Are you okay?” you ask him, knocking your shoulder into his.

The smile on his face doesn’t necessarily meet his eyes, but the words he speaks are probably the most genuine that he’s ever uttered in his entire life. “When I’m with you? Always.”

Your expression softens, although he can’t help but notice that you don’t seem entirely placated by his response. He’s grateful that you don’t push though, because he doesn’t want to lie to you. You lean over though, resting your head on his bicep, and his breath hitches when you bring your free hand to your lap too, cradling his hand in both of yours. He forces himself to look ahead again, not wanting you to see the way his visible eye has suddenly become misty.

You trace absent patterns on his skin as you wait for the sun to break over the horizon and Dazai is lost to his thoughts once more, heart suddenly clogging his throat as he realizes that yes, this is his universe and yes, you are here. With him. He doesn’t have to cling to the vague memories of your warm touch and sweet words, not when you’re sitting next to him and giving him them now. Why is he trying to drift off into the pages when he has you here? In a universe where Dazai was certain he’d never experience the tenderness your presence brought him, he should be savoring this.

“Gin told me the other day that you guys are having trouble with a rival company,” you say quietly, and that draws him back to the present, brows furrowing as he wonders just how much Gin told you, mind racing as he tries to figure out where exactly this conversation is going. “That you guys are trying to prepare for an event they’re hosting in a week. I don’t want you to… worry about me or anything while you’re busy getting ready for all of that… Maybe that’s a bit presumptuous of me to assume but I just… I don’t know. I know you’ve been stressed about it, I don’t want to put more on you.”

Dazai lets out a quiet puff of air. “You see right through me, don’t you?” he murmurs, voice gentle and fond as his gaze drifts over you. “You don’t have to worry about that. You don’t put any stress on me.”

You look a bit flustered at his words, glancing down at your lap, at where his fingers are still laced with yours. You squeeze them tighter for a second and then look back out at the horizon. “... I’m glad,” you tell him softly. “I’ll keep out of your way the weekend of, though. I already talked to one of my friends, she’s going to let me stay with her for the weekend. Well. Assuming my apartment isn’t fixed by then. I still can’t believe it’s taking so long.”

The fondness is gone. Dazai’s world crashes and burns.

It’s only sheer willpower that prevents his sudden burst of anxiety from showing on his face. He turns his gaze out to the horizon now, staring ahead as he tries to figure out how to tell you no without sounding psychotic.

His tongue presses to the roof of his mouth, the nails of his free hand scrape painfully against the rooftop as he desperately tries to fumble together a plan. You cannot leave the tower the night of the event. There’s already a high chance that Dostoevsky knows about you—Dazai knows there’s a spy in the Port Mafia and he doesn’t know if they’ve spotted you around the base. You’ve been leaving the headquarters more frequently during the day since that day with Chuuya; Dazai is never able to join you but he makes sure that Tachihara, Chuuya or Atsushi are with you on the chance that you’re targeted.

If he’s being realistic, there’s no shot that Dostoevsky doesn’t know of you already, and if you’re out and about while the entire Port Mafia is readying for this event… No one would be left for him to station a protection detail on you, and it would be just like Dostoevsky to capitalize on that as he has in so many other universes, having you killed when no one is around to protect you.

God, is this it?

The words ring through his head. Cold. Damning. His bones feel as if they’d been thrown into a blast chiller and stuck back inside of his body. His stomach churns. Is this it? Is this how it’s going to happen?

He can’t let it happen. How does he prevent it?

How does he prevent it?

He thinks there’s only one way, but it leaves a sour taste in his mouth because it’s nearly as risky as letting you go off on your own, the only difference being that he would at least have some semblance of control over the situation.

“Oh,” he finally forces out, the words sound distant and hoarse even to his own ears.

You look at him. Fatal. You can always read right through him, he has to make his decision quick.

“You sound… disappointed,” you say hesitantly.

He makes his decision, and he prays to any god that will listen that it doesn’t backfire.

“I was… going to ask you to be my date to the event, actually,” he says, careful to not look at you and give you even more of a window into his mind. He feels the way you straighten at his words. Hooked. He continues with, “... but if you already made plans with your friend…”

“Really?” you breathe out, your grip on his hand is tight, he can feel the way your fingers are trembling around his.

“Really,” he tells you softly, finally daring to look at you.

Your eyes are shining, the expression on your face so open and unguarded that Dazai almost feels bad for lying, but you don’t have to know the truth, that the only reason he’s inviting you with him is because he can’t have you going out and about alone. Not now. Not until Dostoevsky is dead.

But once Dostoevsky is dead, then what about all of the other threats? Agatha Christie? All of the enemies he’s made in this lifetime? When does it end?

He can’t think about that right now. He has to tackle the issue at hand first.

You turn your head to look back out at the horizon, a smile edging at the corners of your lips. “I would love to be your date,” you say so quietly that Dazai almost doesn’t hear you.

But he does, and he can’t hold back a relieved breath this time as he squeezes your hand.

A comfortable silence washes over the two of you as you wait for the sunrise, and Dazai doesn’t think he’s ever felt more at home. He’s still tired, undoubtedly; he hadn’t meant to fall asleep last night because he knew damn well that he’d only be more tired when he woke up, it would’ve been easier to just stay up the whole night. But now, he’s so at ease with you that he could almost fall back asleep—and that’s a feat in itself because Dazai hardly sleeps, and never feels comfortable enough to do so, he only ever sleeps when he's too exhausted to keep going. You’re so warm, so home, how could his eyes not start drooping shut?

“You know why they’re so great?” you suddenly ask, drawing him out of the drowsy state he was threatening to fall into. You’re still looking ahead, but he’s looking back down at you now.

It’s close—the sun is about to rise, and he doesn’t care to see it himself, he cares to see you. He wants to see how the orange hues reflect in your eyes, the way your skin glows beneath the golden rays; he thinks it’s a holy experience, Dazai has felt the whirlwind of emotions that all of the other Dazais go through the first time they see you beneath the rising sun and he never thought he’d be able to feel it for himself.

“Because no two are ever the same?” His voice is soft and hesitant, and he’s not thinking as he speaks. He doesn’t even register what he said until you’re pulling your head off of his shoulder to look at him again, eyes wide, delighted.

“Yeah!” You toss him such a stunning smile that it almost physically dazes him. “You get it.”

He doesn’t have the heart to admit that he’s a fraud, closing in on himself a bit, but you don’t notice, head turning straight again.

“They give me something to look forward to,” you say, a bit quieter again. Your gaze is distant as you look out into the sky, as if you’re seeing something that’s not actually there. “I want to see as many of them as I can.”

Dazai once tried to find the same comfort in sunrises that you did. It was when he first came up with his plan and he realized that he’d never get the chance to be with you, and he’d never get the chance to call Odasaku a friend. He came up here, actually, and watched the sunrise in this very spot. It was bitter and cold. It made him sick to his stomach. It made him feel emptier than he already was. And he realized that there was no beauty or appeal to them unless you were at his side.

“We should…”

You trail off as you turn to look at him again suddenly and Dazai’s lips part to warn you that you’re going to miss the best part—your favorite part, as you’ve told him (not him) over and over again. But the words die on his tongue as the sun breaks over the horizon and wow, he understands it.

He understands it. God, he understands it. Everything he’s felt through the other Dazais pale in comparison to the sight before him and how it entirely devastates the thin thread of control he has on his emotions whenever he’s with you. Enamored. Captivated. His chest feels tight and his throat feels swollen and Dazai is in love. He is so completely and irrevocably in love that he doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to recover.

Suddenly, he understands why so many of the other Dazais have come to terms with their feelings for you at this moment.

The sunrise washes over you and Dazai thinks you’re utterly angelic. Your eyes reflect the myriad of colors sweeping over the horizon, your skin glows beneath the red and gold hues. You’re beautiful, unreally so. Too divine for someone like him to lay his tainted fingers upon. He’s suddenly hyper aware of how his shoulder is brushing yours and how your fingers are laced with his. He thinks he should pull away, spare you from his putrid touch, but he couldn’t even if he wanted to, and he doesn’t want to, because he’s so wholly selfish that he would rather condemn you to ruin than part from you.

“We should watch them together,” you finally say, and your eyes don’t leave his and you’re missing the sunrise but you don’t seem to mind, searching his face desperately for an answer.

It takes an embarrassingly long time for your words to process, but when they do, Dazai thinks there’s no way he’s going to be able to hide the sudden urge he feels to cry.

“Yeah,” he says. His voice cracks, he can’t even bring himself to care. “Yeah, we should.”

Nakahara Chuuya is livid when he gets a notification to his phone about the roof suddenly being accessed, knowing damn well only one other person can get up there. The vibrations from his phone wake him up, and then the subsequent spike of panic that shoots through him when he realizes what the notification is and what the implications of it are is more than enough to have him throwing himself out of bed and sprinting up the stairs, realizing that the elevator will take far too long.

It takes him a total of two minutes to get up to the roof from the thirty-second floor, and by the time he gets there, he’s so full of rage that Chuuya feels like he might explode. The last time Dazai went up to the roof, he was six bottles deep and Chuuya was hardly able to grab him before he toppled over the edge, and Chuuya is not in the mood to deal with that this early in the morning.

Chuuya hadn’t thought this would be an issue now, not with you here because although Chuuya still doesn’t know quite who you are or how you’ve managed to get Dazai Osamu under your thumb, he knows that Dazai is not the Dazai that Chuuya knows whenever you’re around. And Chuuya doesn’t get it, you’re nice enough, pleasant to talk to and pleasant to look at, but he doesn’t think that there’s anything special about you. Not special enough to have Dazai so entirely enamored by you that he’s starting to put the Port Mafia second, at least.

Apparently not enamored enough to stop from getting shit-faced and suicidal, though.

Chuuya’s jaw tightens as he pushes open the door to the roof and-

And he freezes.

The fury slowly starts to dissipate as he catches sight of where you’re sitting at the edge of the roof with Dazai as the sun finally starts to rise. He thinks he should leave, go back down and get a few more hours of sleep before he has to meet Kouyou and Hirotsu at ten to go over the protection details for the event Nabokov is hosting, but he can’t help the way he hesitates, watching how absolutely infatuated Dazai looks as the sun rays sweep over you. Less like the cold and cruel boss of the Port Mafia that Chuuya’s become used to over the past few years, and more like the kid he met at fifteen, the one who disappeared and turned into a shell of himself after a few months of Chuuya knowing him.

Chuuya never understood why. The only time he ever got close was that night on the roof when he started breaking down after Chuuya stopped him from jumping, but even then Dazai refused to explain anything to him. It pissed him off, honestly, because they were supposed to be partners. Chuuya was supposed to have the asshole’s back, no matter how infuriating he may be, but something changed a few months before Dazai’s sixteenth birthday and whatever it was, it entirely killed off anything left of the Dazai that Chuuya knew. No matter how much he demanded to know what happened, Dazai blew him off—dismissive at first, then cruelly, until Chuuya finally had enough and let it be.

If he wanted to go off and be a husk of himself, then so be it, far be it from Chuuya to stop him.

But now…

Chuuya lets out a quiet huff, shaking his head, drawing his eyes from where Dazai is looking at you as if you’re the only thing in the world that matters, stars in his eyes and a soft smile on his lips, to look up at the sky. He supposes it doesn’t quite matter if he doesn’t understand what’s so special about you to make Dazai act like this, just the fact that you do is enough—and if it turns out this is all some scheme by one of the Port Mafia’s enemies to get close to Dazai, Chuuya will do what he has to do. He always does.

He thinks he should still grab Dazai—if Chuuya remembers correctly, he has a meeting with Ace in twenty minutes, but he takes one last look at where you’re sitting with him and lets out another heavy sigh, shaking his head and deciding that he’ll just handle the meeting. He’s been meaning to have a word with the man about his business in eastern Russia anyway.

He closes the door quietly, heading back inside, all of the lingering resentment and anger washed away; he lets Dazai indulge, if only because he knows nothing good ever lasts in this line of work. It’s only a matter of time before his luck runs out.

#ᡣ𐭩 carina’s archives #dazai x reader #dazai x you #dazai osamu x reader #dazai osamu x you #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs x you #bsd x reader #bsd x you

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scarletta-ruan · 1 year

Note

hi hi, i'm the anon of the mental breakdown request and i really loved it! thanks!

well, as expected (😭😭😭), if i'm not disturbing you, could i request one more thing? it can be with the same characters (sigma, nikolai, jouno, fyodor and now + odasaku) reacting to reader hugging/clinging onto them when tired?? again, thank you if you can write it and don't worry if you need to reject!!! take care and don't forget to rest, hope your weeks are being good! <3

(also, expect to see me requesting for a good while, i'm sorry 😔)

𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐑 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐇𝐔𝐆𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐆/𝐂𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐓𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐃

WARNING: OOC, soft!character, fem!reader, reader being a clingy person, characters take care of reader.

TYPE: Headcanon

PAIRING: Sigma || Nikolai Gogol || Saigiku Jouno || Fyodor Dostoevsky || Sakunosuke Oda x fem!reader

WORDCOUNTS: 1.1k+ words

NOTES: Your request was kinda cute, I'm just happy when you loved my work. Sorry for taking too long in writing a request.

1. Sigma

How could he turn you down when you cling on to him like that?

Our precious baby, of course. He would let you cling to him when his face turned red.

Imagine one day you were very exhausted, lying on the couch while whining to him that you were really tired from work today.

And then you suddenly wrapped your arms around his waist, leaned on his back and kept whining about your day when he was making some dinner for you.

Boy, he would listen to everything you said. Even though you were whining or complaining about your colleague, he still loved to hear it all.

