#have u ever waited every single day for months on ends with the hope that one specific work will finally be updated

[whalesforhands]

PLSSSS 😭😭 UPDATE FASTER 😭😭😭

i’m starting to think u all take my biweekly/monthly updates for granted

[fungateshortcakes]

Jealous much?

Pairing: dofp!Logan x fem!teacher!Reader

Summary: What happens when Logan finds the father of one of your students flirting with you after class?

Wordcount: 1.7k

Warnings/tags: Jealous!Logan, established relationship (you are married), flirting, Logan asserting dominance to the guy that thinks he has a chance with you, smitten Logan bc he loves u so much, reader is implied to be 'turned on' once, no use of (y/n), english is not my first language!

_________________

I love love LOVE jealous Logan. Someone (I think it was by @pandapetals) made a fic where Logan and reader were married and a students mother was flirting with Logan, which pissed reader off and she has to show the lady who has that man wrapped around her finger already. That was so YUMMY so this is the Logan-being-jealous counterpart, hope you enjoy!

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The end of the school day brought with it a familiar sense of relief and exhaustion. You loved your job, but after spending hours with a classroom full of high-energy students, you were ready to pack up and head to your room in the mansion.

The thought of your shared room and of your husband Logan waiting there brought a small smile to your face. But as you were tidying up your desk, the last few students leaving your classroom, you heard a voice call your name. Your head wiped around as you heard it. “Excuse me, Miss!” At first, you thought it was one of your students, but their voice was too deep to be a teenage boy.

You turned to see Mr. Reed, a tall, polished man with a charming smile. You recognized him immediately. He was the father of one of your more rambunctious students, Jason Reed. He seemed to live in this school, it was weird just how often you saw him around. He attended every single one of the parent evenings you hosted - only yours. And he often sought you out to have a conversation with him and his son. You didn't think too much of it, it was your job after all to answer the parents questions if they had any concerns.

You gave him a friendly wave as he approached. “Oh, hey, Mr. Reed” you greeted warmly, pausing in your steps. "Is there something you needed?

The man gave a casual shrug, slipping his hands into the pockets of his well-tailored suitjacket. “I was hoping to catch you for a moment. My son just won’t stop talking about you. Miss "the-coolest-teacher-ever’” he added with a chuckle, his blue eyes holding a distinct shimmer in them.

You laughed softly. Hearing this went down like honey. You were always happy to know that your students were enjoying your class. You were the teacher you wanted to be since you were a student yourself. The teacher that made other students feel safe, that didn't make them feel like they were pressured and had to deliver a certain level of performance to be good enough "Well, Jason is a great kid. He’s got so much energy. I can barely keep up sometimes, but I’m glad to hear he is liking my classes this far."

“Oh, absolutely. You’ve really made a difference for him” Mr. Reed said, his voice dipping into something smoother, something deeper. “He’s had a hard time adjusting to his mutation, you know. And the abilities that come with it. But since he’s been in your class, I can tell he’s a lot happier. More confident" he praised you highly, teeth bared in a dashing smile to you. “And that’s all thanks to you. I don’t know how you do it, managing a class full of kids with various mutations and powers they can't quite control yet. It’s impressive.”

You waved your hand dissmisvely at the single father, giggling bashfully. You weren't used to such direct praise from parents, not even from him. “I'm flattered, but it’s not just me" you replied modestly. “Mr. Xavier has build a great support system over the years.”

Mr. Reed clicked his tounge at your humble answer. “Don’t sell yourself short” he flashed you another grin. “You clearly have a talent with kids. Jason has made more progress in the past few months than he ever has before. I’m not sure how I could ever thank you properly.”

His tone was friendly for the time being. The conversation continued. And at first it felt completely professional, how it should be. Mr. Reed asked about Jason’s curriculum, your teaching methods and even about the schools approach to managing the students unique abilities. You were more than happy to answer all his questions, oblivious to the way he started inching closer.

“It’s just refreshing” he said, leaning casually against the wall next to you, his eyes subtly roaming your figure “to meet someone as smart, kind and beautiful as you. Jason’s lucky to have you as his teacher. The whole class is.”

The realisation hit you like a ton of bricks. He wasn’t just being nice. He was flirting. You blinked, your polite smile faltering. “Oh, um, thank you” you replied, starting to feel a little awkward. It showed with the way you brushed a strand of hair behind your ear. A sign for him that you were all shy and bashful around him. Far from that. You felt really uncomfortable.

"I’m lucky, too, really” he added, fueling the bad feeling in your gut. His eyes sweeped over you, this time less subtle, in a way that made your skin prickle, but not the good kind.

Then he decided to just go for it and ask the big question. He was impatient and wasn't in the mood to wait until you initiated something first. He had waited long enough. “Do you ever take time for yourself? Maybe let someone take you out for dinner?”

Your composure completely faltered for a second. The nerve this guy had. Didn't he see the obvious gold ring on your finger or did he purposefully decided to ignore it? You opened your mouth, trying to come up with a diplomatic way to shut this down, but you didn’t get the chance to.

“Everything alright in here?”

Logan’s gruff voice cut through the hallway like a blade, low and unmistakably annoyed. You turned to see him striding toward you, eyeing Mr. Reed like a wild animal stalking its prey. His broad shoulders were squared, his jaw set, and his dark eyes locked onto the other man with visible irritation.

You jumped as if you had just been caught cheating. “Logan” you squeaked surprised.

He huffed through his nose, his nostrils flaring like the ones of an angry bull that was riled up by the red in its vision. Well, when he had this loser of a man flirt with a goddess like you, his goddess, then he saw red. “Sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt” Logan nearly growled, his tone anything but apologetic as he stopped next to you.

Mr. Reed blinked, clearly caught off guard. He swallowed thickly “Oh, I was just-” he tried to save the situation, or rather his own life, but Logan cut him off. “Flirtin’ with my wife?” Logan asked, arching a brow.

Mr. Reed’s face went pale as the snow falling outside the mansion, coating the gardenwith a thin layer of white. His eyes searched for your hand. They went wide as he looked at the wedding band you had been proudly wearing for six years now as if it had just appeared. “You-wait, you’re married?”

“Sure am” Logan said, slipping an arm around your waist and pulling you firmly against his side, securing you there. Marking his territory. His grip was warm and possessive and you could feel the tension radiating from him.

Mr. Reed stammered, his eyes darting between you and Logan in embarrassement and if you looked correctly, a little bit of fear. “I-I had no idea. I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean-” he stuttered out, laughing awkwardly in a bad attempt to play down his nervousness.

“Yeah, well, now you know,” Logan said flatly. “So maybe next time, think twice before you try to fuck someones woman" he spat, taking a step closer to Mr. Reed. You gasped softly at Logans word and placed a hand on his chest, giving him a warning look. “Logan” you muttered softly, trying to rein him in like a guard dog that was ready to pounce if its owner let him. You couldn't say that this side of him didn't turn you on immensly. But you didn’t need to get scolded by Charles for scaring off a parent.

But Logan wasn’t done. He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a dangerous rumble. “And just so we’re clear, she’s not interested. Ever” He snarled, down right barked his last word into Reeds face, who then mumbled another apology before practically fleeing down the hallway, leaving you alone with Logan.

Once he was gone, you turned to your husband with a mix of exasperation and amusement. “and that was really necessary?" you chuckled with a proud smirk. “Damn right it was” Logan replied, his hand still possessively gripping your hips, smoothing over them. “Guy needed to know who he was dealin’ with.”

You sighed, but your lips twitched into a small smile as you leaned against your broad and strong teddy bear of a husband. “You know I can handle myself, right?”

Logans lips pulled into the slightest smile as he looked down at you as if you were the most precious thing in the whole universe. “Yeah, I know” Logan muttered, his tone softening as he admired your pretty face. That pretty face he had the privilege to wake up to every morning because you were his wife. His. “Doesn’t mean I’m gonna let some jackass hit on you though.”

You giggled, shaking your head fondly, reaching up to cup his gruff cheek. “You’re ridiculous.”

Logan shrugged “Maybe” he said, smirking. “But you like ridiculous. Wouldn’t have married me otherwise, missy" he rumbled deep in his chest, making you smile because it was the truth. You married him for it. Married him for everything he was. “Guilty as charged" you murmured with a smile, standing on your toes to kiss him softly.

Logan’s arms wrapped around you fully, pulling you closer as he deepened the kiss. By the time he pulled away, his loving smirk had returned, but his eyes were filled with something softer. Something only you got to see. Something that you wanted to see for the rest of your life just from him.

“Still don’t like sharin’,” he muttered. You laughed, resting your forehead against his. “You don’t have to.”

And as Logan laced his fingers with yours, leading you towards the mansions garden to take a relaxing stroll through the green and white landscape after this unpleasant encounter, you couldn’t help but feel grateful for the man who’d fight the world to keep you by his side.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

And weirdly enough, you never saw Mr. Reed after that, not even at the parent evenings. I wonder why...

If you liked this- like, comments and reblog! It helps a lot🎀

[queenimmadolla]

hey i have a req for the penny verse!! if u want can u possibly do penny gets her period and like starts freaking out and only eddie’s home so he’s like “uh- i’ll go get some pads” if u want to ofc!!! i love ur writing <33

five months later and i was finally able to get to this one. sorry about the wait and i hope i did it just! this was also definitely influenced by me finally having seen Are You There God? It's Me, Margaret.

rockstar!eddie manip by the talented @themunsonator5000!

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐚 𝐁𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦 𝐅𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐫

(dad!rockstar!eddie munson x mom!reader) *but like you're not even in this*

summary: Your daughter gets her first period while you’re away and only Eddie is home. Somehow, she ends up comforting him.

warnings: lots of sentiment, brief (and i mean brief) mention of an oc side character death, angst, fluff, some hurt and whole lot of comforting. and of course mentions of periods.

𝗮/𝗻: 𝗲𝗱𝗱𝗶𝗲'𝘀 𝗮 𝗿𝗼𝗰𝗸𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗿 𝗮𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗽𝗼𝗶𝗻𝘁, 𝗴𝗼 𝘆𝗼𝘂! more dad!eddie here.

Eddie let out a sigh as he collapsed back onto the couch, body nearly sinking into it.

  The house was finally quiet. He wasn’t sure if he liked that or not. Felt foreign to him, especially in the new house.

  He glanced around the living room, brown eyes lingering on a few empty boxes that had yet to be broken down from the move.

  It was a big change, moving from Hawkins to California and he was well aware there wasn’t a single member of his family that was feeling completely positive about the experience. He could tell you were trying to be, for his sake and for the kids, but leaving behind all your friends was difficult. Even Eddie was struggling, despite Jeff, Gareth and Anthony being close by.

  Corroded Coffin had picked up quite a bit of traction and a loyal fanbase that was stemming into a borderline crazed one. The demand for more performances and appearances was high. Eddie never thought they’d ever reach this level, had dreamed of it once but after he found out you were pregnant with Penny, he didn’t care for the dream anymore. He preferred his reality, his family.

  Then the kids got older and you always encouraged him to keep playing so they did, and it happened. It wasn’t instant, overnight, or even close in years but they’d finally reached the point where the members were rarely in Hawkins. It had been the source of a lot of tension in your relationship, the hardest thing the two of you had ever gone though. You hated that he wasn’t around much and so did Eddie, but there wasn’t much he could do about it. Contracts had been signed and the ink had already dried.

  The fighting had been exhausting, at one point it felt as though the two of you lost each other and that had been terrifying. 

  And his kids—his babies. He was missing out on his babies growing up and it broke his fucking heart. Wayne appeared indifferent, but Eddie knew he cared and Penny was like you, always trying to seem okay and put together but she was hiding stuff from him—no scary secrets or rebellion, she was hiding her feelings.

  When you found out you were pregnant again, in the midst of all the fighting and distance, it had been the final straw for Eddie. He wasn’t about to let his family slip between his fingers. 

  The moment a show ended, and he didn’t have another the following day, he was rushing off stage to shower, throwing some inconspicuous clothes on to keep the invasive cameras from recognizing him, before he was on the next flight to Indiana. It didn’t matter if he only got to be there sporadically, he was there every. single. chance. he got.

  And when Maple was born during one of their concerts, Gareth was subbing in for lead vocals while he was holding your hand in the delivery room.

  It took time, love and a lot of nurturing but things got better. Then, you’d brought up moving to California. Most of Corroded Coffin’s appearances were based in the area which meant you and the kids would be closer to him, able to see him nearly every day if he wasn’t doing press or touring.

  You were extending the olive branch. 

  In truth, he hadn’t wanted to agree immediately, knew he’d be leaving Wayne behind (the old man said he wasn’t meant for city life, that he’d stay and have a place for his grandkids to visit and he couldn’t leave behind the women he loved, both of them now resting in the same cemetery), as well as your shared friends and the friends Penny and Wayne had made. It was a lot to leave. 

  In the end, you were willing to leave everything if it meant you’d never have to leave Eddie, never have to break your family. So, the boxes had been packed and labeled, goodbyes had been exchanged (Penny had cried when little Winnie, Megan and Margot Harrington, hadn’t wanted to let her go and Wayne had exchanged a heartfelt hug with his namesake, who was his favorite person to be around) and all your friends and family had been left waving goodbye to you from the rearview mirror.

  Yeah. Everyone was adjusting.

  Which led to today. Wayne had a field trip to the zoo, which he didn’t want to go on because of how new he was and his lack of friends. You’d been planning on taking the baby and going with him (the only way he’d agree to go) until Penny came down with something last night, complaining about not feeling good which meant you’d have to stay home with her. 

  If Eddie’s family was making sacrifices for him, then he was more than willing to make a sacrifice on behalf of Ari, his publicist, and canceled an interview he hadn’t even wanted to do in the first place. The guys were also happy to stay home, so it was a win. You took Wayne on his field trip, because Eddie couldn’t go anywhere without some dick with a camera following him around, and Eddie stayed home with Penny and Maple.

  Only, Penny locked herself away in her room and either Eddie was really out of practice or Maple just had a difficult time bonding with him because she would not stop wailing and shrieking. She had more teeth breaching her gums, and Eddie had tried everything he could to sooth her, everything he’d used with Penny and Wayne; frozen teething toys, massaged over the area of her gums, baby orajel, cuddles, she just fought him every time. 

  The only reason she’d gone down was because of how hard she’d been crying, little body shaking and trembling as she shrieked as loud as her little lungs would allow her to, tears streaming down her face and continuously pooling in her eyes. She’d worn herself out.

  Big moment of defeat for him, he’d felt guilty ever since he put her in her crib, wiping the wet trails from her face. Even in sleep, she didn’t look at peace.

  He could play to sold out arenas, had played a five hour concert in Madison Square fucking Garden, but he couldn’t sooth his baby, couldn’t take his son to the zoo and his oldest barely talked to him. 

  The life of a Rockstar.

  With a heavy sigh, Eddie reached to his side for the remote to the television. When his palm met the fabric of the cushions, he let out a more aggressive sigh, rising so he could take the couch apart in his search for that damn remote even though he knew it would somehow pop up in the most conspicuous place, though he’d last left it on that fucking cushion.

  He’d just lifted one large cushion when he heard a high pitched shriek.

  “MOM!”

  Penny.

  Eddie dropped the cushion as he ran upstairs towards her room. When he burst through the door, head whipping around, he still couldn’t find her. Then he noticed the light coming from under her bathroom door and rushed forward.

  “Penny?!” He called out, aggressively twisting the knob but it didn’t budge. He got desperate and shouldered the door, ready to break it down in an instant if she didn’t answer, “Penny, are you okay?!”

  “I need mom!” She called through the door.

  “What’s wrong? Are you hurt?” He kept trying the knob, eager to just yank it off and get to his little girl.

  Had she slipped and fallen? Thrown up? Should he call an ambulance–no, fuck that, they’d be too slow, he’d grab Penny and the baby and take her himself.

  “NO! I’m fine, I just–I need mom.” Penny sounded closer, and Eddie felt a little relieved to know she wasn’t injured. But why didn’t she want him?

  “I can help, sweet pea! Your tummy upset? I can make some soup! Or-or I can go get you what you need!”

  “The only thing I need is mom.” She was right on the other side of the door now. 

  Eddie sighed, forehead dropping against his side of the bathroom door in defeat. Of course she didn’t want to talk to him. “Well, mom isn’t here right now. So. I guess you're stuck with me.”

  Alright, maybe Eddie had been expecting her to take pity on him but she didn’t.

  The door remained closed and she stayed silent so with a heavy heart, Eddie settled against the wall opposite of the door. He’d be there for her when she decided to come out.

  It took about ten minutes before he heard the door unlock and it opened slowly, just her head poking out in his exact direction, as if she’d known he’d still be there. Her big brown eyes were vulnerable, eyebrows slightly furrowed–she was nervous.

  “I’m bleeding.” She said it so softly, it had Eddie scrambling up and towards her. She backed into the bathroom to allow him in, but when he looked her over, he didn’t see any injuries. She was just fidgeting, playing with her fingers. It was when she glanced up at him and then nervously to the toilet bowl that it clicked for him.

  Penny had her first period. 

  “Oh, shit.”

  “Dad!”

