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fyorina · 1 month

Text

ᡣ𐭩 TO SOMEONE FROM A WARM CLIMATE

FEATURING: beast dazai osamu

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

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

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

SEE: UNREAL UNEARTH SERIES MASTERLIST READ: BADLANDS SIDE A

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

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

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

Dazai.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh, you’re so cruel, Dazai Osamu.

You hate that you instantly feel relieved.

You hate even more that he definitely notices.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah,” he murmurs. “It is.”

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

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

A bit too tight, but you don’t mind.

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

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

“Sir?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You think you could stare at it forever.

His fingers burn.

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

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

But he has it.

He has it.

He has you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sakae and Kanagawa?

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

It’s not an option.

It’s not.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ll wait for you.”

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

Ding.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He’s so tired.

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

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

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

He really can’t get a break.

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

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

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

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

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

Finally, you give him a smile.

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

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

“I’m sure,” he murmurs.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He’s already looking at you.

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

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

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

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

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

And then he kisses you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

A screech comes from the television.

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

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

You want to kiss him again, so you do.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh.

Yeah. You might be falling for him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Want company?”

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

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

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

Dazai comes home to an empty penthouse.

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

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

Where are you?

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

Did you leave?

Why did you leave?

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

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

Maybe you were just sick of him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Where is she?”

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

“... What do you mean?”

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

Where did you go?

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

Why the fuck did no one say anything to him?

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

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

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

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

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

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

What is he going to do?

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

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

But if he can’t…

He has two options:

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

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

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

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

And then the elevator dings.

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

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

Oh.

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

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

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

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

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

He spiraled for nothing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A smile splits across your face.

“Is that even a question?”

Dazai’s woken up by someone shaking his shoulder.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He does. Of course, he does.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

God, is this it?

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

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

How does he prevent it?

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

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

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

“You sound… disappointed,” you say hesitantly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We should…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And he freezes.

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

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

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

But now…

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

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

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

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

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evertomorrowart · 5 months

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Best of YouTube 2023

Yes, I did spend the first week and change of January on this. I wish I could have had it done for New Years, but too many people came out with incredible work in December, so waiting turned out for the best.

What these creators do are a huge influence on my life, I would honestly have difficulty doing what I do without them. That isn't to say that my favorites of the year are *only* on this image--It was almost impossible to narrow down my favorites. Many creators I wanted to include couldn't fit on a single page, and too many of them made more than one video I wished I could draw too!

But, to all of you, thank you for what you do. You're an inspiration.

For those who don't know, further is an explanation.

At the bottom center is an artistic masterpiece by Defunctland: "Journey to EPCOT Center: A Symphonic History." Over the last several years, Defunctland has risen from delightfully-entertaining commentary on decommissioned theme park attractions to occasionally dropping profound statements on the creation of art itself. "Journey to EPCOT Center: A Symphonic History" is worth treating like the cinematic experience it is: No second screen, you sit your ass down in front of a TV, set down the phone, and then you *watch it.* Any Disney, theme park, or independent film fan needs to pay attention to this one.

Bottom left is Caelan Conrad with their piece "Drop the T - The Deadly Consequences of Gay Respectability Politics." While I do think they've done more visually or artistically-daring pieces before, "Drop the T" is one of the most important videos released on YouTube in today's current climate of hate. We as queer folk (and our allies) need to understand how integral every identity of the queer experience has been since the start of the Civil Rights movement (and before!). While we are not identical, we *are* inseparable, and we deserve having our real history easily accessible.

TERFs and other conservative mouthpieces need not reply. Your opinions are trash. 😘

I cannot stop watching and rewatching this video by @patricia-taxxon, "On the Ethics of Boinking Animal People." It's not just a defense of furry fandom and its eccentricities, it's a thoughtful and passionate analysis of what the artform achieves that purely human representation can't. Patricia goes outside of her usual essay format to directly speak to the viewer about the elements that define furry media (the most succinct definition I've ever heard) and just how *human* an act loving animal cartoons really is.

As an artist who can draw furry characters, but never really got into erotic furry art, this video is a treasure. Why did I choose to have her drawn as a Ghibli character, hanging out with one of the tanukis from "Pom Poko?" Guess you'll have to watch, bruh.

Philosophy Tube continuously puts out videos that I would put on this list--I'm not even sure that "A Man Plagiarised my Work: Women, Money, and the Nation" is the best work she released in 2023. However, this video got many conversations going between myself and my partner, and the twist on the tail end of the video shocked us both to such a degree that I had no choice.

At the very tail end of the year, Big Joel released "Fear of Death." On his Little Joel channel, he described it as the singularly best video he's ever done, and I'm inclined to agree. However, for this illustration, I ended up repeatedly going back to a mini-series he did earlier in the year: "Three Stories at the End of the World." All three videos are deeply moving and haunting, and I was brought to tears by "We Must Destroy What the Bomb Cannot." While it may be relatively-common knowledge that the original Gojira (Godzilla) film is horror grappling with the devastation America's rush to atomic dominance inflicted on Japan, Big Joel still manages to bring new words to the discussion. Please watch all three of the videos, but if, for some reason, you must have only one, let it be "We Must Destroy What the Bomb Cannot."

Y'all. Let me confess something. I hate football. I hate watching it, I associate seeing it from the stadiums with some of my worst childhood experiences, I despise collegiate and professional football (as institutions that destroy bodies and offer up children at the feet of its alter as a pillar of American culture)--

I. L o a t h e. Football.

But.

F.D. Signifier could get me to watch an entire hour-plus essay on why I should at least give a passing care. AND HE DID IT. I might think "F*ck the Police," the two-parter on Black conservatism, or his essay on Black men's connection to anime might be "better" videos, but this writer did the impossible and held my limited attention span towards football long enough to make a sincere case for NFL players--and reminds us that millionaires can *in fact* be workers. That alone is testament to his skill.

Sit down and watch "The REAL Reason NFL Running Backs Aren't Getting Paid." Any good anti-capitalist owes it to themselves.

CJ the X continuously puts out stunning, emotional videos, and can do it with the most seemingly-inconsequential starting points. A 30 second song? An incestuous commercial? Five minutes of Tangled? Sure, why not. Go destroy yourself emotionally by watching them. I'm serious. Do it.

Their video Stranger Things and the Meaning of Life manages to to remind us all why the way we react to media does, in fact, matter. Yes, even nostalgia-driven, mass-media schlock. Yes, how we interact with media matters, what it says about us matters, and we all deserve to seek out the whys.

Folding Ideas has spent the last few years articulating exactly why so much of our modern world feels broken, and because of that his voice continuously lives rent-free in my brain. While the tricks that scam artists and grifters use to try to swindle us are never new, the advancement of technology changes the aesthetics of their performances. Portions of Folding Ideas' explanations might seem dry when going into detail of how stocks work in This is Financial Advice, but every bit of it is necessary to peel back the layers of techno-babble and jargon and make sense of the results of "Meme Stocks."

Jessie Gender puts out nothing but bangers, her absolute unit of a video about Star Wars might be my new favorite thing ever, but none of her work hit so profoundly in 2023 than the two-parter "The Myth of 'Male Socialization'" and "The Trauma of Masculinity." There's so much about modern life that isolates and traumatizes us, and so much of it is just shrugged off as "normal." We owe it to ourselves to see the world in more vivid a color palette than we're initially given.

Panels drawn after Kate Beaton and "Ducks: Two Years in the Oil Sands."

"This is Not a Video Essay" is one of the most intense and beautiful pieces of art I've ever put into my eyeballs. Why do we create? What drives us to connect?

I don't even know what else to say about the Leftist Cooks' work, it repeatedly transcends the medium and platform. Watch every single one of their videos, but especially this one.

The likelihood you are terminally online and yet haven't heard of Hbomberguy's yearly forrays into destroying the careers of awful people is pretty slim. Just because it has millions of views doesn't mean that Hbomberguy's "Plagiarism and You(Tube)" isn't worth the hype. Too long? Shut up, it has chapters and YouTube holds your place, anyway. You think a deep dive into a handful of creators is only meaningless drama? Well, you're wrong, you wrong-opinion-haver. Plagiarism is an *everyone* problem because of the actual harm it creates--the history it erases, the labor it devalues, the art it marginalizes--which you would know if you watched "Plagiarism and You(Tube)".

Watch. The damn. Video.

In fact, watch all of them!

Thanks for reading this if you did.

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arcanefox207 · 3 months

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The Wolf You Feed (Part 1)

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Rating: Explicit, 18+ MDNI

Word Count: 8k

Part 1 / ? (Ongoing Series)

Summary: Set in fictional New England town, you fall for your handsome, intense and outdoorsy neighbor while renting out your parent's vacant summer home during a brutal winter.

Warnings: No Outbreak, AU but with TLoU characters, Large age gap (Reader is 29. Joel is 50). This chapter includes smut with fingering and cum eating. Dominant Joel. Eventual Angst. Drinking Alcohol. Pet names but no use of Y/N. Reader is smaller than Joel and has hair he can grab.

Chapter Excerpt: He presses a gentle kiss behind your ear and another one drags to your jawline and to the soft meat of your neck. His coarse beard scrapes against your skin and makes you shudder. You press your ass into him and feel him hard against your lower back. He responds by pressing into you firmly and brings his mouth to your ear.

“You feel what you do to me, beautiful girl?” He asks with his low, gravely voice and presses another kiss into you. His heat is searing into you.

A/N: Please hang in there. This chapter has a lot of setup and is a bit of a slow burn. Its also my first fic and I am pouring my heart and soul into it.

A O 3 | M A S T E R L I S T | N O T I F I C A T I O N

“Remember, if you need anything you can ask Joel. He knows his way around the house” your mother reminds you.

“Thanks, I will be fine but I’ll keep that in mind.” You appease her but have no intention of bothering her neighbor.

“Love you, honey. Talk later!”

“Bye mom. Love you.” You end the call and slump back against the couch. This was going to be your home for the next few months. Your parents had gone south to avoid the brutal New England winter and had offered their summer vacation home in Kineo to you in the interim. No rent and plenty of free time to figure out what to do with your life next. All you had to do was pay the utilities and keep an eye on things.

The offer was genuine but also came from a place of concern. You had spent the last few years living a more-or-less nomadic life and poorly indulging your dreams of adventure. Your bachelors degree in Liberal Arts proving to be as useless as everyone told you it would be. It got you jobs easy enough but nothing that felt like a long term career. It all felt directionless but you also had been hell bent on proving everyone else wrong and keeping up the appearance that you were doing just fine.

Your past relationships were nothing too exciting either. Months of casually dating someone and it not really going anywhere or random hookups that you regretted the next day. One or two guys you were getting serious with but ultimately scared you off when they started talking about a family in their big picture. You were starting to get cynical about any compatible prospects.

You are only 29 and wonder if a midlife crisis before your 30’s is normal. At least, that is what it felt like was happening. You had been treading water for too long and felt like you were too tired to keep swimming.

Your mother finally wore you down enough when your lease was up at your Boston apartment and you had no real obligations. You hated your current job, your roommates were little more than acquaintances and the busy city life scene was starting to lose its charm especially when it was astronomically expensive to live there. It was getting harder to say no so you agreed to her offer.

You had to admit living in the country sounded like a nice change. You had a few months to figure stuff out and the thought of something new was exciting to you. Even if it meant continuing to endure the bitter winter, you had a chance to start fresh somewhere new. Something different.

You didn’t grow up here and spent most of your life living in suburban homes with slightly warmer climates. Your parents had bought a small one bedroom vacation home in a sleepy New England town that they mostly only enjoyed in the prime summer months. The home sat mostly vacant otherwise. They would rent it out for weeks at a time but in the winter months no one from away wanted to go there. Too far from ski resorts and civilization to be of interest to a casual vacationer. It had a lake that drew much attention from outsiders only when it wasn’t frozen. The town was reduced to just the year-round locals in the coldest months.

Your new residence was outside the main populous of Kineo and nearby the lake. In fact, you could see the lake peeking through the thick pine trees out the front window if you looked hard enough.

The closest and only neighbor in sight was the handyman your parents raved about across the street. He kept an eye on the place while they were away. You had never interacted with him on your occasional summer visits, but knew he had been kind to your folks and heard about him often enough. You occasionally saw him out in his yard from afar and he would give a lazy wave to your parents in passing. You never really got a good look at him up close but from what you could see he looked rugged and fit and always wore jeans and work boots. He had a modest waterfront cabin across the street and seemed to keep to himself.

You had arrived just a few days ago and already had a job lined up at the local coffee shop, Grind. You were getting your caffeine fix and saw a help wanted sign in their window and you had no trouble securing the job when you chatted with the owner. She hired you on the spot and seemed desperate but grateful that you actually had enthusiasm for coffee and knew your Americanos from your Lattes. Grind Coffee House was on the main drag along with some other quaint shops. It was charming enough and an easy 10 minute drive from your house. The pay was pitiful but would be enough to get by. Things seemed to be lining up perfectly.

You went to bed early that night and felt optimistic that this was going to be good for you. This was going to be the reset that you craved. A new adventure. It was like nothing you had experienced before and maybe that was exactly what you needed.

–

Shit. Your first day working at Grind and you can’t even get the car to start.