He would give some comments when you suddenly asked him while telling your story.

“You know what, that guy who works/studies with me is a bastard.”

“Yeah, I know it. He was the worst in the office/school right?”

This was cuter when you still wrapped your arms around him while Sigma was moving around in the kitchen in order to get more ingredients or just grabbed some seasonings. His mind also told him that he now looked absolutely like a mother chicken with small chicks running after her.

And when he thought about it, he just chuckled to himself and shook his head. But unfortunately, you still realized that he was chuckling.

“Why are you chuckling? Is there anything funny in my story?”

“No, love. It’s just because I saw that you are cute when you cling on to me like that.”

Always searched for a chance to have you cling on to him because Sigma loved the way you were cute and small like a small kitten begging for love.

2. Nikolai Gogol

Nikolai would 100% love it when you cling or hug him.

Always wished that today you would give him some hugs after work. Man, he loved cuddling with you a lot so he would never slip this chance.

One time when you were exhausted after a work day, Nikolai was on the couch as you entered inside home.

Would definitely know you were home perfectly.

“Hi, my dear, little cutie Dove. How was your day today?”

“Not fine, of course. Doing too much work, being stressed with the boss's orders, and exhausted with the crowded street.”

Nikolai would let you mumble or curse everything which happened to you today, because he said that it would be alright if you told them out rather than keep it inside.

Then moved to the part hugging him. Because of being tired, you went hugging and clinging to him, begging for some attention.

“Aw, my Dove is getting clingy today.”

“You better let me do it, else I would never do it again.”

Felt satisfied when you cling to him, of course.

Wouldn't let the chance of you leaving him in any seconds. Nikolai would let you cling to him like a small Koala when he went around the house to get some water or a snack for you.

3. Saigiku Jouno

Let's say that Jouno denies you hugging or clinging to him.

Why? Because he needed to move around then get you some things you really needed when you were tired.

But when you insisted on hugging him, Jouno couldn't turn you down. He loved the way you let yourself cling on him when you were too tired.

Always told you that you needed him for charging, and often compared you to a device that needed to be charged.

“You look absolutely like a run out battery flashlight.”

“Yeah, and you are my own charger in my life.”

Interaction with people like Jouno was very precious. Because still he couldn't see anything, then a hug of you could be a way to express that you loved and needed him.

Always teased about your heartbeat when you hugged him.

“Your heartbeat is getting faster when you cling on me, is that right?”

“But I hug you from behind…”

“Blind people can be so sharp, you know.”

Would absolutely give you a kiss when you requested him over and over.

4. Fyodor Dostoevsky

Yeah, another person denied hugging and clinging like Jouno. Fyodor found it too annoying for calm people like him.

But still, he let you do it whenever you wanted.

Enjoyed a book while you tangled up on his body like a small exhausted kitten.

Would give you a head pat because he thought you were a small lazy kitten that curled up on his lap.

“You and the kittens are the same.”

“Yeah, it's just because kittens often get tired like me.”

Sometimes suddenly sighed when you clinging to him, while he cooked dinner for you. Feeling your warmth behind him and then your slow breath made his heart flutter.

“The bed is in your bedroom, or the couch is in the living room. I’m not the place where you can relax, you know.”

“No, but still you are fluffier than them.”

“Fine, just do what you want.”

Would let you touch everything on his, including his hair, his hands, his chest, his back. Sometimes still this man would sigh but everything was alright, he loved how you leaned on him when you were tired.

Listened to all of your stories about work today, every complaint or else every compliment you got today.

Would give you a bath because you wanted him to do this for you, and he still obedient do that for his little kitten.

5. Sakunosuke Oda

He looked absolutely like a mother carried his child.

Imagine that he was cooking dinner and you were behind his back giving lots of complaints about how bad your colleague and your company were.

“The boss considered me like his dog, I had to walk around the office serving his ass and other colleagues wanted me to do lots of things for them.”

“Mm, they are bad, aren’t they?”

Couldn’t move around easily because you were stuck on him, sometimes when he moved to the refrigerator to pick up some ingredients for your favorite food, you just hugged him from behind and followed him. Oda considered you as a chick, for real.

“Do I look like a mother chicken?”

“Why?”

“Because I have a small chick that keeps following behind my back.”

He would give you a shower since you were too exhausted and you didn’t want to keep yourself up to go to the bathroom. Of course, Oda was bathing you like a small child.

“Close your eyes or the water will spit into it.”

“But I can’t see anything if I close my eyes.”

He also fed you by himself since when you were tired you definitely skipped dinner.

“I'm not a child, Odasaku.”

“This is my responsibility, though.”

#bsd x female reader #bsd x reader #bsd x you #sigma x reader #nikolai gogol x reader #nikolai x reader #nikolai x you #jouno x reader #jouno x you #jouno saigiku x reader #saigiku jouno x reader #fyodor dostoevsky x reader #fyodor x reader #fyodor x you #odasaku x reader #oda sakunosuke x reader

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dreamwritesimagines · 8 months

Text

Garden of Secrets [34] - Heartsease

A.N: I'm back from my vacation! Thank you so much for your wonderful feedback and support and patience my loves!❤ I hope you’ll like this chapter, and please don’t forget to tell me what you think, thank you! ❤

Summary: Love can cause protectiveness.

Warnings: Regency era society and social rules, some gender specific language and terms, mentions of trauma, violence.

Word Count: 3600

Series Masterlist

For a couple of seconds, you could do nothing but just stand there and stare at him. Your ears were muffled from the blood rushing through them and you gritted your teeth, narrowing your eyes.

“What are you doing here?”

“Rupert!” you heard your uncle and turned your head to see him approaching you all. Your father raised his brows.

“Can I not talk to my daughter?”

“No you can’t,” your aunt said and he held up his hands.

“Why did you not send us an invite for your wedding breakfast?”

“Rupert, I thought I told you to leave,” your uncle said and he shrugged his shoulders.

“I wanted to greet my daughter, that is all.”

It felt as if you were swallowing coals and you pursed your lips together before turning to your uncle.

“What is he doing here?” you asked and your uncle shook his head slightly.

“He dropped a surprise visit,” he answered. “An hour ago, and now he’s leaving.”

“Not yet dear brother,” your father said and your uncle raised his brows.

“Would you like me to get you dragged out of here?”

Your father looked like he was considering pushing his buttons before he heaved a deep sigh and turned his glances to you.

“Your mother is here as well,” he said. “Resting at the inn, the journey tired her a lot.”

“It’s a long way here from hell,” you pointed out. “I’d say so.”

He didn’t even hesitate. “I’m not sure about today, but I think she’ll have gathered enough strength to see you tomorrow if you want—”

“Why on earth would I want to see her?” you cut him off. “Or you for that matter?”

“We’re family.”

“No we’re not,” you spat. “Has all that drinking finally muddled your mind beyond saving? You’re not my family, neither is she.”

He shrugged his shoulders.

“Believe that if you wish,” he said. “Your mother and I still missed you. You and Teddy.”

Your head shot up, your jaw clenching in anger and you scoffed, then walked past him.

“Y/N—”

“I’ll see you tonight,” you muttered to your uncle and made your way out of the garden, your thoughts like a storm in your head. You approached the carriage and the coachman opened the door for you.

“Where to, ma’am?”

“To Josie’s house,” you said through your teeth and got in the carriage. “Thank you.”

You had spent almost three hours in Josie’s house after telling her that your parents were here. You had both decided that it would be better if they didn’t see Teddy, so Bess was going to stay with Teddy in their house instead of coming to the ball. Though you had insisted she did not have to, Josie refused to let you handle your parents alone, so she and Andrew would in fact be coming to the ball tonight.

When you finally arrived home, you were exhausted beyond words. You dragged your weary self up the stairs, taking off your gloves and entered your room to fling yourself on the bed, letting out a groan.

It was fine.

It was going to be fine.

You just needed to go through tonight’s ball, and then you were going to come up with a plan to avoid them as much as possible until they decided to go back to the countryside.

“Y/N?”

You turned your head upon hearing Benedict’s voice, then sat up in the bed.

“Over here!” you called out, rubbing at your eyes and Benedict knocked on the door.

“May I?”

“Sure!” you said and he opened the door to peek his head in.

“Were you sleeping?”

“Not at all,” you said as he entered the room and closed the door behind him. “I just got home actually.”

“So did I—you will not believe what happened.”

“Neither will you I’m guessing,” you muttered and he started pacing in the room.

“So you know how I was meeting Colin and Anthony because Anthony had this huge news for us?” he said. “Guess what the news were. He asked—”

“Lottie to marry him.”

“And he didn’t even ask for my permission and she’s been my best friend since—wait,” he stopped his rant mid-way. “How did you…?”

“Lottie told me earlier and trust me, I’d love it if that was the only news I got today,” you said, slipping a little to get to the edge of the bed. “I need to talk to you.”

Benedict’s brows pulled into a frown and he stepped closer to you. “What’s wrong?”

“Um…” you trailed off and cleared your throat as he crouched down so that he could get on your level while you sat still on the edge of the bed. He reached out to hold your hand, making you smile before you swallowed thickly, willing the words out of your mouth.

“I need your help,” you managed to say and he nodded.

“Anything,” he said without any hesitation. “Name it, it’s yours.”

“First of all, promise me you will not do anything stupid.”

He tilted his head. “I’ll try?”

“Try your hardest.”

“Alright,” he said with a small smile. “What is it?”

“My parents are here.”

That was enough to make the smile on his face fade away as that furious fire started burning in his eyes.

“What?”

“I went to my uncle’s house and my father was there,” you said. “Talk about bad surprises…”

His jaw clenched. “Where is he now?”

“You promised me not to do anything stupid less than a minute ago,” you reminded him. “My father said my mother was too tired from the journey but he will be at tonight’s ball I’m guessing and I wanted you to know beforehand because he knows I’m married. He will probably try to talk to you—”

“Good.”

“Benedict, you don’t know him,” you insisted. “He’s not exactly someone who you’d like to have a conversation with.”

“I’m not planning on having a conversation with him,” he said, his voice low with carefully contained anger and you tilted your head.

“Ben.”

“Let him try to talk to me,” he told you and you shook your head.

“Whatever it is you’re planning…”

“I’m not planning anything,” he said. “I’m merely stating the truth. If he so much as tries to come near you, there will be consequences. It’s about time he heard that, no?”

You bit down on your lip. “I can handle him though.”

“Oh I know,” he said and offered you a small smile. “You just don’t have to do it alone anymore, that’s all.”

Before you could even control your expression, you found yourself mirroring his smile and you nodded slowly.

“Alright then,” you murmured. “Let’s see how tonight goes.”

To say that you were tense at the ball would have been the understatement of the century and by the murderous look on his face, Benedict shared the sentiment. He had refused to let go of your hand since the beginning of the ball even when Gordon, Henry and Lucy came to talk to you or when the rest of the Bridgertons showed up, happily chattering about the news of Anthony and Lottie’s engagement. Thankfully your parents were nowhere to be seen and your aunt and uncle looked very happy, so as the time passed you found yourself relaxing a little while you sipped your lemonade while Benedict looked like a guard dog, his eyes searching through the crowd while he half-heartedly listened to what you were saying.

“And then Lucy for some reason decided to—Ben.”

“Hm?” he muttered without dragging his gaze off of the crowd but when you raised your brows in silence, he turned to you. “Yes?”

“If he shows up and tries to taunt you or something, don’t take the bait.”

He looked almost too innocent. “What bait?”

“I’m just saying if you killed him, you’d go to prison and then get hanged,” you pointed out. “And I’m too young to be a widow.”

He grinned at you. “You didn’t have an issue with that idea before.”

“I do now,” you insisted, elbowing him. “We haven’t even visited Rome yet for the honeymoon nonsense, and you want to die already?”

“That’s not what I said at all—”

“And if you die, everyone will try to talk to me and you know how much I hate that,” you made a face, making him laugh.

“Mm, such an inconvenience.”

“Exactly,” you said and raised a hand to wave at Josie and Andrew who made their way to you.

“Any sign of him?” Josie asked and you shrugged your shoulders.

“I don’t see the ground opening up to spit out any demons, so no.”

Andrew heaved a sigh. “Maybe he just won’t show up,” he said. “Maybe he fears your uncle will get him dragged out of the place.”

“That’s not like him, and he knows uncle wouldn’t do that.”

“Have you met him before?” Benedict asked Andrew, making him scoff.

“Mm hm,” he said. “He’s terrible, you’ll hate him.”

“I already do.”

“Where’s Felix by the way?” you asked and Andrew shrugged.

“He was drinking with Lucy and arguing with her about who the biggest artist of the Renaissance was.”

“That argument has been going on for over three days now,” Benedict muttered and Josie stole a look at Andrew.

“You really don’t have to spend the whole night away from him just to be with me.”

Andrew shot her a light-hearted glare.

“You’re my best friend Jo,” he said. “Not to mention mine to safekeep when Bess isn’t here. Of course I’ll be here for you, don’t be ridiculous.”

Josie repressed a smile and squeezed at his arm, then cleared her throat.

“I need a stronger drink than just a lemonade,” she mumbled and Andrew held her hand.

“Come on,” he said. “I think I know who to find for that task.”

He pulled her away from you into the crowd and you huffed out, making Benedict turn to look down at you, caressing the back of your hand with his thumb as if trying to assure you.

“A dance, my lady?” he asked, making you smile.

“I’d love that but I just need some fresh air first,” you said. “Would it be rude to auntie if we stepped outside for a moment?”

“Not at all,” he said, nodding towards the entrance. “Come on.”

You let him lead you out of the ballroom and passed the foyer with him, then stepped outside, the fresh air making you inhale and tilt your head back before you followed him towards the garden.