  “Sorry, sorry! I just–wow, uh, first…”

  “Period, dad. I got my period!” She rolled her eyes and Eddie just nodded, head moving like a bobble head.

  “I know! I know! Trust me, I know what a period is. I’m just–you caught me off guard, I mean your mom said–.” And then Eddie recalled exactly what you said, “Hold on, I’ll be right back.”

  Eddie ran from her bathroom, towards the master bedroom. Sure enough, a peak under one of your shared bathroom cabinets produced a box of pads, unopened. 

  “Yes.” He hissed, snatching it from its place before he ran back to her room. Penny hadn’t moved from her spot, eyes widening as he offered her the box and wiped the hair out of his face.

  “Here. Your mom got you these, she said–she uh, had a feeling you’d, you know, start soon.”

  Penny took the box from his hands, glancing down at them in wonder. 

  Eddie watched her, heart clenching for some reason he couldn’t quite explain. 

  “Pretty big moment, huh?” He broke the silence with a soft chuckle, clearing his rapidly tightening throat.

  It turned out to be the right thing to say, she angled her head up to beam at him. 

  “I can’t believe I got it, everyone else has it but I didn’t think I would!” 

  Penny was excited about it, you’d explained to him that she would be when she first got her period, because Eddie knew how much you hated yours (unless you thought you were pregnant–then it was suddenly your best friend who you missed dearly). It would be a big moment for her, a right of passage in girlhood or something. Or at least one that tampon and pad companies established. 

  “So it is a big moment,” Eddie reiterated, blinking hard.

  “Yeah, I–dad, are you crying?”

  Eddie kept blinking, shaking his head as his vision blurred and he sniffled, “No. Why would I be crying? I’m not crying, my little girl has a period. That’s it. Nothing to cry over.”

  “Dad…” She started before she placed the box on the tile and hugged his waist.

  That’s when Eddie actually started crying, bending over to wrap his arms around her shoulders. He held her like that for a few moments, pressing a few kisses to the top of her head.

  It seemed like she was trying to comfort him because she didn’t pull away, just let him hold her until eventually he realized she’d need to actually use one of those pads.

  “You know how to work those, right?” He asked, standing straight though his hands remained on her shoulders as her arms went back to her sides.

  “I know how to use them, dad, some of the girls at school showed me theirs.” She laughed out, “I still can’t believe I got it!”

  “Is that why you didn’t go to school?” He asked and she got quiet, shifting her weight and toeing the grout before she looked up at him, eyes clouded with guilt.

  “Shanti’s having a sleepover tonight and if I went to school, they’d know I’m not sick.” She admitted and Eddie frowned.

  “I was actually talking about cramps, but she didn't invite you?”

  Penny went back to avoiding his gaze and walked over to the bathroom wall, resting her back against it so she could slide to the floor and pull her knees to her chest. Eddie immediately joined her, one knee up and the other leg spread out. She was finally talking to him, he didn’t want it to end.

  “She invited me, but they’re just gonna talk about their periods and boys and stuff. And I didn’t have my period so I didn’t want to go.”

  “Oh, I see,” Eddie didn’t want to talk about the subject of boys and stuff, he’d put that off for years if he could. “You could go now, you’ve got your period.”

  “I don’t know,” she put her chin on the top of her knees, and Eddie stared at her, still so amazed at how much she looked like you. “I don’t know if they really like me. I’m trying really hard, but it doesn’t feel easy, doesn’t feel natural.”

  “I know how you feel,” he muttered and when she glared at him from the corner of his eyes for daring to try to relate to a girl in the sixth grade, he started rambling, “Sometimes, you know, you feel like you’ve got to try hard to get people to talk to you and sometimes you feel like they’re not happy with you so you try harder, and then you can’t tell if they like you or if they like how hard you’re trying or how desperate you are to be with them and wanting them to spend time with you or if you’re just annoying them. And they feel bad for you.”

  Eddie stared at the large mirror across from the pair, at his reflection and soaked in the truth of it all. He could relate to Penny a little too much.

  His head lulled to the side, catching her eyes as she watched him.

  “But she invited you, baby. If you ask me, I think they want to be your friends. Maybe it doesn’t feel natural because you’re scared to stop trying so hard.”

  She considered his statement, pursing her lips. 

  “Maybe you’re right. Can I even go? You’re not mad at me for lying?”

  Eddie huffed out a breathy laugh, hand reaching over to stroke over her curls, “About this? No. I’m just glad you told me. You can go if you want, okay?”

  She nodded, and Eddie withdrew his hands as she stretched her legs out, figuring the conversation was over. He felt a little better about their relationship–she hadn’t iced him out after all. 

  Penny moved onto her knees, ready to push herself up and Eddie was about to do the same thing when she got his attention. 

  “Uhm, daddy?”

  “Yeah, baby?”

  “I think the people you’re talking about moved from Hawkins over here because they want to be with you, too. All the time. You don’t have to try so hard, ‘cause we love you a lot. Maple’s just a big cry baby.”

  There was no way Eddie could deny the water at his lower lash line or the two large tears that trailed down his cheeks. “C’mere.”

  Penny wrapped her arms around his shoulders as Eddie hugged her to him tightly, eyes squeezing shut as the two ton weight that had been pressing on his heart was lifted by a little girl barely half his size.

  “I love you, daddy.” She whispered, squeezing him back. Ediie could feel something wet pressing against his neck and he realized she was crying, too. The last time he’d seen her cry was when they said goodbye to everyone in Hawkins. Eddie inhaled a shaky breath as he responded, a hand moving to cradle the back of her head.

  “I love you, too, baby. I love you all so much.” 

  They held each other until she pulled away, wiping at her face. 

  “I have to put on a pad, daddy.”

  “Oh, right. Yeah. I’ll give you some privacy.” Eddie pushed himself up, stretching his arms up and relishing in the sensation.

  “Can we watch The Wild Thornberrys after?”

  “Of course, baby.” That was the children’s show Flea always bragged about being on. Dude had so many movie roles, it was insane. 

  Eddie was about to leave the bathroom, doorknob in his hand to close it behind him when she stopped him again, “And daddy, if you want to spend time with me, you can always take me to the Spice Girls concert.”

  Eddie smirked, amused with the innocent act she was playing, eyelashes batting and making her eyes appear even wider.

  “I’ll think about it.”

  While Penny finished up, Eddie checked in on Maple–who was awake and waiting for him, pacifier in her mouth and little arms outstretched the moment he came into view.  His little mini-me (out of all of his kids, she looked the most like Eddie) cuddled up to him as soon as he picked her up, cheek resting on his shoulder.

  Then he went in search of the house phone so he could call Ari and get tickets for the next Spiceworld show.

(Penny ended up finding the remote for the TV on the arm of the loveseat where Eddie had not left it.)

[youngsadlesbian]

SIRIUS GIRL — marlene mckinnon.

pairing: marlene mckinnon x reader

summary: marlene mckinnon was the love of your life. but sometimes, lovers do not end up together.

a/n: i think it's the most angst and miserable thing i've ever written in my life, i'm sorry 🥹 i got carried away a bit and added more things than i would have liked, so in the end, this story was more about harry x reader than marlene x reader in a way. i didn't have much time to revise the story, so as english is not my first language, i apologize for any mistakes. hope u like it!

word count: 7,1k

warnings: angst, everyone dies cause jk rowling hates every single character, so many sadness and death and reader being a worried mom <3

Marlene McKinnon was the most beautiful girl at Hogwarts. It was not known for sure if it was because of her brown eyes that contrasted so well with her fair skin, or because of her blonde hair that had a unique cut that only suited her.

But she was Sirius's girl, your best friend since your first day at Hogwarts.

Your passion for Marlene was immediate. You clearly remembered watching her from the Gryffindor table, her striking figure appearing calm as the Sorting Hat was placed on her head. When you found out she was going to be your housemate for seven years, you knew it was her.

But you never had the courage to confess your passion. In fact, you didn't communicate much with her because you was always a complete mess when tried. No one noticed because you always knew how to disguise it very well.

Your years at Hogwarts were incredible. Your friendship with Sirius grew every year. You became friends with the Marauders and also an animagus, to help Remus with his transformations.

You were a beautiful black cat, nicknamed Kitty. Normally, you would lie in wait and run through the secret passages with Peter if something went wrong, to warn Dumbledore. It was a perfect disguise; Hogwarts was full of cats.

Just like your friendship with the Marauders, you've found someone just as amazing as Sirius: Lily Evans. You had known each other for years, sharing a dorm and studying together at times. But never to the point where have a connection. It was sudden and one of the best things that happened to you. Lily was smart, selfless and sensitive.

In your seventh year, everything changed when Sirius and Marlene suddenly started dating. You always knew how to hide your feelings well because you were very shy, but for the first time, Sirius noticed that your smile wasn't as sincere as it used to be.

"Hey, Kitty. Is everything okay?" Sirius asked one night after Quidditch practice. You were watching Marlene and Sirius laughing together from afar, your heart aching with every look.

"Yeah, I'm fine, Padfoot. I just have a lot on my mind with the exams and everything," you replied, trying to sound casual.

Sirius didn't look convinced, but he didn't insist. "Okay, but you know you can talk to me, right?"

You nodded, forcing a smile. "Of course, thank you, Padfoot."

Months passed, and you continued to hide your feelings, maintaining a brave facade while inside, your heart ached every time you saw Marlene and Sirius together. You buried yourself in your studies trying to distract yourself from the pain.

It didn't take long to realize that maybe finding someone to spend time with would be a good distraction. This is how your relationship with Emmeline Vance, a Ravenclaw student, began. Both with different reasons; she because she wanted a distraction from the pressure of school and parents, and you, because she wanted something to ease the pain.

Remus was the only one who didn't seem very happy when he found out about your relationship and at the time you didn't understand. But Remus always knew that you loved Marlene, even if in your head it was a secret to everyone.

Until your graduation, you were forced to create a facade that only disappeared in front of Emmeline, a witch smart enough to discover the truth. You spent countless nights lying in the astronomy tower, looking at the stars, you being comforted by Emmeline while you saw Sirius and Marlene in the distance returning from some walk.

You would feel more alone and miserable if it weren't for the constant presence of Remus, Lily and Emmeline, who wouldn't leave you alone for a single minute.

One of the happiest moments of your life, besides witnessing Lily and James' wedding, was being invited to be Harry's godmother months later.

It was a common visit to the Potter's house, where you would always bring a cake and Lily would prepare tea. It was colder than usual, so you wore something heavier and took off your coat as soon as the house felt cozy and warm, settling down on the couch next to Lily. "I've been talking to James and we've decided that there's no better person to be Harry's godmother than you. Of course, if you accept." You hugged Lily tightly and couldn't hold back your tears.

"Of course I do! That's amazing." Lowering yourself until you were at Lily's belly, you placed your mouth close and got a laugh from the witch. "Hey little Potter, I promise I'll be the best godmother in the world."

You needed to stay away from them as soon as the prophecy was revealed, as you were actively a member of the Order of the Phoenix and were not supposed to know where they were to avoid magic being used on you in case there was a confrontation and they discovered the Potters' location. You got some owls from Lily where she told you about smart little Harry and how he had your eyes and looked a lot like his dad.

Then, one afternoon in 1981, everything changed. You remembered sitting on the couch finishing reading Dorian Gray when a noise at the window scared you. It was Luna, Remus's owl. Luna was large, with an impressive wingspan that highlighted her majestic presence. Her plumage was mostly white, with scattered black markings that provided an elegant contrast, and she had expressive yellow eyes, reflecting a serene wisdom and keen perception, just like her owner. In Luna's beak there was a letter addressed to you, and due to the rush in writing you feared the worst.

But nothing would prepare you for Remus' words.

Kitty,

I hope this letter finds you well, despite the difficult circumstances that surround us. It is with a heavy heart that I write to inform you of terrible news. Marlene McKinnon and her entire family were brutally murdered by Death Eaters. Their loss is a devastating blow to us all and a painful reminder of the cruelty we have faced.

I need to speak to you urgently. There are important issues that we must discuss in person. Please meet me at the Hog's Head, I'm waiting for you. The situation is serious and your support is crucial at this time.

With regret and hope to see you soon,

Remus Lupin

No. You couldn't believe it.

You rushed out of your house, the shock and pain giving you frantic energy. You apparated straight to Hogsmeade and ran towards the Hog's Head. As entered the pub, the dark, smoky atmosphere barely registered in your mind; Your eyes searched for Remus, and he was there, sitting in the corner, with an expression of deep sadness.

“Remus,” you whispered, almost out of breath. He looked up and, upon seeing your devastated expression, immediately stood up to wrap you in a tight hug.

"I'm sorry, Kitty. I'm so sorry," he repeated, his voice hoarse with emotion.

You clung to him, the crying finally breaking through the barriers. "I...I can't believe it. Marlene... Her whole family... why?"

Remus sighed, rubbing your back comfortingly. "The Death Eaters are getting bolder and bolder. They are attacking anyone they see as a threat. Marlene was a strong and brave witch, as you know. She fought to the end, but... it wasn't enough."

You sobbed into Remus' shoulder, his every word digging into your heart like a blade. "She deserved so much more... they all did."

He continued to hold you, letting you cry, offering the silent comfort of his presence. After a while, he spoke again, his voice low and full of regret. "I knew this would be difficult for you. Marlene meant a lot to all of us, but especially to you."

You nodded, unable to speak, the weight of the loss crushing your chest. Remus stood there, unwavering, his invaluable support in this moment of pain.

Days passed in a whirlwind of sadness and grief. You could barely function, the loss of Marlene still fresh and painful. But then, the news that would come next would rock his world even more.

You were sitting at the small table in your kitchen, trying to drink some tea that Remus had insisted on making for you, when an owl brought another letter. This time, from Dumbledore.

With shaking hands, you opened the letter and read the words with dawning horror. Lily and James Potter were dead, handed over to a terrible fate by Sirius Black. And Harry, your godson, was now an orphan and you figured he would stay with the Dursleys.

Feeling a growing desperation, you hurried to get dressed and apparated to Little Whinging, Surrey. Finding Dumbledore before he left Harry with the Dursleys was his only priority now.

Arriving in the quiet neighborhood, you saw Dumbledore standing on the sidewalk, holding a small package of blankets with Harry inside. He looked surprised as you approached, your breathing quickening with panic and excitement.

“Dumbledore, please,” you began, voice shaky. "Don't leave Harry with the Dursleys. Let me have him. He's my godson, and… I need to look after him."

Dumbledore looked at you with a sad and compassionate look. "I understand your wish, my dear, but Harry will be safe here with the Dursleys. There are ancient protections that can only be activated by blood. He will be safe here, even if it is not the most loving place."

“But… they won’t love him like I do,” you argued, tears streaming down your face. "He needs love, support, not just security."

Dumbledore sighed deeply, considering his words. He looked at little Harry in his arms, then at you. "Do you understand the magnitude of what you are asking? Caring for Harry will be an arduous and dangerous task. He needs someone who can protect him and guide him with love and wisdom."

“I understand,” you replied firmly, though your voice shook. "I promise I will look after him, protect him with my life. Please, Dumbledore, let me be that person for him."

Dumbledore studied you for a long moment before slowly nodding. "Very well. I see the sincerity in your eyes. Harry will need love and protection, and if you are willing to offer that, then he will stay with you."

He handed Harry to you, his blue eyes shining with a mixture of relief and concern. "Take good care of him. He is our future."

You held Harry tenderly, feeling the weight of responsibility and love grow in your heart. "I promise I will look after him, Dumbledore. With all my heart."

As Dumbledore disappeared into the darkness of the night, you looked down at little Harry in your arms, feeling a renewed determination. You would honor Lily and James' memory.

\-/

Years passed, and Harry grew up in a home full of love and care. You dedicated yourself entirely to him, ensuring he had a happy and safe childhood. He was a happy, curious and lively child, always eager to explore the world around him.

You remembered the precious moments you spent together: the nights when he asked you to read stories about wizards and witches before bed, the sunny afternoons in the garden where he ran and played with an infectious laugh, and the birthday parties you had you organized it with so much care, always making a point of creating unforgettable memories.

When Harry was old enough to understand, you started telling him about his parents. You chose a quiet day, when he was sitting on your lap, his green eyes shining with curiosity.

“Harry, there is something very important I need to tell you,” you began, stroking his dark hair. "Your parents, Lily and James, were incredible people. They loved you more than anything in this world and made a huge sacrifice to protect you."

Harry's eyes widened, taking in every word. "What happened to them?" he asked, his voice soft and full of innocence.

“Your parents were killed by a very dangerous dark wizard called Voldemort,” you explained, the pain still fresh in your heart. "They died to protect you, Harry. But their love for you was so strong that it saved you."

Harry was silent for a moment, processing the information. Then, he looked at you with a surprising maturity for his age. "I lost a mother and a father," he said slowly, "but I gained another mother, didn't I?"

Your heart sank and your eyes filled with tears. You hugged Harry tightly, feeling a deep love for the brave boy. "Yes, Harry. And I will always be here for you."

When Harry turned eleven, a very special event happened. One morning, while you were having breakfast, an owl sat on the window with a letter in its beak. Harry ran to catch it, his eyes shining with excitement.