It was freezing cold. The kind of cold that hurts when it touches your exposed skin. You turn the key in the ignition again and the engine makes a pathetic attempt to turn over. Nothing. Fuck.

You turn the key again. Nothing. Fuck fuck fuck. You pull out your phone and realize you have no idea what to do other than call your new boss and make a horrible first impression. No, that wasn’t going to do. You look in the rearview mirror and see across the street that lights are on at your neighbors house, despite the early hour. As quickly as the thought crosses your mind you push it away. No. No way were you going to bother him at this hour. You hadn’t even officially met the guy yet.

You pull up Google on your phone and scan the first few results for “car won’t start” and narrow it down to engine troubles or dead battery. Either outcome is something you are not equipped to handle.

A few moments pass and you reluctantly weigh the options. Would a garage even be open this early? How long would that take to get someone out there? You were wasting time and had to do something. You curse to yourself and go back inside the house.

You walk over to the fridge where a note is hanging front and center “Joel Miller” with a phone number neatly printed. Your mothers careful handwriting to contact the poor neighbor that she probably harasses all the time. You sigh and open your phone to dial the number.

It rings a few times, and then you hear a gravelly voice that catches you off guard.

“Hello?” A deep and thick, unfamiliar accent answers. Not what you were expecting.

“Hi, Mr. Miller.” a long pause and you stumble over your words. “I uh, I’m sorry to call you so early. I'm Rick and Linda’s daughter.” and mumble your name. Another pause.

“Ah, right. Whatcha need, kid?” He asks with little expression in his tone. You can’t tell if he is annoyed or just sounded that way.

“My car won’t start and I–” you pause, not too sure how to ask for help from a stranger. “I don’t know what to do...” Your voice trails off with uncertainty on how to ask for help or what you are even expecting.

You hear a long exhale on the other end, like he is letting all the air out of his lungs while he is thinking on it.

“Dead battery most likely… on a day like this. I’ll be right over.” He hangs up the phone before you can say another word and instead say thank you out loud to yourself and let your voice trail off. You instantly regret making the call.

You zip up your coat, pull your knit hat snug over your ears and head back outside when you see a black Ford pickup truck ease into your driveway. A tall man wearing a brown suede jacket approaches. The morning light is faint but you can make out that he is much older and has some silver streaking his hair and beard. He looks weathered and rugged but also has a warmness about him that is hard to reconcile with his rough exterior.

“Joel Miller, I presume?” you nervously laugh and awkwardly introduce yourself for the second time. You attempt to be extra friendly and maybe penetrate his bristly wall. It seems to help when he notices you are a young woman and not some bratty teenager that your parents probably made you out to be. He takes a step forward and reaches a hand out towards you, nodding. He firmly shakes your hand and you are taken aback by how his grasp seems to engulf you.

“Pleasure to meet you, darling.” His voice is smooth and polite and has the tiniest hint of playfulness in his tone. You can’t place his accent, but you know it isn’t from around here and only someone from away would say ‘Darling’ so casually to a stranger.

His dark brown eyes hold your gaze for a moment and he has the faintest smirk as he subtly scans your body. It sends goosebumps down your spine. You are grateful that you made an extra effort to look cute for your first day of work. You realize your hands are still embraced and nervously laugh as you pull away. He gets right down to business, but not before stealing another peek of your body when he thinks you aren’t looking.

“Lets see what we got here.'' He climbs into the driver's seat and in no time confirms it's the battery when he hears your car's engine protest. He walks over to his tailgate and brings back some jumper cables.

You stand there with your arms wrapped around your body trying to hold in as much warmth as possible. Your bare hands clenched in a fist and tucked in as far as they could in your jacket sleeve to shelter from the cold. Your teeth chattering as you try to stand out of the way but want to be nearby too. At least give the illusion you can be helpful if he needs something. You regret your first meeting being a clueless damsel in distress, but maybe he liked that sort of thing. His tune did seem to change once he saw you.

Joel returns and leans over the edge of the seat leaving the door wide open, his large palm dragging up slowly from the floor to the steering column, searching for the hood release. His finger catches on the button and he pops the hood. It’s hard not to stare at him while he slides his expert hands with reckless abandon.

His eyes find yours and the corner of his mouth raises slightly. You question if you are mistaking his caught you watching me look for more than what it was. He seems to enjoy you watching him work. He steps away from the seat and pulls a pair of work gloves from his back pocket as he works to connect your car to his truck with the jumper cables. He starts his truck back up and approaches you. Your breath and his making little frozen clouds as you exhale.

“You can sit in my truck if you want, it’s plenty warm in there.” He gestures with his thumb over his shoulder. “This will just be a minute.” You thank him and take him up on his offer and climb into his passenger seat. He has a classical rock station playing on the radio. A thermos sitting in the center console. You glance in the back seat and see some neatly organized tools and miscellaneous junk on the floor. It smells metallic and leathery.

You outstretch your hands to the vents that are pouring warm air into the cabin and relish the heat.

A few moments pass and you don’t see much of what’s going on with the hood of the truck blocking your view. You doom scroll on Instagram to keep yourself busy but your mind keeps thinking about Joel. You were in no way prepared for your neighbor to be so fucking handsome. It felt absurd to be so turned on by him.

He’s too old. You tell yourself. Don’t even think about it.

Your thoughts are interrupted as the hood slams shut and Joel opens the driver's door. He reaches his arm out to grab his thermos while he climbs into the seat with a groan. The door shuts hard behind him and a blast of cold air invades your space briefly.

“Damn cold one today” He says it with a huff as more of an observation than a complaint. He takes a sip of his coffee and looks over to you. You nod in agreement and find yourself caught up in what to say to him. He pulls off his gloves and tosses them in his backseat. He rests his arm along the back of the seat and it is nearly touching your shoulder. The way his body takes up the space makes you feel small and helpless. Then, you remember you are small and helpless compared to him. He doesn’t feel threatening towards you but you certainly does give off the aura that he could be intense in the right circumstance. You find that undeniably attractive.

“Your folks called me last week. Told me you were gonna be staying here a while.” His eyes are back focused on you. “Meant to come over this weekend and introduce myself.” he seems a little nervous and takes another sip of his coffee. “Didn’t wanna bother you, though.”

You feel a small smile start to grow on your face. The thought that he shared the same reservations brought comfort. Joel rests his thermos between his legs while still holding it with one hand. He looks like he is hesitating to say something but does it anyway. He looks over at you with tender eyes,

“Didn’t expect.. You know...” He makes an unreadable expression as he is searching for the words and scans your body up and down. “Someone like you.” You were not entirely sure what he meant by that, but his smoldered stare on your body made you feel hot inside and your cheeks flush. He looked at you with intrigue and it made you feel good. It made you feel wanted. It had been too long since you felt that way.

In fact, it has been too long since you had any sort of relationship. Even a casual lay.

“You really saved my ass this morning. Thank you.” You pause and feel yourself giving a sultry gaze back at him. “I owe you one.” Joel makes a no big deal gesture with his hand and a cocky smile as he chews the inside of his cheek. In that brief moment you feel something between the two of you. The desire to flirt; tempt a man with at least 20 years on you. An unexpected but undeniable magnetic pull. A curiosity to learn what lies beneath. A forbidden fruit that is ripe and beckoning for you to take a bite. Something different. Something exciting. Something you know you should stifle before it even begins.

His eyes reflect the same sentiment but also harbor concern and restraint. It’s a bad idea. The brief silence between you looms loudly. The elephant in the room.

“Where ya’ off to so early anyways?” he asks, eager to change the subject. He takes another sip of his coffee while you reply.

“Oh, first day working at Grind. You know it?” Joel's demeanor changes in a subtle way that you may not have seen if you weren’t so focused on trying to read him.

“Oh. Yeah..” he chides and looks down, pensive in thought as he brings his hand to the back of his neck and rakes it through his hair. “I know the place.” He glances back up and avoids eye contact. The bite in his voice does not go unnoticed, but you don’t pry.

An uncomfortable subject; noted.

“Better coffee than this I reckon” he says as he places his thermos back in the center console. He attempts to lighten the tone and then glances at his watch.

“I gotta get to work, sweetheart. Keep your car runnin’ for a bit and you should be all set. Probably get that battery replaced.” His tone is more serious now, more business-like. You realize you had been waiting in his truck longer than necessary. You really have to get to work anyways.

You thank him again and return to your car. He waits for you to get in and raises his fingers off his steering wheel in a lazy wave to signal he was leaving. He backs out of your driveway and heads down the road towards town.

You take a deep breath and adjust the knobs in your car. Joel had put everything on high heat and full blast for you and your car was now unbearably toasty. You tune your radio and ease into the road and on your way to work.

All the while your mind can’t stop thinking about your charming, handyman neighbor.

So that's Joel Miller. You smile to yourself and faintly feel butterflies in your stomach. Anxious thoughts that excite and frighten you.

–

It took Marlene all of five minutes to become your new work bestie. She was efficient and smart and knew her way around the place. She was the only one working when you arrived and despite the line of customers she was friendly and teased you for arriving late on your first day.

Marlene had great rapport with everyone. It was apparent that the customers were all regulars and she wasted no time introducing you to them. She had a somewhat forward style but it was well received because she knew exactly what she was doing and didn’t waste time being flowery and over the top. It reminded you of the brashness of Boston.

After the morning rush things were relatively calm. You had time to chat and get to know her a little more while she was showing you the ropes. It wasn’t complicated and you were a quick study.

By mid afternoon it was time to close up shop. The hours were a perk. You were scheduled to work weekdays from open till close and would have to occasionally help out on Saturdays. Marlene worked the same shift and the weekends were mostly covered by high schoolers.

It was just after 2 o’clock when the owner, Tess, stopped by.

“How did it go?” she asks you both as she takes a seat and rests her bag on the counter. Marlene had no intention of telling her you were late and talked you up, pleased with your presence. Tess had a few other properties she owned so her time at the coffee shop was only as needed and Marlene you learnt was more or less the one who ran things day to day.

You recap the day and thank her again for the job. You did genuinely enjoy the work. It was easy. Simple and straightforward. You got to know lots of town folk and everyone was curious and interested in meeting the new girl in town.

Tess seemed pleased enough and was quick to head out. She was friendly but brief and gave the impression she had other responsibilities that demanded her attention. She joins you behind the counter briefly and pours herself a black hot coffee in a to-go cup. Another perk of the job was indulging in all the free coffee.

“Let me know if you guys need anything!” She says energetically as she collects her bag and heads out the door. She flips the sign to “closed” as she leaves.

“Tess is cool. She doesn’t interfere too much and we only see her a few times a week, if that.” You nod to acknowledge Marlene. “Lets finish cleaning up and get out of here.”

It was nice leaving with the sun bright and warm. Winter meant shorter days, so getting out of work with a few hours of daylight felt luxurious. The bitter cold from the morning had made its departure.

You had been so focused with work it wasn’t until you got back to your car that you allowed yourself to think about Joel again. You know you shouldn’t but can’t help feeling turned on at the thought of him. He was handsome in that brooding, mysterious way and he emanated competence. It was refreshing and welcomed.

You decided to send him a text message. You had his number in your recent contacts after all and you were curious if he would play along. You were certain that there was something sparked between the two of you, but unsure if he would act on it. Unsure if there were too many obstacles between you.

You keep it simple and friendly.

You: Thanks again for your help!

Your car starts up with no issue and you head home. When you arrive you glance down to your phone to see a simple reply.

Joel: Anytime

It was brief but you couldn’t help but read it with that low, southern drawl. His voice was so distinct. Polite but stern. You add him as a contact in your phone and wonder if he did the same.

You take a shower, make some dinner and get comfortable in your bed. It’s early and you watch some TV when you hear your phone chime. You glance at your phone and see Joel Miller has you on his mind as he revives the conversation with you.

Joel: So how did it go?

You smile and recount this feeling like you were a teenager talking to your crush. You want to gush about your first day but you play it cool and brief.

You: Went good, I think I’ll like it there

A few minutes pass. Against your better judgment you start to go into details but delete it before you hit send. You recalled his strange reaction earlier when you brought up Grind. This man has you second guessing yourself and you don’t want to blow it before it even begins. He replies instead before you elaborate.

Joel: Glad to hear. Thought you would.

You: I’m exhausted though, getting to bed

You decide to be playful and see how he reacts.

You: Goodnight, Mr. Miller.

Joel: Just Joel.

Joel: Goodnight darling

Darling. Even if it was just a typical Southern phrase it made you wild. It was uncommon to hear in the north and felt so endearing and warm. The knots in your stomach return as you struggle to fall asleep. Your mind is too excited to see where things go from here. You knew he was interested in you enough to keep talking. It would have been easy for him to end the conversation there and keep things formal and neighborly.

Your mind wanders thinking about how truly handsome he is. How badly you want his manly, rough hands on your body. How his voice makes you melt. How his domineering presence makes you tingle in your core. You feel yourself starting to get wet just at the thought of his body and what you wanted to do to it. What you wanted him to do to you. Sinful thoughts.

You slide your hand between your legs and feel yourself already wet and wanting. Your delicate fingers tease circles over your clit and it doesn’t take long before you get off. You feel ashamed to be lusting over an old man you barely know, but nevertheless wish it was Joel’s rough hands on you.

You wonder if he is doing the same thing and sharing the same thoughts about you.