“They’re very good friends huh?”

“Josie and Andrew?” you asked and nodded. “They’d die for each other, even though Josie is less obvious about it. If the roles were reversed and Andrew’s father were here, Josie would be walking around that ballroom with a pistol or something.”

Benedict hummed, looking around the garden before turning to shoot you a lopsided grin.

“What?” you asked and he shrugged his shoulders.

“What’s that one?” he asked and you let out a small giggle.

“Oh are we doing that again then?”

“We absolutely are,” he said. “So what is it?”

You heaved a sigh, then turned to follow his line of sight.

“That’s heartsease” you said. “I planted it around a month before we got married.”

“What does it do?”

You smirked at him. “Well it can be used as medicine or tea,” you said. “But in medieval times, people used to use it to make so called love potions.”

He raised his brows and let out a chuckle. “Is that right?”

“I mean clearly it’s nonsense but…” you said. “It’s quite popular now as well, especially among courting couples, considering its meaning and everything.”

“What does it mean?”

“It means—um,” you stole a look at him, then turned your gaze to the flowers. “It means you’re in my thoughts.”

A small smile curled his lips but before he could say anything, another voice reached you.

“Oh if it isn’t the happy couple…”

You could feel the hairs on the back of your neck rise when your eyes fell on your father, your jaw clenching as that familiar pain in your wrist came back. Benedict seemed to have understood who he was immediately, because he stepped in front of you as if to shield you from your father even if he was just standing there.

The shift was so sudden that for a moment you couldn’t even focus on anything else. You were more used to Benedict being quite carefree and you hadn’t exactly seen him angry up until now, he had always made sure to keep that part of him under control around you, but now?

This was different.

There was no sign of warmth in his unwavering gaze as he glared at your father, towering over him. His back was completely straight, and he didn’t even have to say a word for your father to understand he wasn’t wanted here.

But of course, your father didn’t see that.

“You must be my son-in-law, Benedict Bridgerton,” he said and offered his hand. “Rupert Thorne.”

Benedict didn’t shake his hand, instead he just raised his brows, that calm anger radiating off of him in waves. Your father looked rather surprised, but then retrieved his hand.

“I see,” he said. “My daughter had a lot to say about me I’m sure—”

“What are you doing here?” Benedict cut him off as if he had zero patience for him and your father hummed.

“It’s a ball thrown by my brother’s wife.”

“They didn’t invite you.”

“They don’t have to, we’re family.”

“We’re not,” you spat, narrowing your eyes. “No one in there wants to see you, so you can go away now.”

“Your mother sent her love,” he said. “She wants to see you tomorrow.”

“Tell her she can go to hell.”

Your father tut tutted. “Always so emotional,” he told you, making you pull back slightly.

“Excuse me?”

“I’m guessing this hostility of yours is because of the lies she fed you?” your father asked Benedict, making your jaw drop. “It’s exaggeration, I hope you know that. She’s always been too sensitive—”

“You will not talk to or about my wife like that,” Benedict cut him off sternly and you felt a warmth spreading through your chest while your father looked slightly taken aback before pulling himself together. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Henry and Lucy stepping outside and you shifted your weight.

“Ben,” you said, reaching out to touch his arm. “Just…let’s go inside. I don’t want to do this where people can see, and he’s not worth it.”

Benedict gritted his teeth, then looked down at you while your father scoffed.

“I’m not worth it?” he repeated. “Careful there Y/N. Just because whoring yourself out got you a fortunate marriage doesn’t mean you can forget where you come from.”

Benedict’s head whipped around and a silence fell upon you for a moment before Benedict clicked his tongue.

“Fuck this,” he growled and lunged at him, making you gasp as he grabbed him by the neck to punch him in the face, the sound of a bone cracking reaching you.

“Benedict no!” you rushed to them as your father tried to get out of his grip but it was of no use, even you could see that through your panic. Benedict shoved him back and he tripped before losing his balance, falling on his back. Someone grabbed your arm before you could get in the way and you saw Lucy pulling you back to stop you from getting hurt accidentally while Henry rushed to get between them.

“What on earth are you doing?!”

“Get out of the way, Henry,” Benedict said and took a step towards your father again but Henry pushed him back.

“Benedict—”

“Stop!” you said, your heart beating in your ears as your father found his footing, then stood up, wiping at the blood pouring out of his nose that looked broken. If it were any other time, you would have felt like at least some justice had taken place but now, all you cared about was Benedict not getting harmed in this in any way. You pulled your arm out of Lucy’s grip and turned to your father who was glaring at Benedict, no doubt trying to decide whether he could take him down or not but that was impossible, anyone could see that.

“Just leave,” you said through your teeth. “Or do you want to ruin your chances of getting any money from uncle?”

Your father spat out the blood on the grass and wiped at his nose again.

“This is not over yet,” he pointed at Benedict who scoffed.

“Oh trust me, it’s not,” he said, glaring daggers at him and Lucy let out a breath while your father walked away.

“Are you alright?” you rushed to Benedict while Henry gawked at him.

“What was that?”

“Or who was that?” Lucy asked and you grabbed Benedict’s bloodied hand to check for any injuries.

“Benedict…”

“I’m fine, it’s not broken,” Benedict assured you and Henry’s shook his head.

“Have you forgotten that you’re an artist?” he asked. “If you broke your hand—”

“Who was that, Y/N?” Lucy asked and you heaved a sigh.

“My father,” you told her. “It’s um, it’s a long story but… thank you, both of you.”

“Of course,” Lucy said and Henry’s eyes darted between you and Benedict before motioning at his hand.

“A doctor should see that.”

“It’s not broken,” Benedict repeated and you licked your lips, then looked back at the house.

“Come with me,” you said, grabbing at his wrist before pulling him towards the house. You passed by the guests in the hallway, then led him upstairs to the second drawing room before you both got inside and you closed the door behind you.

“It really feels fine.”

“Sit down,” you said, walking to the cabinet to pull it open, then took out the familiar box and opened it to get some bandage and a piece of clean cloth. You uncapped the bottle to pour some carbolic acid on the cloth, and walked to him.

“Sit down I said.”

“You would make a terrifying doctor,” he joked as he sat down, and you sat down across from him to take his hand carefully into yours.

“Can you move it?”

Benedict nodded and moved his fingers, making a face.

“Not broken, thank God,” you said and lightly pressed the cloth on his bruised knuckles. He took a deep breath and cleared his throat, trying to pass it off as a cough but you were very familiar with how much it stung when someone pressed carbolic acid-soaked cloth on a wound. You lifted the cloth a bit and blew on his knuckles gently, trying to lessen the sting, making a smile curl his lips.

“How did you know…?”

“That it was here?” you finished his question. “Well I used to live here in case you forgot. And Teddy can be rather clumsy, so we have these boxes in every room just in case.”

“Really?”

“My aunt is a bit too careful when it comes to our health,” you muttered, pressing the cloth on his knuckles again, then heaved a sigh. “Benedict…”

“I think I know what you’re going to say but—”

“You really shouldn’t have,” you said, lifting your gaze to look up at him. “Henry is right, you’re an artist.”

“To repeat, it’s not broken.”

“It could have,” you insisted. “What if that happened?”

“Broken bones heal.”

“Not completely.”

He pressed his lips together, then shook his head. “You heard what he called you.”

“He called me much worse before,” you muttered, putting the cloth to the side. “It means nothing to me, really.”

“Maybe not, but he’s still not going to call you that,” Benedict insisted as you started wrapping the bandage around his hand. “I’m not going to just stand there and let him insult you.”

You bit back a smile and stole a look at him. “Ben…”

“Y/N, you’re the love of my life,” he said in a determined tone, the simple statement making your heart skip a beat. “That sort of disrespect will never take place again. Not from him, or anyone else.”

You could swear your heart was melting inside your chest and you stared at his handsome face before willing yourself to turn back to bandaging his hand.

“What he said; it not being over yet…” you trailed off, deep in thought. “Perhaps you were right earlier. About him hearing of the consequences.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean,” you said, tying up the bandage around his hand, then pulling back to look at him better. “The next time he tries to talk to me, I’ll make sure he understands that if he so much as looks at you wrong, I won’t hesitate to cut him.”

A smile curled his lips and he turned his hand to entwine his fingers with yours despite the pain you knew for sure he was feeling.

“Don’t,” he said, running his thumb over your wedding band. “I told you. I can take the torment but not your absence.”

You bit inside your cheek and smiled at him back, the urge to lean in slightly to kiss him almost overpowering you before you swallowed thickly and took a trembling breath, clearing your throat to make yourself snap out of the haze.

“We should um—we should get back,” you said. “Josie will be worried if she can’t find us anywhere on a night like this and I think my uncle should hear that my father was here, just in case.”

He nodded and stood up, still holding your hand and you looked up at him.

“Does it hurt?”

“Not at all,” he said with a soft smile, then kissed the top of your head. “Come on then, let’s go back to the ballroom. I believe you promised me a dance, Mrs. Bridgerton.”

Chapter 35

#benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton x reader #bridgerton #bridgerton x reader #regency fic

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wosoluver · 20 days

Text

You always know what to say and do.

Andrea Medina x reader

-> got this idea while watching her tiktok, where they're playing the marshmallow game, so if you want some good context to it, pls look it up. Once again this is fictional, and don't necessarily reflect the reality, although Andrea has been open about her ADHD and hyperactivity.

TW: angst, anxiety attack (sort of), mentions of hyperactivity and feelings of anxiety.

You and your girlfriend were almost never apart. You thrive in each-others presence. Always a safe place to joke around, talk, sing, cry or sometimes just sit around in comfortable silence. And by silence it actually meant you were relaxing quietly while Andrea walked around talking nonstop.

It never bothered her because she knew you were paying attention to her every move and words, and it made her feel like someone was actually listening to her. And you, you loved those moments more than anything. It didn't bother you either, to you, her voice was the most relaxing sound, you could listen to her jokes all day. You loved that despite knowing you had a way lower energy level, she could always still be one hundred percent herself, even if it meant enduring her hyperactive self. It was indeed very comforting having someone so opposite to you that yet complemented you perfectly deep down inside.

So when she called you up at 3 AM crying, your heart broke. It was hard enough being away from each other, when she was away with the sub 20 national team. This time they were away for a game against Germany, and the call was unexpected to say the least. Even though you would spend hours on facetime, she usually slept like a baby through the night, especially after training for hours. That's one of the only things that would really drain some energy out of her.

Andrea was the type of person to never break down in front of others, so when she called you in the middle of the night, you knew it was bad.

"What happened amor? Why are you crying?" - you asked desperately.

You could barely make up the words she was saying through the phone.

"Breathe okay? I'm here, cry all you need and then talk to me amor" -

It took around ten minutes for her cries to die down.

"Everyone hates me!" - "They think I am annoying and they don't want me around!" -

"Did someone say that to you?"-

She shook her head while she spoke - "No, but I know it, I can tell"-

"Baby, tell me what happened okay? Is Ornella with you?" -

"No, we're not sharing rooms this week." - I nodded to her, reassuring her to continue - "We were at Martina's room and I had an idea for a tiktok, you know the one marshmallow two marshmallow game?"

"Yes I saw you posted it earlier. But what happened?" -

"While we were filming, it felt like everyone was so annoyed at me, like they were tired and that I was taking up space you know? I know not a lot of people can deal with the way I am, but I don't know, I just thought we were all good friends, and that it would be fun..."-

"Cariño, I wish I could hold you right now." - you say sadly - "But we've talked about this. You can't live worrying if others might be bothered by it. It's who you are! You don't have to feel bad for the ones around you! I hate that you felt that way today, I just wish I could be there with you."

"I love the girls and I just sometimes forget how overbearing I can be. It's kind of hard, when I'm back home with you, Lola, Cris, Wifi and the team I don't even think about it, I don't worry. I forget how much support I have and I'm so thankful. And I love you amor. So much." -

By now you were tearing up. For the last year and a half, you've seen her through it all, and you knew her pain. You knew how hard it was for her to say it out loud, even more to anyone that was not the reflection in her mirror. She keeps her smile up even when she feels the saddest. Your guess was that she kept that fake smile and jokes, kept it up until she was finally alone in the hotel room. And then just exploded from her feelings. And you guessed it right.

She only decided to call you when she realized she couldn't calm down by herself. That was, after hours of crying.

"Was Ornella there?" - you ask already knowing the answer as she shook her head no. You knew if she was, this most likely wouldn't have happened.

"How about you take hot a shower? I'll stay on the call, and when you're done we can go to sleep?" - She easily gave in to your idea, knowing that's exactly what she needed right now, besides the cuddle that she wouldn't be getting till next monday.

After taking a rather quick shower not wanting to be away from the call too long, she put on the hoodie she brought along that smelled like you. The piece of clothing was her own, but it acquired the smell from how much you wore it around the apartment.

Laying back down on the bed and going under the covers, she focused once again on the phone screen.

"Better?" she only nodded quickly - "I love you, Andrea, so much. And I know that if Ornella was there you would've felt seen and safer. But you can't depend on having one of us by your side, to feel like you deserve to be who you are. I know Lola and I talk about it a lot, but it's true. You can't be careful around others at the expense of your own feelings. It's not healthy. They can remove themselves if they'd like. By now we know that some people don't have much patience unfortunately. They have no idea the gem they're missing on, my love." -

"Gracias bebé, for knowing what to say and do. I know I need to work on fighting these feelings off. And promise tomorrow I'll follow the drill and try to stay close to Ornella. Even though that's the opposite of what you just said." - seemly as on queue she let's out an yawn.

"Okay baby. I'll leave you to get some sleep then."