"It's from Hogwarts!" he exclaimed, opening the letter with shaking hands. "I've been accepted! I'm going to Hogwarts!"

You smiled, happiness radiating from you. "I knew this day would come. I'm so proud of you, Harry."

Preparing for Hogwarts was a time of great excitement. You took Harry to Diagon Alley to buy all his school supplies. You walked together through the magical streets, exploring each store with curiosity and wonder.

At the Owl Emporium, Harry chose a white owl named Hedwig, who immediately cuddled up to his arm, creating an instant bond. At Ollivander's, Harry was delighted to find the perfect wand for him, a magical experience he would never forget.

"This is amazing!" Harry exclaimed, looking around with wide eyes. "I didn't know a place like this existed."

You smiled, happy to share this experience with him. "The wizarding world is full of wonders, Harry. And you will discover so many incredible things at Hogwarts."

The night before Harry left for Hogwarts, you sat next to him on the bed, holding his hands. "Harry, you're starting a new adventure. Remember, your parents would be just as proud of you as I am. And no matter what happens, I'll always be here for you."

Harry smiled, eyes shining with excitement. "I know. Thank you for everything. I couldn't have asked for a better mother."

His words warmed your heart, and you hugged him tightly, feeling a deep gratitude for having Harry in your life. The next morning, you walked him to platform 9 ¾, helping him board the train to Hogwarts.

"Be brave, Harry. And enjoy every moment," you said, waving as the train pulled away.

Harry waved back, a beaming smile on his face. "I'll go! I'll see you on vacation!"

Harry's first four years at Hogwarts were marked by adventures, challenges and dangers that you could never have imagined when you decided to look after him. Every year, you were called to school because of some incident, each one more incredible and frightening than the last.

In his first year, Harry entered into a series of events that culminated in his fight against Voldemort. When Dumbledore sent a letter informing him that Harry had faced Quirrell, possessed by Voldemort's spirit, your heart almost stopped.

Arriving at the hospital wing, you found Harry lying in bed, surrounded by Ron and Hermione. His eyes lit up when he saw you.

"Mom! I'm fine, just a little tired," he said with a weak smile.

You hugged him tightly. "Little Potter, you always get into trouble, don't you?"

He laughed, but there was a weariness in his eyes. "It was scary, but we won."

During the summer holidays, you made sure to provide Harry with moments of peace and happiness. You spent sunny days walking in the park, reading together and exploring Diagon Alley. One night, while you were watching a muggle movie, you made a joke, "Harry, if you keep this up, I'm going to be too old to deal with your adventures before I'm fifty."

He laughed and replied, "Sorry, Mom. I promise to try to stay out of trouble...if trouble stays out of me."

In the second year, the events surrounding the Chamber of Secrets were even scarier. When you received Dumbledore's letter about Harry's situation and the petrified students, you flew to Hogwarts.

In the hospital wing, you found Harry once again, with Ron and Hermione at his side.

"Harry, honey, are you okay?" You asked, trying to hold back the tears.

Harry nodded, looking a little shaken. "I'm fine, Mom. It was a giant snake that time."

You shook your head in disbelief. "A giant snake? And here I am, thinking things couldn't get any crazier."

Over the holidays, the two of you took a trip to the countryside, far from any magical threats. Walked along trails, had picnics and spent nights watching the stars. Harry loved the tranquility, and you made another joke to lighten the mood: "Harry, if we ever bring a giant snake home, I'm going to have to rethink our decor."

Third year brought the reappearance of Sirius Black, your former best friend and supposed dangerous assassin. You were called to Hogwarts when Harry fainted after the Dementor attack.

You found Harry in the hospital wing, with Ron and Hermione once again at his side.

"Honey, are you okay? Those Dementors are terrible," you said, hugging him.

Harry smiled, although he looked a little pale. "Yes, it was...intense. But I'm fine now."

During your vacation, you visited the coast, spending days at the beach and nights telling stories under the stars. Harry, always curious about Sirius, loved hearing his stories about him. And you, with your usual humor, said, "If we ever bring home a Dementor, I think I'm going to need more hot chocolate."

The fourth year was by far the scariest. The Triwizard Tournament placed Harry in extremely dangerous situations. You were called after the final event, where Harry had faced Voldemort and witnessed the death of Cedric Diggory.

In the hospital wing, Harry was more dejected than ever, with Ron and Hermione by his side.

"Harry, my dear, I can't believe you went through this," you said, holding his hand.

He looked at you, his eyes filled with sadness. "It was horrible, Mom. Cedric...he died."

You hugged him, feeling your heart break for him. "We'll get through this together, Harry. You're incredibly strong."

During the holidays, you did everything you could to provide Harry with moments of joy and distraction. Took a trip to France, where you visited the Eiffel Tower and explored the local magic. Harry loved the adventure, but you realized he carried a heavier weight in his heart. Trying to ease the tension, you joked, "If we continue these adventures, I'm going to need a break from our vacation."

With Voldemort's return, it was extremely dangerous to remain in the same place, as it was widely known that Harry Potter had been in your care since the death of his parents. The Order of the Phoenix decided that the best option would be to move you to the Black home in Grimmauld Place to ensure your safety.

You had the joy of meeting old friends. Remus Lupin was a figure you hadn't seen in about two years, not since he had been Harry's teacher at Hogwarts. Even before that, there was already a certain distance between you two.

Emmeline Vance was also present, making the meeting somewhat awkward given the circumstances of your relationship at Hogwarts. You discovered that she hadn't married or started a family, her priority being her career as an Auror.

Then, the most awaited meeting took place. When the members of the Order ensured your safety inside the house, the first person to welcome you was Sirius Black. He still looked like that best friend with long black hair that drove girls crazy, with the same crooked and charming smile that used to irritate you as a teenager. You still hadn't spoken since it was revealed that he had been wrongfully imprisoned in Azkaban.

Sirius couldn't contain the urge to hug you as if his life depended on it. "Kitty, you don't know how much I missed you." You felt like a teenager again, coming back from vacation, seeing your best friend and ready to tell him all the news possible. "Oh, your girl is here."

Sirius loved to embarrass you in front of others, something remarkable in your friendship and apparently unchanged, even now, as adults.

Harry made a confused expression. "What girl?"

Sirius smiled that smile that always preceded a funny comment. "Vance and your godmother used to be girlfriends at Hogwarts." You pinched Sirius. "I'm being mistreated for telling the truth. Things don't change."

You spent hours in the kitchen with the Weasleys, reminiscing about old times, with Sirius always making a point of telling your biggest shames. Harry seemed to love this dynamic, it was different hearing about your closeness with Sirius and seeing how, despite the distance, things hadn't become awkward between you.

At some point in the night, only you and Sirius were awake in the house. You prepared tea while he, sitting at the table, watched you carefully. To Sirius, you hadn't changed much. Except for the haircut and the tired expression, you were still Kitty, his best friend. But now Sirius saw you with different eyes because he knew the truth.

You poured the tea and sat down facing him. Silence prevailed for a few minutes until Sirius finally revealed what was tormenting his thoughts. "Remus told me everything." You avoided reacting, even though you knew he was referring to that shocking secret. "Why didn't you ever tell me?"

You took a crumpled pack of cigarettes out of your pocket, offering one to Sirius. It took a while for your eyes to stop observing a specific point in the room and for your mouth to move. "I didn't want to take any more good things out of your life, Padfoot." You started, puffing on your cigarette as if it would give you some courage. "You had already lost so much, suffered so much... What kind of friend would I be?"

Sirius was silent, absorbing the depth of your words. He always knew about your terrible habit of trying to be everything to everyone, forgetting that you also deserved good things. He held your hand, squeezing gently.

"I wouldn't have started anything with Marlene if I'd known that. Mainly because it wasn't anything serious, you know?" A sad smile graced Sirius' lips. "And Marlene had told me she liked you a long time ago. So she couldn't promise me anything other than what we had."

The revelation broke you. You felt so stupid knowing that you could have had your happy ending with the girl you loved, but you were too stupid not to reveal your feelings. There was no greater regret for a human being than not having done something. You knew it would haunt you forever.

It didn't take long for Harry to return to Hogwarts, but this time, things weren't so easy. The Ministry of Magic was unyielding in its mission to tarnish the image of Harry and Dumbledore in the wizarding world. His efforts reached Hogwarts, including Dolores Umbridge on the faculty, hampering your attempt to observe Harry from afar.

After they removed Dumbledore as headmaster, things became even more difficult. Harry didn't tell you much about the events and now there was no longer a reliable informant. Your daily worry caused a growing despair in stomach, appeased without much success by the members of the Order.

Then the fateful day arrived. The Order received a message from Severus Snape. Despite his attempts, he hadn't had much success in teaching Harry how to prevent the Dark Lord from entering his mind. It was difficult for a sixteen year old boy to fight this, no matter how experienced and talented he was. The battle in the ministry was brutal. Years passed without you being in the presence of Death Eaters, and back then, you weren't used to fearing for your life.

But now you had enough reasons to fight. There were children to protect.

Your priority throughout the battle was protecting Harry, fighting alongside him and feeling tremendous pride. He was talented just like Lily.

Then Bellatrix Lestrange sealed Sirius Black's fate with a killing curse.

You shouldn't have knelt down and cried over the death of your first and best friend. You shouldn't have let your guard down. But you were human.

You couldn't see the moment Harry pulled away from you. You didn't even notice Lupin's arms hugging you. You only remembered Luna Lovegood's voice saying what broke you out of your grief spiral.

"The Dark Lord is with Harry. He needs you."

You've never run so fast in your life. Harry shouldn't be alone facing Voldemort, he was just a child thrown into a war that took everything from him.

Nothing in life prepared you for seeing Voldemort and Dumbledore duel. The headmaster protected Harry with all the spells he could while he cursed the Dark Lord. The wizards' distraction gave you enough time to approach Harry.

"Mommy's here, honey." You whispered to Harry. His green eyes were teary and you had to be strong for him once again.

Voldemort managed to escape, but on one hand you had a victory: The Ministry finally understood that he was back.

It was Harry's first vacation that you didn't go on. It wasn't safe. You spent part of the summer at Grimmauld Place, immersed in Sirius' memories. Harry often asked for more stories about his godfather, which you shared wholeheartedly.

Losing Sirius was something you never imagined. You still remembered meeting him on the train to Hogwarts, becoming friends just because you complimented his hair and especially hoping that you would stay in the same house. He had been your first friend. It wasn't like the muggle orphanage you were raised in had the friendliest children in the world.

Another move needed to be made. You and Harry would have to be moved once again, this time, to The Burrow. It was like old times, seeing practically every member of the Order gathered and ready for battle. You felt your heart heavy with the loss of friends who were no longer alive.

"Mom, are you okay?" You were startled by Harry's abrupt presence. He sat next to you on the couch. You shook your head. "I didn't want to leave home either."

"Home is where our hearts are. Mine is with you." You ruffled Harry's hair. "When this is all over, I'm going to take you to see Latin America. What do you think?"

Harry smiled. "Like Brazil? I heard they have a magic school there too."

"Especially Brazil. I'll take you to see every part of the planet and you'll never need to be afraid of anything again, okay? I promise."

Harry hugged you and you felt truly at home after a long time.

Before reaching your final destination, there were losses.

Moody. Hedwig.

Your heart broke at Harry's report; his owl had tried to protect him from a killing curse, just like his mother years before. You wanted so badly for your little boy to have some peace.

You feared for Harry to go to Hogwarts, being sure that something terrible would happen soon. It had been like that the first time; when Marlene and her family were murdered, when you were forced to watch the Dark Lord kill Dorcas Meadowes and couldn't do anything.

Days used to be like this too before the Potters died.

Dumbledore had been communicating a lot with you over the last few months, trying his best to let you know about the plans he had with Harry this school year. You made him promise that nothing would happen to him and Dumbledore told you something you would never forget.

"Your love for Harry won't be able to save him when the time comes, Y/N."

Practically throughout the year you were traveling back and forth, looking for important information for the Order. There was a risk of being caught but you were always very clever in using the polyjuice potion with the faces of people not so common in the wizarding world, with the intention of attracting as little attention as possible.

The day had started out strangely gray, just like all the worst days of your life. You tried to get everything ready because you knew you would have to run soon.

You wanted so badly to be wrong.

Minerva was the one who communicated with you. Dumbledore was dead. The hope of defeating the Dark Lord faded more and more with this information.

Bill and Fleur's wedding provided a brief moment of tranquility before the coming storm. During the party, you stayed close to Harry, trying to make sure he made the most of his time with his friends, without letting on the anxiety you all shared.

As you danced, there was a forced smile on Harry's lips, although his eyes showed underlying concern. "Thank you for being here," he whispered as you spun around the room.

“Always, Harry,” you replied, trying to convey a bit of comfort amidst the tension.

The tranquility was abruptly interrupted by Kingsley Shacklebolt's warning of the Death Eater invasion. In an instant, you were forced apart. Harry left with Ron and Hermione, while you apparated to the only place you thought was safe.

Ted Tonks' house.

It was the worst 9 months of your life, all the time avoiding leaving the mansion and counting on the company of the Tonks and Dean Thomas. Every day you listened to the Potter Observatory and hoped that the name of no one you knew and cared about would come up. Especially Harry's name.

It wasn't long before you, Ted and Dean were captured by some kidnappers and taken to the gloomy Malfoy mansion.

In the mansion, in addition to Draco and his parents, there were other prisoners, such as Luna Lovegood, Garrick Ollivander and some Muggle-borns. The days passed slowly, filled with fear and uncertainty, each moment marked by constant vigilance and imminent threat.

And soon Harry, Ron and Hermione joined the group. You couldn't hide your relief when you saw that your little boy was okay.

"I was so worried." You mumbled as you hugged him like your life depended on it. "Don't ever walk away from me again, little Potter. I can't bear the thought of losing you."

Hermione's agonized screams shattered the moment with an imminent tightening in her chest. You just hoped she would be okay.

It was only after an agonizing time that, by a stroke of luck, Dobby the house elf came up with an audacious plan to free all of you. With Dobby's help, you managed to escape the Malfoys, facing a brief and fierce confrontation before reaching freedom.

But Dobby perished. Harry once again lost someone he loved.

With your hearts still heavy from the loss of Dobby, you fled along the winding trails until you found temporary refuge. The adrenaline was still pumping strong, mixed with the silent mourning for the death of the elf who had sacrificed everything to save them.

The house where you took shelter was modest, but safe for now. Bill and Fleur, along with the others rescued, welcomed them with relief and concern visible on their faces.

"We're so grateful you managed to escape," Fleur said, offering hot tea as you settled around the small kitchen table.

Bill nodded grimly. "But we can't stay here for long. The Death Eaters won't give up easily."

The days that followed were one of meticulous planning and anxious waiting. You knew that you would soon have to part with Harry once again, remembering that there were things that only he could do. Together with Griphook the goblin, Harry and his friends planned their daring invasion of Gringotts.

"Are you sure it's safe?", you asked Harry, as he and Griphook discussed the details of the plan. "That sounds extremely dangerous."

"I know," Harry replied, eyes fixed on the map of Gringotts. "But it's something we need to do. It's the only way to find the horcruxes."

"Trust us," Hermione added, although concern was evident in her voice. "We took every possible precaution."

Two days later, the four left for their mission, leaving you with a mix of pride and apprehension. Determined to continue the fight in your own way, you decided to seek out Albefort Dumbledore, Albus Dumbledore's brother, for help.

With the help of a patronus sent by Kingsley Shacklebolt, you were able to communicate with Aberforth and arrange a meeting in Hogsmeade. Under spells that changed your face, you apparated to the agreed location, where Aberforth was waiting for you near the entrance to his tavern, the Hog's Head.

"Do you really think you can get into Hogwarts?" he asked, his eyes shining with curiosity mixed with concern.

“I have to try,” you replied, determined. "There are students there who need help. Plus, I need to find out any information that could be useful to Harry and the others."

Aberforth sighed but nodded. "Very well. I have a secret passage that leads straight to Hogwarts. Follow me."

He led you down a hallway hidden behind a painting in the tavern. Passing through the narrow, dank tunnel, you finally emerged inside Hogwarts, in the room of precision where Neville Longbottom was leading the student resistance.

"Neville!", you exclaimed, surprised to see the young wizard. "Are you okay?"

"We're resisting," Neville replied with a tired smile. "It's good to see you here. We need all the help we can get."

You spent the next few days helping to organize the resistance within Hogwarts, while searching for information that could be useful to Harry and the others. The school was different, darker and more oppressive under the rule of Snape and the Carrows, but the flame of resistance still burned in the hearts of the students.

One night, while discussing strategy with Neville and Luna, you received an urgent message from Aberforth. "Harry is coming back to Hogwarts. Get ready."

The moment you saw Harry enter the Hog's Head's secret passage, you ran to him, hugging him tightly.

"You're back.", you said, your voice shaking with relief. "I was so worried."

"I missed you, mom." Harry replied, returning the hug. "But we're here now, and we have a job to do."