–

A few uneventful days go by and now it’s Friday. You haven’t seen much of Joel other than his truck occasionally driving off, but he had been stuck on your mind all week. Lonely nights accompanied by dirty thoughts of Joel that only fueled your yearning to get closer to him. Your inhibitions regarding age and disapproval of your parents were blinded by your building desire. It still weighed on you though. Your parents would be appalled and probably disown you if they knew. It would just be another tick on the disappointment list.

Work is busy and the day flies by. Just a few hours to go. You are taking a break, sitting at one of the tables by the front window and snacking on a blueberry scone. You reason with yourself that tonight is as good as any to try to make something happen.

You: You doing anything tonight?

An agonizing hour passes and no reply. Your message is on read. Marlene takes notice of your change in demeanor. When things finally slow down and its just the two of you waiting around to close up she presses you.

“So.. whats going on? You look distant.”

“Just trying to… make friends here.” You pause. “A friend in particular.” Your voice trails off. Marlene catches on quick and she had suspected you were starting to fall for someone.

“Anyone I know?” Marlene knows everyone. You don’t want her judgment on the matter so you keep it vague.

“My neighbor. He doesn’t seem the type to come to a place like this though.” Your phone chimes and you try to play down your excitement as you look down and see it’s from Joel. You can barely contain a smile.

Joel: Just got done a job. No plans

Marlene searches your face and rolls her eyes.

“Just go over then. Easy enough.” she was right.

“Yeah, I think I will.”

The rest of the shift goes by quickly and you are both out the door by 3 o’clock.

You sit in your car and decide to just call him already. You were craving to hear his voice again and you wanted to put him on the spot. He answers quickly.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Joel. I still owe you, you know for helping me out earlier.” Joel sighs in defeat.

“I see you aint lettin’ that go. What did ya have in mind?”

“Can I come over tonight? I’ll bring over drinks.” Your offer was more forward than you intended, but you went with it.

“Yeah, ok. Sounds good.” He pauses and has a counter offer for you. “Come over for dinner first?” You melt at the thought and realize you haven’t responded and there is a silence while you are getting lost in your thoughts. “Grilling steaks. Nothin’ fancy.”

“Yeah. Sounds good.” You can feel your smile spilling into the phone. That sounds more than good. It sounds really fucking good.

“Alright. Come over ‘round 7.”

“Ok. See you tonight.” You end the call and take a deep breath. Your heart is beating out of your chest in excitement.

–

Getting ready for the night you attempted a relaxed look. You wanted to look nice, but approachable. You had some worn jeans that tucked neatly into your Bean boots. A button down flannel that you left undone over an intentionally low cut, fitted shirt. It accented your chest just right. You wore your hair down and went light on the makeup. You threw on a light leather jacket and grabbed the six pack of beer as you head across the street.

Joel opens the door and leans in the doorframe with a casual figure, taking you in while he bites his lip,

“Evening' sweetheart” He steps back and holds the door open for you and gestures to come in. He was definitely a gentleman. You normally are not a fan of the pet names, but he worked them into his vocabulary so smoothly it was welcomed.

You step inside and turn around, holding up the six pack of beer.

“Sam Adams. That ok?” He shuts the door and nods in approval. “Figured I’d bring some Boston culture over.” You step further inside. His kitchen is just off the main entrance and has an island with some bar stools at it. You make your way over and take a seat and rest the case on the countertop.

Your eyes scan the room. His kitchen is tidy, save the spot where he prepped the steaks. You see an empty whiskey glass. Evidence that he had at least one stiff drink before you came over. You panic a little and regret not doing the same.

“That where you lived before this?” He interrupts your thought as he stands across you at the island. His crossed forearms holding him up as he leans towards you with intrigue. He is dressed plainly in a pair of worn jeans and a plain navy blue t-shirt that hugs his arms just right. His biceps bulge as he is leaning forward and your mind is now preoccupied with just how broad his shoulders are. You almost forgot he asked you a question.

“Yeah, for a few years anyways.” You briefly recount, distracted when Joel takes a beer bottle from the case and effortlessly pops the cap with his large, calloused hands. A satisfying hiss escapes the bottle followed by a clink as the cap falls to the countertop. He slides it over to you and repeats the motion again for himself.

“Oh, wow.” you say out loud, without realizing it. Joel has that cocky side smirk again, well aware of his impressive party trick. He holds the bottle up and towards you and you do the same, clanking bottle necks together and taking a sip. Your eyes are locked on each other for a moment; trying to read each other's intentions.

“Make yourself comfortable. I’m gonna put the steaks on.” he gestures his head to the back door that leads onto the deck. He grabs his suede jacket off the back of a chair and walks towards the back entrance. You trail behind and this was the first time you really noticed just how beautiful his home was.

His open living room and kitchen had a vaulted ceiling with massive windows lining the whole back side of the cabin. It faced the lake and you could imagine how serene it would be to watch the sunrise. The cedar walls and flooring made it feel cozy and inviting. There was a large wood stove in the center of the living room and an open loft above the back of the living room. The deck seemed to wrap along a good part of the home.

“Your home is beautiful.” It had looked so much more discrete from the road; tucked behind some pines and a long driveway. The backyard was a short distance to the lake and sloped slightly down to a dock. Joel probably had a boat parked there in the summer. The cabin was perched perfectly with a breathtaking view; isolated and private from the world.

“Thank you. I built it myself. Me and my brother Tommy.”

“Thats… impressive.”

“Eh, just comes with being a contractor. Made more sense to build my own place the way I wanted.” There it was again, that feeling in your core that excites you. Joel likes to be in control, and he has the skill set to back it up making it all the more alluring.

Its a cool night, but not uncomfortably cold to be outside for a few minutes with a jacket. In fact, you are grateful to have the crisp air to help ground you and calm you down. It was embarrassing how easily Joel could work you up. You lean over the railing and gaze out over the lake while he tends to the grill for a moment and then joins you at the railing.

“I spent a few years there myself. Boston.” This was news to you, but you were still curious about his Southern accent.

“And… before?”

“Texas.” He takes a sip of his beer. “Most my life.” You smile and give a slight laugh.

“Well, that certainly explains things. You don’t exactly sound like a New Englander” you tease him. Joel laughs and looks a little distant. Something you have come to realize about Joel is that he has a lot on his mind he doesn’t say out loud. His mysterious demeanor was something you found as attractive as it was frustrating.

“You like it here so far?” He asks.

“I do. Its simple and peaceful. Life is easy here.” you realize while saying this out loud that you mean it. You really are enjoying your time in Kineo more than you ever had expected. “And… my neighbor isn’t so bad.” You tease. Joel rolls his eyes and returns to the grill, pulling the steaks off.

“Mine is a pain in the ass.” He jokes as he closes the grill. He wasn’t wrong. You were persistent if anything.

–

Dinner is laid back and enjoyable. He has a small dining room table but you choose to sit next to each other at the island drinking your Sam Adams and enjoying your ribeye steaks. Joel cooked them to perfection. You stay seated long after you are done eating, getting carried away with conversation. Your bodies are facing each other and knees knocking into his as you get animated with your storytelling.

Joel mostly listens while you ramble on. The more you drink the lower your inhibitions get. You are a lightweight to begin with and it doesn’t take much. You don’t even notice that he isn’t really listening to you anymore. His focus has left your well intended words and shifted to your body. He’s looking at your low-cut shirt teasing him. The way you brush your hair out of your face when you laugh. How your neck looks so inviting when you tilt your head back to take a sip of beer, You don’t register that he is eyeing you crudely like you are a piece of meat. That he is fighting every urge inside him to just lose himself with you.

He inches his hand along the countertop closer to yours until he is grazing your wrist with a light touch and dragging his fingers back across yours. It sends a shiver through your body as you become aware how he is looking at you and how painfully reserved his touch is. It is polite but intrusive. He watches how it makes you feel. How you start to come undone.

Your pent up feelings are starting to overwhelm you and you excuse yourself reluctantly. Your heart starts to race and you wonder if he can hear it beating.

You get up and bring your plate over to the sink to wash it. It is a distraction more than anything while you gather yourself. Joel watches you from behind for a moment. You can feel his gaze burning into you and brace yourself against the counter. You like the way it feels. The way he makes you feel wanted.

That loud silence returns. The air in the room feels heavy. He joins you at the sink and you can feel his heat envelop you as he approaches you from behind. His broad body boxes you in and makes you feel small and vulnerable.

Joel takes his hands and dances his fingers down your arms lightly. His touch starts a fire inside you and you crave a heavier hold. You need him like you need air in your lungs. He presses a gentle kiss behind your ear and another one drags to your jawline and to the soft meat of your neck. His coarse beard scrapes against your skin and makes you shudder. You press your ass into him and feel him hard against your lower back. He responds by pressing into you firmly and brings his mouth to your ear.

“You feel what you do to me, beautiful girl?” He asks with his low, gravely voice and presses another kiss into you. His heat is searing into you.

He agonizingly slides his hands down to your hips and turns you to face him. He pushes your body gently against the countertop and moves one of his hands up to caress your face. He presses his hips into you and holds your chin gently between his thumb and finger. He stares down at you with a thirst in his eyes. He narrows his focus to try to get a reading on you. Your mouths are just inches apart. There is a hunger he is resisting but the wolf inside is slowly starting to win over reason.

“I want this, Joel.” You stare up at him and make sure he can see the desire in your eyes and that you are serious. You want to remove any hesitations he has on your account. You try to rock your hips into him but he has you pinned. He can feel your needy attempt.

“We shouldn’t…” Joel pleads, but his words are empty and not speaking the same language as his body.

Your age, your parents, your unfamiliarity with one another all should be reason enough to quelch this flame, but it just makes you want it that much more. He has wanted you since he first laid eyes on you that morning he came to your rescue. He wants to be respectful but fails, instead teasing you with how much he wants you. The hesitance is an illusion that he has kept up until that moment. Your body is trapped against his and he is looking at you like you are prey in his clutches. You had suspected and even hoped that Joel was a dominant lover with how confident he carried himself.

You seize the opportunity to show him just what he is doing to you.

You push your tongue into him and taste him; sweet and malty. His warm and wet mouth is inviting and intense. All reluctancy fades away as he gives in to you and takes control with his tongue. You can feel his cock is hard and straining against his jeans as he rocks into you. Your arms hang around his neck and tangle into his hair as you grind against each other. The friction of both your bodies sending each other into a frenzy.

He drags his mouth away, biting at your lower lip as he moves along your jawline to the soft skin at your neck. You stretch your head back giving him full access to your bare neck as he nips at you hungrily. His scruffy beard rubs roughly against your supple skin and feels so good. One hand roams up your shirt while his mouth traces lower and lower down to your collarbone. He thumbs and circles over your nipple. He can feel it harden through your bra and engulfs your breast with his large hand. His touch is brazen but you welcome it. You can feel just how badly he wants to devour you and it makes you moan.

He slides his expert hand from your breast and drags it down to your jeans. He unbuttons them hastily with force and works his hand slowly inside. Your underwear is already wet from your arousal. He pulls his mouth away from you and has a devilish grin as he grabs at your pussy and narrows his eyes on you.

“You’re so wet for me.” He says breathlessly with anticipation while he has you in his grasp.

He slides his hand inside your waistband and teases your clit as his hand slides against you. You want to reply to him but your words are trapped beneath the moans caught in your throat. He brings a finger to your opening and slowly pushes the tip inside you. The pressure from his large, calloused fingers makes you buck into him. He rubs his thumb over your clit as he slowly teases your entrance with his finger. He takes it slow and when he thinks you are ready he slips another one inside.

You can feel your walls clench around his obscenely thick fingers and he pushes deeper. Twisting and playing at your entrance and thrusting in. Your hips writhe in his grasp. While one hand is busy with your cunt the other has an iron grip on the back of your neck. His mouth messily returns to the soft skin above your collarbone and into the crook of your neck. You are completely at his mercy and can’t imagine any other place you’d want to be.

You are so tight but he stretches you open artfully. Moans escape your lips as you gasp when his fingers dip further into you, reaching that perfect part deep inside.

“Come for me.” He pants into you with a snarl as you convulse on him.

He doesn’t let up and fucks you relentlessly with his fingers until you are coming and moaning his name. Incoherent expletives escape you while you soak him.

You ride the wave of pleasure for as long as you can. It has been too long since you had fucked around with someone. However, no one had ever so masterfully gotten you off with just their fingers. The way he handled your body and worshiped you with his mouth was intoxicating.

As you come down from your high he slides his wet fingers from inside you and pulls his mouth away with a final ravenous kiss on your swollen lips. He places a kiss on top of your head and pulls you in close for an embrace. The hard protrusion against your body makes itself painfully known.

Joel presses his forehead against yours as he works to unzip his jeans and free himself. His fingers are wet with your slick. He smirks at you as his hand glides over his swollen cock and rubs your wetness all over his length. His breathing shallows as he strokes himself with one hand and braces his body on the countertop with the other. His swollen head grazes your belly with each thrust into his fist.

You watch him wantonly as he palms himself with more vigor. Joel’s cock is thick and intimidating, but you crave it in the worst way. It is by far the largest you have ever seen. It glistens in your slick and the precum that was beading at the head. A desire builds inside you and you yearn for more of Joel. Want him in your hands, your mouth, your cunt.