She immediately protested -"Please stay until one of us falls a sleep?" -

You couldn't say no to her.

Took a little bit of my own personal experience to write this one and hope it also helps anyone in need of some comfort and reassuring words. 🩷

Also my first time writing, so I'd love to hear your thoughts and advice. This feels like it needs some improvement.

#espwnt #woso #womens football #atletico madrid femenino #andrea medina #woso x reader #andrea medina x reader

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ravenclawhierra · 1 year

Text

Reading.

Ominis Gaunt x Reader

Summary: Ominis has had a rough day and he wants to spend some time with you. He asks of you a favor, wishing to spend as much as time with you as possible.

Tags: Insecure reader, fluff, Ominis being a sweetie, FLUFF

Word Count: 2,2k - 1,6k without the Deathly Hallows

It was just… tough. He wanted to rest. He was so tired. So exhausted. His thoughts were nothing but exhausting, honestly. Pushing him to the edge, it was too much. Everyday he'd deal with the same, today however, was worse on him than usual. As much as he was used to this, it'd still come for him - Killing him from the inside.

He had already lost a friend, and he was losing another one. He was grieving. Grieving over something that wasn't even lost. He felt as if it was bound to happen soon, but hoped it wouldn't. As much as he enjoyed the presence of his Angel, it wouldn't feel the same without his friend. Would he be asking for too much? He had hoped not.

Walking along the Hallway, he thought about how he wanted to see you now. Or at least feel you near him. You always helped him cheer up, forget about his horrible thoughts, or simply interrupted them when he's thinking about you. He was already finished with reading his book, he needed to get a new one from the library, he just hoped they would have more books in braille.

He skipped his way to the door and down the stairs of the library, and went ahead to find some more books. He walked along the section with books in braille before hearing two familiar voices. He listened to you and Sebastian speak.

"How long have you been together now? I mean, you still haven't given him a kiss, right?"

"We've been together for 2 weeks now and I know, I want to kiss him but I'm afraid…"

"Afraid of what exactly? He won't bite."

"I don't know, I'm afraid he won't like it, and what if he doesn't really like me either?"

He stepped in before the two of you could continue and you both looked up at Ominis.

"Hello Sebastian, (Y/n)," He greeted you, his voice a bit quiet. You hoped he hadn't heard the two of you talk. To your luck, he seemed as if he only entered the section and had nothing to hear. You sighed a small sigh of relief. You didn't want him to know just how you felt, not because you didn't trust him, but because you just couldn't get yourself to tell him. It was like something was pulling you back. Maybe fear? You just weren't sure.

"Hello Ominis, you can sit next to me if you'd like?" You wanted to state that, but you were just so unsure. Ominis smiled at you and sat next to you. How you hated your voice. You wish you didn't have to talk for him to understand you. But you had to.

You went to the next page of your book, hoping for something exciting. You loved reading fantasy books, they'd take you to an imaginary world where you could imagine yourself as a better person, and a different person entirely.

"What are you reading?" Ominis asked, his eyes gleaming with wonder. Oh those beautiful eyes of his.

"Oh I'm… I'm reading some fantasy book about dragons." Your voice was quiet, shy. He smiled at you. It was nice feeling you close to him, having you talk to him. He was already feeling somewhat better.

"Uh…" Sebastian sighed, "I just remembered I have detention."

"Well? Best of you to get going then." Ominis also sighed. It was his third time this week. What is he doing to get in this much trouble?

"Yes, I know. Have fun you two." Sebastian picked himself and his stuff up, murmuring and walking to wherever he had detention now.

Well, now it was awkward. For the both of you? You didn't know. You didn't know what to talk about, and Ominis was genuinely quiet usually. You did enjoy his presence though, so it was not too awkward for you. You hoped he felt the same way, because at least it wouldn't be awkward silence you're sitting in.

"Do you want to take this to the dormitory? My room at least. It would be quieter." Ominis suggested, to which you slightly blushed. You knew he wouldn't do anything funny to you, but it still made you kind of fuzzy on the inside.

"Sure," You agreed happily, "It would be nice to move from this spot for a bit."

You grabbed your books and picked yourself up, waiting for Ominis to do the same. He got up and used his wand to let him get around. Before taking any steps though, he reached for your hand and pulled you close to him.

"It would be easier for me this way," Your blush was covering your entire face now, thank Godrick he didn't see you now. You had hoped he didn't feel your heat all the way from your hand.

You slowly made your way to the dormitory with him. You both decided it would be nicer to walk. Floo Powder was there to help, always, but it was nicer just doing everything you two can, slowly. You had more time to talk, more time to laugh, smile. You always forgot about your worries when you were with him. You felt kind of free! Except when it came to telling him about your fear. Which is exactly what's stopping you from telling him.

When he smiles at you, when he laughs at your jokes, when he comforts you, soothes you, all of that. All of that made you feel like you were worthy of love. From none other than him. That was a big deal to you. The day you met him, you felt as if he had something against you, but as he opened up, you started liking him more and more. He did too, though.

However, neither of you could get yourselves to confess, and Sebastian was there to listen to the both of you. Constantly talking about each other. Lucky for the both of you, he couldn't stand it anymore, and made you two go on a date in Three Broomsticks. His plan was a success, as the two of you then started dating. Seriously, how could the two of you be so dense with each other's signals. The world will never know.

Finally, you had arrived to his room. It was your first time there. One side was clean, the other was a complete mess.

"I'm sorry, I share the room with Sebastian and he keeps not cleaning his room," He smiled at you awkwardly, "He claims he gets around easier with his mess."

You laughed. It was just like him to be like that. Messy room, messy hair. You wondered how the two of them got along so well.

Ominis sat on his bed, patting on the side next to him, calling out to you to sit next to him. And you complied. Oh no. The silence was there again. How do you go from quiet, to talkative, to quiet again?

"(Y/n)," Ominis called, "Would you mind doing me a favor?"

"Sure, do you need anything?" You asked, smiling at him. Your heart was pounding.

"I was in the library, looking for books. I couldn't find any." He smiled back at you, shy, "I was wondering if you could read something of yours to me, please?"

Oh my. What a request. You hated your voice. But you couldn't deny this to him. He asked so politely, so nicely. In that sweet voice of his, with those beautiful eyes.

"O-of course." Your blush was covering your entire body at this point. "Would the Deathly Hallows do?"

"I enjoy that story," Ominis laid down on his bed, checking if you'd lay down with him. "So, please do."

"I'll sit, but I will still read to you." He nodded, closing his eyes and preparing to listen to you.

"There were once three brothers who were travelling along a lonely, winding road at twilight. In time, the brothers reached a river too deep to wade through and too dangerous to swim across. However, these brothers were learned in the magical arts, and so they simply waved their wands and made a bridge appear across the treacherous water. They were halfway across it when they found their path blocked by a hooded figure."

You cleared your voice slightly, keeping an eye on Ominis, but he didn't budge.

"And Death spoke to them. He was angry that he had been cheated out of three new victims, for travellers usually drowned in the river. But Death was cunning. He pretended to congratulate the three brothers upon their magic and said that each had earned a prize for having been clever enough to evade him."

Ominis slowly grabbed your free hand, wanting warmth.

"So the oldest brother, who was a combative man, asked for a wand more powerful than any in existence: a wand that must always win duels for its owner, a wand worthy of a wizard who had conquered the Death! So Death crossed to an elder tree on the banks of the river, fashioned a wand from a branch that hung there, and gave it to the oldest brother."

Your hand squeezed his, giving him more warmth.

"Then the second brother, who was an arrogant man, decided that he wanted to humiliate Death still further, and asked for the power to recall others from Death. So Death picked up a stone from the riverbank and gave it to the second brother, and told him that the stone would have the power to bring back the dead."

The room was getting colder and you wished you could have his warmth around you.

"And then Death asked the third and youngest brother what he would like. The youngest brother was the humblest and also the wisest of the brothers, and he did not trust Death. So he asked for something that would enable him to go forth from that place without being followed by Death. And death, most unwillingly, handed over his own Cloak of Invisibility."

Ominis slowly massaged your palm with his hand, smiling at you, making you even warmer.

"Then Death stood aside and allowed the three brothers to continue on their way, and they did so, talking with wonder of the adventure they had had, and admiring Death’s gifts. In due course the brothers separated, each for his own destination."

All this time, you were imagining the three of you guys in the story. A perfect trio.

"The first brother travelled on for a week or more, and reaching a distant village, sought out a fellow wizard with whom he had a quarrel. Naturally with the Elder Wand as his weapon, he could not fail to win the duel that followed. Leaving his enemy dead upon the floor, the oldest brother proceeded to an inn, where he boasted loudly of the powerful wand he had snatched from Death himself, and of how it made him invincible."

You wondered if Ominis was thinking the same. You took your hand away from him quickly to go to the other page.

"That very night, another wizard crept upon the oldest brother as he lay, wine-sodden, upon his bed. The thief took the wand and, for good measure, slit the oldest brother’s throat. And so Death took the first brother for his own."

He Immediately went back for your hand.

"Meanwhile, the second brother journeyed to his own home, where he lived alone. Here he took out the stone that had the power to recall the dead, and turned it thrice in his hand. To his amazement and his delight, the figure of the girl he had once hoped to marry, before her untimely death, appeared at once before him."

You looked at Ominis, hoping he was enjoying your storytelling.

"Yet she was sad and cold, separated from him by a veil. Though she had returned to the mortal world, she did not truly belong there and suffered. Finally the second brother, driven mad with hopeless longing, killed himself so as truly to join her."

You focused on finishing the story now.

"And so Death took the second brother for his own.

But though Death searched for the third brother for many years, he was never able to find him. It was only when he had attained a great age that the youngest brother finally took off the Cloak of Invisibility and gave it to his son. And then he greeted Death as an old friend, and went with him gladly, and, equals, they departed this life."

You closed the book and quietly mumbled a small "That's it."

You were hoping to get a reaction from him, but he was asleep now. You smiled at him and put the book on his table, right next to the bed.

You joined him now, laying right beside him. He looked so peaceful while asleep. Tell him.

"It doesn't help now," you whispered, "But I'm scared. I'm not sure of what. I just am."

"I know you can't hear me now, but I don't want to lose you because of myself. I want to be myself with you. I want you to accept me the way I am. Which is just… Insecure. I'm sorry."

You stared at him. He was so pretty. He was so nice. Understanding. Caring. Friendly. All of that, and he's yours. It was just a blessing to have him.

You got up for a second, grabbing the blankets which were folded by the foot of his bed, covering the both of you. You cuddled up to him. Simply adoring him. Without much thinking, you pecked his lips.

"I love you, good night."

He wasn't asleep though. And he heard you. He always has heard you. He will always listen to everything you say, he knows how important that is to you. He will return everything you have done for him, tomorrow. Just as the two of you wake up.

#hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy ominis #ominis gaunt #hogwarts legacy ominis gaunt #ominis gaunt x reader #ominis gaunt x mc #ominis gaunt x you #ominis gaunt fanfiction #hogwarts legacy x reader #hogwarts legacy fanfic #hogwarts legacy fanfiction #ominis gaunt fanfic

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discordantwritings · 4 months

Note

If it's okay, I could write a picture with "5. I'm so angry right now that I could almost forget my love for you." with Buggy reader.

Warnings: afab gn!reader, oral sex (m receiving), inappropriate use of Buggy’s devil fruit powers

WC: 1.4K

Notes: I write a lot of sub Buggy so here’s Buggy being slightly less sub as you suck him off

Buggy was your captain. You had to follow his orders. Buggy was your captain. He knew best for you and the crew. Buggy was your captain.

He was just your captain.

Nothing more.

(No matter how much you wished it was different)

He was your captain. And he was pissing you off.

Of course he was always an obsessive, short tempered, attention seeking clown but most days you could look past that for the man you know he is. Some days, like today, it was impossible. You don’t mind following orders- that was your job- but when every single thing you did wasn’t good enough for reasons that weren’t even your fault. Well it wore you down.

“Can you do something right? I mean seriously all I ask is that you follow my directions! How hard is that!” Buggy is pacing his office, yelling at you after you told him that, no, the crew hadn’t found the map of the grand line in the past 24 hours.

“Captain-“ You start but are cut off again.

“Don’t fucking speak to me!” He’s yelled at you plenty of times before but something about this time just breaks you.

“Don’t talk to me like that!” You yell back, catching Buggy off guard.

“Excuse me?” Buggy whips around, finally stopping to stare at you.

“I said don’t talk to me like that. We are doing everything we can and all you do is chew us out! I just-“ You groan in frustration. “I’m so tired of being disrespected for things that aren’t my fault! I’m so close to just forgetting how much I love you!”

It takes Buggy’s eyebrows slightly for you to realize what you just said.

Shit.

“I mean- like we all love you. The crew. And how every one should! Buggy! The genius jester!” Your backpedaling was unconvincing, even to you.

Finally moving again Buggy slowly walked over to you and you couldn’t help but shrink away, stepping back as he stepped forward until your back met the wall with a soft thud. Your breath comes quick as your captain stares down at you, painted face revealing nothing.

“Say it again.” His voice is flat and you can feel his breath on your face.

“The genius jester-“

“No.” His hand comes up around your jaw, keeping your eyes locked with his. “You know what I meant.”

You take a deep breath, ready to be sliced to pieces and fed to the lion. “That I’m so mad I’m close to forgetting how much I love you.”

And then he’s kissing you. You don’t register it until a second after it’s happened but by the time your brain catches up you realize your body has already given into him, letting him press you further into the wall as his tongue slips past your lips. It’s sloppy and aggressive and it’s everything you’d imagined it to be. His body has compressed you against the wall and you can feel on your hip what this is doing to him.