With the meeting complete, the battle for Hogwarts began. You joined the other members of the Order of the Phoenix and the students to defend the school against the Death Eaters. Your experience and determination were crucial as organized the defense lines and coordinated the combat groups.

"All at your stations!", you shouted, guiding the young wizards to strategic points. "Remember, we are fighting for freedom, for Hogwarts, for everyone we love!"

During the battle, you found yourself in several dangerous situations. At one point, you fought side by side with Kingsley Shacklebolt and Minerva McGonagall, conjuring powerful spells to stop the Death Eaters trying to invade the castle.

"Secure the entrance!" ordered McGonagall, her voice firm despite the chaos around her. "We can't let them pass!"

"We're with you!", you replied, casting protection spells and attacks in equal measure. The sense of unity and purpose was palpable, even in the midst of danger.

As the battle raged, you also helped organize the evacuation of the wounded, guiding them to the Hospital Wing where Madam Pomfrey was working miracles to save those she could.

"You're amazing, Pomfrey," you said, helping carry an injured student. "We couldn't do it without you."

The night dragged on and the fighting continued fiercely and seemed to have no end. You saw several students being killed without being able to do anything, trying not to think about it too much so as not to lose focus. Then the Dark Lord's voice boomed throughout the castle and beyond, delivering his dark message.

"You fought valiantly. Lord Voldemort knows how to value bravery. However, now your efforts are futile. You have lost yet another of your own, and I have become immune. Voldemort is ready to show mercy. I order my Death Eaters to withdraw immediately. You have one hour. Hand over Harry Potter and no one else will die. You have one hour to hand over Harry Potter to my power. Only Harry Potter must be handed over and no one else will be harmed."

Only then did you understand what Dumbledore had told you about a year and a half before.

Your love for Harry won't be able to save him when the time comes, Y/N.

Harry was the only one who could defeat the Dark Lord, and he might not live to witness it.

He had been raised like a lamb to the slaughter; waiting for the moment to perish at the hands of the monster that had killed his parents and taken away everything he loved most in his life.

You walked through the Great Hall and then you saw it. Remus Lupin's limp body. The sight hit you like a blow, and you ran to him, falling to your knees next to your friend's lifeless body.

"Not you, Moony. Not you," you murmured, hugging him tightly as tears ran down your face. The pain of loss was almost unbearable. Remus, who had always been a source of strength and wisdom, now lay there, ripped from you by the cruelty of war.

As the chaos of the battle dissipated, you stood by Remus's side, holding him as if you could somehow bring him back. But deep down, you knew he was gone, like so many others who had fought bravely.

The hall was full of bodies, friends and colleagues who had given their lives for freedom. Each represented a story, a loss, a deep scar in the hearts of those who survived.

Harry approached, his eyes red with unshed tears. He placed a hand on yor shoulder, offering silent comfort. "Let's keep going for them," he said softly. "For Remus, for all of them."

You nodded, feeling the weight of responsibility and pain, but also the determination to honor those who had fallen. "For Remus," you replied, your voice breaking. "We'll continue."

After that, you didn't see Harry anymore and you understood what that meant. Just hoping that, once again, Lily's protection would be with him. Harry deserved happiness, and Voldemort, death.

Time seemed to stop as you sat on the floor, immersed in so many memories of your godson, your son. You had never thought about having a child, just as had never planned to get married. But knowing that Harry had been orphaned and could end up in a loveless family made you change all your life plans for him.

You were an orphan and didn't know love until you arrived at Hogwarts. Harry deserved better, and you were pretty sure you managed to give him that.

Voldemort's deep voice, in an evil laugh, echoed throughout the castle, making everyone head outside.

"Harry Potter is dead! He was killed while fleeing, trying to save his own skin. Here is his body, handed over to you as proof that your hero perished in his attempt to escape."

Harry's body was carried by Hagrid, just as it had been years ago on that dark night in Godric's Hollow.

Your heart stopped for a moment, the sight of Harry limp in Hagrid's arms was an almost unbearable blow. You ran forward, ignoring the tears streaming down your face, and fell to your knees beside him. "No, it can't be," you murmured, touching Harry's face, cold and still. "Not you, Harry. Not you."

The world seemed to crumble around you, and despair took over. Neville reacted, and when anyone least expected it, Harry stood up and the battle was directed towards the Great Hall. The fight resumed. You found yourself dodging Bellatrix Lestrange's spells and protecting Ginny Weasley from her brutality.

Silence settled. Everyone around them stopped to watch as Harry and Voldemort began to circle each other, sizing each other up. The tension was palpable.

Voldemort, whose red eyes glowed lifelessly, whose face was void of any expression. He had just lost his Horcruxes. There was nothing left to hold on to. He needed Harry's wand to have any chance of surviving, but the wand refused to work for him.

Voldemort spoke in a low, rough voice. "You can't win, Harry. You know that now. You have nothing to resist. I am invincible."

Harry replied, his voice firm. "You're wrong, Tom. You're the one with nothing now. Nothing but the death you deserve."

Voldemort cast the Killing Curse, a thunderous sound like a cannon. But this time it was different. Harry's wand, which now recognized him as its true master, did not turn against him. Instead, Voldemort's spell lost power, ricocheted, and came back at himself. Voldemort fell to the ground, defeated, lifeless.

And then you knew the nightmare was finally over.

\-/

It has been many years since that epic day at Hogwarts. The battle scar left on everyone was visible, but peace had finally settled. You now spent your days in the tranquility of the old house, surrounded by photographs of moments that seemed distant.

Harry and Ginny's children, Albus, James and Lily, grew up around you. They called you “grandma” fondly, and you were proud of every moment you spent with them. One sunny afternoon, as everyone gathered in the living room, Albus spoke, concern evident on his young face.

"Grandma, I'm worried... the Sorting Hat might send me to Slytherin."

You smiled gently, remembering your own worries many years ago. "You know, Albus, the Sorting Hat wanted to send me there. But I insisted that I wanted to be in the same house as Sirius Black."

Albus' eyes widened. "Really? But why?"

"Because, darling, the heart speaks louder than any label. And he sent me to Gryffindor."

The children's laughter filled the room, dispelling the momentary tension. You looked around, feeling grateful for every moment of peace and love that surrounded your life now.

At night, while everyone slept, you looked out the window, the memories of those who were gone still echoing in your mind. Marlene McKinnon, whose absence never stopped hurting. You had retired years ago, but your mind and heart had never completely moved away from the battle that had changed everything.

Over the years, you helped Harry raise his children and witnessed every achievement and challenge you faced together. You saw him grow up not just as the Boy-Who-Lived, but as a man dedicated to peace and justice.

And now, as you watched the moonlight illuminate the peaceful garden, you knew that your role in the Harry Potter story had not just been one of struggle, but of love and care until your final days.

[ox1-lovesick]

hi love I HAVE A RQQQ- TXT OR ENHA WITH A SICK S/O PLEASE!! i have a killer cold and the worst dizzy spells ever nd i would love some comfort 😞😞 thank u sm

★ ✯ ☆ TXT WITH A SICK!S/O

★ pairing. txt x gn!reader genre. fluff, comfort warnings. mentions of food wc. 100-300 each

✯ synopsis. txt with a sick s/o!!

☆ a/n. firstly i am so sorry this took 4 months 💀 writers block is the bane of my existence. i do hope this manages to bring you some comfort though :( please do take care of yourself and get well soon! (even though you are most likely not sick anymore 😭) also how ironic is it that i'm currently sick... :')

YEONJUN | 연준

by your side 100% of the time you cannot get rid of him.

he's over your bed when you wake up in the morning, waiting outside the bathroom door for you, laying right next to while you're sleeping. everywhere you are, so is yeonjun

will bend over backwards to get you anything you need

water? medicine? soup? more blankets? less blankets? he's on it before you can even ask

cooks for you !!! tries to make your food as interesting as possible so you won't get bored, without adding things that will make you feel worse or aren't good for you

you're bedridden. don't even try to fight him

he won't let you lift a finger, he wants you to get as much rest as possible so you can get better as quickly as possible

infact don't even speak, he'll learn morse code so you can just beep him whenever you need

if his schedule allows he'll stay home with you and be by your side every second of the day, if not he's texting you every free moment he has to make sure you're okay

would definitely call in sick if you were feeling particularly tired and need his care that day

has multiple reminders to make sure you're taking your medicine on time, will scold you if you're even a second late

he'll never tell you but he secretly enjoys you being sick . . .

he love love loves to take care of you, especially when you call on him to do things for you it makes him all giddy knowing you need him (he's not a creep i swear)

he's ontop of you so much he probably catches whatever you have

atleast you're sick together

SOOBIN | 수빈

hates to see you sick

1. because it's gross 2. because he hates seeing you in pain but mainly because it's gross

you're not staying in his bed i'm sorry he's gonna come over to your house to take care of you during the day and go home to his snot free blankets at night

gets your medicine mixed up all the time and complains it's the doctor's fault for prescribing ones that look so similar

low-key takes advantage of this situation so he can skip work and spend some quality time with you LMAOOO

"sorry guys yn's still dying i can't come to work today"

at first it's fun because you just have your average head cold so he doesn't worry too much

but then it starts getting worse and he comes home to you falling over yourself in the kitchen because of your dizzy spells and nearly has a stroke

panik

he starts stressing like a mad man after that

probably gets himself sick just with how stressed out he is it's a problem

definitely calls his mom for help he doesn't know what to do

updates her on every little thing you do

"mom they just took a really deep breath does that mean something"

buys the entire pharmacy

wants to kick himself for not taking it seriously when you first got sick he feels so guilty 😭

although you did enjoy his company and the endless marvel marathons so all is well

will not leave you alone. you have to shit with the door open.

will do everything for you even if you're perfectly capable of doing it yourself

from brushing your hair to fluffing your pillows he's gonna do it all

he'll even clean for you, that's his ultimate declaration of love

in the end he didn't really do much to nurse you back to health but A for effort

BEOMGYU | 범규

i know practically everyone in moaville would say he'd tease the shit out of you but in my head he'd be the most worried for you

googles every single one of your symptoms and then cries himself to sleep because myonlineclinic.com told him you have cholera and 6 days to live

the only reason he'd tease you is to mask his worry

he'd watch you go through 60 boxes of tissues and be like "omg my snotty baby" but on the inside he's freaking out 😭

your pain is his pain, the way you feel affects him and his mood drastically

he's irritable when you are, he's tired when you are, your appetites probably sync too

puts a curse on whoever spread their nasty germs to you with ginger roots and vinegar

i think he'd also be the most sympathetic since he gets sick a lot more often than the others

so gentle and understanding compared to his usual self it's a little scary 😭

surprisingly good at negotiation like you're being stubborn because you don't want to take your medicine and he's like "if you drink the cough syrup i'll let you listen to the demos for our next comeback" and before you know it you've sold your childhood home to him for 3/4 of the initial price

will whip out his guitar and sing for you in a heartbeat if you ask him too

obviously tries to crack jokes and make you smile so you don't feel too miserable, he feels so accomplished even if you just scoff at him 🙁

gets back to his usual annoying self once you're better though

TAEHYUN | 태현

ironically, he doesn't know what to do

he rarely gets sick and when he does it passes in a day or two, so when you've been coughing like you have bronchitis for the past week he feels so lost

his first instinct is to take you to the doctor to figure out what's wrong but gets into a fight with doctor for charging him 19382928 won just to press his hand to your forehead and tell him you have a head cold (terry is against this capitalist society)

also buys the entire pharmacy

changes your entire lifestyle to the maximum efficiency so you get better as quickly as possible and makes sure you stick to it

strict like a prison warden, sometimes you wonder if he actually loves you

which he obviously does, but it's hard to believe so when he avoids any unnecessary contact with you as if you have the plague

takes you outside every once in a while to get some fresh air, he feels stuffy just watching you sit around

it also keeps you active 💪

he's always pestering you to wash your hands

will not let you touch him otherwise

makes sure he keeps your space clean, always has tissues and anything else you might need within your reach

at your aid 24/7

you take up a colossal space in his heart he's so soft for you

flying to your side before you even say anything

you don't even have to tbh he can read your mind

"how'd you know i wanted water?" "you looked thirsty"

if he notices you're feeling extra miserable he'll sing for you to cheer you up

swallows his pride because he's down bad and pulls out his best southern accent when you ask him to sing country music

he will be teased for the next millenia but it was worth it for you

he's like an overbearing mother but you get better the fastest when he's taking care of you

HUENINGKAI | 휴닝카이

another mama's boy

probably calls his sisters too

hiyyih would tell him to soak your pills in vegetable oil as a joke but he'll actually do it because he's just that hopeless

he's unable to think straight he just wants to do everything in his power to make you feel better 😭

although he gets the hang of it pretty quickly, he's a fast learner and genuinely enjoys taking care of you

always praising you !!

"wow yn!! i can't believe you ate all your soup!!! you're so cool!!!"

tries to distract you by showing you his entire collection of pokemon cards

probably lies and tells you they're all super rare and he's the only one in the world who has them

does his best not to cause you any stress, he just wants you to focus on resting

the things this man does because he loves you istg

he cleans the entire dorm because it's a breeding ground for bacteria and he doesn't want anything making you more sick

the guys come home to the house spotless they're just like 🤯🤯🤯🤯

taehyun asks you to get sick more often if it means he doesn't have to fight his way through the ironing board and bike to get to the sink

he even lets you play on his DS he's down bad

side rant: i feel like kai is secretly a neat freak, he abhors the sight of filth but is just too lazy to do anything about it so he forces himself to deal with it 💀

anyway he's such a sweetheart :( does his best to keep the mood up even if you're feeling miserable because your nose is so filled with so much snot that you can't breathe

his positive energy definitely rubs off on you!!!

he actually does a good job taking care of you, he's a bit stressed at first but you're back to good health in no time !!!

© OX1-LOVESICK ── all rights reserved. do not copy, translate, alter, or repost my work without my explicit permission.

[securitybreach]

hellooooo what are ur favourite frostiron fics? i’ve exhausted most of my favourite tropes and i’m looking into new tropes to obsess over if u have any recs? tysm! :)

Hi emeraldfrostraven,

thank you very much for your message! This turned out harder than I thought (please excuse me for making you wait) because there are so many talented writers in the frostiron fandom. So this is a very short list but I enjoyed every single one of those stories and I hope that you might enjoy them too. There were a few other fics I would have liked to share but they're locked and I decided to respect the authors' decision.

Thank you again for sending this ask. I hope there are a few fics on my list you don't know already (that's why I decided to pick some older stories). I'm wishing you tons of fun!

Everything by the very wonderful @fullofleaves, whose glorious fic Are You There, God of Mischief? It's Me, Tony (Explicit, 2013) was the first frostiron fic I ever read.

Let's Go Get Lost by hypnotically: Loki doesn't want to be here. Tony doesn't know how he got here. They probably should have taken the jet. (Teen And Up Audiences, 2013)

Bostock by hannahrhen: Tony sets out a lure with almonds and powdered sugar. (General Audiences, 2014)

of Trust and Necessity by @roseapprentice: A story of card games and dubious claims. After five years, Loki finally escapes Thanos's pack. And immediately gets all snared up in a new one. (Mature, 2014)

Those Sinned Against by Arkada: When Asgard invades Earth - led by a huge blond man in a red cape and wielding a massive warhammer - it takes six months for Tony Stark to come up with a plan to turn things around: let himself be taken prisoner, and bring the Asgardians down from the inside. But it takes less than an hour for the plan to get away from him, thanks to the black-haired Asgardian prince who takes personal - very personal - charge of him. (Explicit, 2014 - 2015)

Taking the Fall by @usedupshiver: Everyone expects Tony to end up eaten alive sooner rather than later when he is put in the same cell as the Lyesmith, a man so dangerous even the members of his former gang are afraid to come after him. But sometimes it might actually be wise to just grin in the face of danger. (Mature, 2015)

A Matter Of Inertia by @roseapprentice: There was a tall, lanky omega getting into his car, holding an especially shiny-looking switchblade pointed in Tony’s general direction.Tony was fairly sure he’d had more than one wet dream in his life that started about like this, and the thought distracted him until the passenger door slammed shut and the omega snarled, “Drive!” with deadly ferocity.Yikes. Tony turned his wheel to steer away from the barrier and stepped on the gas.In which Tony makes a lot of bad decisions, and regrets none of them. (Mature, 2015)

Project Snowflake by @usedupshiver: When Howard Stark met his untimely death he left behind a secret project no-one ever knew about. (Teen And Up Audiences, 2015)

Did You Do Something With Your Hair? by STARSdidathing: Loki cuts his hair and Tony is extremely fascinated, almost to the point of obsession. Honestly, Tony's just trying to ignore this wonderful new problem. (Teen And Up Audiences, 2016)

From Anonymous by STARSdidathing: When Tony was caught in a lab explosion three years ago, he was lucky to walk away with his life. He gained a lot of injuries and retreated from the world. He now lives in seclusion in an apartment complex he owns, but his retreat doesn't stop him from noticing his neighbour or developing a crush on the handsome man. (Teen And Up Audiences, 2019)

Clockwork by @amidnight--dreary: When Loki's suppressants fail, he registers to be paired with a companion during his next rut. It's a lot easier than finding an actual mate, which he's already given up on, anyway. He doesn't expect much to come of it except the very-much needed relief and a few days of casual fun. He certainly doesn't expect to fall in love, but it just kinda happens, anyway. (Explicit, 2022)

(This list is also my contribution to the @frostironflashbingo May to August 2024, Card 1: Free Space)

[louellaby]

FORGET-ME-NOT

REPLACED!MC AU

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

W A R N I N G

May contain bad grammar, limited vocabulary, and OOC characters. Please mind that English is not my first language, and it takes a lot of courage for me to post due to my anxiety and paranoia.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

taglist: @books-and-catears @owl778 @yourlocalgrass @kaiserkisser @hhurric4ne @amberheavendremurr @yu-ulda @bk-4-trash-fire

PROLOGUE | CHAPTER I | CHAPTER II | CHAPTER III | LOUE'S LETTER | CHAPTER IV | CHAPTER V | LOUE'S LETTER | CHAPTER VI | CHAPTER VII | CHAPTER VIII | CHAPTER IX | CHAPTER X | LOUE'S LETTER | EPILOGUE

E P I L O G U E

「 I'm Right Here! 」

"Y-You're not really going to k-k-k... m-me, are you? I know you won't...! Y-You are all a bunch of sweethearts, after all, and you're all just messing with me right now! Y-You can't do this to me...!"