“Let me, please?” your voice comes out barely above a whisper. His hand slows and comes to a stop. He stretches out his arms to hold him up against the counter as he hovers above you and lets you take over.

You reach out and grab on to him. You marvel at its size and how weighty it feels in your hands as you start to rub them up and down. His skin is hot and velvety smooth and pulled tightly. Your pace is much slower but more precise. You feel the veins bulge under your grasp as your fingers glide up and down his length.

A moan hitches in his throat as you rub your thumb over his sensitive tip. You do it again and again. Teasing Joel Miller feels dangerous. You can feel how ragged he is and how close he is to coming. You want to make him come undone.

“God, damn it.” Joel grunts under his breath. He peels back your hand and painfully pulls it off of him. His cock twitches at the loss of your touch. He stands up straight and towers over you as you shrink back.

“Get on your knees.” He commands with his hand firmly on your wrist as he pulls your face closer to his. It sends a shiver through your body and you oblige. Any warmth in his eyes has been lost and he is staring at you; dark and menacing. He throws your wrist away and grips his hand along the side of your neck. His touch is rough and urgent. His fingers snake around to the back of your neck as he pulls you closer to him while you drop down. They twist into your hair and he has a hold on the back of your head. It doesn’t hurt, but his grasp is firm and might if you tried to fight it.

He takes his cock back in his grasp with his other hand and pumps it. His movements are jerky and his breathing is labored. You can tell he is so close. He roughly pulls your head back by your hair to look up at him.

“You gonna’ finish what you started?” he asks with darkened eyes. “Then open up.” He commands you through clenched teeth.

You respond with an uncontainable smirk. You part your mouth slowly and let your tongue hang out, never taking your eyes off his. You sit back onto your knees so that you are slightly under him and wait patiently. He widens his stance. His hand slides to the top of your head and tangles in your hair. You can feel him slowly starting to lose control and come undone before you while he strokes himself. You brace yourself, hooking your fingers into the back of his thighs and clawing at his jeans. You can smell his sex and feel his heat but he holds you just out of reach and makes you wait while your thirst grows.

Finally he taps the head of his weighty cock against your tongue and you lick at his slit, sending him over the edge. He groans as his thick spend coats your tongue and drips messily onto your chin. You close your mouth around him as he begins to stall out and swallow, pulling the final drops of cum from him while you choke his cock with your mouth.

“Good girl.” He rasps at you. “So fucking good.” His grip on you loosens and he tenderly drags his hand along your jawline. You relax your mouth and let him slide himself out. He groans when your tongue licks the underside of him as he pulls out.

He thumbs over some of his mess that falls out of your mouth and curls his thumb over your bottom lip. You lick him clean and he moves to hold your face in his hands while you look up at him.

“My good girl.” His words shoot straight to your core and make you weak. He brushes your hair behind your ear and helps you up. He places another kiss on your head and wraps his arms around you. His hot and heavy body feels so good against yours. You tilt your head up and press your mouth into him one more time.

“Are we even now?” you joke. Joel smiles. Everything about him feels warmer. He peels himself away from you and steps back, leaning against the island. You adjust your clothes and zip yourself back up while he does the same.

“Actually… think I might owe you now.” Joel says with a playful tone. He crosses his arms in front of his chest and shakes his head at you like he can’t believe his predicament. You like the idea of Joel owing you.

–

You don’t spend the night. He offers to walk you home but you opt to go alone. It felt good to get some fresh air, to clear your head and recap the night. You also wanted to leave him wanting more.

You weren’t sure what would come from this situation with Joel, but you knew you barely scratched the surface with him. He was rough around the edges but you liked that about him. You liked that a lot.

END CHAPTER

(Part 2!)

A/N: More to come! Undecided how many chapters but I have quite a bit mapped out. Please be kind. This is my first fic and it is nerve wrecking to post! If you loved it, PLEASE let me know. I'd love to know your thoughts so far! What did you like? What do you want more of? How much angst can your heart take? I aim to test it in future chapters. Comments/Reblogs are appreciated so much. Thank you all

Also special thanks to @magpiepills for the lovely cover photo (and her mood board inspirations she helped with along the way!) and to both her and @legendary-pink-dot for reading my first draft and giving their feedback AND courage to post this.

If you wish to know when I post the next chapter, please follow @ArcaneFoxFics and turn on notifications!

If you are here for my gifs only and are like WTF I dont want to see this mature content... you can follow me over at @ArcaneFoxGifs which will ONLY be reposts of my gif sets.

Love to my friends who give me the courage and support to do all the things @magpiepillsjunior @legendary-pink-dot @exquisiteserotonin @youandmeand5bucks @redhotkitchen @sparklefarts38 @pink-whiskey-woman @for-a-longlongtime @secretelephanttattoo

#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #the last of us #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal fanfiction #the wolf you feed #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #New England Joel #joel miller x you #joel tlou #joel miller series #fic: the wolf you feed #pedro pascal characters #joel miller fanfic

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unpretty · 6 months

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please imagine these bullet points as a series of posts made over the course of a semester in 2015, copied from the tumblr tag i made specifically to bitch about my econ/business government and society professor:

lmao econ prof arguing against the fda

we are also supposed to subscribe to the wall street journal for this class ahahaha like hell

I spoke up about this godawful climate change article and about how literally every fact I tried to check was wrong, he tried to argue that wasn’t the point of the article but it totally was

“Does anyone watch Fox News” this class in a nutshell

the professor in the class i hate is talking about how jesus would love capitalism because it has lifted so many people out of poverty

he’s complaining about progressive income tax lmao god i hate this class

LET THE FREE MARKET DECIDE unless the free market makes an anti-corporate decision, then consumers have been misinformed and the activists responsible should be ashamed of themselves

I hope everyone’s ready for Shitty Class Liveblogging because now he’s claiming that gas prices will never go back up and gas will always be cheap from now on and also peak oil is a lie

Now he’s talking about the story of Jonah and the whale as relates to this article he saw in the Wall Street Journal. Across the class, I see a girl squint into the middle distance and mouth the word, “what.”

“is it okay to fire a pizza delivery person who doesn’t want to drive to a bad neighborhood”

this is the literal worst and most bullshit explanation of utilitarianism I have ever experienced oh my god. for the purposes of this class we are supposed to ignore ‘for the greatest number’ as an aspect of utilitarianism. just. completely altering the basic foundation of utilitarianism as an idea. apparently the free market didn’t like the actual definition so they changed it.

THIS PROFESSOR IS PRO-ENRON I AM NOT EVEN KIDDING RIGHT NOW THIS IS A REAL THING #FREE MARKET IT WAS LEGAL FREE MARKET

“I don’t think we have very many people in the United States dying because they couldn’t afford medication” actual quote from this professor right now

lmao i’m in the class i hate, he’s complaining about net neutrality now

This just in: poor people are poor because they make bad decisions, the wealth gap can be eliminated by teaching poor people how to play the stock market. This is a real thing that he apparently gives presentations about. He gets paid to tell people this.

Shitty professor isn’t going to be there tomorrow but he wants us to come in anyway to listen to a lecture on CD. Not one of his, just generally. Like, a home learning thing he bought. We asked if he could just put it on Blackboard but he said he didn’t know how to put a CD on Blackboard.

lmao I fucking knew this was the great courses. this professor is off at a conference telling people to teach the poor to trade stocks and he’s just having us sit here listening to an audiobook course he paid for about philosophy.

shitty professor is arguing the necessity of child labor in third world countries because otherwise the children would starve and be prostitutes. yes those are definitely the only two options.

oh my god he just argued that the rich are a minority protected by the constitution

I was really embarrassed about getting a 67 out of 85 on this Business, Government, and Society test but then it turned out the class average was 40 and I got the highest grade in the class. My strategy of always picking the answer I find most morally reprehensible is going well for me.

Monopolies aren’t actually that bad! Also, unions are monopolies, which is bad. (i was the only one who got a lot of the essay questions right so I had to read them in class it was awful)

libertarian economist professor gets really emotional about animals and i think he just argued that if elephants were privately owned they wouldn’t be poached because no one poaches cows

It’s my last week in the class I hate before finals and I’m pretty sure he’s arguing that the Enron scandal happened because there was too much government regulation

oh my god he’s arguing that enron was trying to do california a favor by pointing out a flaw in their system (by exploiting it) h my god he’s not even addressing the fraud in their accounting this whole class has been leading up to his passionate defense of fucking enron

#original #he had nothing to do with the candy bar that was just a very funny punchline to my student loans

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soobnny · 5 months

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loving is terrifying — han jisung. best friends to lovers. accidental confessions (1.6k words)

in the midst of ranting, han jisung accidentally confesses he’s in love with you

“And if I burn the whole school down, would you bail me out of jail, Hanji?”

You’re still only a few sentences into the important speech you were asked to write, and you’re starting to feel agitated, chewed up pencil carving out your thoughts on paper before finding its way abandoned on your desk.

It’s been a few hours, and you’d chosen to put the pencil down lest you want to bring yourself to insanity.

Pretty lies usually come easy to you, but now they’re burning holes into your skull and flicking the ashes into your brain. In the reprieve, all you can think about is your anger for the authority.

“Bold of you to assume I won’t be your accomplice.” Jisung retorts from where he’s seated next to you on the floor, arms crossed behind his head as he leans against his couch.

“There’s just so much wrong in the system. Their code of rules deprive students of their creativity. Only the top students have a multitude of opportunities waiting for them. And don’t get me started on how the authorities put so little value into culture and societal issues. Everything is wrong, just wrong in all ways!”

There’s a word count in Jisung’s head on how many times you’ve said wrong in one sitting, but he’s looking at you with a hint of something in his eyes. Almost adoration.

“And we can change it by burning the school down?” A tone of amusement is laced in your best friend’s voice, though you fail to search for a trace of judgment.

“We can start there. Then the world.” You take the pencil back and fiddle with it between your fingers.

“The world? That’s very ambitious of you.”

You glare at him.

“I didn’t say I wouldn’t be by your side. I like ambitious.” Jisung smiles at you, making sure to lock his eyes with yours so you can see heavy genuineness where his pupils are. “What’s the next step then?”

“Climate change.”

Jisung throws his head back in quiet laughter, and the slight movement allows you a whip of his laundry detergent from the white shirt he’s wearing. “Okay, climate change.”

“You’re making fun of me.”

“I’m not!” His lips quirk up into a smile, eyes morphing from crescents to a full moon as he struggles to defend his name. There is still laughter even in the way he licks the inside of his cheek and takes your hands in his.

You fail to copy his laughter.

“Your eyes are upset. Are they directed at me?” Jisung softens his voice, only speaking one his laughter has boiled down. He pulls you closer than you already are, and you don’t notice the way he grabs the pencil between your fingers in the process to set it down.

“Of course not.” You mumble. “I’m mad at everything else, at everything wrong.”

A tally adds to his word count.

You sigh when you let go of his hands to take the paper in your own, eyes leaden as they scan across the sentences you had bullshited earlier. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to write this.”

“Just scream it out.”

“What?”

“Scream out what you actually want to say.” He grins.

You gape at him.

“I’m not screaming in your living room. Your neighbors are going to think someone’s being murdered.”

“Then just say it. Whatever you want to say. Everything wrong.”

“I don’t know where to start.”

“Okay, I’ll start then.” He smiles, and it’s heart-warmingly encouraging. “I wish it was easier to ground myself. I live in my head most of the time, and opening up is hard, and I wish forming any form of relationship wasn’t so scary.”

“Ji—“

“Okay, now your turn.”

“We are not going to ignore what you just said.”

“I said, your turn.”

“Jisung.”

“Please?” He places a hand over yours, and it’s enough for your brain to short circuit.

“Alright, fine. But we are going to talk about it later.”

“Now, what about those things that are wrong?” Jisung asks, giving your hand a gentle squeeze before letting go.

“Well, uh— our poor education system, that’s for one. And, the government. Blatant sexism too, how stupid the patriarchy is, how I still can’t parallel park for the life of me.”

You start with sporadic things, the ones that instantly pop in your head when you think about things that make you upset, and as you continue to talk, you dig a little deeper, and you don’t even realize you’ve stood up and your hands are flailing around like a salesman by the second.

“And, don’t even get me started on the transportation system. It’s so dumb how car-centered design came to be because how is it that the people who have access to private vehicles also have the easiest routes over the less fortunate who walk or commute? Like, why do we have to adjust to the roads?”

There’s a long list of things you want to say, finally letting loose and narrating all the things you’ve kept locked away in the back of your mind because you’re with the one person you can trust. When you meet Jisung’s gaze, he’s looking at you in awe.

“I hate how we’re branded as prodigies when we were younger. I hate the expectations that come with it, that we have to be great all the time, and, oh, this actually feels really good.”

Jisung chuckles at the way you come to a sudden realization, but he’s always known you were wiser beyond your years. “You’re brilliant.”

“Well, you have to say something too!”

Jisung fiddles with his fingers, trying to think of where to start. Though, the brilliance that is you and the opportunity of having this moment with you is enough motivation for him to follow suit.

