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faeriekit · 17 days

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Feet on the Ground

loose phic phight fill for @oldfashionedbattlehymn

warnings for: murder attempt, discussion of child death

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Danny wakes up in a garbage bag.

It isn’t as gross as it sounds. Danny’s the only thing in there, and it’s not like the lack of air is going to kill him; he could rip his way out, but honestly, going intangible is just as effective and twice as easy.

And, of course, once he’s phased his way out of the dumpster behind the gas station, Danny is very, very grateful that he didn’t even try. Everything else in there is….eeugh. He shivers.

Well. It’s got to be early morning now—it’s dark. There’s no other cars on the highway. Even the gas station itself is closed, and the stars have already lost their spark.

Time to head home.

Danny wakes up behind the gas station. Again.

…Okay?

The first time, Danny had just assumed he’d fallen asleep somewhere weird while flying around the neighborhood, but a second time is a pattern. It’s definitely not his fault this time either, because there’s no way he would have duct taped his arms and legs together or slapped a gag on his mouth.

That’s kind of. Ominous.

Danny frees himself of the garbage bag first— and thank goodness he doesn’t have to breathe— he floats himself out of the bag and the dumpster, which had…thankfully been given a good scrubbing since last time? There’s some other trash, apparently, but nothing sharp enough to cut through his durable, tape-based bonds. It takes some finagling and some eye lasers for Danny to finally get his arms free.

And. Hoo Boy. There’s no more liberating a feeling than peeling tape off your mouth, even if your mouth skin kind of comes off with it and you bleed a little. But it’s fine! It’s green, which means it’ll heal.

Fabulous. Danny zooms off invisibly into the night, more than willing to put the night behind him.

…Okay, the third time is what makes it more than a coincidence.

Danny shucks out of the bruise-tight ropes around his wrists, torso, knees, and legs, spits out his gag, and flies home. He finally has to give into the inevitable, and attempts the last resort:

“Jazz?” he whispers, slowly rocking his sister in her bed. Jazz mumbles in her sleep.

“Jaaaaazzy…” Danny tries again, trying not to look either too spooky or too imposing. Jazz’s reflexes are such that—

The laser she keeps under her pillow goes off. Danny loses a few millimeters of hair, which means that her aim is getting better.

He doesn’t have any trouble seeing in the dark (or, uh, not anymore, anyway), but it’s easy to see Jazz’s sleepy squint as she pulls herself somewhat upright. More like a shrimp with scoliosis, but, well. You know.

“Whuh,” Jazz asks. “...Danny?”

“Hey,” Danny whispers, a ghost at her bedside. Jazz grunts. “Uh. What does it mean when you keep waking up in a trash bag behind the gas station?”

Jazz blinks. Jazz rubs her eyes. Jazz blinks again, looking more sleepy than coherent but at least somewhat aware of her surroundings.

“Garbage bag?” Jazz asks blearily. “You were in a garbage bag?”

“Yeah,” Danny whispers back. “My legs were tied down?”

“...Danny, were you murdered?”

Danny stops.

“Huh?” says Danny.

“So, if you look here,” Tucker points out, finger not quite touching the glass of his CRT monitor, “That’s when Danny gets murdered.”

There is a collective eeew from the assembled viewers— Jazz, Sam, and Danny, all crowded in Tucker’s room.

“Yeah, Tucker agrees. The light from the black-and-white footage flashes in the reflection of his glasses. “Here’s where he’s tossed in…there. And this is when they tossed him in the dumpster.”

There’s no sound on the gas station surveillance footage, but Danny imagines that his body clanged on the way in. What the hell. Danny got murdered behind a gas station, and he didn’t even notice?!

They watch the archived footage of a Ford F-150 driving off the property, and then Danny’s dead body being unceremoniously tossed in a dumpster. It’s kind of surreal. No one had noticed. There was no one to report the crime committed.

“I can’t believe that guy just clocked you over the head, like that,” Sam points out. “It’s just a regular car jack. It shouldn’t have gotten you in the first place.”

The observation isn’t appreciated.

“Be nice! My brother was just murdered,” Jazz scolds. Danny doesn’t think she sounds as offended as she should be. “Either way, it’s certainly an attempted murder, if not a successful one. We have to do something.”

“…Can’t we just call the cops?” Tucker asks, turning away from the computer. “I mean. Look. That’s proof. We have proof right here.”

Sure enough, there is footage. Right there. There’s Danny’s murder, in 240p black and white.

“Where’s the body?” Sam asks dryly, and. Uh. That’s a problem they’ll have to solve.

Everyone looks at everyone else. No one has a good solution.