"Have you forgotten, Lady Soley? They're demons. And with one command from me, you'd be gone."

In the Devildom, the lives of the demons continued on as usual. The streets were bustling with noise, the shops full of customers, the forests as quiet as they have ever been, and the servants of the castle were all busy preparing for an upcoming festival which should bring more cheer to the realm. But in that particular castle, a man sighed deeply as he eyed the paper that slowly crumpled in his grasp.

"That's the 16th sigh this minute, Lucifer," Diavolo lightly chuckled as he watched his friend with an apologetic look. The prince knew what Lucifer was extremely bothered with.

It had already been four weeks since school ended. Everyone should be on vacation, including Lucifer and Diavolo, but they couldn't stay away from this specific problem. Why? Because it was the case of their failed human exchange student, Soley Day, who was thought to have disappeared months ago during their trip. That's right, no one outside the group knew what really happened to her. It's all a big secret.

"What are we going to do about this, Diavolo?" Lucifer sighed once more before dropping the paper on the table and leaning back on his chair. He tried to soothe his headache by rubbing his temples, hanging his head to the back. "I'm supposed to be on a trip with my family, and you told me two months ago that you would handle this on your own."

"I know, I'm sorry, but I really need your help on this one. I thought I could handle it, but it turns out this is a bigger problem that we hoped for, considering everyone's wondering where Soley has disappeared to. It has become a huge headache."

"Yeah, I can feel that." Lucifer sat up straight again and looked at his friend. "Does the Celestial Realm have a problem with this as well?"

Diavolo shook his head, "No. For reasons unknown to me, they left this one alone. The only problem now lies in Soley's family."

"I see, so that's what's bothering you. Despite their title, they're still just humans, Diavolo. It would be easy to deceive them."

"... Do you really think that that's the only way left to go?" The prince got bothered by Lucifer's reason. He knew Lucifer was getting impatient that he'd suggest something like this, but... is that really what it has come to? Deceiving humans who he wanted to gain the trust of?

A lot of time has passed. Eventually, even Diavolo understood how irritable Lucifer has become, the more the paperwork kept piling on and on. And so, the Avatar of Pride was dismissed for the day.

"You know, it's rare for you to admit you want to spend time with your family," teased Diavolo, enjoying the sight of Lucifer's face turning red as the man got up from his seat.

"My family is important to me, Diavolo. Every single one of those seven; they're all important to me. That will never change." Lucifer left the room, hurrying back home where seven people were waiting in chaos for him to return.

"Family, huh..?"

"Mother! Father! I'm back!" A certain girl with light orange hair and lime green eyes exclaimed, excitedly running out of a limousine and rushing into the arms of her awaiting parents.

"Soley! Welcome home! We were so worried about you! So, so worried!"

"I told you you didn't have to worry so much. I'm fine and in one piece." The girl then looked towards the man who stood behind her parents. "Heath!" She ran past the couple and jumped into the man's arms; an action that surprised both the man and the couple, along with the other servants surrounding them.

It was the first time in a very long while that their young lady showed any closeness or emotion towards her butler. While most were happy about this unexpected development, some were suspicious. Nevertheless, everyone was happy with the events, and her parents were so proud of her.

Little did anyone know, a translucent figure with tears in her eyes was watching them up close.

"Mother! Father! Heath! That's not me! Everyone! Listen to me! I'm right here!"

Despite her constant shouting, her unbearable protests, her desperate efforts in making them notice her; not one of them reacted to her presence. Every time she tried to touch any of them, her hand went through their bodies as if they were made of air; but it was, in fact, her own figure that was the problem.

"Come, Soley, we prepared a party for your return. All of your friends are here, and they can't wait to see you!"

"Alright, I'm coming, but after the party, can we have our own time together? You know, as a family?"

Once again, everyone around them was taken aback. Even the invisible form of her, who cringed at the suggestion.

Everyone knew Soley wasn't one to spend time with her parents anymore. Not since she grew up and had her own friends that she called her family. Because of the surprise, Soley's parents hugged the girl with tears in their eyes. They were so happy to hear that their precious daughter wanted to be with them again that they didn't even question anything. The ghost just watched it happen; her claws digging into her arms and her biting her lip in frustration.

"How dare that fake steal all the attention meant for me... I refuse to take this!"

That day had been a difficult one for the young lady. She watched in pain as her impostor lived the life that was meant to be hers. She did her best trying to get just anyone to notice her. Most painfully, she watched as the fake walked through the halls of the place she called home, with the man she held closest to her heart.

"Heath, I have a question."

"Yes, my lady?"

The two of them were in Soley's room. Heath was helping the lady prepare for the grand party happening later that day.

"What would you do if someone confessed their romantic feelings for you?"

"Oh, no. No, no, no. You're not doing this to me."

The butler dropped the brush he was holding, freezing in place as he locked eyes through the mirror with the girl in front of him. "I, uhm, I-I beg your pardon?"

"If someone confessed to you, what would you do?"

"Heath, don't answer that!"

The more the questions popped up, the wider Heath's eyes went. His brows furrowed. He suspected everything would've been a joke, but the look in Soley's eyes told him they weren't. And so, putting his heart on his sleeve, he opened his mouth in response.

"I suppose it would depend on my own feelings as well, my lady."

"What do you mean?"

"I will be happy and accept the confession of the person if I also feel the same way for them as they do for me."

"But if you don't, then..."

"Then, no, I'm afraid."

The lady sitting in front of the mirror removed her gaze from Heath and placed it on another. Soley's ghost gasped in surprise when she realised her impostor was staring directly at her, a smirk on her face forming before she opened her mouth and spoke to the butler again, her eyes not looking away from the spirit.

"What about me?"

"... my lady?"

Soley got off the chair and approached the butler, who stood still in confusion. She reached out and held both of his hands in hers, longingly staring at his eyes.

"What if I tell you, Heath, that I have feelings for you? Would you accept them?"

"My Lady, I—"

"Don't worry about your job, Heath. It's secure, and I'll keep it that way no matter your answer. I just want to know how you feel about me."

"No, please. Don't do this to me...! Y-You can't take Heath away from me, ple—"

"I..." The butler paused for a moment. And at that moment, all of his precious memories with his lady rushed through his head, displaying themselves one-by-one.

Heath stared into Soley's eyes just as she had hoped he would. His breathing quickened the more he realised the weight of the situation. But that was a moment he had always been waiting for. The moment he thought would never come. Not even in a million years.

"... I love you, Soley."

"What do you suppose happened to Soley's soul up in the human world?"

"Everything went according to plan, Young Master. Lady Soley had seen her life taken away from her, including the one she felt romantic feelings for. She is currently on a breakdown as we speak."

"What about MC?"

"MC is doing better than before. Their bond with the brothers has deepened greatly."

"Good. Perfect. ..... It's time to find a new exchange student. This time, let's hope they won't be as troublesome as the previous one. And even if they are, we can count on MC to handle it."

"Of course, my Lord. I will prepare the papers."

The moment the Seven Rulers of the Underworld and their human master returned from their family vacation, they were met with stacks and stacks of papers with information about new candidates for the exchange program. As the prince and his butler expected, a tsunami of complaints and disagreements washed over them. After a long while of discussions, everyone agreed to close the exchange program temporarily until they could find the perfect students for it.

Little did they know, a human sorcerer was watching them from his crystal ball in the human world. The moment his deep blue eyes glowed, a piece of paper appeared in his hands. He studied its contents for a moment before placing it in an envelope, a smile appearing on his face as he held the letter out towards the white raven that rested on its perch.

"Deliver this to the prince of the Devildom. Tell him I'm interested in his so-called exchange program."

"Your wish is my command, Lord Ceowald."

「 LOUE'S LETTER | THE END.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

Loue's Note:

Whether you've been here since the beginning, or you've just stumbled upon this story recently, I thank you so, so much for taking the time to read this! Thank you for the ones who supported me all the way (you know who you are) ! I'm really grateful for the wonderful reactions I've received! ♡♡♡

Forget-Me-Not has reached its end; but just as one story ends, another one begins. I hope you look forward to my next replaced mc au!

I give you lots of hugs and wish you the sweetest of dreams whenever you fall asleep.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

[chaotic-iguana]

bruh.

what. what the fuck.

writing started off as an exploration; a hobby that i was just trying out. something new, to pass the time. but i feel like it has now evolved into an extension of my art. over time, my stories starting having more and more elements of the poetry-inspired commentary i like to have in the forefront of my paintings, or very simply the imagery i used to include in my poems themselves.

but that isn’t even the best part.

i’ve been writing for around a month, and i absolutely adore literally every single mutual i have on here. @breakfastatjoels, @mandoisapunk, @josephquinnswhore, @bastardmandennis, @nostalxgic, @pedrosaidsheispunk, @theywhowriteandknowthings @millerscoffee

you’re all such inspirations im so glad to know u all thank u all for existing i gen would not have kept writing/still be on this site without yall and i promise im wrapping up i just think its a little fucked that im…gaining traction? how? and the crazy thing?? that list of ppl tagged up there are like just the ones i could remember off the top of my head!! there’s so many more! @imherefordeanandbones, was my first follower and the first on my taglist, and one of the first people to make me think my writing was actually not that bad for a beginner!!

anyways while i literally question everything and melt in gratitude, i hope you all have great days. thank you very much. let’s hope we see many more!!

enough sappy shit.

as a celebration, im gonna write fics, blurbs or hcs (saw/nsfw) based on the following prompts:

this is from @havenoffandoms 800 follower celebration! just send me your character pairing and prompt. list below the cut

“I’m in love with you. Please, don’t leave me.”

“Shut up and kiss me.”

“It’s really not that complicated.”

“You’re in love with them, aren’t you?”

“We could get arrested for this.”

“I thought you were dead.” 

“You’re never going to let that go, are you?”

“Love is overrated.”

“If you think I’m going to talk to you while you’re dressed like that, you’re wrong!”

“Do you ever actually use your cellphone?”

“You don’t need to protect me.”

“You fainted… right into my waiting arms. You know, if you wanted my attention you didn’t have to go to such extremes.”

“You have to make a choice.”

“You have to remember.”

“You heard me. Take. It. Off.”

“You know, it’s okay to cry.”

“You lied to me!”

“You make me feel like I’m not good enough.”

“You need to wake up cause I can’t do this without you.”

“You’ll be the death of me.”

“The only thing hotter than seeing your orgasm is seeing your smile.”

“Where do you think you’re going dressed like that? Your body is for my eyes only.”

“From the minute I met them, there was no choice. They’re smart. They’re strong. They resent their parents enough to go for a person like me. Also they’re crazy hot.”

“What do you mean, I’m not scary? I literally nearly scared the life out of a man?” “You literally scared a little saliva and a little urine out of him.”

“When someone your age dies, you instinctively want to hear it was of something that could never happen to you. Well, it’s the same with divorce.”

“I get to stay home and plan the death of Dora the Explorer. Fill her backpack with bricks and throw her into the Candy Cane River.”

“You don’t ‘take a run’ at a person. You woo them. You make them feel special.” “Hey honey, look at this. It’s a picture of my butt.”

“I don’t like you.” “I’ll get over it.”

“You’re one of the most beautiful person I know, and you don’t even know it.” “No, I know it.”

“Why do you always have to throw wet blankets on my dreams?” “I do not.” “Yes you do. And you know what I end up with? Wet dreams.”

“So you’re gonna throw me under the bus?” “Oh, I’m gonna throw you so hard I might even win a stuffed animal.”

“Who wouldn’t be angry if you ate all the cereal and faked your death for three years?”

“Quick, catch the cat it stole my coin pouch!”

“I feel like I was just hit by a car… wait, I did? And it was YOUR car?”

“I can’t believe I’m sitting in a dungeon with you of all people.”

“So why do I have to punch that guy?”

“I may have accidentally sort of adopted five goats.”

“I hope you know that my name is actually _____”

“Please stop petting the prisoners.”

“Please put me down, it’s just a sprained ankle.”

“So what if I broke my arm, I’m still doing it.”

“Why exactly do you need chloroform at 2am?”

“I’m like 75% sure this won’t explode in our faces.”

“You know how my people are, we would destroy ourselves just for spite.”

“Wait, is that what you were trying to do? I’m sorry, I would’ve taken you much more seriously if I knew.”

“Let’s not blow the extortion charge out of proportion. My boss was just a sore loser.”

“Of all things, you would have thought that the rain was innocuous enough. Turns out, nothing is innocuous in this Gods forsaken place!”

“It’s illegal to make unauthorized species. But it’s also illegal to kill endangered species. Thankfully, I only did one of each.”

“The secret ingredient isn’t human flesh, that’s all I can say.”

“Where’s the king?” “He’s being chased by a wyvern. It’s an old tradition, you see.”

“If I serenade for you, will you strip for me?”

“This is new.”

“Make me.”

“Shh. Stop fussing. I’m just braiding your hair.”

“If you steal the blankets, I’m going to put my cold feet on you.”

“Don’t be stubborn. Try it.”

“You are very endearing when you are half-asleep.”

“I heard you talking in your sleep.”

“The thought of losing you scares me.”

“Don’t smile at me like that. You know it drives me crazy.”

thank you. love you all.

[allari-ammayi]

I'M SO EXCITED FOR YOUR BHALLA X READER FIC I GENUINELY CANNOT WAIT ARGHHHANXJAKHDIANZJANNZ

'Wife' I'M GONNA DIE OF SUSPENSE AMD EXCITMENT AJHD 😫😫😫😫

Wife | Pt. 1《Bharya》B. Deva

☆Bhallaladeva x Fem! Reader☆

Synopsis: Y/n and Bhallaladeva have been married for three months but after their wedding ceremony came to an end, y/n hasn't seen him or heard of him since. It's not like she's his first wife she likely won't be his last- is what she thinks. But when Bhallaladeva sends a servant to summon y/n to his quarters late one night, y/n hopes to fulfil their unstarted martial duties, instead, Bhalla requests that y/n do something else for him. Something y/n never expected to hear from the ruthless king of Mahismati. 《Pt. 1, 1.9k Words》

Note: This is the x reader version of this fic. If you would like to read the OC version, it will be available on my OC masterlist page! ALSO, REQUESTS ARE OPEN!!!

𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐑 》 By interacting with my works or posts, you agree to be exposed to my content and are confirming that you are willingly reading my writing!!

“It’s been two months, Mama {Trans. ‘Uncle’}.”

“For most women, it was six, my dear.”

“What’s the point of even marrying so many women if he isn’t going to talk to any of them?”

“Political reasons. Amma, Y/n, you should stop waiting for him and go to sleep, my lady.”

The loyal but helpless Kattappa spoke as ‘the King’ Bhallaladeva’s newest concubine resurfaced her face from in between her knees.

The sky was dark and Kattapa had just finished his duty of serving the lady some fruit. It wasn’t quite his duty, but something he chose to do. Y/n never had a proper father and Kattapa was the closest she had ever gotten.

Y/n looked up at the sky and thought over the past few months. It’s already been three years since the defeat of Bahubali and the raising of Bhallaladeva.

Nothing changed much for Y/n, but she knew it was only because she was the daughter of a higher official. The poorer people of the nation though, were being robbed of everything they once owned.

“Are you sure he won’t visit me?” Y/n asked, leaning the side of her face on her knees, looking off into the trees as she rested on the balcony ledge.

“I don’t think it’s likely, my lady.” Kattapa adjusted his sword back into its place and stood before Y/n as she turned her head towards him.

He gave her a sharp bow with his fist to his heart, wished her a good night’s sleep and trotted off, leaving y/n to think by herself.

True, it had already been two months since she had been betrothed to the king of Mahismati. But not once since her wedding had she seen his face.

Even before the wedding, she had never really seen him. Maybe once or twice when the two were younger and Bhallaladeva was considered one of the high and prideful princes, always finding ways to make his mother proud.