“Uh, it’s so scary how superficial people are nowadays, and how so quickly they’re let down. It stresses me out how a single mistake could cost you so many relationships, but at the same time, who will stress out if not me? And it makes me realize how lucky I am to have the people in my life, and having an opportunity to talk like this really fuels my positivity in life, and it makes me realize even more how much I strongly feel like my life is for you guys, and there is nothing more important to me than being able to be a good person for you guys, like you. I wish I could be the bestest friend for you, maybe even more than that, but fuck, loving is so scary so I wish you’ll never find out how I’m so so in love with you— wait.”

The room falls silent and he’s thinking of a thousand different ways to die on the spot. He’s embarrassed. This is embarrassing, and he’s thinking it really wouldn’t be too late to jump off the bedroom window and hope for the best. A thousand different ways, maybe pretend he never said anything, stand still and maybe you’d think he wasn’t there in the first place. A thousand different ways.

“Han Jisung.”

“Soooo, haha, where were we in your speech again?”

Jisung doesn’t meet your eyes for the fear of rejection. He doesn’t think he has the heart to handle it right now, especially not after his accidental confession.

“Did you mean what you said?”

“About how superficial people are? Of course, it’s so scary. Hey, did I tell you about the tim—“

“Is being in love with me something wrong?”

He falls silent, and you can visibly see him start to panic, and his hands are pressed together as if in a prayer as he’s shaking his head profusely. “No, oh god no, it’s not. Honestly, it’s one of the only things I’m sure of, and that says a lot because I’m not sure of anything. I’m not even sure I’m in the right course or the right school or if I’m spending my money the right way, or if I’m even gonna live tomorrow, but fuck, loving you and everything about you is something I will never question.”

You can feel yourself start to smile, and Jisung finds himself copying you. It’s one of the first things he knew he loved about you—your smile, and the way you think, and the sound of your laughter. Despite his erratic heart beating and his fear of this exact moment, he still finds himself smiling when you do.

“I’m in love with you too.”

“What?”

You can visibly see the gears in his head turn, and he’s writing a story he doesn’t know the ending to just yet, but the beginning is so beautiful because it’s with you. Then, he laughs. It’s breathy, and you can almost hear the relief. “Did you just say you love me?”

“I did.”

“Oh my god. Oh my god.”

“I’m in love with you, Han Jisung.”

“I’m going to die.”

You laugh, and then he snaps back into reality.

“Can I kiss you?” His tone is so careful, but there’s a hint of something you can only recognize as a slight desperation—like he’s been thinking of it a while.

Jisung reaches out to wrap his arms around your waist, albeit a little shy. It’s a pattern that’s already so familiar. He isn’t a stranger to hugging you, in fact, he’s done it a million times, but the connotations to this one is a little different, and he can’t think straight at the possibility that you might actually consent to letting him kiss you.

“Okay.”

Words that haven’t left being translated into the motion of his lips moving against yours. Honestly, he doesn’t even know who went in for the kiss first. All he knows is his hands are gently rested on your waist and he’s actually kissing you right now, and you can feel the way he’s smiling into the kiss.

It takes a few minutes for you two to pull away, a little out of breath, and he leans in to try and kiss you again but your noses bump against each other’s, and the pair of you can’t help but laugh at how the events of the night had turned.

Jisung marvels at the way everything feels so simple, so right.

“I’m not dreaming, right? Like this is actually happening?”

You laugh even more.

Jisung’s always been afraid of venturing into the unknown, always kept his feelings hidden, and he’s always loathed his mouth for being so uncontrolled with the things he says. But now, with you in his arms, he couldn’t be any more happier about the slip of his tongue and how being with you feels like one of the rare rights among all the wrongs.

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achaoticeternal · 7 months

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electric touch

aemond targaryen x niece!reader

summary: while taking a visit to the royal library, you come across aemond who seems to have a small gift for you. word count: 1.1k warnings: afab!reader, targcest, reader is mentioned to have violet eyes but that is the only descriptor. a/n: this was just a little drabble I thought of. i'm trying to get back into the grove of writing after my summer hiatus.

Though King’s Landing was quite an enticing place to visit, the climate at Dragonstone seemed to accommodate her taste better. Where Dragonstone held warm air and cooling sea breezes, King’s Landing lacked such a luxury. Whenever Rhaenyra made visits to the capitol with her daughter, neither princess slept well for their own reasons. Both, however, missed their own beds and comforts of home.

Currently, the younger Targaryen princess was making her way down the aisles of the library. Particularly, she found herself in the special collection that her uncle had curated. Books that varied from philosophy, the history of Old Valyria, and even strategies of ancient wars. However, sprinkled in between were books that contained the sweetest words held in between pages. Yes, both she and Aemond held a secret bond over the lines of fine poetry.

It was a love they learned as children. Whenever Aemond was not training or being tormented by his brother and nephews, he would accompany his niece at the weirwood tree. Helaena would not be too far off either, allowing the creatures in the gardens to climb into her gentle hands.

Such a memory caused a small smile to grace her lips as she reached for a book that had been well-loved.

“Have you come to wreck my shelves?” The voice interrupted her abruptly.

She jumped away from her spot, the breath returning to her lungs when she recognized the man. Her hands went to smooth out her skirts, “Good day to you, uncle…”

The lady went to reach for the book again. Still, it remained just out of reach. The scoff sounding next to her changed her focus once more.

“Have you not considered using your words to ask for help, riñītsos?” He questioned.

Little Girl.

Sighing at his question, she moved back from the shelf. As she faced him, her eyes flicked from the book to his gaze. Though her actions were childish, she did not anticipate being denied her wish, “Kostilus…” Please.

His dismissive hum could be heard as he moved in front of her. With ease, he gripped the spine of the book before bringing it down. Aemond held onto it for a moment, eye scanning over the cover. Epics of Old Valyria.

“I see you’ve been working on your native tongue,” the prince stated nonchalantly, “Though it is still peculiar to me as to why you deem it fit to borrow from my personal collection?”

The corners of her lips dropped at his words, “And do you enjoy withholding the pleasure of knowledge?”

His violet eye slowly trailed up her height. Both of them had grown since they’d last shared each other’s company. This was evident to both parties. Her eye then met her own violet ones as a chuckle played on his lips, “Withholding pleasure is enjoyable for some people.”

Her posture straightened immediately, the innuendo not going unnoticed. She took the book from his grip, preparing to move past him and back to the security of her mother’s chambers.

The princess did not make it more than two paces before his hand shot out to grasp at her forearm. His touch was not harsh, yet there was no warm to it either, “What are you forgetting?”

She breathed out in audible frustration. Her eyes still trained toward the exit of the library, keeping her distracted from his intense gaze, “Are you not supposed to be in attendance of the small council meeting? Or has your seat been taken?”

Aemond’s jaw tightened at the taunt. However, his demeanor remained relatively calm.

Finally, she answered him properly, “Kirimvose.” Thank you.

After a pause of silence, she craned her neck to look up at Aemond. Her gaze was met with a playful smirk, “Issa daorun” You’re welcome.

However, his hold did not retreat from her forearm. Instead, he continued, “I have a little gift for you. Consider it a welcoming present for my favorite niece.”

“Careful, uncle,” Her eyes refocused on his face. The rest of the library remained at a soft focus, “You wouldn’t want to hurt poor Jaehaera’s feelings.”

His upper tip seemed to curl into a snarl at the quick-witted comment. Releasing his hold, his hands went to the pockets of his doublet, eyeing the item within it. Pulling out the piece, a finely forged Valyrian steel chain dangled from his nimble fingers. Resting at the bottom of the chain was a pendant of a singular dragon with a sapphire for an eye. The craftsmanship itself must have cost a fortune, not to mention the installation of such a fine gemstone.

“Kepus,” Her voice lulled, “Gevie…”

Without a word, Aemond moved to stand behind her. His gentle touch caressed her upper back as he moved her hair onto one shoulder. The cool pendant rested atop her bosom, sending tingles throughout her chest. The chain itself snaked around the delicate skin of her neck where he now clasped it together, “Dōna zaldrītsos,” Aemond purred.

As she turned back to face him, her lithe fingers toyed at the pendant. She quickly grew accustomed to the weight of it and the metallic feel against her skin, “Where did you find such a necklace?”

The look on his face was passive as if he could not drop his uncaring disguise, “I had it made for you.”

As her browed raised in motion for him to continue, Aemond added on, “I figured it would be to your liking.”

She took a moment, eyes flickering from the leather he wore to the steel chain at her neck.

“I see,” She nodded, “And what moved you to commission such a fine piece?”

Unbeknownst to the lady, Aemond fought an inner battle. He wished to step closer to her and reach out once more. He hated that he could easily despise his nephews, but never her… Not the girl whom he read poetry with between lunch and tea time. The girl who was now a woman grown before him. His greatest torment and object of his deepest affections.

Aemond faced her once more, bringing up his hand to toy with the pendant at her chest now, “The thought of you wearing it for me…”

---

all feedback is greatly appreciated. my ask box is open for requests.

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reasonsforhope · 7 months

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I can't take the state of the world anymore, every day things constantly get worse and there's literally nothing we can do. Every time things get better they're immediately undone by forces more powerful than us. I just want things to go back to the way they were before when it felt like there was hope, now it feels like humanity is doomed and will never, ever get better. I just want to die so I can finally know peace from this evil.

Hey. I'm really, really sorry you're having such a hard time. That sounds like an incredibly painful headspace to be in.

Please find someone you can talk to and who can help you - whether that's a peer counselor or a good friend or a trained mental health professional. Especially a trained mental health professional, if you can. You can find a really thorough list of crisis hotlines listed by country here.

Also, I realllllly recommend getting off any websites or social media that are contributing to you feeling like this, or at least block all the people/tags posting things that are making you feel like this. Negativity bias is real - the news/internet doesn't accurately reflect the world and neither does the way your brain perceives it

In the meantime, a few quick words/facts of comfort. I hope they can give you at least some reassurance or solace.

We literally have more reason to hope we can solve climate change than ever before x

Starting about six months ago, major international energy reports have come out for the first time showing that we have a visible, concrete path to staying under 1.5 degrees celsius x

Twenty, even ten years ago, scientists talked about whether we could possibly manage to limit global warming to 4 or 5 degrees Celsius. Now, those numbers aren't even on the map - we're talking 1.5 or 2 degrees Celsius. We've cut expected warming in half in under a decade x

Renewable energy is growing so exponentially it's now "unstoppable" x

Two hundred years ago, in 1800, there wasn't a single "liberal democracy" - a democracy that gives all citizens the right to vote - on the planet. Just over one hundred years ago, in 1900, there were five of them. Today, roughly half the countries (aka roughly 100) on the planet fall into this category. International politics is so often two steps forward, one step back, but this is actually an astonishing pace of progress in the grand scheme of things x

For all of human history, until just over 200 years ago, roughly half of all children died. Across times, across cultures. Half of all children died by the age of 15. Half of them. Today, globally, that same child mortality rate is only 4%. We did that. We changed what was previously an eternal, inescapable, and horrific condition of human existence, and we are going to keep making that rate go down x

Two steps forward, one step back, is still moving forward. There are so, so, so many reasons that we are not already doomed. There are so many reasons to think the future is going to be bright

To anyone struggling with thoughts like this: please, please give yourself the chance to see it

#Anonymous #ask #me #I am so so not a trained mental health professional or qualified to help people with this stuff #please talk to people who are qualified to help with stuff like this instead!#climate change #climate anxiety #climate hope #child mortality #humanity #good news #hope #cw sui ideation #cw sui mention #depression #climate grief #climate crisis #climate news #hope posting

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lexsssu · 8 months

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Pheromones (Zhongli)

TAGS: Zhongli/Lucifiel(Dragon)!Reader, heat sex, smut, drabble Ao3 ver.

“MATE.MATE.MATE.MATE.MATE.MATE.MATE.MATE.MATE.MATE.MATE.MATE.MATE.MATE.MATE.MATE.MATE.MATE.MATE.MATE.MATE.MATE.MATE.MATE.”

The former Geo Archon could do nothing as you barrelled into him with the ferocity and strength of a Mitachurl, pinning him onto the meager cot spread out on the cold, hard ground.

A blizzard had trapped the both of you within a cave, the harsh climate of the Dragonspine itself coupled by the foul weather made going outside a death wish. It also didn’t help that you were already feeling quite under the weather even before your little excursion together, but you persisted regardless of his worries. What was once just a feverish hue on your skin and a slightly higher than normal body temperature only seemed to worsen throughout the journey until finally, that blasted blizzard had you both holed up within a small cave.

Just as he was about to lay you down onto the makeshift cot so he can properly tend to you, you suddenly snapped your eyes open, liquid-gold orbs darkening as they met with his. Zhongli only had enough time to swallow the lump that had inadvertently formed in his throat before you lunged at him.

“Dearest, is now...really the right...time for such...such activities?” He could barely speak a proper sentence, not when you so enthusiastically bounced upon his cock with such wanton fervor.

Silvery scales decorated and glittered on the sides of your cheeks, slithering downwards to your neck and leaving spatters upon the rest of your body. A pair of ivory horns also protruded from your temples, its thick base giving way to a more slender body that slightly curves near the tips. The molten gold orbs that stared down at him with unbridled lust, ecstasy, and undisguised yearning was just simply too intoxicating.

And you were simply too beautiful for him to deny. Even more so when you lose yourself within the throes of passion, allowing your draconic instincts to take over and do all the talking necessary without any real need for words.