When he finally pulls back both of you are gasping for air. Neither of you speak for a bit as you collect your thoughts. Buggy breaks the silence first.

“You really love me?” His voice is surprisingly quiet.

“Yeah, I think I do.” You admit with a small smile.

“Been wanting you for a while but didn’t- I mean I’m your captain-“ His confession makes your heart swell and turns the hostile energy in the room to something else.

“Captain,” Feeling bold and charged your hands grip Buggy’s waist. “Can I show you how much I love and respect you?”

Buggy’s eyes go wide but you see him quickly stamp the surprise down as he nods. You turn him so his back is against the wall as you sink to your knees and hear Buggy exhale a shaky breath. Staring up at him you undo his belt, seeing out of the corner of your vision his hands floundering. You take your time with his belt but by the time you start to unbutton his pants his patience officially wore out.

His hand comes to the back of your head, fingers in your hair as he pushes your face against his clothed cock. You shove his pants quickly down but don’t manage to get his boxers down but neither of you seem to mind. Looking up at him through lidded eyes you open your mouth wide and let your tongue out to lick up the clothed length. His hips jerk as you stop at his tip and you can taste his precum through the strained white fabric.

“Fuck- just-“ Buggy’s other hand hovers quickly shoves his boxer down and finally gives you a good view of his dick. It’s long and curved and leaking and you are desperate it have it in your mouth. It’s seems Buggy is that way too- the hand at the back of your head nudging you forward. You smile up at him.

“Yes Captain.” You waste no time and immediately take him into your mouth, flattening out your tongue and taking him down as far into your throat as you can. You hear Buggy curse above you as his grip on your hair tightens.

“Just like that- fuck you’re good-“ He babbles as he fights to keep his hips from bucking into your mouth.

The praise spurs you on as you bob your head up and down his length, lewd wet noises filling Buggy’s office. You bring one of your hands up to steady yourself on his thigh but can’t resist using the other to undo your own pants and touch yourself. There were many nights where you imagined scenarios like this and the hand holding the back of your head and the heavy weight against your tongue and throat made you more wet that you cared to admit. The sneaky movements didn’t get past Buggy though.

“Please tell me you’re touching yourself.” He breaths, eyes fixated on the movement of your hand. You hum a ‘yes’ and that sensation has him throwing his head back against the wall. “Fuck you’re so hot.”

So caught up in what you’re doing you don’t notice Buggy’s hand pop off his arm and float down until it’s pushing your pants further down and tugging your hand away.

“Lemme- shit you’re wet-“ His fingers are already inside you. “Get this wet just from sucking me off?”

You have to finally pull off of him, spit and tears dripping down your face as you rest your forehead on his hip while you adjust to Buggy’s dexterous fingers working you. “Yes. Just for you.”

That seems to spur something in him because his hand is yanking you back to look up at him. “I’m going to ruin you.”

He doesn’t have to push you back onto him because you dive forward, taking him into your throat and sliding in time with the pumping of his fingers. There’s less restraint now as his hips thrust up and you do your best to relax and let Buggy use your throat.

The hand inside you works faster, three fingers stretching you out as his thumb circles your clit. The overwhelming sensations have you moaning, which pushes Buggy even closer to his own end.

“I’m close- shit can I-“ He can’t finish his sentence because you’re taking him as far down as possible, your nose nudging against his pelvis. He cums with a loud groan, seed spilling down your throat and onto your tongue. Its taste is sharp but you take every last drop he gives you.

You slowly release his softening length and you look up at his blissed out face and smile. When he finally looks back down at you the hand from the back of your head moves to cup the side of your face. Finally in control of himself again his fingers start working you faster and you moan as you lean into his touch.

“You close? I want you to cum all over my fingers can you do that for your captain?” He says as he kneels down to you to whisper in your ear.

All you can do is nod and lean on him for stability as his words send you over the edge, gushing all over his fingers. You gasp for breath as his hand flies back to his arm.

“So.” He smiles. “Not so mad at me now, huh?”

#one piece x reader #one piece x you #discordantwritings #buggy x you #buggy x reader #buggy the clown x reader #discordant requests #discordant response

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umadosedepascal · 4 months

Text

PEDRO SOLO | Pedro Pascal x f!reader| PART III

Written by Santa Trindade

Banner: @ithedevilsbaby

Made in Brazil

Pairing: Pedro pascal x f!reader

Summary: The days are long and exhausting, Pedro has a huge hotel room, hot tub ... But he is missing something, could you help him?

w/c: 2.4k

rating/warnings: [first person] [Pedro masturbates][Pedro in Malta][Phone sex][Sending nudes][alcohol comsuption][Photos of Pedro in a white t-shirt in Malta inspired us][Part 2?]

a/n: Those pictures of him in Morroco and Malta made us wild crazy enough to make this fanfic happen. And I know you felt the same, yes, YOU my fellow reader 😆.

Today was long, as it has been for weeks.

The days in Malta are always so hot at this time of year, which makes everything more exhausting, but when night falls, the weather refreshes and everything is calm.

A tired body begs for rest.

It's 7:37 p.m., Pedro couldn't wait to get to the hotel to be able to stretch his back in bed which have been killing him lately, maybe get into the heated pool a little to take away all the tension that his body has carried. He enters the room that has almost become his new house, the gigantic bed waiting for him, for a moment he imagines how good it would be to have someone there scattered in that bed with him.

“So big just for me...” he whispers to himself as he lies on the end of the bed with his legs out, his feet touching the floor.

He spends a few minutes lying in this position, with heavy eyes close themselves, long sighs come out of his throat, a way of the body to thank the absurdly soft mattress, almost being a relaxing massage, every second his mind travels and thinks how ideal it would be to have someone with him there, he is so tense, tired, the movie shooting have been exhausting, both mentally and physically, and fuck, he had been without sex for weeks, what made him stressed and that damn bed needed to be so big? It only makes him want a company, someone who makes him cum until he forgets his own name.

He opens his eyes slowly, getting used to the low light, looking at the ceiling admiring the canopy, while trying to reorganize his thoughts.

“Damn it, I need to stop thinking about it...” Focus Pedro focus! - he speaks softly as he sits on the bed, his back snapping, he looks towards the bathroom door.

The silence of this room echoes, both on the bottom and on the top floor, he takes his phone and checks the last messages, one among many catches his attention, a message from you asking how the shooting is going, next to the message there is a pic of you, the pic is cut and shows you lying on a bed, your hand inside your lilac panties, he takes a deep breath and replies you.

"It's been good, I'm exhausted but would love to have you here... The bed is surreal" - he sends a picture of the bed (only) to you.

He goes to the bathroom, looking at the huge mirror he runs his hand through his belly, holding the white T-shirt he lifts the fabric until he holds it between his teeth, the right hand undoes the knot of the shorts, the hand slides into the piece of clothing and he squeezes his cock, a slow caress while his left hand firmly holds the phone with your photo on the screen, he thinks:

“You know what... I'll send one for her as well...” Biting his shirt, he pulls the shorts down enough to leave his hard dick out, he opens the front camera and raises the phone, and takes the pic, from the neck down holding his cock with his right hand, the veins already apparent, pink head glistening precum. He sends it with the following caption:

"I wish you were here"

Pedro looks at himself in the mirror, smirks and looks at his phone, waiting for an answer, five minutes pass and nothing, he turns around and leaves the bathroom, facing the view of the hot tub, seems so inviting, he decides to have a drink and go for it, his muscles will thank you.

Pedro walks slowly to the mini bar of the bedroom, putting his phone next to the side on the table, he looks and still no answer, he opens the minibar and sees the variety of drinks, all he already knows, but a bottle catches his attention, a blue bottle is in the corner, he takes it and reads the ARAK label, raising an eyebrow in curiosity Pedro takes a glass and pours a little to try, taking the glass to the mouth soon the grape flavor invades his tongue, the burning of alcohol going down his throat.

He pours some more, takes his phone and goes towards the hot tub, bends down and leaves glass and phone on the edge, Pedro takes off his shirt and shorts, only in black boxers he admires the tub, he yawns and stretches, feeling his back hurt he takes off his boxers and enters the hot tub, first step and soon the warm water comes into contact with his feet, this makes him moan with relief, second step and the water is almost on his knees, third and he feels the warm water caress his balls and soon the image of you with hands inside your panties invades his mind like a flash.

Fourth step and he dives, feeling the muscles instantly scream in approval, rising to the surface, Pedro takes the glass and takes a long sip, phone vibrates, gaining his full attention.

"I would love to be there and take you in my mouth”

Pedro smirk and sends an audio:

“Can you believe I have a hot tub in the middle of my room? the water is at the perfect temperature…”

He sends a photo that shows the drink glass in his hand resting on the edge of the tub, then sends another audio

“What would you do to relax me, huh?”

A wave of excitement invades his body, it is as if the almost warm water had taken away all that fatigue, giving way now to an almost tangible feeling of pleasure.

“Hahaha do you really want to know? It's kind of masochistic of you to want me to tell you exactly what I would do, being thousands of kilometers away from you”

Your audio response makes him laugh and shake his head in denial when he realizes how torturous it is to hear your voice, with you so far away.

It takes a few seconds to him think about what to say, despite the sweet taste of grapes, the drink is really strong, and with just a few sips Pedro already feels buzzed, his body more relaxed.

He chills but but his dick now starts to pulse while he responds to it by audio.

“Come on babe, I'm so tired, stressed out... some days here are not easy. Well, I love my job, you know but... Fuck, being alone sometimes, and thinking of you helped me out, such a relief...” he says in a low tone that makes his voice even more hoarse, seductive and pleasant to listen to.

“Pedro... You know, I know you know... This pool would be the perfect place for me to give you a little jerk off before you fuck me on that beautiful bed.”

Your answer makes his cock twitches, his body shivers with the desire to have you with him, but fuck…he's in Malta!

He takes the glass and drinks at once what was was left, listens to the audio again, again and again. His breathing starts to get heavier, he hasn't answered your yet, his hand is gently caressing the already totally hard cock, while holding the phone with the other, until it vibrates on his fingers, a new message, a photo, and this time without panties along with a msg:

"Relax with me…daddy"

While looking at the pic, he tries to climb the steps, but that drink is strong, got him in a way that makes him miss the steps and with that he dips his phone in the water for a moment…

“What the fuck I did... Stupid..”

Quickly he leans on the edge of the tub, reaching out his shirt he dries with it the phone cursing while hoping not to have damaged it, he looks at it, unlocks the screen making your photo the first thing that shows up.

Pedro leans against the tub wall, holding his cock with one hand, he begins to jerk off hard, his hand rising to the tip of the cock, where more fat drops of precum accumulate, feeling the alcohol take over the body, he presses the audio button and with a low voice says:

“I would make it fit on that tiny pussy, before I slide my my two fingers inside you” he wants to send her more stuff, so he gets up and leaves the hot tub.

Walking towards the bed he feels the water drops flow and leave a trail through the room. Pedro throws himself on the bed and looking at the curtains that gently swings in the canopy bed because of the breeze that enters through the window, he thinks about how to surprise you.

_This turns to a provocation_

Leaning against the head of the bed, still a little dizzy with his legs open, he puts a pillow that supports the phone in front of him, presses the record button and speaks low and hoarse:

“So, that's what you want baby girl?” he spits on his cock and starts jerking off while he speaks his hand doesn't stop, slow movements, up and down as if he wanted you to feel your pussy is his hand.

“This is what you want now? You got it... If I were you I'd be ready for this cock inside you, in and out... In and out... Until I explode into you with hot splash's of my hot cum... is that what you want?”

He sends the video and back to your pics again, his hand never abandons his cock, squeezing, going up and down without losing rhythm. Pedro begins to feel signs of orgasm so he reduces the speed of his hand, waiting for what will come next.

While sliding to the right to see and review pics again, his phone vibrates, he quickly opens the conversation and sees that you sent a video as well.

You leaning on the bed, he can see you completely, with your legs open and completely naked, you rubbing your clit with your right hand while the left walks through your nipples, playing, pulling and squeezing.

_Fuck, if I could suck her right now_

Pedro thinks while squeezing his cock tightly, holding by the base his fingers massage the balls, he climbs his hand slowly and passes his thumb over the head of the cock dripping precum, spreading and with his eyes glazed in the video. Pedro sits more centered on the bed, drops of water still run down his hair, dripping and turning a trail around his neck, chest and belly, his body is so sensitive to touch that the drops of water seem to scratch while the sheets seem to hug him.

The video ends and soon a new notification arrives, another audio

“Daddy, do you like what you see? Would you like to get deep into my tight pussy?”

-her voice always been sly and dragged like this?-

With his hand shaking he presses the button to record a new audio

“yeah babe... come to me. Fuck.. I want it ...hummm fuck” Pedro gruni squeezing his phone between his fingers.

“Oh I love your moans... That raspy voice makes me so horny” your new message makes Pedro feel as if the air escapes from his lungs, his right hand slides hard through the cock, he opens the front camera and stretching his arm, he starts side recording.

Pedro spits on his cock, making it visible the long saliva drip through the cock that is leaning against the belly.

Another audio:

“Would you choke like that baby girl? Spitting on my cock and swallowing” he strokes slowly when his hand reaches the head of his cock he squeezes and moans your name.

and another video right after:

“I'm picturing your pussy squeezing me... Oh fuck baby girl squeeze me” he sends the video and waits for an answer.

Another video arrives, you are sticking two fingers inside your pussy, moaning his name, begging for him and his cock, he loves when you beg, it makes him smirk biting his lower lips.

“Fuck, your cock is so hard” you whine.