Y/n couldn’t remember if she was merely imagining it, but she also considered the multiple moments of eye contact she and Bhalla had shared previous to their marriage full of romantic tension. Were those gazes they shared a figment of her imagination?

On her wedding day, y/n and Bhalla had exchanged short glances and a single moment of eye contact. Since then, they had never spoken. Actually, now that y/n thought about it, Bhalla and y/n had never spoken even on their wedding day. Not even on their wedding night, which Y/n was eagerly waiting for.

She draped herself in the prettiest white and gold sari that she could afford and waited on the bed covered in flower petals for her beloved. High with the hopes of feeling love and giggling like a schoolgirl, Y/n waited for a few minutes.

Bhalla was not there.

She waited an hour.

Still, no one was there to entertain her or to be entertained by her.

Y/n waited for a couple more hours, her excitement and giddiness ebbing away with every second that passed, till she succumbed to the desire for her sleep.

It was a sad night and an even worse next morning. The very next morning, hoping to wake up to the face of her dear new husband, Y/n awoke to an empty bed, the flower petals on Bhalla’s side undisturbed, making Y/n realise that she had spent the night alone. Her precious wedding night.

The night in which a husband and wife would share moments of intimacy together. She had spent that night alone, all by her lonesome. The same continued for the next two months. Y/n waited patiently and eagerly in her room till late hours every night hoping that at least one day Bhallaladeva would suddenly remember his latest wife and visit her.

But it was never the case.

Y/n, being close with all of his other wives, was told several times to give up and get on with her life. That Bhalla had never visited the other wives before either, and if he did, it was only for the most important of formal reasons. If else, he would send servants.

The other wives pitied Y/n. They even saw a bit of themselves in her, but no one ever waited for Bhalla for that long like a love-sick puppy. They usually gave up after a week or two.

“Ayyo, picchi pilla, {Trans. ‘Oh, you silly girl.’}” Bhalla’s third wife spoke as she peeled an apple with the sharp end of a dagger for her, Y/n and a couple of other wives as they sat around and chatted like they always did.

“He isn’t going to come, Chinni.” Bhalla’s second wife spoke as caressed Y/n’s head affectionately.

“Kadu. Aiyna vastharu. Naku namakam undi. {Trans. ‘No. I believe in him, he’ll come for me.’}” Y/n said softly as she stared at the ground.

“Ma matta vini aiyna kosam agadam maneyi, thalli. {Trans. ‘Listen to us and stop waiting around for him, my dear.’}” Another spoke up as Y/n stubbornly cushioned her chin on her kneecap as she leaned her back against a pillar. Y/n shook her head slightly and continued staring forward intently.

“Aiyna ki na meda prema undi. Vastaru. Vacchi teestaru. {Trans. ‘He loves me. He’ll come for you, just you wait.’}”

At Y/n’s words, half the wives burst out in laughter while the others quietly giggled to themselves. Y/n’s head shot up at him in half-confusion and half-anger and she glared at him.

“Enduku navvutunaru!? {Transl. ‘Why’re you laughing!?’}”

“Picchi pilla, {Trans. ‘Silly girl,’}” Bhalla’s fourth wive said, getting up to sit next to y/n, draping her arm over y/n’s shoulders. “Asala aiyina ki prema ante ento tellidu. Aiyna ki preminche shakti ledu. {Trans. ‘He doesn’t even know what loves is. He can’t feel love.’}” Y/n’s eyebrows came together in confusion.

“Aithe mari mimmalini ela premistunaru? {Trans. ‘Then how is he loving you all?’}” The girl asked, naively, and once again, the group of women burst into giggles.

“Aiyna mammalini evaruni preminchateledu. {Trans. ‘He isn’t in love with any of us and doesn’t love aany of us.’}”

“He doesn’t even lust after us.”

“What..?” Y/n said, her motuh agape.

“That’s true.” The first wife spoke out, wise as ever, “We’re only married to him because there’s something from our families he wants. Be it armies, money or privileges. Anything.”

“Yes. Never once has he ever shown us affection or love or anything even close.”

“Mari meeku baathaga leda? {Trans. ‘Then are you not sad?’}” Y/n asked, her eyes starting to droop in pity. The other women smiled sweetly, none in pity or sadness.

“No. Not really,” The first said, “He never gave us a reason to love him in the first place, so it was easy. We have our own lives and he has his.”

These words caused a flurry of emotions to erupt within y/n’s heart but none so as strong as her iron will and faith in the king.

All the wives urged her to move on. They encouraged her to use her status as one of Bhalla’s wives to her advantage and achieve anything she wanted to in life.

But y/n never gave up hope.

Or at least not till the third month.

Y/n had yet to see hide nor hair of Bhalla, the man she was made to dedicate her life to, and she was starting to lose hope.

Would she finally break and give up like the rest of the wives had? Y/n thought about it that night in the chilly, dark, open balcony.

Was it even worth waiting anymore?

Just as y/n was about to think not, she heard the sound of shuffling footsteps advancing towards her room.

Y/n’s heart jumped and butterflies attacked her stomach.

Could it be..?

The sound of knocks on Y/n’s door echoed through the room and reached her ears, a sudden feeling of excitement starting to awaken within her, lighting up the entire room.

Y/n shot up and raced out of the balcony, running to the door, her anklets and bangels jingling and dangling as she ran, sounding a sweet harmony at the girl’s glee.

Y/n stood in front of the door, her heart racing. She gulped and reached the large lock that held the two massive maple doors together and with a final surge of excitement she dragged the doors open, her breath fast and her face pink, only to be faced with a punch from disappointment.

In front of her stood not her husband, but rather a young servant. Y/n felt her heart drop and her legs weaken as she grasped onto the door for support.

“Oh… Gowri… What is it?” Y/n asked the servant, her obvious look of excitement dissolving into a bitter look of disappointment.

“My lady, I was sent by-” Assuming that the servant was sent by one of the other wives, y/n strayed her attention elsewhere, barely listening, holding her tears of self-pity back. “-His Majesty.”

Y/n felt herself nearly topple over as she lost grip on the door, effectively being caught by the surprised servant who helped her readjust her composure.

“Did- Did you just say ‘His Majesty’?” Y/n asked, somewhat contemplating wether she had actually gone insane from yearning for Bhalla for so long that she was now imagining things.

“Yes. His Majesty is summoning you to his quarters.” The servant said and Y/n began seeing stars in front of her eyes.

“Would- Would you please repeat that?” Y/n requested, beggining to lose grasp of herself in the chaos of her mind, her excitement and adrenaline running high.

“His Majesty has sent me to inform you that he wishes to see you in his quarters.”

“Do you know what for..?” Y/n asked. She thought she was being selfish and greedy when she had a tiny hope in her heart that the servant wouldn’t say that y/n was needed for formal reasons.

“I believe his majesty-” Gowri gulped, tripping over her words and her eyes darting around, avoiding Y/n’s eyes.

“Yes?”

“I-I believe-” Gowri’s eyebrows scrunched together and she let out a quick sigh, “I’m unsure, your highness. I was only tasked with bringing you there.” Gowri said with unease, leaving a puzzled Y/n to wonder by she was being summoned.

“Oh… Alright.” Y/n said, mildly confused, “Aithe pada. {Trans. ‘Then let’s go.’}”

And so set off, the confused wife and the uneasy servant who seemed eager to fidget with her thumbs, desperate to leave.

“Just this way, your highness,” Gowri said, leading Y/n to a set of great big oka doors, far larger than Y/n’s. “His Majesty is waiting inside for you, your highness.” Gowri bowed to Y/n, not lifting her head up.

“But-” Y/n gulped as looked at the doors. “Is this not his Majesty’s room? I thought you were leading me to his office?” Gowri remained in a bow, not answering Y/n or liftening her head up.

Y/n gulped and begrudgingly put her palm on the door. With a slight push of uneasiness, the doors creaked open ever so slightly and with the noise of the door, the poor servant jumped and scampered away, keeping her head low in a bow.

Y/n turned her attention away from the jumpy servant and back to the door’s creak, from which the light of torches was spilling out. Y/n opened the door a little more and slowly poked her head inside, looking around to see where Bhallaladeva was and what he wanted with her.

Y/n didn’t know a thing about Bhalla’s room, for she had never been there.

Truth be told, no wife of Bhalla’s had ever gotten as close to his room as Y/n was now, so she knew it was urgent.

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 》 None yet! Please reply to this post if you wish to be tagged in my future works, fics, and the next part to this story! :)

[riddlerosehearts]

HII ITS IDIAVIL ANON AGAIN!!! i wanted to respond to the post u made in response to my ask... I TOTALLY UNDERSTAND NOT BEING ABLE 2 WRITE FICS LIKE!! ive been creatively writing for years and when it comes to stuff im rlly passionate abt i can become super duper creative. my struggle with writing fanfic is finding the time and motivation, plus my adhd makes it difficult for me to focus, BUT IVE BEEN DOING BETTER RECENTLY!!! im kinda familiar with wicked? i saw it on stage back when i was just a wee lad but i dont remember much of it (i honestly think i fell asleep ;-;) but i've been wanting to watch both the play and the new movie, i just haven't gotten to it yet. i will definitely keep this in mind as i watch both!! a few weeks ago i actually watched jennifer's body for the first time, i'd been wanting to watch it but then i saw someone mention a jennifer's body idiavil au and oh my gods i literally couldnt stop thinking about it. i've definitely kept that au in mind, and i will do the same for the wicked au!! when i do eventually watch wicked i'll probably send another giant yapping paragraph in ur asks abt it... ALSO PLEEASEE I WOULD LOVE LOVE LOVE TO HEAR MORE ABT UR AU IT SEEMS SO COOL!!! also. hercules au. oh my god u get me. i'm not exaggerating when i say i've thought abt the idiavil meg and hercules parallel at least once a day for the past like five or so months. i NEVER stop talking to my friends about it EVER. i was actually on a disney cruise (twas a family trip) about a month ago and they had a giant tv above the pool, they showed a movie every fifteen minutes (after the movie prior had ended) and WHEN I TELL YOU I FREAKED OUT WHEN I SAW THEY HAD A SHOWING FOR HERCULES. AND I HAD TO RESIST FROM STIMMING (i get embarrassed when i stim in public bc i dont like being looked at or percieved like ever) DURING WONT SAY IM IN LOVE LIKE THATS PROBABLY MY FAVORITE DISNEY SONG OF ALL TIME OH MY GOODNESS. I WOULDNT STOP TEXTING MY FRIEND AND TALKING ABOUT IDIAVIL. also i did see ur response and oh my goodness i think abt it so much. ill probably share the keychains and playlists off anon later... also i LOVE the fact u keep ur pins of them next to each other... my birthday was actually a while ago (oct 28th) but the art has been delayed bc shes been busy which idm, shes putting a ton of effort into it. ill also probably share that off anon whenever its done!! alr im gonna wrap this up, i do have a few things i have to get done soon but i'll try to send in those playlists and pictures of the keychains b4 i go to bed tn!!

hi again haha!! whenever you watch the wicked movie i really hope you enjoy it! just keep in mind that they kind of, extended every single scene in act 1 to make it 2.5 hours long (when the whole stage musical with both acts combined is that length), so it's only a part 1 and we won't get part 2 until next year. which admittedly DOES bug me but i still loved the movie anyway. if you want to watch the stage musical after that, well, the people who record bootlegs usually ask you not to put them on youtube but people do anyway AKJDGJFSG. so you can probably find one easily enough! it's my absolute favorite musical! when i went to see it live in april, i kept thinking "well, vil does share glinda's love of fashion and her popularity and ambition, but he's different from her in a lot of ways too! for example, he doesn't believe that popularity is the only thing that really matters, and he would never sacrifice his own morals and ideals to achieve his goals... oh... wait..." and then i realized that the whole plot of book 5 is that vil kind of DID do all that! that's the whole tragedy of it, that he overblotted because he DID start to think that his hard work was meaningless and that he SHOULD resort to any means possible to be the most popular at the expense of his moral compass, and he thought of himself as ugly for doing so! he COULD have ended up basically alone, being praised by others around him as beautiful and good while inside he secretly believes himself to be wicked, just like glinda if his friends hadn't done everything to stop him from poisoning neige.

and idia may not be an animal rights activist like elphaba, nor is she an otaku LOL, but elphaba grew up lonely and ostracized because of her green skin and idia's family curse forced him to grow up isolated on the isle of woe and have blue fire for hair. she's a caretaker for her disabled sister whose father blames her for her condition, and idia has a robot brother whose death he blames himself for. elphaba is jaded and sarcastic and abrasive and deeply insecure, and who else fits that description? the only issue is that idia is far too pessimistic about the future to decide to do what elphaba does in defying gravity on his own, but i think in an AU he could be pushed to do it. also there's this part in wicked where after glinda and elphaba get back from a big dance at the ozdust ballroom glinda says "was that your first party?!" and elphaba deadpans "does a funeral count?" and i can just so clearly see that with idia and vil AFKJDGHF. there's so many other scenes too that i just see as being perfect for them.

as for fiyero i had two ideas here: in the actual musical, there's a love triangle in which elphaba and fiyero ultimately end up together but as i mentioned i would want to give my AU a happy ending and make vil and idia end up together in it. so i would do one of two things: 1) cast kalim as fiyero, because he literally just fits the role perfectly. fiyero is a foreign prince, and look at the lyrics to dancing through life and try to tell me kalim wouldn't sing this. but i don't ship kalim with either vil or idia, so in this scenario i'd probably cut the love triangle and have him somehow end up as their bestie who supports whatever insane gay thing those two have got going on. imo kalim really does fit fiyero better than anyone else and this idea is just so funny to me. or 2) cast rook as fiyero, keep the love triangle, and have it end in polyamory because even though i've never even considered shipping rook with idia i do ship rook/vil and i think this would be hilarious as an AU. also, there's a scene in wicked where glinda and elphaba are hanging out and glinda is like "let's tell each other our best secrets! i'll go first! FIYERO AND I ARE GOING TO BE MARRIED!!!" and since they've just started dating elphaba is like "he's asked you already??" and then glinda goes "oh no, he doesn't know yet!" and imagining vil saying that about rook just makes me laugh so hard.

OKAY. so there is an incomplete summary of my thoughts on a vilidia wicked AU!! honestly i don't really watch horror movies so i haven't seen jennifer's body but if i ever do watch it i'll have to keep that AU idea in mind. as for the hercules parallel idk if you've seen this post of mine but it makes me so happy every time someone likes or reblogs it because then i get to think about them again. hercules/meg has always been one of my favorite disney couples so when i saw this happen in book 6 i was immediately just. doomed to be insane about vil/idia forever because are you KIDDING ME?? also your birthday is right after mine omg, mine was october 25th!! so a late happy birthday to you, then! one last thing i'd like to say in this already way too long response is that i have two sets of floyd and riddle nuis--listen, they're my other favorite ship so i bought the first ones online and then saw more at a con i went to and couldn't resist--and i'm going to be getting idia and ortho nuis for christmas. hopefully soon i'll be able to get a vil nui as well so i can keep him right next to his boyfriend and his film club buddy/future brother-in-law 💙💜

[wasterella]

okokok, so I know you’re not in SnK anymore (i respect that bc i fell out of it in 2015 and came back like a couple months ago lmao) but i just want you to know I’m so glad I’ve found and read your fics. Good Enough to Eat is like my fucking ereri bible, every ereri fic i read I’m like :// “but would GEtE!Levi do this?” LMAO really when i finished reading every single one of ur snk fics i audibly groaned bc i thought that now i have to wade through the piles of really shitty ereri fics on the tag that have insane kudos (and I’ve already reread GEtE, which is my utmost favorite of ur ereri fics, twice already)

I do know teen wolf though (seen every episode) but like you’ve said to other people, i fell out of it and don’t feel the urge rn to come back but when i do (and who knows when that’ll be, a couple months or years from now? I’ll circle back eventually), I’m immediately hitting the books with ur long list of fics for that fandom!

and reading ur reaction to the plot of SnK is so funny to me bc that’s exactly how I reacted when i came back to half the people dead and other mind blowing shit like eren having a brother lmao! Frankly i wanna watch it (i only saw season 1 bc that was all there was at the time) but i think I’m gonna stop at season 3 and pretend like the plot didn’t do a 180 and start flying off the map bc I’m not crazy about the end game plot lol also mainly bc season 3 levi gives the same energy as the exact way u write levi it’s so comforting

wow this was a very long ask I’m so sorry but i just felt like i had to say something after i tried to do the walk of shame back to the general ereri tag and felt miserable, truly i love your writing so so much i feel like i could trust heart and mind with ur writing and i wouldn’t have to worry about whether or not I’m gonna like reading a fic, bc if it’s yours i know i will. I hope you’re doing well these days and that ur have a blast with Derek and stiles :)

You are so, so sweet, omg ;~; Thank you so much! Seriously, I really appreciate it, and I'm so glad you liked GEtE!!! It was so fun to write (and honestly what made me move from SnK to TW so whoops? lol Turns out I like writing about Werewolves HAHAHA!) Seriously, you're so sweet, thank you so much!! 💕💕

Awww, that means a lot to me, thank you! I know a lot of people have fallen out of TW, both because it ended and because of HOW it ended (and the dumpster fire that was the movie recently) but idk, I like the characters. I never even saw past season 4, so I just have fun with it haha. But totally understand the falling out of it. If you ever do come back, I hope you know there's tooooons of new TW stuff out there from so many amazing new creators to enjoy :)

WAIT EREN HAS A BROTHER?! Omg when tf did that happen??? Did he knows? Is he a half-brother? Was he hidden in the basement?! IS THAT WHAT IS IN THE BASEMENT?!?!?! Man, SnK... the series that keeps on giving me explosions in the brain. Wow. Well. I don't even know who all is alive or dead anymore tbh haha. They could all be dead by now and I'd never know |D Oh wellll... But thank you ;~; That's amazing to hear about S3 Levi, thank you so much!!!