A pleased rumble escaped his lips as his own amber orbs darkened as you fucked yourself on the heavy girth of his cock. You were unwittingly releasing so much pheromones into the air as your heat-addled brain sought for nothing but his dick and his knot, pushing his own instincts into overdrive. The dark-haired man felt the ripple of power that overtook and spread all over his body, dark scales similarly littering the broad expanse of his body and a pair of mighty horns sprouted on his head.

You released a loud purr when you smelt your mate’s scent becoming even more potent, more heady as he too allowed himself to give into the feral blood that ran through your veins. Your purring is soon replaced by a loud yelp and whimper where, upon completing his transformation, Zhongli didn’t just manifest additional features like you, but the rest of his body went through some...additional changes as well.

A smirk crawled its way upon his handsome face as he watched with great pleasure at the way your eyes practically rolled back as your greedy pussy was suddenly stuffed to the brim thanks to the similar transformation his own cock underwent.

Thankfully, the blizzard outside was powerful enough to mask the sounds of what could only be two animals mating.

Aether and his other companion could only stare at the couple once they’ve reunited after the snowstorm. A satisfied smile not unlike that of a Cheshire cat decorated the geo-user’s face, whereas a dark flush sat upon your own as you refused to meet anyone’s gaze.

#lexsssu writes #genshin impact #zhongli x reader #zhongli x you #zhongli x y/n #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact smut #crossposted on ao3

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justpoliteconversations · 4 months

Text

Apple Merchant [BOTW!Link x Isekai!Reader] (Part 2)

For any partnership to work, communication is key.

More self-indulgent trash for the soul.

PART: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6

Alternate Extras: Embrace

Masterlist

TW: Nothing worth mentioning.

Disclaimer: Don't own The Legend of Zelda franchise.

---

It seemed infinitesimal: a single apple missing from the vast pool of resources you'd amassed over the years. Barely a drop in the metaphoric ocean and you'd treated it as such. At first.

A simple miscount, you'd reasoned. Not even you, with your convenient auto-sorting ability nor years of modern schooling, was immune to the inevitably of human error.

Days passed. Nothing much changed. Except that it did.

One mistake was expected. Two was acceptable. But Three? Four? You had your suspicions, but you'd pushed them aside and carried on as usual. Ignoring the cold pit opening in your stomach with each misplaced object. Every inconceivable miscount that only seemed to pile into a whirlwind of inevitability.

It escalated, because of course it would.

When one of your swords disappeared, you ignored the thundering of your heart. When your leftover meat skewers were suddenly two less? You balled your hands in your lap to prevent them from shaking.

Then, a week after the towers rose, your warm doublet vanished right off your back, leaving you suddenly in the plain clothes beneath. You stopped paying attention to the world for a while after, taking deep breaths to ease the tension in your body.

Once able to draw breath more freely, you put on your significantly less warm overshirt and pressed onward. Stopped at the nearest stable (Dueling Peaks, hours off of your intended route), ignored your guard's concerned (annoyed in Adino's case) stares and rented three beds for the night.

It took a long time for sleep to take you, but eventually you succeeded.

When you opened your eyes it was early morning, but still later than you'd usually be up by. The stable master was just starting his day, eating a quick breakfast of eggs and porridge. You should have been gone long before anyone else in the tent had even left their beds.

Your guard, Skims, glanced over at you from his own bed, concern evident on his weathered, weary face. He must have noticed the change in your breathing as you woke. You could see the question in his eyes, the way his brows rose just slightly and his mouth quirked.

You gave him a small shake of the head, a tired smile, and he nodded in understanding before rolling out of bed with a dramatic groan. It pulled a snort from you and you just caught the edge of a satisfied smile at the corner of his lips.

Man needed another raise. Fourth one this year but his loyalty and care was well worth the expense.

With that thought you pulled yourself from bed, fighting against the spring morning chill as you removed the covers from your sleep warmed body. Putting your feet to the ground was misery, and pulling away from the plush bedding a test of your resolve.

Beside you Skims was smirking in his tired way, knowing full well just how deeply the hyrulian cold effected you. His own metabolism kept him damn near toasty in all but the harshest climates, and he took quiet glee in watching you huff and silently whine against the nip of crisp morning air.

You cast a tired eyed glare up at him and he chuckled, knowing what you were thinking. He was right, for the record. You were thinking about how sweet revenge would be the next time you made for Gerudo.

Scratch that. Skims would be all too pleased to be back in that forsaken desert. Would even request a few days off to visit his three (that's right, three) gerudo baby mama's and four daughters.

You didn't think about it too much. It wasn't your business, and as far as you knew, all participants were happy with the arrangement. It wasn't your concern.

You sighed, taking the loss for what it was. Skims, at least, had the grace to not voice it aloud. Though you could feel the smug amusement radiating off of him well enough that it hardly mattered.

"I'll let Adino know we'll be heading for Hateno soon." He offered in the way of a peace offering, and at your nod he slipped out of the stable entryway without another word.

You stared after him, taking in the red-tinted dawn light bathing the world beyond. Stealing yourself against the persistent drafts leaking through the open tent flaps you began to ready yourself for the day.

You wondered if Link was okay. You were glad he had something warm to protect him through the night, even if it was at your expense.

As quickly as they'd come, you pulled away from those thoughts before they could fully take hold. Therein lies the path to lunacy, and bankruptcy.

The man now had access to your entire inventory, and if current happenings had told you anything it was that he had absolutely no qualms in using it. Be that because of his amnesia, his situation, his personality or even a mix of the three, you didn't know. And honestly, it didn't matter. The ending was the same.

Loss of merchandise. Loss of revenue. Perhaps even the loss of your business. All things you'd very much like to avoid.

Once dressed you took a moment to recenter yourself.

The next few days were going to be long and arduous.

---

You'd made it to Hateno without further delay, though you had to travel for two days nonstop to make up for lost time (stopping only to refresh the horses, much to Adino's irritation). By the end of it Skims was looking more weary than usual and Adino (a skinny hyrulian teenager with dark hair and a sour expression) more surly.

You slipped them both a few extra rupees before giving them the week off until further notice and Adino seemed to forgive you a little. Skims had just smiled gratefully, and when Adino had slipped away into the nearest alley, you'd handed Skims another hundred.

The older hyrulian's raised brows was merely answered by a small smile and a shooing motion, to which he huffed a dry laugh and obeyed the dismissal. You returned his backwards wave with one of your own even though he didn't see it. Or maybe he did.

Hard to tell with that man.

After that, you wasted no time in getting back to business. You visited all the stores on the main strip, catching up on the latest news from Pruce and giving him first pick of your more uncommon stock. He was your most valued business partner after all, and the one who gave you your moniker.

You owed him so much for helping you find your feet in those overwhelming early days. He'd put so much time and effort into your integration, bought so many god-damned unnecessary apples because you'd had nothing else to offer.

First pick of the batch was the least you could do in return for his continued kindness.

"There's a new house for sale." Pruce said conversationally, leaning against the counter as he begun picking through his new merchandise.

"Oh?" You'd inquired back politely, not really interested but willing to hear out any bits of information that may one day prove useful to you.

"Yeah. The abandoned one across the old bridge. The council has decided to sell it. If it doesn't go within the month, it's getting demolished."

Something nagged at the back of your mind, but you couldn't pin it down before it slipped away. Instead of dwelling on it, you thanked him for the information and took your leave.

The rest of that afternoon was rather uneventful. You walked the village back roads with quiet nostalgia, gazing up at the newly blossoming apple trees and freshly grown grass with heartfelt fondness. Eventually you passed the budding fields nestled in the far back of the village. Beyond that, the solitary apple tree you'd first been enamored with when you'd first arrived in this world.

And there it stood, seemingly unchanged after five years. Always the early bloomer. And bearer.

You touched the weathered bark gently, letting the rough surface ground you once more in reality. "Hello. You're as magnificant as ever, my friend. May this year be fruitful for you." It was silent as expected, but you leaned your head to the trunk and sent your thanks to it regardless.

Your first lifeline, a silent reminder of everything this world had given you. Even if no one understood, this tree deserved your utmost respect.

You took your time walking back to the village proper, breathing in the fresh, cool air with renewed appreciation. You were reminded once more that this land, these people, this new life had been kind to you.

With the uncertainty of Link's awakening lingering in your mind, you needed that reminder now more than ever.

Feeling lighter than you had in weeks, out of curiosity you took the long way around to inspect the new property for sale. Not that you had any intention of buying, but it wouldn't hurt to look.

It did, in fact, hurt. Like the scene from an overly dramatic psychological thriller, the moment you laid eyes on the house you remembered.

50,000 Rupees. Bolson. Link. The deal.

During your other life, when this had all been just a game, you'd dismissed the initial offer the first time you'd talked to Bolson. He'd then presented a discounted offer of 3000 and some odd amount of wood immediately after.

You'd never taken the first offer. It hadn't been practical for you at the time. You hadn't had the means to make that much rupees in such a short amount of time.

But Link had no limitations this go around.

He had your checkbook at his fingertips and no issue utilizing it.

50,000 rupees.

50 Thousand rupees.

Fifty Thousand rupees.

Fuck...

---

A moblin lumbered about the dense forest in slow, stumbling steps, sniffing at the air in search of its hidden adversary. It snorted, picking up an acorn and huffing at it inquisitively, tossing it away when it gave it no leads.

Hidden in the topmost branches of an elder tree, Link scrolled through his Sheikah slate, unbothered. Not much of anything felt threatening to him in these parts, not with the stash of weaponry and armor sets he'd found in his slate's inventory.

Especially not with the fairies stored away in there. 249 to be exact. Formerly 252.

Not for the first time he wondered who the slate belonged to before him. It most certainly had an owner at some point, if the sheer amount of useful items within it was anything to go by.

Had they died? He hoped not. That didn't seem right to him, though he couldn't pinpoint why he thought this.

Honestly, he didn't know much of anything. He just knew he was happy to have all these useful things waiting for him when he...woke up.

He wasn't sure what he'd have done if he'd started out with nothing. Not even memories of what to do to sustain and better himself.

He pulled a honey candy from the slate and popped it in his mouth as he continued to scroll, ignoring the moblin stomping around the base of the tree. It'd never find him anyway, simple-minded as it was. He hummed in happiness as the sweet treat began to melt on his tongue, ears twitching with delight.

After a time, he eventually made it near the end of the list (pulling some fire chuchu jelly from it) and was about to take care of his unwelcome guest. Until he noticed something off.

Some of the items near the end of the list looked fewer then before. Not just fewer, in fact. Some were gone entirely.

Link tilted his head, bright blue eyes widening with interest, candy held forgotten between his teeth. His breath hitched a bit, something warm and fierce growing rapidly in his chest as he noted more and more discrepancies he'd failed to notice before.

He spit the candy out and it hit the moblin on the head, causing it to growl lowly and whip it's head around in search of its assailant. Link wasn't paying attention to that though. That wasn't important.

At the very end of the inventory list he found a note. A simple slip of paper with his name emblazoned on it with black ink.

His heart begun race at the sight of it.

This was it. Proof that this slate had belonged to someone before. No. That there was someone, right now, who had access to the same technology, was bound to the same destiny.

They knew his name. They knew he was there in the world, and they were reaching out to him.

He wasn't alone. They're alive. They're real.

He was not alone anymore.

He wasted no time in taking the note from the inventory, face lighting up with awe as he took in the contents of the paper.

A dozen fire jellies, a torch and a piece of flint made quick work of the moblin, ripping it apart in a flash of light so suddenly it hadn't even the chance to properly squeal in terror.

Link paid its abruptly silenced death throes no mind. Instead, he jumped from the tree with one powerful leap, snapping his glider open to soar over the valley laid out far below.

He had no time for distractions now. He had to get to Kakariko as soon as possible, find this Impa woman and get directions to Hateno.

The voice in his head would have to wait a little longer. This Calamity guy too. Right now he had more pressing matters.

He needed get to Hateno. Where his new home was. Where their home was.

---

Link,

There is a house waiting for you in Hateno. Present this Proof of Purchase to the Village Council upon arrival.

Be sure to inform me before making any purchases exceeding 10,000 rupees. Use this note system to relay details.

If applicable, forward a list of necessary items and I will precure them for you.

Let's work well together. I look forward to doing business with you.

Your's truly,

---

Must return to the shadows to recharge and recoup. (I lied. I stayed up editing this instead of sleeping. Don't post tired, you make lots of errors.)

#link x reader #link x you #isekai reader #botw link

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mxtxdiaspora-may · 3 months

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MXTX Diaspora May is back for 2024!

MXTX Diaspora May is an event in which Chinese diaspora creators come together to share the diverse aspects of Chinese culture, as well as connect with each other over lived experiences.

Through the promotion and creation of these fanworks, we hope to encourage thoughtful self-reflection throughout the broader fandom, especially with regard to embracing cultural humility and dismantling structures and behaviors that allow racism to flourish, both in fandom and in real life.

Support of MXTX Diaspora May will go a long way towards creating a more inclusive and open climate in our shared online spaces, especially for creators who rarely get their voices heard in the English-speaking side of fandom. We aim to uplift the unique voices and stories of our participants, and we encourage anyone who enjoys works from this event to share in the celebration of Chinese culture from Chinese creators.