Pedro is not able to record a new video, the horniness is so much the desire to bury the cock inside your pussy is so much that he barely has the strength to press the audio button, but he does.

“Fuck my bitch are you going to milk daddy's cock like that? Will you take everything I give and still ask for more?”

Soon you answer..

“I did enough to loose your mind... I'm just waiting for a call” before the audio ends he calls you, soon his voice echoes through your ears, panting and cutting any word you can say, he says.

“Can you make me cum now?” with a lazy voice you say

“If I was there I'd swallow every drop of you...” Pedro closes his eyes and with his lips half open he pays attention to every word you say

“Imagine me, licking your neck and going down, swirling my toungue over your nipples... Kissing your chest, giving smooth kisses on your tummy til I reach the head of your cock”

Your sly voice became a torture. Pedro only thinks about making you scream on his cock.

You keep saying “Then I grab the base while I lick it all from side to side and you. now. you are squirting. hard. into my mouth...” Pedro rushes his movements and cum hot and thick all over his tummy, he moans non-stop, no words come out of his mouth, just grumble “You are a fucking bitch aaah hmmmm” you cum next moaning his name, saying things that his brain couldn't understand.

After a few seconds in silence, where only music and panting breaths were present, you say

“Hey I need to go is late here but let's do it again huh?”

Pedro still panting and feeling the tiredness come back just murmurs

“yeah yeah hmmm”

The call ends and with heavy eyes Pedro sends you an emoji 💦 following by a message:

“Let my tongue explain how bad I crave you”

He turns to the side, picking up his T-shirt, he cleans his tummy and closes his eyes.

He is also done but still wants you.

——————————————

Thanks for being here and read our delusional fics, likes are appreciate, comments even more. If you want to ask anything, blast it!

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal x f!reader #frankie catfish morales #frankie morales #pedro pascal fanfiction #dieter bravo #pedro pascal imagine #watch me masturbate #javier pena x you #javi pena #joel miller #pedrohub

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jenthebug · 3 months

Text

Oh, *that's* why I'm on disability

Most days, from the start of the year until today, have been good days (minus a few for another cold >_<). I've been at my baseline fatigue level (4/10, avoiding high energy tasks, doing everything else tired), being productive around the house.

That, combined with my lack of income (still waiting on disability), made me think, well wtf, why don't I just go back to work if I'm doing so okay?

Then today happened. 6/10 fatigue all day (low energy tasks only, and only the necessary ones; cooking is hard, some foods may be hard to eat). Very little work got done. I've been brain foggy all day, forgetting my tea and my water and words.

Almost let the cat out. He was walking toward the back door like the dog does, so I said, "Soba, want out?" and reached for the door.

I wish you could have seen the look he gave me. If he could have said "Dafuq?" he totally would have.

So I actually had a conscious thought. Soba = inside cat. Do not let out. "OH! Sorry Soba, that's not what I meant to say." And then he went downstairs on his merry way.

But yeah! Today has been awful and unproductive and brain foggy! Good reminder that I'm actually where I need to be. But damn, I wish days like this didn't happen. (And also that I had an income. Come on money cat.)

#insertcaffeine disability #fatigue #brain fog

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nerdthatsiriuslylovesteaxx · 4 months

Text

Helpless part 13 (Hello I hope someone is listening)

"Morning Death boy."

"What time is it?"

"Eight o'clock I the morning."

"Goodnight Giraffe."

"Get up, we're getting breakfast."

"Let me sleep."

"Nope." Nico was refusing to get up so Will decided to do the only logical thing and pick him up.

"Put me down Solace."

"Don't think I will Death breath."

"That's a new one."

"Thought of it on the spot."

"Good for you Sunshine, now put me down."

"Not a fan of that idea." Will ran, carrying a very pissed Nico. "Hey Percy."

"Hi Will, should I ask why you're carrying Nico and also how you haven't gotten murdered yet?"

"Well he wouldn't get up so it was to only logical solution."

"Fuck you." Nico muttered,

"I wish you luck on not getting murdered."

"You know I could just shadow travel away?"

"No you quite literally can not, it would kill you."

"Great."

"Neeks."

"Do you have a death wish Will?"

"He's harmless."

"I have killed people William."

"I can confirm this, I was nearly a victim."

"Let's not forget you also tired to kill me."

"Why are you two trying to kill each other?"

"We don't talk about that."

"He's annoying as fuck." Percy and Nico said at the same time, locking eyes with each other, leading to a mildly concerned Will.

"Okay.... I'm going to pretend this never happen." Will placed Nico on the floor.

"Finally."

"Di Angelo, me and Jason-"

"-Jason and I."

"Not you to, same thing. We have decided to kidnap you, you're finally joining us on the big three table."

"Why exactly?"

"You'll get lonely."

"I'm perfectly fine being alone."

"Too bad, sucks for you."

"Stronzo." Nico muttered under his breath before waking off to join Jason, Percy went to follow him but Will pulled him back.

"Make sure he eats three full meals a day, shove it down his throat if you have to. I'm not joking, if he's refusing to eat or drink hold him down and make sure he eats for the next few months. I don't know how he's still alive at this point."

"I'll make sure he eats; mate you alright? Your eyes are bloodshot, when's the last time you slept?"

"A few days ago, I'm fine."

"A few days?! Mate, you need to sleep."

"I'll survive, pure chaos in the infirmary. Oh, don't tell Nico this but, you know how Aphrodite kids can speak French because it's the language of love? I can speak Itallian because it's the language of music, so if you were wondering, when he walked off he called you an asshole."

"Eh, not surprising. I'll catch you around Will."

"Yeah see you round." Willl walked off to join his siblings at the Apollo table.

***

"Don't think we didn't hear that, you're taking today off and no night watch until Tuesday." Kayla said pulling Will down and shoving a piece of toast in his hand, "And you're eating breakfast today, you've skipped it for a week."

"I've been busy."

"Would you like me to show you a list of every single person you've told to stop skipping meals? Let me start the list, Nico, Selina, Leo, Beckendorf, Annabeth, Michael-"

"Okay, okay you win. But I can't take the day off-"

"Not optional, go pine over Nico for the day or something. Maybe even, you know, sleep? Can't remember the last time you did that, more than a week."

"Oh shut up."

"Actually, I have a great idea." Austin interrupted, "Go talk to Cecil and Lou Ellen, they tired to kidnap you many, many times."

"Shit, yeah I should probably go talk to them." Will tried to get up but was held down by his younger siblings,

"Not so fast, you're still eating breakfast." After being force fed three full plates and swearing on the river of Styx that he would get eight hours of sleep that night he was finally allowed to leave.

***

"Finally, we missed you. We've been waiting for you to get off work for the past week." Lou Ellen said punching him in the arm.

"I should probably tell my siblings the kidnapping's off..."

"The what?!"

"Well me and Cecil tried, but Kayla found out we were coming and stopped us."

"So then I thought if I got the rest of the Hermes kids in on it they couldn't stop all of us."

"Of course you did."

"Well you're always in the infirmary."

"I've been busy for a few days, that's all."

"Well I know you haven't slept properly for the last eight days, and that you always insist on taking night watch."

"And anything difficult, and Nico."

"So? I'm fine, just busy."

"You're overworking."

"No I'm not."

"Will when was the last time you took a break?"

"Last year, Michael and Lee's funeral, I took half a day off."

"You can't do that to yourself."

"I can't let Kayla and Austin burn themselves out."

"Gods, I can't do this right now. I'm going to trust your siblings to talk some sense into you; want to go steal something?"

"I'm down, we just need to be back by three. In time for the thing." Lou Ellen smirked,

"Ohh rightttt."

"What did you do?!"

"You'll find out Sun boy."

"I'm scared."

"You should be."

***

_______

I wonder, if nobody is listening to my voice. Am I making any sound at all?

I hope you're prepared for what's coming soon.

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popcorn1989 · 1 year

Note

Could you write one with Sihtric and the prompt “is that an order?”

Note: You didn't write me whether with Reader or another character, so I chose Reader. Hope you enjoy

Pairing: Sihtric x Reader

Summary: Always the same, when Uhtred got tired of you, you got on his nerves, or he just wanted to annoy you, he gave the order that Sihtric should not leave your side. It seemed like no matter where you went, he was there and not far away, mostly shoulder to shoulder. Sihtric mostly said orders are orders, with a sneer. You secretly knew that Uhtred and Sihtric knew how much you hated it. No matter what you do, you just can't get rid of him. And Sihtric made no secret of showing you that he enjoyed it.

Prompt List - here

Like today, Sihtric shouldn't leave your side, but he was tired and briefly distracted by Finan and you were able to sneak away. "That was easy" you said to yourself and grinned successfully as you took the reins of your horse and wanted to leave the steel, now only quickly away from Coccham and you have survived this day.

Halfway through the steel, Osferth came through a narrow entrance, he looked at you questioningly and crossed his arms over his chest. "Where are you going?" you sigh, but it was Osferth, he wouldn't run to Sihtric, you knew that. "Dunno, just get out of Coccam" - "Escape your punishment?" You just nod. Osferth grinned, a little too much for your liking, "What?" you asked impatiently.

"Oh, nothing," he said, still not looking at you directly, he smiled and shook his head, "I wish you the best of luck," he put a hand on your shoulder and walked away smiling. No idea what happened to him, but you continued on your way as quickly as possible. "Oh, before I forget," Osferth called after you, slowly turning to face him. "Don't think it would be so easy"

You didn't say anything and walked out of the big steel door when you saw someone you knew and stopped. "Shit" you said, so you saw the smiling faces of Sihtric and Finan. Sihtric ready on his horse, "Where are we going?" annoyed, you gave the reins to a steel boy and walked towards the main square without a word. You hear Finan say "Probably nowhere after all" and soon after, he and Sihtric appeared at your side.

"What a wonderful day, I think I'll go to Eadith afterward in peace and - alone - she wanted to cook something nice today" You heard Finan's teasing very clearly, because he insisted on emphasizing "alone". Sihtric laughed, "The second date?" he asked curiously and nudged his shoulder against yours. You push him away from you. Finan nodded "Yes, I tell you, there is nothing nicer than knowing that someone is on - your side -" again... you groaned and headed towards the main gate that led to the water.

Arriving at the door, Finan stopped "I'll do my Tasks then - alone - see you later" he said and started to laugh when Sihtric walked backwards and made a sign, but you couldn't see it. Because you looked stubbornly straight ahead and continued on your way.

Sihtric didn't speak the whole time through the forest, and slowly you felt like you had to relieve yourself. Just what you didn't need. You didn't feel like crouching behind a tree, and Sihtric stood by and watched. With the words "Anything could happen, imagine you're about to defecate, and then a brown bear comes and wants to eat you" - once and never again.

"Sihtric, don't you have an order to carry out?" The second sentence, since this morning when you told him he's a rat in bacon, not an original insult, and it didn't seem to have bothered him either, which only made you angry.

He pondered for a long mh before speaking "Well, actually I am, Uhtred's orders were to protect you and not leave your side, and I'm going to fucking do that" Just then you reached the little pond "Don't you get bored protecting someone who doesn't need protection?" after all you were just as good a fighter as Sihtric. To the question, he just shook his head and looked at you, grinning broadly. "I wonder if you don't get bored asking the same thing over and over again".

You looked at him angrily, which made him grin even wider "Go wash yourself" you said out of nowhere and pointed to the pond. Confused, he looked at you, "What does that mean?" - "You stink like a rat" you had been calling him that since Father Beocca had said it to him, and usually it had an effect, like now, you saw his eyes light up briefly.

You spend so much time with Sihtric that you immediately recognized these little signs. And if you didn't beat him to it, he would annoy you, and you were not good at hiding the fact that you were angry. "I don't stink," he said, raising his head vainly for a moment. "I smell like a man" he spoke and put his hands on the sword belt.

You point to the pond, "Go" he looked briefly at the pond and shook his head. "I am not to leave your side, the pond is too far away, so you would have to go in with me. Do you need too, little puppy" There it is, he tried to fight back, as soon as he insults you as a puppy he was ready to fight. Puppy… That word used to offend you, but somehow it didn't bother you anymore when he said it. "I wash myself every day, which is more than can be said for you".

You walked slowly to the pond and Sihtric followed you, washing here was also rather pointless, but you wanted him as close as possible. "Take your clothes off," you said as you looked from the pond to him, and his face changed from disgusted to surprised. Besides, you wanted to run as fast as you could, crisscrossing the forest, to finally relieve your squeezing bladder, he wouldn't be able to put his clothes on that fast, and he wouldn't be able to find you then either.

"Is that an order?" he asked slowly, looking at you with a look you had never seen on him before. "Yes" you said hesitantly and he nodded. "Go ahead then" he stood in front of you and grinned, "What?" - "Do you really think I'm going to take my clothes off?" - "Yes" - "In front of you?" - "Yes" - "So you want me to stand naked in front of you" you thought for a moment "Yes" - "Do you really think I'm fucking stupid?" you almost answered yes again, but you knew it was pointless.

You had to think of something else, you squeeze your eyebrows together for a moment. "Sihtric…." no, you couldn't tell him you had to pee. You immediately grabbed him by the shoulders and tripped him up as you pushed him aside, it came as such a surprise to him that, with a loud yelp of surprise, he fell over your leg and landed in the pond.

The pond was deeper than you thought, for a moment you were startled to see him sink. Your chance, but something stopped you from running. But he reappeared, ducks weed all over his hair, even his armour was covered, and he looked at you so bitterly that you couldn't hold back your laughter. Which wasn't really an advantage. Sihtric turned up his nose and stomped out of the dirty pond, where he stirred up the water and caused a stench of stagnant water and dead plants.