You are just the sweetest bean, thank you so, so much. For real, this ask was lovely, you are lovely, and this was so kind. I appreciate you so much, thank you!! <3<3<3

[starjxsung]

HI BABY OH MY GDKJSHFKHSDFIUHKJSDHFKSHFHSDKFH YOURE BACK !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! ive been checking on your main blog every single day since uve been on hiatus just waiting for the day you come back and somehow i think the past few days i just completely forgot you had a side blog and idk how i missed your comeback the past few days but ig i did... :((

I HOPE YOURE DOING ALRIGHT!!!! summer has been pretty okay w me so far, mostly just hangouts with friends and staying inside to avoid the sun and any uv rays possible like the fucking vampire i am, etc.

im going to kcon la next month!! unfortunately skz isnt part of lineup and i wont be able to go friday so ill only be able to see the saturday+sunday conventions and concerts, but i hope itll be fun nonetheless. my uncle is some kind of manager in the entertainment industry (idk too much abt it but he usually gets me signed albums every year so im not complaining!) and he usually helps out at kcon every year, so he always has at least 2-3 free tickets.. whenever he visits so im usually able to head to kcon if my schedule fits!! 

i think for other life updates on my part theres not tm.. i ended up going on a diet the past month because ive been really wanting to lose weight for a while now but ive never been able to do it in a healthy way because ive had an ed for as long as i could remember.. (growing up with asian beauty standards is pretty tough unfortunately 😞) i used to be 130lbs at 5’1” so i always considered myself overweight because of my height, but i recently lost 10lbs and im hoping i can reach my goal of 110 within the next month asw 🤞

aside from my life update rant though, ive srsly missed you so much star you dont even know !!! im so happy youre back 🥺🥺🥺

as always, ur biggest fan

~ 《 ☘️ 》

BABY BABY BABY BABYYYYYDHDKDKDKKFOVKFKEMRKFKF I MISSED YOUUUUUUUUU my little clover angel I LOVE YOU SOOOOO BAD I AM ACTUALLY YOUR NUMBER ONE FANNNNNNN 💔💔💔💔💔

I’ll be back on main blog™️ soon !!!! I miss it there too tbh RAHHHH side blog is good too but main blog is where everything started and I miss posting so bad 💔 I also somehow check tumblr less ever since the creation of side blog so I have to physically remind myself to check tumblr and I just. miss when I had more time to post and people wouldn’t get annoyed of me answering asks on main ☹️ BUT FEEL FREEEE TO SPAM SIDE BLOG™️ TOOOOOO she exists for all ur spam/vent/miscellaneous needs and I love checking on you guys even when I’m not on main. I love you !!!!

I’m so glad summer has been treating you so well ALSO KCON??? HELLO??????? I AM SOOOO FUCKING JEALOUS OH MY HODDKDKDMDMDKD I wanted to see Taemin & nmixx SOOOOO FUCKING BAD MY BABIESSSSSSS 🤲😭 TAKE SOOOO MANY PICS FOR ME I CANT WAIT TO HEAR ALL ABOUT IT RAHHH IT’S GONNA BE SOOOO FUCKING SICK I CANT WAIT I love this for u. Kcon era. Yes.

Also don’t be so hard on yourself my angelllll just make sure you’re staying healthy :( I love you :( and I fully acknowledge that beauty standards are fucking impossible to live by and they can genuinely be so taxing to try to fit. But as long as you’re healthy and happy and doing what you want for yourself only, that’s what matters :’) I’m always a message away if you need me (even though I’m fucking garbage at responding) and I love you no matter what. Take care of yourself precious cargo 🤲💓

I LOVE YOU and I missed you and I promise I will be back on main blog™️ as soon as I physically can be. I am ur biggest fan actually if you were a clover I would pick you and keep you in a little resin necklace and wear you all the time. I love you !!!!!!!!.!.!.!!.!/!:!!,?,!.!.!

[osarina]

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.

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.

[kaahgyuya]

hi! i wanted to ask if you can do a Scaramouche × female reader when scara finds the reader self harming/trying to suicide. Thank youu! <3

YES YES OFCC!!!! IDK HOW LONG THIS HAS BEEN IN MY INBOX, AND FORGIVE ME IF I HAVENT SEEN THIS FOR A WHILE.. 😭😭😭

Who knows, maybe I'll add a lil twist to the end for suspension... 😈😈 /hj

—————

"You're an idiot, you know that?"

★ SYNOPSIS : He caught you trying to do it. Who knows what his heartless mind will do?

THEMES/WARNINGS : Suicide, SH, dark topics, some of it is in first person, you've already dated someone, u r 7th fatui harbinger, anything you can think of as bad..

Everyday,

Every night,

Every week,

Every month,

Every.

Day.

Fatui meetings, missions, every minute it's so frustrating.

Every day, is just the same. Nothing changes. But the only thing changes, is my motivation.

All I just wanted was for someone to notice my hard work, at least just a single praise can bring up my hopes.

Overworked, tiring and restless days, food just tastes bitter. After I joined the fatui for personal purposes, my partner left me. They said, "I wouldn't want to date someone who'd work for the devil."

Not that I was doing it for her.

As the 7th fatui harbinger, what could ever go wrong? I mean, treated with some care by the other harbingers isn't bad at all. Columbina is the kindest one of them all, yet terrifying. Arlecchino is barely here but when she is here, she treats everyone to a meal. How could everyone have a kind heart of their own?

Dottore is very foolish despite his rank. Pulcinella takes care of Tartaglia's family which is very kind. Pierro is actually gentle despite his cold and harsh demeanor. Sandrone gave me a small doll of a flower, to always make me remember that summer will always be with me wherever I go. Pantalone once broke a valuable vase, but he fixed it on his own when he had the time. He told no one but me.

Tartaglia always checks up on the Fatui harbingers. He seem outgoing and cheerful most of the time, but when he's alone, he's so quiet and dense. Captiano is scary, but can also protect us. Scaramouche isn't here often, but hes not a trouble to bother. He sometimes comes to talk to me to rant or just come to bother my company. Signora was the closest to me. She's strict yet I sometimes catch her playing with the children at the House of Hearth. Ever since her death, I felt... quite lonely. But I've accepted it.

How can everyone be so busy and kind of their own?

And I'm just a rotting body.

I envy them.

"Comrade! What are you doing just wasting time away like this?" You turned your head immediately to the familiar voice, to see a ginger colored head with a beaming smile, but void like eyes.

"Oh, um.. I'm.." You looked back at the table to see a desk full of unfinished and uninteresting papers. You game to the main hall to work on paperwork. Only to realize you've zoned out and gotten no progress.

"Let me help you." He immediately scooped up a pile of papers, some of them fell but he lifted his foot to catch one drifting to the ground.

"How long have you been here? You okay, Comrade?" Childe gave you a friendly smile, the dim moonlight coming from the large windows only casted a small glimmer in his eyes.

"I uh... I don't—"

"Don't worry about it! I'll come back to you once I've finished, but you owe me a meal!" Childe left as he threw the paper on his foot back into his tall pile of papers and walked off.

"W-wait! Tartaglia!—" You stood up from your seat to turn around and stop him. To only be met with an empty and dark hallway, only being lit by the moonlight from the windows.

"I..." nothing but mutters came out of your mouth.

"How can I be so pathetic?" A quiet voice came from you. Only to sit back in your seat to see no papers. Columbina was suddenly there. It was normal for her to appear out of thin air around the Zapolyarny Palace.

"It seemed like you had some trouble, I'll do the rest of the papers." She was holding all of the papers somehow, and you felt nothing but guilty.

"You really don't. It's my work.." you muttered slowly.

"Fatui harbingers may work independently, but some cases, we're all family." She replied. She didn't open her eyes once, but that's just how she sees..

"I'll—"

"You don't have to pay me back, otherwise people will have other useless debts to pay." She turned around and vanished. Not to be seen in or within the wind.

"I just.." All of the 8 years of working and working up and up to only end in this rank feels terrible.

Am I really that useless?

"Y/n." A quiet but loud voice came behind them.

You jumped a little from the sudden small shout, but you looked behind you to see a mysterious figure with a big hat.

"Ah, um. Scaramouche." You quietly said.

"Is my name really that hard to forget?" Scaramouche clicked his tongue then approached you. His figure slightly got taller as he approached.

"I'm sorry."

"Anyway, what're you doing? Shouldn't a mortal like you be in the dormitories?" Scaramouche looked down at you if you were a bug. Even though you were only one rank behind him..

"Oh, I forgot." You mutter. He sighed and gave a small flick to your forehead. You wouldn't really count as him as your friend, but he talks to you more than the other harbingers.

"Humans are so forgetful.." He mumbled.

"Sorry.." You blandly said.

"Stop saying sorry over everything."

"Huh?"

"When was the last time you said sorry?"

"When I... said your name."

"Is that something to be sorry for?"

"I.. um."

"Just go to your dorm. Captiano has something assigned to you tomorrow. Get rest." Scaramouche brushed past you and hushed along to his own way.

"Im.. sorry." A quiet mutter came out of you.

You walked to your dorm only thinking about that moment and past times. You remembered Tartaglia and Scaramouche came to save you in battle against a few hillichurls after you were injured. You couldn't help but cry after that night because you weren't even powerful enough, even though being the 7th fatui harbinger.

Why do I say sorry all the time? Why am I so useless? I'm just only here like a doll for showcase. Why is everything the same? Why am I so weak? Why can I even defend myself? Why...

As soon as you opened the door, you threw off your jacket and didn't even bother to switch out of your clothes. Just flopped in bed and huddled in a ball. Silent and quiet tears fell.

You've never told anyone your problems. No one.

My problems are useless. So what's the point of telling someone them?

You're now standing at a cliff no where near Zapolyarny Palace.

The cold air just felt bitter against your skin.

The pretty lights of the northern lights and stats glimmered. They lit up the whole place..

If only the last time you'll see them is today,

That's okay.

The lights are so pretty.

If only when I was a child, I would be able to jump in joy.

8 years of suffering and loss will be over soon.

I promise you,

It will end today.

I wish my tears would've been spent on something else,

But these lights are so pretty.

I wish..

That maybe someone...

Will love me just as much...

The height of the cliff wasn't scary. But it was a long way down to the cold sea.

The sea reflected the pretty skies.

"So cold.."

To only feel the pressure of wind dropping down.

Im falling.

You're falling.

"Ah!—"

a cold but sudden embrace was there.

A tight grip around your waist was found.

"You're an idiot!"

You looked behind you to see a dark indigo haired figure holding you tightly.

"Do you go so far out by killing yourself because you didn't want things to go out like this!?" He shouted at you.

"Your idiotic mind is killing me!" Scaramouche plunged back before setting himself in front of you. He drapped his jacket over your shoulders.

"Do you plan on being so stupid and killing yourself!? Do you even know how long it took me to find you only to come to you almost dying? Is death your only wish!?" Scaramouche scolded you and shouted at you. His raised voice people could possibly hear from a 5 mile radius. The rest of his shouting blurred in your ears.

But he suddenly paused in his words.

"Why are you crying?"

"Huh?"

"Stop crying." Scaramouche said. Although his voice sounded harsh, his tone was soft.

Soft little streams of rivers were coming out of your eyes, and you didn't even notice.

"I said stop crying."

"I don't..." He paused.

"Wanna see you cry."

"Again."

You just sat in the snow, buried in his large jacket staring at him.

"Wha—"

"You're coming with me." Scaramouche gripped onto your arm and pulled you up without an effort.

"Scara—"

"I said you're coming with me."

Next morning was all a blur.

You were in your bed, how?

You remembered you were outside.

You could've swore you...

Whatever,

Today, the sun was out. The sun isn't usually out during winters like these.

You went to the small kitchen in the dormitory to cook something.

You opened the knife cabinet... only to find no knifves. So you decided to skip breakfast, not that you really had breakfast anyway.

During that whole day, Scaramouche sat next to you without a word. He's usually never at meetings. And today he's always somehow near you...

Talking to Columbina? He's right behind you.

Finishing a task Tartaglia gave you? He's right there.

Hes like a stalker..

It was until a few hours later, you went to do something.. a little dangerous.

You picked up a sharp object until it was immediately grabbed away. You looked to your side to see Scaramouche standing there with the sharp object.

"You've been following me all day. What's wrong?" You immediately said.

"You're stupid."

"What?"

"You already know the answer."

"Huh?.."

"Shoo. I'm taking this away."

"But I need it to give it to captiano—"

"I'll do it." He then walked away.

For some reason,

Your mind told you that...

Maybe he didn't want you to get hurt.

You then turned around to go back,

To only see a shining cryo vision on the table from where you picked up the sharp object.

"Visions are granted by powerful wishes." You once heard someone say long long before.

I wish that someone will love me as much as someone used to in the past.

@kaahgyuya 12/21/23 8:32 pm.

[callsignrascal]

Take Me Home

Pairing: Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw/Civillian!Wife!Reader

Summary: Being married to a Navy pilot had its fun, but sometimes her husband is gone for weeks or months at a time. She isn’t sure she can keep holding on to a love that comes and goes. Maybe he can remind her why it’s worth holding on to.

A/N: Just some hurt/comfort for fun. Or not fun. To each their own.

Warnings: Angst, with a (I guess) happy ending. no use of y/n ... i actually dont think i used Rooster's name once either so maybe u could imagine any of the he/him pilots here

The life of a military spouse is undeniably challenging. Being away from your partner for months or years at a time, assuming the role of a single parent, trying to balance a career while moving so often – all of these realities of military life can take its toll.

She found herself waiting for him again. It was clockwork really. He’d come home for a few days at a time, and she knew that before they could get too comfortable, he would be gone again. But, she was always waiting.

After a couple of years of the same old routine, it had begun to nag at her. She thought about it constantly; his absence, the unfounded bitterness that she felt toward him for not being around. Tonight, it was the only thing weighing on her mind as he returned home, even as they tried to ease back into a sense of normal that they had all but forgotten.

Despite her silence that he knew could only mean one thing, he still tried to make it a nice night. He had been gone for days this time, and all he wanted was to be with her. He was only worried that her coldness toward him would eventually lead to something else.

“There’s only a bottle of red left, I hope that’s okay,” he explained as he retrieved the last bottle of wine, grabbing two glasses before making his way back to the table.

“It’s been a rough week,” she explained. She watched him as he opened the bottle, placing the cork on the table, not even once glancing in her direction.

“I don’t think I can do this anymore,” she said as he poured her a glass of wine. The words came almost too easily. They had been on her mind for some time; building up until it was almost too much to handle anymore. It didn’t faze him though. He only finished pouring her glass before turning to focus on his own.

“Do what?” He asked finally as he set the bottle down, taking his seat across from her.

“This whole; finally having you home for a few days after being away for weeks or months, only to have to sit back and watch you pack again.”

“What has changed?”

“Nothing. That’s the problem. It’s always the same. You go away to God knows where, surrounded by God knows who… I never know what you’re doing, who you’re with, where you are half the time.”

“That’s my job. That’s been my job for as long as you’ve known me.”

“I know,” she said softly, “I think it’s just become too much.”

She picked up the wine glass, staring off at if for some time before taking a sip. He followed her movement, each of them sitting in silence for a while, taking in the heaviness of the discussion that was going to take place.

“Why is this an issue now?”

“I’ve been… so patient. Through this entire relationship I’ve sat around, waiting for you. When you’re gone, I’m just so alone, trying to keep myself busy so I don’t think about you. And then I get you back for just a little while, and each time you have to leave again is harder than the last time.”

He let out a deep sigh, leaning back into his chair as he took a much longer drink from his glass. He averted his gaze from her, unable to look at her now that there were tears welling up in her eyes. He knew this had been difficult on her, it had been the downfall to every relationship he had ever had.

“Do you remember the first time we met?” He asked suddenly. She looked up at him, eyes wet with tears as he continued to stare at his glass, thumbing along the rim. He was wearing a crooked smile now, his laugh lines prominent at the corner of his eyes as he smiled at the memory.

“I do,” she replied. A small smile formed on her own face now. She definitely did remember that fateful night at the Hard Deck.

“You were wearing that stunning, black dress, the one I like. You were carrying drinks to your table that night, the one you sat at with all of your friends. Do you remember that? I think I was making my way to the bar and neither of us were watching where we were going…”

“And you ran right into me,’ she giggled. He glanced up at her, smiling wider when he saw her eyes watching him softly.