Any creator with Chinese heritage may participate in MXTX Diaspora May. Event rules and work requirements may be found at the link below.

Please note one major change from last year: all works must be complete at the time of posting. We will not accept works-in-progress into our collection.

Event Rules & FAQ

Our prompts this year are based on 四象, the Four Symbols, also known as the Four Guardians, Four Gods, or Four Auspicious Beasts. You can find an overview of the Four Symbols on wiki.

Sub-prompts for the event will be posted soon.

Are you a creator of Chinese heritage who's ready to sign up for this event? Please fill out the sign-up form below!

You will receive a discord link to the event server after you complete the form. Please make sure to join the discord server to connect with fellow event participants and receive event announcements and updates.

Sign-ups will run from March 17, 2024 to April 9, 2024.

Sign-Up Form

Signal Boost!

Reblogs and signal boosts for this event are welcome from both participants and non-participants. Please feel free to boost on bluesky and twitter as well.

Feel free to check out our collections from previous years. Comments and kudos are always appreciated by creators!

2021 (MDZS only)

2022

2023

We look forward to sharing and celebrating everyone's works from the 2024 event!

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daydreaming-nerd · 2 months

Text

Young Love and Old Money (Cassian x Female! Reader) Part 8

Young Love and Old Money Masterlist

AN: Hey guys I have a feeling no one really liked part 7 so I cut out a couple scenes for this. This chapter might feel like we’re jumping around a lot but I wanted to get you guys to the good stuff that you want in the next couple parts. I do want to take this time to tell you that things are going to get more angsty before they get more fluffy. At least the next two will have ANGST… but please hang in here with me and let me cook I promise you’ll love it in the end. I hope you all stick around. Sending you all love 🥺🖤

Summary: She was the most beautiful woman in Prythian, sister to the High Lord of Night, and now she is the soon-to-be wife of Eris Vanserra. Despite her many titles and her aura of unattainability, Cassian can't help but fall deeply in love with the princess of the Night Court. But will it be enough to stop her impending wedding to a man who is sure to destroy her from the inside out?

Warnings: Sexism, flashback to under the mountain, ANGST

Word Count: 5,609

The smell of sulfur and sweat filled my senses. During the day it was always burning hot and at night the temperature dropped significantly. The hour that it took for my body to adjust to the change in climate everyday was always grueling. When my brother and I first arrived he was able to keep me hidden, offering me his coat or an arm to slink under, but the second Amarantha set eyes on him he was ripped away from me. I hadn’t been allowed to speak to him since.

For the most part I had kept my head down, desperately trying to blend into the crowd of fae. It was all I could do to survive, yet the whispers still followed me.

“The Jewel”

“Rhysand’s sister”

I knew they were all plotting against me, weighing whether or not my brother would have leave to reprimand anyone who dared hurt me. It was only a matter of time until someone decided to test the waters.

I stood among the crowd of fae looking up at the dias before us. The King Of Hybern had come to see how his little experiment had been going and Amarantha had made a point of making a show out of it. She had the most noble subjects lined up first, Kallias, Helion and myself included among the ranks. The rest fell into place behind us.

I looked up to the dias where the High Queen sat, my brother standing dutifully by her side. To my knowledge he had not yet given in to her wishes, but by the bags under his eyes and the paleness of his skin I wondered how much more of her torture he could take.

“As you can see my king, they have bent the knee without much fuss,” Amarantha gestured to those of us kneeling before her. The rocks under my knees cutting my skin. “We have all the High Lord’s but one present with us.”

“Very good,” the king smiled, making his way down the line to survey every High Lord that Amarantha had lured into her domain.

I kept my head down, staring only at the ground before me. The sound of his heavy boots crunching against the gravel was my only indication that he was getting closer to where I was kneeling. The toe of his leather boots came into view before me and then stopped. My heart started to race and my palms became clammy behind my back. A cold hand lifted my chin and my eyes were met with a pair of black soulless ones.

“What about this one?” the king asked, never once taking his eyes off me. By the look on his face I could tell that he ate up every ounce of fear I projected, practically thrived off it.

“That is y/n, sister of Rhysand, High Lord of Night.” Amarantha purred, clearly proud of herself for getting me here.

“I’d like to have her,” he said, pulling me up roughly by my arm. “It’s time I take a wife so that I might have an heir to this mighty kingdom I’ve built.”

Fear courses through my veins as I feel tears start to prick my eyes. The king spoke so casually, like he was picking out a new tapestry. If I had eaten any food the last two days I would’ve hurled onto the stone floor below me. This would be my fate, and there was no one coming to save me.

“She is yours then,” Amarantha said, sipping her wine. “She’s of no use to me. Make an example of her for all I care. Some of her companions have been especially restless these past few evenings.” she uttered, referring to how Helion punched a lesser fae for trying to touch me last night.

“With pleasure,”the king growled, tossing me onto the ground.

The stone and rock sliced open my palms, the pain quick and biting. I had barely any time to think before I felt the king kneeling behind me, his hands beginning to lift my dress.

“NO NO NO!” my screams echoed off the walls falling upon deaf ears.

I tried to crawl away but I was hauled back by a pair of hands, one wrapping around my neck forcing me up.

“WAIT!”

My brother's voice boomed through the room, ricocheting off the walls like glorious night earning gasps from the lesser fae behind us. Thankfully the disruption was enough to stop Hybern in his tracks.

“If you don’t give my sister to him and you promise me her safety I will go to bed with you willingly,” Rhys pleaded and my heart dropped.

My eyes flitted up to find my brother, the High Lord of the Night Court, and the most honorable man I ever knew, kneeling. His hands grasped one of Amarantha’s as she looked down at him with a light in her eyes.

‘No, no, no, no’ was all I could think.

“Without any fuss?”she asked him.

“Yes,” he agreed.

“Rhys no!” I called but Hybern’s grip on my throat tightened.

“For as long as I wish?” she clarified.

“Yes.”

“Consider it done,” she purred.

My eyes flew open, my breath racing so fast I couldn’t keep up with it. A sheen of sweat coated my skin and it took me a moment to recognize where I was.

Home.

Cassian’s breaths rose and fell behind me, his arms around me an impenetrable wall to anyone who might try to take me from him. But it was all too much, and I needed to feel the fresh air. The fresh air I didn’t get to feel for 50 years.

So I wiggled out of his grasp with great difficulty and padded down the hallway to the balcony where he and I normally would take off.

The second the freezing night air hit my bare skin I felt like I could finally breathe again. My nightgown did nothing to keep me warm but I was more than happy to feel the breeze. I looked down upon the sparking lights of Velaris and took it all in. There was a time I thought I would never see my home again, yet here I was. But at what cost?

Images of Rhysand’s health deteriorating under the mountain flashed through my mind. What he had done with Amarantha, so completely unspeakable. The only time I ever saw him perk up was when the Cursebreaker showed up. The one who had saved us all, the one I would later find to be my brother’s mate. I had never met the woman, but I longed to thank her for what she did.

These past few weeks I had been able to escape the nightmares of my time under the mountain. I supposed Cassian chased those monsters away. But as I stood here now I realized that it didn’t matter how far I ran, I could never be free of that stench of sulfur, and I could never outrun my guilt.

“You’re going to catch a cold,” Cassian murmured from the doorway. I didn’t turn back to meet his stare, unwilling to show him the tears in my eyes.

“It’s not that bad,” I laugh subtly wiping away a tear.

His arms wrap around me and I can’t help but lean into his warm chest, as his wings cocoon around me to block out the wind. He’s so warm, how is he always so warm?

“Are you okay?” he asks softly, words rumbling through his chest.

“I just had a nightmare that’s all,” I sigh, resting my hands to where his arms are clasped over my chest. “I thought that I was done having dreams about what happened under the mountain but I guess not. The things I saw? What Rhys did for me?” I pause, taking a deep breath. “Sometimes I think I’ll never really escape that place.”

Cassian turns me slowly in his arms and though I know he wants me to look at him, I can’t stop myself from wrapping my arms around him and burying my face in his bare chest. He holds me even tighter as his wings wrap around me, keeping in the warmth.

“Never again y/n,” he coos, running a hand over my hair. “For as long as I live you will never have to go back there again.”

I can’t help as a tear trickles down my eye at his words. My face burying further into his warm chest, the one place I truly never want to leave. Not when I longed for it for so long. I breathed Cassian in deeply, trying to remind myself I was here, I was home. Rhys was at the townhouse, we were both safe.

“What can I do? How can I help?” Cassian asked me, pressing a kiss to my forehead.

“Just hold me,” I say with a shaky breath letting my hands wander up and down the bare skin of his back.

I felt his chest rumble through my cheek as he let out a small laugh, “I remember when I would’ve done anything to hear you say those words.” he says wings coming in tighter around me.

“You can hold me whenever you want general,” I smile, continuing to rub circles on his lower back.

“Almost whenever I want,” he corrects me quietly.

Reality came back to me in an instant. I knew what he meant. The complexities of marriages, and armies and alliances keeping us from being transparent.

But we would get there soon… Together we would get there.

The next few days my dream follows me.

Every night I dream of my brother on his knees before Amarantha, every night I wake in a cold sweat, every night Cassian soothes me until I fall asleep again.

As I stare at myself in the mirror the bags under my eyes are a reminder that last night the nightmare had found me again. The ladies maids behind me pull my corset tighter, taking away my ability to breathe.

The only saving grace about today is that Eris isn’t here. Apparently he was out on a hunt with his brothers on a hunt and had been gone for three days. I knew it was really a bachelor party, no doubt spent in a seedy brothel, but I didn’t care to correct the autumn court women. How could I when they had the garment so tight I could hardly speak.

Today had been all about fitting me for my wedding dress, one I had yet to see. It was a long process of measuring my arms, legs, and bust. Picking out shades of white that would look best with my complexion, (the debate between ivory and white lasted an hour and was utterly ridiculous). With Eris gone Cassain had spent the day lounging on a sofa, letting his guard down, that is until the corsets came out.

“Prince Eris says he wants her a size smaller for the wedding, keep pulling!” Ordered the older of the two, her gray hair falling from its updo. Gods they had already taken me in a full size.

My hands braced on either side of the mirror as the women yanked with all their strength one last time. It took everything in me not to scream out in pain once more as the fabric constricted around me again. I swore on my life I heard a rib crack.

“That should do it, measure her,” the older one snapped again. I wasn’t sure who this woman was but I didn’t dare argue with her.

A tape measure was slipped around my waist for the millionth time as they checked to see if the dress would fit. I watched in the mirror as the young one held up the measurement, my eyes flitting to Cassian’s worried gaze in the back of the room.

“Perfect, the dress will fit nicely after the alterations on the arms are done,” the older woman reported, putting her tools away. “You are free to go.”

“Can you help me get this off?” I ask trying to reach around trying to find the ribbons but the damned thing is tied so tight I can’t even reach.

“Absolutely not!” the woman cried like I had asked her to murder her first child. “You will need to leave that on till at least the end of the day to train your waist.”

I don’t argue, too scared to hear the woman squawk at me again like she just did. Thankfully the younger one, who I assume is her apprentice, helps me put on my old dress. The rusty colored fabric is looser in the middle now but all I can think about is going home. The sooner I’m home the sooner I can take this damned thing off.

“Ready?” Cassian asks, standing from his spot on the couch.

“More than you know,” I laugh waddling over to him.

He leads me out of the palace and neither of us say a word or even dare to brush hands as we walk down the too quiet hallways. Even when this place is empty it feels like it has eyes everywhere. I swear if I looked up right now there would be a dozen people staring down at me. Normally the second that I step outside I feel like I can breathe, but today that’s not the case. I’m thankful that Cassian feels my urgency to get home shooting us both into the sky as soon as possible.

I knew it was dumb but I never got tired of this part of our day. There was a certain sense of joy in getting to spend these peaceful moments with Cassian. Just him and I, the world soaring by around us with the knowledge that I would be home soon and life could resume as normal.

The second we touch down on the House of Wind balcony I’m rushing to Cassian’s room, well I supposed it was our room now, considering I hadn’t slept in my own in over a week. I hear Cass close the door behind me as I fumble for the ties on my dress desperately wanting to take a full, deep breath.

“Here let me help you,” he pleaded, moving my hands out of his way.

“Thanks,” I breathed as I felt my dress fall to the ground, the impending freedom starting to make my heart race. Cassian’s hands fumbled with the knot at the base of the corset.

“They tied it so tight I can’t break the knot apart,” he said, starting to panic a bit as my breathing quickened.

“Cut it off me Cassian, I can’t breathe,” I rasp trying to pull the top of the corset off my skin a bit to allow my chest to rise and fall normally but it’s useless.

“Shit baby hold on,” he assures me. I hear him draw a dagger from its sheath on his thigh, carefully dragging the tip down the back.

With every single snap of the ribbons I feel my lungs expanding again and the second the torturous garment is on the floor I nearly double over, taking my first full breath.

“Oh my gods,” Cassian curses, his fingertips running down my spine gently, like he might hurt me.

“What? What is it?” I ask looking into the floor length mirror in the corner of the room. In it I can see Cassian looking over my back with furrowed brows.

“They bruised you,” he said, eyes meeting mine in the mirror.

I turn around so I can see myself in the mirror from afar and sure enough a bruise lines my vertebrae where the corset was. No wonder I felt like I heard bones cracking.