"You're fucking…" he spoke as he stood beside you, and you doubled over in laughter. "You…" he wanted so much to insult you, but he didn't, why you didn't know. "I wanted to … I wanted to run away… but… then I would have missed the best" you spoke while laughing. He just nodded with a stony look, "I'll pay you back for that, puppy" he said through gritted teeth while stroking his armor and removing some duckweed.

"Whew, so now you really stink" you spoke and screwed up your face. His different eyes shone dangerously. "One more word" he hissed sternly. "Okay… Okay look, I really have to pee or something will go wrong, and then I'll help you clean it up" you said and pointed at him, careful not to laugh again "We'll go bathing together if you like, I won't run away either" his face softened at these words "Really?" he asked cautiously "Together?" - "Of course, that's the only way I can get you clean."

As expected, he watched you relieve yourself, "As punishment" were his words, but you got the feeling it was something else. Maybe he didn't trust your words. While bathing, in front of Coccham you decided not to take everything off, and he did the same, and it took Sihtric to get rid of the stench, and you cleaned his armor from the little green leaves.

You felt like you had punished yourself, you had to put up with Sihtric's smell, and you were allowed to spend most of the afternoon with the armor, so there wasn't a green leaf to be seen, according to Sihtric He kept calling you puppy and explaining what you did wrong on this and that day. And in the evening came the nasty surprise. After Uhtred asked how you behaved, Sihtric told him everything in detail. "So? Then I order another day, Sihtric do not leave her side" Sihtric looked at you with a wide grin.

"Fuck," you murmur, nodding as you agreed with Uhtred. You need a plan!

#sihtric x reader #sihtric imagines #Sihtric #sihtric the last kingdom #the last kingdom imagine #The last kingdom #Tlk #Finan #Uhtred #dialogue prompt #thanks for reading #thanks for requesting!

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lucy90712 · 1 year

Note

Could you write a story about surprising pedri at one of his games? I really love your writing!!

A/n: my requests are open so feel free to send me more requests.

wc: 1700

Lying has never been something I've been good at I always give away when I'm lying especially to those who know me well. Pedri always knows when I'm lying as he says I have a tell but he won't tell me what it is so that makes keeping surprises from him extremely difficult. Every time I have tired to do something as a surprise for his birthday or any other day he always finds out before hand but somehow this time I've managed to keep a secret from him. I have been planning to surprise him for a few weeks now as today he has a big match against atletico and has been asking me to come but I have said that I can't make it as I have to be at work to do some important things but really I'm going to surprise him.

I'd like to think that I've just gotten better at keeping secrets like this but really it's because it didn't start out as a lie. To begin with my boss needed me in to get some really important work done but about a week later I had managed to get enough of it done that I didn't need to go in. My plan was to tell Pedri straight away but on my way home I decided not to as I thought it would be fun to surprise him as long as I could keep the secret. I think the fact that the story was true has helped me keep the secret as Pedri hasn't even questioned me he has just been slightly disappointed that I couldn't make it. It has been awful keeping this secret from him as I'm really not used to it but I kept telling myself it's not a big deal and he will forget about it when he sees me at the match.

With the match being today I had to keep up the whole story going which meant getting up early and getting ready as if I was going to work which felt so strange to do but I did it anyway as at this point I'm in too deep to change my mind. I said goodbye to Pedri like I would on any normal weekday and got in my car not really sure where to go as I had a few hours to kill before Pedri would leave and I could go back home. I ended up driving to a cafe and sitting there to do some more work as I had nothing better to do. It was really hard to concentrate on any work as I was getting super excited and nervous about surprising Pedri, I'm excited as I know that he will be really happy to see me there but I'm also nervous as it's a big game and I don't know how the team will do.

After a few hours when Pedri should have left I packed my stuff up and drove back home but I was careful to take backroads and check that his car wasn't parked outside before I parked my car and went inside. He had definitely left as the door was locked so I had to unlock it before I could do everything I had to before leaving for the match. I didn't have long as traffic gets really bad around match time so to make sure I don't miss anything I need to leave quite early. To get ready I changed out of my work clothes and into some jeans along with one of Pedri's Barcelona shirts as I always wear one of his shirts to a game. I also looked through all of my jewellery as for some reason I always wear this once bracelet to Pedri's matches as I happened to wear it when they beat Real Madrid 4-0 and have worn it every match since.

When I was ready I grabbed all my stuff and got back in my car but this time I knew where I was going. Before actually setting off I text Pedri to wish him luck as if I can't go to a game I always text him so I made sure to keep up the act that I wasn't going. He doesn't always reply to my texts as he can be busy but this time he replied saying that he missed me and then sent a few hearts so of course I had to send some back. Although it was only a text I could tell that he really wished I was there but what he didn't know was that as long as traffic wasn't too bad I'd be there in about half an hour. Knowing that I was so close to getting to watch him play and surprise him made me so excited that if I could have driven quicker I would have but speed limits and traffic stopped me which was probably for the best.

Once I arrived I ran in quickly to get to my seat in plenty of time and also to avoid being noticed by anyone because I know if anyone takes a picture of me here Pedri will see it and the surprise will be ruined. Getting here quite early means having to wait painstakingly for the match to start but it also means getting to talk to some of the other players partners and families which is always nice as they know exactly how I feel and often have more experience with this world than I do. When I got to where all the family sit a few other people were there like Lewandowski's wife so I spoke to her for a bit before going to sit down ready for the match to start.

All the players came out onto the pitch and the match got underway which is when I really started to get nervous. I always find it hard to watch big matches like this one because I really want them to do well but of course that doesn't always happen. Despite my nerves my eyes were glued to Pedri and followed him all around the pitch so I could see how he was doing. He was doing really well out there but he kept getting fouled which was really annoying but I know it's just because they see him as a threat and will do anything to stop him. Despite all of that he was still doing really well and creating chances which didn't always come to much but he was trying and that's what counts.

Barca were doing really well and had already scored a few goals and Pedri had got close a few times but was yet to actually score. That was until he was running to get in the box and the ball was passed to him and he must have seen an opportunity as he made a shot and it went straight past the goalkeeper into the goal. I was so excited that I couldn't help but jump up from my seat to watch him celebrate with the team. He was running toward where I was sitting but I wasn't sure if he saw me until our eyes locked and he made a heart with his hands so of course I did it back which made the both of us smile even bigger than we were before. After that I noticed a difference in the way he played he just seemed so much more confident and he was really trying to do anything he could to make a difference to the game. It was so heartwarming that he was playing better knowing I was watching and was trying harder to make me proud even though I will always be proud of him.

They went on to win the game which meant Pedri would be extra happy so I was even more excited to see him. Just to be safe I waited for most other people to leave the stadium before I headed down to meet Pedri outside the locker room. As I waited so long to head down it wasn't very long before Pedri came out along with a few of his teammates but as soon as he saw me stood there he left them and ran over. He picked me up straight away and spun me round as he held me tightly to his chest. Eventually he put me down and kissed me all without taking his hands off my waist or losing eye contact. He had such a big smile on his face that I couldn't help but smile even more just looking at him.

"I thought you were supposed to be at work how are you here?" He asked

"I may have lied slightly to begin with I was going to have to work but I got enough done during my actual hours and since I already told you I wasn't going to be able to make it I thought I'd keep it up and surprise you" I explained

"Wow I'm impressed I thought you would have told me or given it away" he said

"I nearly told you a few times but I kept it a secret" I said

"I didn't even notice you lying you are getting better and I'm not sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing" he laughed

"Well I hated lying to you so I think we'll be fine" I said

He laughed as he finally let go of my waist so that we could leave and go back home although we both had our cars so we had to split when we got outside so we could both get in our cars. Pedri got back first as I got stuck trying to get out the car park but when I finally got back he was back at my side within a second and making me go to bed with him to cuddle and of course I wasn't going to say no to that. Cuddling with Pedri is the best way to end a long and tiring day so that's exactly what we did.

#pedri imagines #pedri imagine #pedri gonzalez imagines #pedri gonzalez imagine

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ifancyharry · 1 year

Text

The bookshop in the corner (part III)

Hello my loves!!! i'm so sorry it took me so long to update, i was just in a bad place this past week, but i feel better now <3 i hope you enjoy :)

Please, if you're liking this story so far let me know, i kind of feel like no one likes this because i never get asks hahahahah so please lmk 🌚

warnings: none

word count: 4k+

(read part I, part II)

Harry’s late. YN knows he’s late because it’s 3.30 in the afternoon and he’s still not here. In the past two months she spent hanging out with him, she realized he’s never late. He even told her himself once. They were hands deep in the cookie dough and Harry started talking about how much he hates being late and latecomers in general. He said it was because he hates wasting time. He’d admitted he loves the attention that comes with being late, but hates knowing he wasted precious time he could’ve spent doing something productive. YN hadn’t asked, and she still doesn’t understand why Harry sometimes feels like he has to tell her something about himself. She feels as if he does it just to fill the silence, and she hates that. She could never share something about herself so lightheartedly. So maybe it’s not really a matter of hate as it’s of jealousy; she wishes she could be like him.

When he told her, she’d nodded because she understood in a way, she figured he was Harry Styles so it kind of mattered if he was late to something. YN, on the other hand, rarely got invited to things, so she didn’t quite know what kind of person she was.

She wonders if something happened, not necessarily bad, but bad enough to make him late. She knows she shouldn’t worry because it’s not like they established a rule regarding these weekend hangouts, but she has to admit she’d gotten used to his presence, and she likes the little sweets he bakes her, so she can’t help but wait for him.

She decides she’ll wait an hour, and if he’s not there by 4.30, she’d go on with her work and not spare him a single thought.

She’s writing down her groceries list on her notes app when she realizes it’s past five and there’s no sign of him. She sighs and tries to shrug it off, but she can’t help but wonder if she did something wrong to make him act this way. Perhaps she made him uncomfortable; perhaps he’d gotten tired of her and moved onto the next thing. She doesn’t know Harry well enough to know which one it is. But she does know herself, and she knows how she can be, so she figures he decided to leave her alone after all.

It’s okay, she thinks. It’s what you wanted, she has to remind herself.

She doesn’t know why she’s still thinking about him a couple of hours later when she’s getting ready to close the bookshop. She knows it’s probably a matter of comfort; she’d gotten used to having him around, so it takes a little to get accustomed to the thought of him not being there.

You see, she knows she’s being irrational, she knows it doesn’t mean anything, it could just be a one time thing. Maybe he didn’t feel like seeing her today and there’s nothing wrong with that. But it has come to a point for YN where she has a tendency to protect herself even when protection isn’t actually needed. She realizes she’d gotten quite comfortable with Harry, at least comfortable enough to the point where she doesn’t feel suffocated by his presence as she did the first time she saw him. Maybe that was her mistake all along. It’s always a matter of mistakes with her.

The problem is that when you’ve been alone for so long, even the slightest intrusion can feel like the biggest, and despite her cold exterior, she always felt inside her this pathetic longing for human connections that she never got the courage to satisfy. But she knows that takes a kind of braveness she doesn’t feel she has mastered yet. So after all, she figures, it’s better this way. She’s glad Harry didn’t come, she has to tell herself that in order to get a good night sleep. She hopes he’ll keep doing that until she forgets the taste of everything he baked her.

The next Sunday, when Harry doesn’t show again, she feels a certain smugness at being right. She knew this would happen and she’d spent all her life alone to avoid this kind of feeling. All those years she didn’t go out weren’t wasted, because she was right in protecting herself, and she feels stupid for even thinking otherwise.

(…)

YN’s serving a costumer when Harry walks in, two weeks later, so she doesn’t really pay much attention to him. Only when he walks in front of the cashier she sees him, and he’s smiling politely at the old man who’s putting away his wallet after buying his book.

“Hey,” he says once he’s standing before her, he raises his hand and shows her a white tote bag which he’s holding tightly between his fingers, “I was thinking pumpkin pie today”.

YN finds herself at a loss for words. It’s been two weeks since she’d last seen him. A lot happened in two weeks (not really), but it did for her standards. Two weeks.

Since she’d last seen him, she read five books, found a new favorite candle scent and (almost) managed to forget his annoying voice and twinkly green eyes. A lot can happen in two weeks. Maybe, she figures, two weeks mean nothing to Harry, that’d explain why he’s suddenly acting like nothing happened.

She doesn’t know how to act, because she’s aware nothing actually happened between them, but she still hasn’t forgotten how it felt waiting for him for two weekends in a row. And she wouldn’t recommend.

“That’s nice, but I have a lot of work to catch up to” she shrugs, picking a blue pen out of the ones scattered across the counter and scribbling down on a piece of paper what seems like a list of book titles and their respective authors.

“Okay, I’ll help you then and we’ll bake once we’re done.”

“I don’t need your help, Harry.” She says firmly.

“Fine, then I’ll bake while you’re working?” He suggests, his tone seems serious and she really doesn’t know if he’s trying to make fun of her.

It’s when she doesn’t say anything that Harry understands. “You’re mad.” He nods, more to himself, really. He’d spent the entirety of the past week trying to imagine how their encounter would’ve been like. He’d considered the possibility of her getting upset, but discarded it with a shake of his head. There’s no way she’d be mad. He thought he was actually doing her a favor.

“I’m not.”

“I think you are.”

“Well, you’re wrong!” She snaps, closing the pen with its cap and placing it in the breast pocket on her blouse. She takes the white paper and walks out of the counter toward the left, where she keeps the poetry section, Harry following closely behind. Once she’s standing before the tall wooden bookshelf, she scans the books with her eyes, tilting her head so she can see up until the very last shelf, and once she spots the book she was looking for, she takes the pen out of her pocket and crosses with a line the book title she wrote just minutes ago.