“I still uphold that you ran into me.”

“Either way, you ended up with beer poured all down the front of your shirt.”

“Yeah, and you were so cute the way you panicked.”

“Well, I had just poured beer on your service khakis. That's gotta be punishable in some way.” He took in her laugh, like a song that he had almost forgotten the words to. He hadn’t heard her laugh in a long time, and right now, he savored it.

“But, you got a towel from the bar and cleaned me up. And I ended up sitting there at your table with you, soaking wet and smelling like beer.”

“We talked for a really long time.”

“I still believe that I fell in love with you the second you ran into me. How long before you knew you were in love with me?”

“I’ve already told you,” she muttered, slightly embarrassed at the idea of bringing up the past.

“I want to hear it again. I’ll never get tired of hearing it.”

“I knew you were trouble as soon as I set eyes on you while you were on stage. Before the beer incident.”

He seemed pleased by her answer, taking another long sip of his wine.

“Do you remember the first time I kissed you?” He asked.

She felt her breath catch. If there was any memory that could bring on the butterflies, it was that particular one. She could feel the tears well up again; aching over the memory and how it seemed so distant now, especially as they sat here discussing the possibility of everything ending. He gauged her feelings easily, reaching his hand across the table to take hers. His hand was rough but gentle against her skin. She stared down at her hand in his.

“I do,” she whispered.

“Tell me,” he urged, whiskey-brown eyes staring into her almost desperate, “I want to hear it.”

“It was our second date,” she began, “you took me out to dinner and we talked all night. I remember laughing and just feeling so comfortable with you. And you walked me home. You asked if you could kiss me, and I said yes. So you did.”

“And?”

“And what? It was a kiss.”

“Well, I have very vivid memories of what it was like for me. Tell me how you felt.”

“I think we’ve done this before.”

“Yeah, we have. But, I think I need to hear it again,” he leaned his elbows on the table, resting his face in his hand as he watched her intently.

“All that I had thought about that night was your lips, how they might feel against mine. I had hoped that you’d make the move, and you did. It was soft at first. The second your lips met mine, my stomach flipped. It was as if I was kissing someone for the very first time. Or, maybe it was just the only kiss that ever mattered. And you deepened the kiss, and I remember the way my knees buckled and you had to hold me up. The only other time I ever felt like my head was swimming like that is when…”

“You’d break out a bottle of your favorite wine?”

“Yeah,” she chuckled, “it was like being drunk, in the best way possible. I wanted to kiss you forever.”

With that, he stood up, moving toward her and taking her hands in his. He pulled her gently from her chair, wrapping his arms around her waist as he brought his lips to hers finally. He couldn’t be sure that this was exactly the same, but the whole point was to reenact that first kiss. The whole point was to remind her why she had loved him in the first place, remind her of what it has been like in the beginning.

He took her in; the feel of her wine stained lips against his, the remnants of the bitter alcohol lingering on her tongue with a hint of sweetness.

Judging from the way she melted into him, pressing back eagerly against his mouth, he had assumed that he had succeeded.

“Then kiss me forever,” he whispered against her lips. He pulled back, allowing his face to rest into the crook of her neck where he placed soft kisses against her skin. He breathed in her scent, trying his hardest to memorize it now that was afraid that he might be losing her.

“Let’s go to bed,” he muttered against her. More than anything, he wanted to keep her in this moment; with the memories still fresh in her mind, the kiss still lingering on her lips. He wanted her to stay wrapped up in what they used to be, at least for tonight.

She nodded against him; her hand running gently along his jawline. He led her to the bedroom with only the thought of making her remember why she had waited for him this entire time to begin with.

They left the half-empty bottle, their empty glasses, and the mention of this relationship being too much; behind them. Some things were more important right now.

-

Two days later, she sat on the edge of the bed while she watched him pack again. Her mind ran wild as she watched him focus. He was going to Top Gun this time, not too far, but to be honest, she had stopped paying attention. Where he was didn’t matter to her, all that did matter was that he’d be gone again.

“It’s only three days this time,” he explained, “I’ll be home before you know it.”

“What makes you think I’ll be waiting for you this time?” She asked, a hint of bitterness in her tone.

He noticed the look of hurt in her eyes, more prominent now than it had ever been in the past.

“It will be your birthday,” he reminded her. He dropped what he was doing, moving to her where he kneeled in front of her as she sat at the edge of the bed. He took her face in his hands, pulling her in for a kiss. “I’ve made plans. It will be perfect, trust me.”

She did want to trust him; but as she watched him walk away yet again, she couldn’t help but wonder what he would be doing while he was gone.

She tried to keep her mind off of him for the first day. It was never easy. He invaded her thoughts constantly. Sometimes, it was her own thoughts about how much she missed him, other times, it was her own insecurities that made her doubt him. She had trusted him for this long, but surely him being away so much wasn’t easy on him either.

By day three, she was a lot more lonely. She opened a bottle of wine that she had bought earlier, set on drinking the thoughts of him away. It was getting old, trying to force herself into feeling less sad, less lonely. Honestly, it wasn’t working anyway. She drank until there was nothing left, and in the early morning hours, she sent him a text. Her face tingled due to the bottle of wine, eyes red and bloodshot from the tears she had cried yet again. “I miss you.”

She didn’t even intend to wait for his reply, she usually never got one. She was sad and angry again. Angry at the fact that he was willing to leave every time, sad that she kept herself always waiting for him. This time, he did reply. Her blurry eyes tried to focus on the text; “I miss you too.”

It should have been a relief really. But, she cried herself to sleep that night, angry now at how unfair it all was.

The next time he returned home, he brought gifts. It was her birthday after all. He watched her, grinning as she opened the small box. She looked up at him, mouth turned up at the corners upon seeing the bracelet that sat within, accompanied by a note:

“Put on that black dress; the one that I like, and your favorite heels. Tonight is all about you.”

She did just that as he showered. She slipped that dress on, the one that she hadn’t worn in a very long time. She slipped on her heels, suddenly feeling excited; the way she had in the beginning when he would take her out. She placed her new bracelet onto her wrist before finishing her look off with her wine-red lipstick.

She waited for him in the living room, anxious for the first time in years. He was trying so hard and she was still filled with doubts. When he entered the room, he too was dressed up. It was a far-cry from his usual jeans, white tank, and Hawaiian shirt. Tonight he had put on a pair of slacks and dress shoes, pulling on a waistcoat as he entered the room. She breathed in sharply upon seeing him like this. While she admired him, standing to approach him to help him adjust his waistcoat; he in turn, couldn’t take his eyes off of her.

“Look at you,” he muttered, brown eyes looking her up and down as she fixed the collar of his white button up.

“I’m surprised this still fits,” she replied, referring to the dress that she had worn the first time they had met.

“Don’t be surprised.”

“I’m getting old,” she chuckled, letting her hands linger against his chest.

“You’re still so beautiful, so perfect,” he replied. He wrapped his arms around her, leaning in to kiss her softly. He only wanted to remind her that he still loved her. Even after all this time, she was the only thing that he saw, and it was always perfect.

Dinner wasn’t the usual enjoyable time that they had together. The fact that she had said she couldn’t do this anymore just days earlier still remained on their minds. She sat there, drinking her wine, as she thought of what to say. He waited for it; the inevitable blow that was sure to come up again. They were twenty-five minutes into her birthday dinner and already through a bottle of wine when it finally came.

“I can’t do this anymore,” she reiterated. “I can’t keep waiting for you like this.”

He sat there, silent as he took in her words again. He knew this was hard on her, it was hard on him too. Nothing about this was fair. But, he had to try to remind her why they had stuck it out this entire time in the first place.

“Do you know how I get through work every time that I’m away?” He asked after a while. She looked up at him, slightly frustrated that he was ignoring her pleas, her pain.

“No,” she responded flatly.

“I pretend that I never met you.”

She didn’t look pleased by this. He watched as tears welled up in her eyes again, seemingly hurt by his words.

“It’s easier… less painful that way,” he continued. “It doesn’t work, but I try whatever I can to make it hurt less. Because it does hurt when I leave you, and I know it hurts you too.”

“Maybe it’s easier if we just walk away from it.”

“Give up?” He asked, pained over the fact that this was still on her mind.

“There doesn’t seem to be much left to hold on to.”

“Do you remember what you always told me in the beginning? When we started this and I had to go away?” He asked.

“Yes,” she muttered.

“You told me that I had to be stronger. You told me that I had to do what I had to do, and I had to be the strong one.”

“I did,” she replied. She glanced down at her wine glass, rolling the words over in her mind.

“You told me I had to keep trying.”

“Yes, but maybe after a while there’s nothing left worth trying for.”

“I’m still trying,” he breathed out. “I’m still here, and I’m still trying.”

She watched him now; aching over the pain present on his face. She knew she had been selfish. Surely it hadn’t been any easier for him, but it was her own loneliness and bitterness that she had focused on this whole time. She began to cry now; realizing a lot of things. This was hard on both of them, but she also knew that he would be gone in a few days. It would be a vicious cycle that never ended with them. He could sit here and try all he wanted, it didn’t change the fact that he would leave her alone again and again.

“Please don’t cry,” he said, reaching across the table for her hand again. She grasped onto it, desperate to hold on even if she believed there was nothing left to hold onto. “I know it’s been lonely for you, it’s been the same for me. But, the only thing that gets me through being away from you is knowing that in a few days, I’ll get to come home and see that pretty face. I know I’ll return to you, and it makes it all a little easier. It’s still the same. I miss you so much, but I’m always so happy to come back to you. Have you just stopped feeling that for me?”

“No,” she muttered, “of course not. I still love you. Now, it’s just that you come home and all I can think about the whole time you’re here is how you’ll be gone again.”

“What is it like for you when I leave and then come back?”

She was quiet for some time, thinking hard about how to answer him properly. There were a hundred different ways to describe the feeling of him leaving. What he wanted now was for her to explain what it was like when he came home to her.

“It’s like everything I’ve ever lost, coming back to me all at once.”

“You know,” he began, offering her a small smile, “when I’m gone and I come back to you; it’s like coming back to my home. Not my literal home, but the place where my heart belongs. I think that’s why I haven’t given up on this. I’d be lost without you.”

“I don’t think it will ever get easier though.”

“You’re right,” he replied, “but, for me, it’s worth a little bit of loneliness if it means I still get to come home to you.”

“You’re trying to make me stay,” she pointed out.

He stood from his chair suddenly, moving towards her as he pulled her from her chair again. This time he wrapped an arm around her waist, still holding one hand in his as he began to move her in a slow dance. She looked at him, confused now, but still following his lead as they danced.

“There’s no music,” she told him.

“There doesn’t have to be,” he said softly, “all that needs to be here, right now; is you and I.”

She said nothing. She simply rested her head against his shoulder as he continued to move her in their silent dance. She took a moment to memorize the way he felt against her, the way he was trying so hard to hold on to her. She thought about how selfish she had been. It was never that she wanted to leave him, all she really wanted was to be reminded of why she had held onto him for so long.

“Do you remember the first time we danced like this?” He whispered against her ear, his breath hot against her skin.

She nodded, closing her eyes as she thought back. She absentmindedly ran her thumb against her wedding band, recalling their wedding day.

“I remember how beautiful you looked on that day; how you walked down that aisle toward me.”

“I remember how nervous you looked when I finally got to you,” she grinned against his chest, “how you fumbled through your vows.”

“Do you remember the song?” He asked, pressing her to relive the moment.

“I do,” she replied. She began to hum the song quietly as he continued to dance with her. She was sure the guests at the restaurant were staring at this point, but she no longer cared as she found herself lost in the moment with him.

“And I held you… just like this,” he said as he pulled her closer to him, hand gripping tighter on her back almost as if he were afraid to let her go.

“Yes,” she hummed, feeling a sudden sense of comfort being in his arms like this, “and you told me you wanted to hold me like this forever.”

“Look at us,” he chuckled, “all these years later, and I’m still holding you like this.”

The tears had been building up again as he walked her through the memory of their wedding. Now, she let them fall when she realized that he had been trying so hard this whole time. All that she had given him lately was a guilt trip; a sense of disappointment over the fact that she was the one talking about letting it all go. She held him tighter, still thinking back to how perfect it had all been. Maybe it wasn’t so perfect now, but it was what they had.

“Do you remember what I told you?” He asked.

“I-I don’t think so..” she trailed off, thinking hard about what he might be referring to. She honestly couldn’t recall.

“I told you that I would love you forever,” he pulled back from her, eyes studying her intently, “and I meant it. I love you now, and I will love you even if you really think that you can’t stay.”

Her breath caught at his words, choking up when she saw the tears in his own eyes. She had almost forgotten their vows and what all of it had meant then and what it meant now. She felt completely caught off guard now that he was here to remind her. But, maybe that was what she had needed all along. She bit her lip, considering her options now. It didn’t seem like much, but a lot had changed tonight. Any sense of loneliness and bitterness that she held against him had all but melted away. Instead, she found herself lost in a sea of happier times; of memories of how and why they had ended up here to begin with. She realized that it would never be easy, but there had always been a reason why they held on to each other and looked forward to each reunion. Maybe love wasn’t supposed to be easy. Maybe it was meant for them to fight for each other. Maybe it was important to miss each other.

“Take me home,” she muttered, running her hand down his chest as he held her, “let me have you tonight, because I’m going to miss you when you leave again.”

“You know I’ll always come back, right?”

“I know you will,” she replied.

They ignored their half-eaten meal; paying the bill and leaving behind an empty bottle and two half-drunk glasses of wine as they walked out of there hand-in-hand. It certainly wasn’t like her to leave behind a good glass of wine; but some things were too important to ignore right now.

[intergalacticaquarium]

more terrible no good headcanons for eddie disaster dreamboat munson

I said that if anybody made him too cool I'd have to add more and that's exactly what I'm gonna do babes because I had to scroll for way to long to find him making spagetti-os

(posting again bc it wasn't showing in the tag)

(first post)

-genuinely doesn't know what those stains are. Didn't even know it was stained bc he's had the same fitted sheet on it with one corner tugged off for 8 months and forgot about them since last time

-throws away Tupperware if the stuff in it is too gross

-he's pretty sure that green sour candy counts as a vegetable so he does eat at least 3 a day.

-just. Doesn't ever throw things away. Stupid shit like the backs of band aids and paper straw wrappers and napkins and hooooo boy this has turned into a callout post about myself

-sometimes horseflies fly into his hair and get stuck and he can hear them buzzing around and doesn't necessarily so anything about it right away until it stops

-no room for legs in the front seat of his car that space is reserved for old fast food bags

-buys new underwear instead of doing laundry

-hey why do I keep writing genuinely embarrassing things that I literally do irl. Is this really worth putting myself and the 4 huge bags of laundry I have in my tiny car and all my band aid wrappers on blast. Next I'm gonna write that every surface in eddies house is covered in stacks of hobbies and papers that feel like a goddamn archeological dig every time I clean

-psych he does that too

- ok things that I don't also do so that I don't start having a crisis that makes me a tidier person:

-feeds a family of raccoons that live in an abandoned hunting cabin in the woods

-one time he let one live in his closet for a bit and hoped Wayne wouldn't notice (this may explain some of the stains)

-this boy spills. Everything. He's a hand talker and it doesn't matter if he's holding something.

-the hand talking is also terrifying when in a car he is driving

-never drinks water ever and it stresses ppl out

-every single time he sees somebody he knows in public he will try and sneak up on them to scare them

-wears shoes inside bc he broke glass on the carpet months ago and he doesn't want to vacuum.

-the only place he has to actually sit and do anything I his room is his bed because everything else is covered in stuff

-everything is covered in stuff but every drawer he has is empty

-theres one category of things he owns that is organized absolutely meticulously and idk what it is but he's very proud of it and when he says he's "cleaning his room" it means organizing like band tees alphabetically or sorting minifig painting supplies and everything else stays trashed

-it's a perm and he did it himself in his bathroom 100%

-hair dye stains all over the bathroom from an ill advised look a while back. and maybe a few more times

-doesnt have a compulsive habit to bite his nails he does it bc he can never find the damn fingernail clippers

-notes and doodles. All over his arms

- yknow how when u were in school by the last day you'd have like one pencil and nothing else and u kept a hold of it bc you couldn't find any others?

- eddies been at that point since about half way thru his first senior year. He has one pencil and it is a stub (it is a d.a.r.e. pencil and he does find it funny) with no eraser and it's not sharp and it had a million bite marks on it

-has little stoner burn holes in all his clothes all his sheets his matress his sheets and the seats on his car bc he needs to be more careful and is gonna end up starting a fire someday

-wait that last one was a me thing

-maybe this is how I can embrace my flaws. make eddie do em too. it's cute when he's disgusting

-I no longer have improve myself at all

-puts random food in his pockets for later even though it will get linty. Gonna go ahead and say that I don't do this.

-isn't actually that good at guitar it turns out

-I gotta stop myself now because I know they'll just keep comin but add any you can think of or dm me because every time he gets worse he gets more of my love so like 2 give him a hug reblog 2 spray him with a hose