“It’s fine, you’ve experienced worse,” I sigh, picking up a discarded robe on the floor and slipping it over my shoulders.

“I’d rather fight a battle than wear a corset,” Cassian snickered and honestly I didn’t blame him.

“At least I’ll never have to wear it again,” I say, tossing the corset aside, taking my anger out on it.

“Does that mean you’ve figured out how you’re gonna handle this?” he asks me tentatively, like he was terrified to either ask or hear my answer.

I turn to meet his eyes, and for a moment I think about taking the easy way out, telling him something that might give him hope. But we had spent so long lying about our feelings for one another, wasting so much time. I wouldn’t lie about this.

“I thought I did, but the last two times I brought up calling off the wedding he-”

“If he touches you again I don’t think I-” he trails off, looking to the side as if he’s trying to compose himself. “Last time it felt like my blood was on fire.”

His admittance nearly brought me to my knees. The anger in his eyes veiled with sadness had me reaching up to cup his face, just needing to feel him.

“I know Cass and I’m so sorry. I know this is hard for you and gods I’m a fucking monster-”

“Fuck y/n,” he shakes his head taking my hands in his. “Don’t you dare apologize. You are trying to save your people and help your court. I’m being a selfish prick.” he says, casting his head down in embarrassment.

My blood boils at the thought that he felt selfish in any sort of way. Even more so that I was the reason.

“No, don't say that,” I order him, squeezing his hands to bring his gaze to mine. “You are the most selfless male I’ve ever known. I love you Cass, and I promise I’m going to figure this out. Because I honestly don’t think I can live without you now. You are everything to me, and so much more. I know I can do this,” I assure him, but really I feel like I’m assuring myself more.

His gaze softens, and a twinge of light flickers in his eyes, one that looks like hope, “I know you can too, My smart, ambitious, caring and beautiful woman,” he praises, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “I am beyond honored to call you my princess.”

“And I’m thankful to call you my general,” I smile, craning my head to read his face. “But mostly I’m just thankful to call you mine.”

“I’ll be yours until my heart stops beating, and maybe even after that if there’s a place we go when our time in this world is through,” he coos, brushing a hair from my face.

“Wherever that place is,” I sigh, pressing my head to his chest and pulling him closer to me. “I’ll follow you there too.”

The days that followed were generally boring. Cassian would fly up to the Illyrian Mountains with Azriel to further prepare the troops for the impending war. Apparently Windhaven had become the main stronghold for all the camps, and of course having hundreds of Illyrians in the same camp was more than rowdy. Cass and Az were constantly breaking up fights and coming home worse for wear. One night Cassian had come home caked in mud and blood, which he assured me wasn’t his own.

That night I demanded that he let me get him cleaned up and after hearing a million phrases along the lines of…

“You’re a princess, you shouldn’t be having to clean me up.”

And

“I don’t want to get you dirty.”

I finally convinced the stubborn general to let me take care of him. I took my time rubbing out the knots in his shoulders, his muscles so hard I could barely feel my hands afterwards. The sounds that fell from his lips were enough motivation to keep going though. He even let me wash his wings, something I knew Illyrians didn’t normally tolerate.

I remembered a day when I was just 10 years old and Rhys was 12. I had instinctively reached out to touch Rhys’ wing and he just about had my head. After that I was terrified to go anywhere near them. I could tell he felt bad about the encounter. One day when I was crying over something our father had yelled at me about he hugged me, and used his wings to cocoon me in. It was enough to bring a smile to my face and ever since then it had become a silly thing he had done whenever I was upset. Gods we hadn’t had a moment like that in years.

Nevertheless, my heart soared when Cassian asked me to wash his wings. I took my time to be extra careful. Grazing over sensitive areas when necessary. But appreciating every breathtaking inch of them. I didn’t miss the way one of his large wings curled over my frame that night while we lay in bed, almost as if it was its own sentient being thanking me.

“So last family dinner huh?” Azriel said as Cassian and I walked into the living room of the townhouse.

The words rolling off the Shadowsinger's tongue was enough to make my stomach hurt again. Rhysand had asked for us all to come together one last time for dinner as a family before I married Eris and moved to the Autumn Court.

Cassian hadn’t asked for updates surrounding the nuptials that would be taking place in two days time, which I was thankful for, considering I had none to give. I knew that tonight he would ask for answers, I could tell by the quiet demeanor he had all day. But I would cross that bridge when I came to it.

“Yeah I guess so,” I replied to Az as the three of us made our way to the long dining room table.

I took my usual place at the end of the table next to Azriel, Cassian sat across from me, Mor next to him and then Amren. Rhys, who always sat at the head of the table, arrived late adjusting the lapels of his jacket.

“Forgive me for being late,” he apologized, taking his seat. “I was just reading the latest reports and well-” he trailed off, not wanting to bring it up.

“What is it?” Amren demanded, leaving no room for him to avoid the question.

“Hybern’s forces are growing and there are rumors that the spring court will stand with him,” Rhys admits and my stomach plummets.

My eyes lift to Cassian’s and find him already looking at me. Worry passes between us. If the spring court has chosen to side with Hybern then we are truly outnumbered, especially if Tarquin refuses to fight. His foot brushes against mine under the table, the only comfort he’s able to offer me at the moment.

“Why would Tamlin do that?” I ask, breaking the silence.

“His father was one of Hybern’s biggest allies in the first war. My guess is that he’s trying to follow in his fathers footsteps,” Rhys turns to me.

“Wouldn’t surprise me,” Mor scoffed, sipping her wine.

The topic of conversation was dropped and dinner continued as usual. The boys swapped fond memories and fought over who was the true winner of last year's snowball fight. All the while I couldn’t shake what my brother had said, if the rumors are true and Tamlin joins Hybern what does that mean for the rest of us? For Cassian, who would no doubt be on the front lines.

I lift my eyes to see him and just like always I nearly have my breath taken away. He had one arm thrown over the back of his chair, the other holding a glass of wine while he laughed at something my brother had said. Cassian was so handsome when he was like this, at ease, laughing with his family. I had yet to see him in battle, but I knew that seeing him that way would be just as knee wobbling. If he was gone then what?

I looked at my family around me, the home my brother had built and fought so hard to protect. The warmth that lived here, it was something that couldn’t be put into words. It could all be gone in seconds, and then everything my brother sacrificed under the mountain? It would’ve been for nothing.

“Well I have to get back and finish some paperwork,” Rhys said, tossing his napkin on the table.

“I have some mission reports to wrap up,” Azriel said, also throwing in the metaphorical towel.

We all stood, our chairs sliding across the wooden floor with a squeak, my eyes found Cassian and I could sense that he wanted to speak to me.

“And you dear sister need to get some beauty sleep for the big day,” Rhysand said, placing a kiss to the top of my head.

I embraced him warmly, taking in every part of him. I knew it wouldn’t be the last time I saw him, or the last time I saw any of them. But with the wedding and war, everything seemed so much more precious now.

We all moseyed over to the front door where I said goodbye to Mor and Amren, as they wouldn’t be attending the wedding. I gave the townhouse one last look, taking in the warm fae lights, the plush carpets and the love that the place offered. I hoped it would be a bright light for me to remember when I would no longer be able to visit. The door closed and I swear a part of me was locked behind it.

“I’ll see you two at home,” Azriel said, he didn’t even give us a chance to say goodbye before shooting off into the sky.

“Walk with me?” I asked Cassian, cocking an eyebrow at him.

“Look at that you’re taking me for walks now, what a responsible dog owner,” Cassian smirks referring to the dog comment made nearly a month ago.

“You’re never going to let me live that down are you?” I laugh bumping into his arm as he holds open the front gate for me.

“Never baby, never,” he laughs

Velrais was beautiful no matter what time of day or what season it was. But summer nights in Velaris had to be my favorite. While growing up I hardly ever got to leave the house, if I did it was when Rhys would sneak me out on night time flights. Often going into the city for sweets or ice cream.

Tonight was perfect. The temperature was just warm enough to merit the lilac satin I was wearing, while the breeze coming off the Sidra kept us both cool. It seemed that the whole town thought it was a perfect night. Many people opted to take their dinner and drinks on outdoor patios, a small band had brought their instruments out for children and couples to dance to, and there was a general scene of merriment everywhere. This was home.

As we got closer to the river and further from the music the breeze picked up and Cassian’s wing shot out to create a shield for me. My mouth was halfway open poised to say something when a small cry came out from behind me. Cassian whipped around to assess the danger even faster than I could, but as we both turned around all we found was a little girl, about 5 years old, running toward me, doll in hand.

“Princess! Princess!” she squealed in excitement as she came to a halt at my feet, tugging on my dress.

“Celia!” shouted a woman running towards us. By the matching black hair and blue eyes I could tell it was her mother. “Get back here this instant!”

“Don’t worry she’s alright,” I smiled towards the mother trying to offer her some reassurance.

The woman quickly halted in her tracks upon seeing my face and bent at the waist, “Your highness please forgive me,” she said quickly.

“Please, please, no bowing,” I laughed, placing my hand on her shoulder.

“You’ll have to forgive this one, she’s much faster than me,” the woman laughed nervously.

I looked down to see the little girl looking up at me with stars in her blue eyes, I bent over to pick her up using all my strength to do so.

“Sounds like she’s going to be a little warrior then,” I laugh. “You should meet my friend Cassian, he’s the general.” I say to Celia hiking her up on my hip to see Cass.

He tucked his wings in tight and wiggled his fingers at the little girl, trying to seem less intimidating. She hesitantly waved back unsure of him and then turned her gaze to me.

“You’re pretty,” she smiled, one of her tiny hands grazing my nose for emphasis.

“Why thank you. I think you’re very pretty as well Celia,” I smile at her cherub cheeks. “Tell me about your dolly,” I say looking at the porcelain doll in her arms.

“Her name's Poppy, she’s a princess too,” Celia stated proudly holding the doll up so I could see her more clearly.

“Well it’s lovely to meet you princess Poppy,” I nodded, shaking the doll's dainty hand.

“Come on Celia it’s time for bed darling,” her mother laughed.

I placed the girl down on the ground and watched her run to grab onto her mothers legs.

“Thank you princess,” she nodded to me. “General,” she nodded to Cassian.

“Of course,” I said, waving goodbye.

As I watched the two walk away hand in hand I couldn’t help but notice the warmth there and the love. At that moment I found myself missing my own mother. I looked out over the river, the calm black water drifting by as the stars sparkled over Ramiel. The distant sounds of children laughing, adults singing, music playing.

I couldn’t leave this place to chance. This beautiful home that Rhys had built, the shops and restaurants. The people who lived here peacefully and without worry.

I wouldn’t let people like Celia and her mother suffer from my selfishness.

I turned to find Cassian already staring at me expectantly, as is if he was on edge waiting for me to say something. There was a wariness to his stare that told me he knew what came next.

“Cass we need to talk,” I sigh.

I see his metaphorical hackles raise as he speaks, “No y/n, absolutely not. I won’t lose you.” he declared the heat of the argument already rising.

“There isn’t a way out Cassian. I won’t put my people at risk like that. Think of the little girls like Celia. I can’t just sit by and watch her go to the slaughter because I didn’t want to marry someone.” I argue, gesturing to the city behind him. “And what about you? Huh? You heard what Rhys said. If Tamlin is involved and we still don’t have Tarquin’s support, then where does that leave you? On the frontlines. If something were to happen to you and I had to live with the thought that I could’ve done something to stop it but didn’t, I couldn’t live with myself.”

Cassian’s fists clenched at his sides, “I would rather live with you for however long I have left then be without you y/n.” he pleaded.

His words hit like a blow as I felt tears pricking my eyes. This was the end. This beautiful, wonderful thing I had found that made me feel so alive, so loved. It was ending, and it was dying like a star. Burning bright and exploding, taking everything in its path.

“And what about them?” I gestured to the city in the distance as a cheer sounded from one of the taverns. “If I don’t marry Eris that means I’m okay with their blood on my hands Cassian. What does that make me? A monster.”

His jaw ticked, “So I’m just supposed to sit here and watch you marry him? Watch him put his hands all over you? Watch you have his fucking children!” he roared, eyes only softening when I flinched away from him.

“I’m sorry Cass, but I don’t know what to do anymore. All I know is that I want to save my people, and this is the only way I know how. The safest.” I say calmly.

Cassian steps back and looks over the water, like he can’t even face me and I don’t blame him. He takes a deep breath, seemingly collecting his thoughts and then he speaks for the last time.

“He is going to kill you from the inside out y/n. You’re going to become just like that dog in his kennels,” he grits, unable to meet my gaze. “And I won’t stick around to watch.”

He walks past me, wings nearly knocking me over.

“Cassian please,” I cry trying to reach out for him, but he’s airborne and flying gods know where before my fingers can graze his leathers.

I stand there watching him disappear into the night sky. Once he’s out of sight I swear I hear a roar so loud it rattles Ramiel. I’m left there on the edge of the river with no one but myself to wipe my tears. And I suppose I deserve that, I should’ve never kissed Cassian that night after the ball, should’ve never gone to bed with him. Should’ve never fallen in love with him.

Turns out it didn’t matter what I did, I was a monster either way.

And I sat and thought about that for a long time.

Part 9

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