Harry, who’s never been one really good at confrontation, stands behind her, following her every move with his eyes. He feels like he should say something, but doesn’t know how. People never really get upset with him, even when he knows he deserves it, so he’s never been in this kind of position.

“You don’t like pumpkin pie?” He jokes, nudging her shoulder with his softly.

“I really don’t have time for this, Harry” she wonders wether she means his jokes or their “friendship”. Maybe both, although she did miss him and she does like pumpkin pie, very much actually.

She debates wether she should just let it go and pretend him standing her up for two weeks didn’t hurt in any way. But how can she?

“Okay,” he nods “Can I stay here, though? I won’t talk.”

“Yeah, I doubt that.” She rolls her eyes, but doesn’t send him away.

(…)

After less than an hour, YN’s done with her list, she found the books she didn’t have in stock and ordered them online, Harry helped her put in the correct alphabetical order the books that were misplaced, and they managed to not talk if not strictly necessary. Despite the silence, Harry felt relaxed for the first time in two weeks; he doesn’t know if it’s the coziness of the bookshop or this new candle she has burning.

YN has some music playing softly from her computer when she hears a loud groan coming from Harry, who’s sitting cross legged on the floor reading a book quietly, with his back against the counter on which she’s sitting: “can you skip this song, please?”

“Why? I like it” she shrugs, lowering her head to look down at him, her hair falling in front of her face.

“It’s the song I lost my Grammy to.” He explains, but he doesn’t raise his head to look at her, his eyes still planted on the book open in his lap, albeit she knows he’s not reading anymore.

“Okay.” She nods, grabbing her computer from behind her and changing the song like he asked.

YN can’t obviously know what it means to lose a Grammy, but despite being upset with him, she’s not cruel and she understands that Harry has something in his mind he’s not telling her.

She figures it must be something rather important, because he’s not one to be shy about his feelings (if only she knew…).

She’s debating wether she should ask him what’s wrong when Harry closes the book around his index finger to mark the page, and raises his head to look at her. “It’s fine.” He says.

She furrows her eyebrows but doesn’t say anything, she’s gotten used to him, and she knows he needs some time to gather his thoughts before speaking again, so she lets him.

“It’s not like I was expecting to win,” he shakes his head and shifts his gaze back on the closed book, “and I’m not angry about it. — he states — I could never be that ungrateful.”

YN nudges his shoulder with her leg to get his attention, “You’re allowed to be angry. It isn’t ungrateful. It’s okay if you wanted to win.”

Harry lets out a humorless chuckle: “it’s embarrassing.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know”, he says, shrugging, “sometimes I feel embarrassed I want things. Like in some way I don’t deserve them.”

“Okay” she nods, because she feels like she understands what he’s saying.

“That’s why I didn’t come. Those two weeks. I just… I didn’t want anyone to see me. It got so bad.�� He’s looking up at her now, their eyes locked, and suddenly YN’s hyper aware of his shoulder brushing against her leg and she feels so bad for everything she thought about him those past two weeks she feels nauseous. How could she possibly have known? And what does it mean now that she knows?

“I didn’t want anyone to see me like that.” He repeats, closing his eyes and pursing his lips as if he’s remembering something and is disgusted by the very image of it.

Harry doesn’t know why sometimes he feels so comfortable around her he gets the sudden urge to tell her at least one thing that’s going on in his head.

He’s glad she rarely asks, he fears he’d tell her everything. He doesn’t like that. He’s so scared of people knowing him he hides self-help books from his own manager. He doesn’t want people to see that. He feels as if no one would like him if they saw him like that.

To him, it’s just easier being happy all the time. And when he can’t find it in him to be happy, he’d rather disappear for two weeks than to come to terms with his own failures and with the fact that he’s not perfect. It’s never easy, being happy, but at least it’s less scary. And to Harry, which is someone who despises being scared, that counts as a lot.

They sit in silence for a while, Harry’s words lingering in the air between them. He wants to tell her how bad it got. He wants to tell her he was so angry at himself he got so drunk he blacked out, and he never drinks while he’s on tour, so that counts for something.

“I understand.” She says, startling him, “I’m scared of people knowing me, too. But sometimes I really want to be understood, you know? I wish to be understood more than I fear people knowing me.” She whispers, lowering her gaze.

“I know what you mean” Harry nods, he feels warm in his chest, “sometimes I imagine this cooler version of myself in my head, and he gets to do all these cool things I never do. He makes it seem so easy I almost believe it. Then it comes a point when I have to speak up about something and I just can’t. I can’t say anything. All I can say is okay. You know? — he looks at her — I say: it’s okay, don’t worry, I’m not angry, it’s fine, it didn’t hurt me. But it’s not okay. It’s not. And I see him in my head, and he’s so disappointed in me. I picture him shaking his head at me. I feel like a loser. But at the same time I feel safe, you know?”

At this point, he’s rambling. He’d never told anyone that. It took a lot of courage, and suddenly he feels ashamed and exposed. He wonders what she’s going to think of him now that she knows such a intimate detail about him.

He uncrosses his legs and stretches them before him. He wants to leave. He feels restless and he regrets being so open, her silence only confirming his thoughts.

“Harry?” She says, nudging him once again with her leg. He hums, signaling he’s listening and to let her know she can go on, “you don’t have to say it’s okay with me. I understand.”

And he doesn’t know how, but she really does understand. So he nods. He watches her as she lowers her torso towards him, reaching for his shoulder with her hand and squeezing it in a reassuring way: “plus,” she smiles, “why would I care about Grammys when you’re the best baker in the world?”

(…)

“We’re not baking today.” Harry says when he walks in the bookshop the following Sunday, pushing the door open with his back as his hands are too full to open the door.

“What? Why?” She pouts, jogging towards him and taking one of the shopping bag from his hand, freeing it from his grip. At that, Harry lets out a relieved sigh. He’d only carried the bags from the tube — yes, he takes the tube regularly now (he quite likes it, but would never admit that to Jeff, who’s convinced Harry takes a cab) — to the shop, which isn’t that long of a distance, usually, but it is when you’re walking with four heavy bags digging uncomfortably in your skin. He’s positive they left a mark, and he recalls if doing your own grocery shopping means carrying the bags too, he’s a bit glad he doesn’t have to do it.

He closes the door behind him with his foot and follows YN, “Why?!” He exclaims, “It’s almost Christmas and you still don’t have a tree!”

“Harry!” She rolls her eyes, putting the bag on the counter, “I don’t need a tree.”, but there’s already a warm feeling blossoming from her chest, all the way down to the very tip of her fingers and she feels tingly all over.

“I think you do.” He gives her a firm nod, “Don’t worry, I thought about everything.”

“That scares me a little” she admits, but there’s a smile across her face as she helps him with the rest of the bags. She doesn’t remember the last time she’d felt so excited over a Christmas tree. She almost wants to squeal from how much she’s looking forward to this, not that she’d ever tell Harry. He doesn’t need to know Christmas is her favorite holiday ever.

“That’s Jeff with the tree!” He cheers, once they hear the unmistakable sound of tires screeching against the asphalt. YN peeks her head outside the big window and notices outside the shop, a red pick up with a big, green, Douglas fir tied to its roof. The car’s headlights illuminate the otherwise dark street, and YN follows once she sees Harry head toward it; he lets her go out first, stretching his arm to hold the door open for her with his hand splattered against it.

“Oh God,” she says once they reach the car outside. From up close the tree is even bigger than it seemed, and she feels herself fluster at the thought of Harry doing this for her. He bought her a tree. Not only for her, but for the bookshop! How could she even begin to repay him!

It’s so cold out she has to wrap her arms around herself to feel some kind of warmth as she’s shivering in her place, a white, condensed cloud leaving her mouth when she speaks excitedly: “is it going to fit through the door?”

Harry laughs and eyes her briefly before greeting Jeff who’s just gotten out of the car.

“YN,” he says, gesturing towards his manager, “this is Jeff.”

“Hi” she waves, smiling gently at him, “thank you for this.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve done way worse for him” Jeff replies, nudging Harry in the shoulder with his fist. At that, Harry blushes a little and prays Jeff won’t do anything that’d embarrass him too much.

When Harry had told him he wanted to buy her a Christmas tree, Jeff tried not to read too much into it, because he knows how out of his way Harry can go for others and to make good impressions, so he thought he’d forget about it sooner or later and go on to the next crazy idea. But once he saw how Harry was when he came back the Sunday prior, especially after how devastated he’d been after losing the award, he understood maybe there was a bigger meaning to their friendship not even Harry had quite grasped yet, so he decided to bring up the idea of the tree again, and Harry had smiled so hard, Jeff felt relieved he still had it in him.

YN helps Harry and Jeff unload the tree from the car and once it’s on the ground, they drag it inside the shop by the top branch. YN trips on her feet once in a while (the tree is really heavy) and Harry has to hold her by the arm to prevent her from falling.

She’s thinking it’s nice, to feel like this once in a while, to rediscover the giddiness and carefreeness of small moments like this, that isn’t small at all, after all.

Once the tree is inside, Harry assembles the base and all three of them lift it so it’s in a standing position, big and proud and green and once again so so big!

YN feels so ecstatic she doesn’t even acknowledge Jeff leaving, too busy admiring the tree to notice. When she realizes she feels so bad she begs Harry to text him saying how sorry she was she didn’t say goodbye.

“I didn’t know which color you’d like, I figured classic gold and red?” Harry says as he’s rummaging through the bags to take out all the Christmas balls and ornaments he bought.

“Yes! I hate those new colors… like blue? Why would you want a blue Christmas tree? It’s blasphemous!”

He laughs at her, throwing his head backwards and squinting his eyes.

“Here” he says, handing her the first golden ball to put on the tree. She takes it from his hands and hooks it in one of the branches in the middle.

“Harry! No! The small ones go on top and the big ones under” she exclaims, taking the red sparkly ball from his hand as he was just about to place it on one of the bottom branches.

“I didn’t think there was a textbook about Christmas tree decorating” he mumbles, looking at her bewildered with an amused smile painted across his face.

“Ah Ah” she rolls her eyes, “c’mon, it looks so much better” she gestures to the small ball which she placed near the top.

“It doesn’t make much of a difference”, he shakes his head, but he has to admit it does look better that way, so he just decides to go with it and follow her advice.

Nearly three hours later, both the bookshop and YN’s small room are decorated, and it’s gotten so late it’s past 8 o’clock, both their stomachs grumbling in the quietness of her backside room, where they decided to relax a bit, Harry reading a book on the couch while YN tidies up after the mess they left with all the bags and plastic packages.

“Should we order something?” She asks once she reaches for her phone and sees the time.

“Okay” Harry nods, “i’m really craving sushi.”

She smiles at him and nods her head before sitting close to him on the couch. She unlocks her phone and opens the delivery app, showing Harry the menu. After they place the order, she locks her phone again and places it on the coffee table.

It’s not the first time he stayed over for dinner, they usually eat on the couch as they chat about this and that. Harry noticed, after a couple of times he stayed over, she’d get chattier when he’d brought up a book he’d read, so now all they really talk about as they eat are books.

He tells her his favorites and she shares hers, he promises overtime to read what she recommends but never does, and she laughs when he asks her because she knows he’ll never read them, but she tells him anyway. Because she likes talking. Which comes as kind of a surprise to her. Because she was never one to be talkative, but she guesses no one really took the time to ask about what she liked. Harry does that. He isn’t straight forward, he tries to understand and catch traits about her from things she says (he pays a lot of attention to what she says, and he stares really hard at her lips when she talks sometimes she forgets what she’s saying and has to start all over again), and sometimes he doesn’t get them right, but he tried, which is more than she could ever ask.

So really, her no talking rule, only ever gets used once she’s feeling overwhelmed and needs some quietness. Harry doesn’t feel as suffocated anymore when she tells him, because he knows he’s respecting a boundary she set, and he recalls he read on one of those self-help books it’s important to set boundaries but it’s important to respect them too. So he does it, albeit most of the times he breaks the silence not even half an hour after with a stupid question he deems necessary.

Harry doesn’t wonder whether she chose the kitchen color anymore. He doesn’t know why. He feels that if she did indeed decorate the room, it wouldn’t be that bad, because he likes green anyway. And because he bought her a Christmas tree and decorated with her, so he figures it’s too late to worry now.

After that one time Harry disappeared for two weeks, she always asks him (wether he seems overthinking or especially careless with his thoughts) “what are you thinking about”, and Harry never really had that. People somehow always assume they know what he’s thinking about. They don’t. They don’t know how fast his mind races, how much his breath catches in his throat when he has to say something off script, how incredibly scared he feels all the time; YN probably doesn’t get it either, he thinks, but she asks, with is more than others do. And, somehow, whenever she asks, his mind get so quiet, like she put it to rest with such a simple question. He tried to do it to himself once or twice, but it never worked. He figures she has to do it. It’s a little scary because it just makes him depend on her for his well being, but he was always one to depend on people so it’s just a habit, really.

He tries the best he can to do it with her too. He knows she’d never answer if he’d ask her what she’s thinking about, so he tries to listen carefully to everything she says so he can understand her better. He doesn’t know why he feels the need to understand her. Maybe he felt like she’d asked him. Maybe he just wanted to.

“I’ll see you next weekend, yeah?” She says, once they’re sitting side to side on the tube, and she’s getting ready to hop off since it’s almost her stop.

“Actually,” he grabs her arm to catch her attention, “i’m throwing a Christmas party next Sunday, do you want to come?”

#harry styles fic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles one shot #harrystyles #harry styles fluff #harry styles #harry styles blurb #harry styles imagine #harry styles x y/n #harry styles angst #harry styles writing #harry styles x bookshop owner!yn #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you

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