“…Do we have to do this?” Tucker realizes at the same second as the rest of them.

Jazz looks at Danny. Danny looks at Sam. Sam looks at Tucker.

Tucker stares back at them, entirely unenthused with the conclusion they’ve come to.

“…Okay then,” Jazz exhales. “How do you want to do this?”

Sam ends up on top of the gas station, a cell phone in her hand.

Tucker, PDA in hand, sits in Jazz’s passenger seat. The camera feed is ongoing and recording for posterity.

Jazz taps her fingers on the wheel of her car. There isn’t anywhere better to hide than down the road and around the corner, so she does, hoping that they’re on the other end of the road from whoever’s killing her brother every night.

Danny is, of course, wandering through the neighborhood.

Losing her baby brother—on purpose—is the worst thing Jazz can imagine. She feels sick. She wants to throw him into the car and speed away, and break every speed limit law in the county on her way out. She wants to pack him in bubble wrap and ship him expedited to France.

But she does leave her brother alone. She lets Tucker look over the footage as Danny roams around town, just as unaware and unsuspecting as his last few outings.

Tucker sees the man first.

He bolts upright, eyes on his PDA. “Jazz.”

Her head whips around. They watch, silently, as someone approaches Danny’s lone figure on the doorstep outside the gas station.

They can’t hear anything. That’s the scariest part.

“Call,” Jazz demands. Tucker does.

Doubtlessly, on the roof of the gas station, Sam is dialing too.

So. Danny knows this guy.

And. Uh. It’s kind of embarrassing; he’d asked if Danny was okay walking home alone at night a few hours before his dumpster wake-up call, and Danny had said it was fine.

Apparently, no, it wasn’t fine. That being said, Danny hadn’t been expecting a guy in a button-up and khakis to be the guy murdering him on the down low. He kind of looks like the dude who sells you televisions and burner phones at a Wal-Mart.

The guy comes all the way over to where Danny is sitting on the thin concrete step of the gas station. His breath fogs up from the weather and his eyes rake over Danny, up and down; down and up.

“Hey,” he says, looking all the world like any other concerned citizen. Danny’s heart throbs. “It’s cold outside. You need a ride back to town?”

“…No,” says Danny, who doesn’t.

“Your mom okay with you comin’ home late by yourself?” the man asks nervously, hands going to his hair.

Danny thinks about how many times he’s woken up in the dumpster. He thinks about seeing his own body on the camera tape. Prone. Dead.

“You still keep a car jack in your passenger seat?” Danny asks instead.

The man freezes. An attempted murderer he might be, but he’s not exactly an Oscar-winning actor. “What?”

“The car jack,” Danny repeats. He doesn’t know if he’s mad the man keeps targeting him, or whether he’s grateful Danny’s the only one who’s died so far. “It’s got a lot of sharp corners. They hurt, you know.”

The man…carefully laughs the statement off, but he looks. Nervous.

Danny doesn’t really need to confront him; he only has to stall long enough that Tucker or Sam can call the cops, so that they can see this man’s face and get him on the record. But.

There’s a part of Danny…

The man looks so human. Flush with blood. Solid enough to break. Fragile enough to be made broken.

Danny still resents being made dead. This man didn’t kill Danny—not in any way that mattered, but he’s an easy target.

He doesn’t breathe. The man watches a boy sit in the shadows of a building where he’s been dumping bodies, and Danny can taste his fear.

“It hurt a lot,” Danny says, and he isn’t referring to waking up in the bags every couple of mornings in the last few weeks. “It hurt so much. I was screaming.”

The man is silent.

“Do you like to hear the screaming?” Danny asks, suddenly curious. Did he care, if Danny had screamed, or if he had been too unaware to notice he was dying? Would he have cared, if there were others more breakable than Danny that he had hurt?

He doesn’t answer.

“I don’t like it,” Danny confesses. In a horrible way, it’s easy to tell his would-be murderer about his death—unlike Tucker or Sam, who witnessed it, or Jazz, who loves him, this man can’t be affected by Danny’s take on his own death. In fact, if he is hurt by the thought of Danny’s death…good. It’s better if he is. If there is remorse in him. “I don’t like to hear screaming. I screamed for so long, and so loud. It felt like forever.”

The man’s hands curl. He steps back.

Danny can’t help but to frown. If he leaves, the whole point of calling the cops will be for nothing, and he’ll be warier of coming back to where Danny’s body was dropped. “Where are you going?”

The man takes another step back. Danny rockets upright. He’s on his feet in seconds. “Weren’t you here for me?” Danny asks, genuinely confused, arms outstretched. “We’re here. You dumped me here over and over again.”

“Shut up,” the man snaps, startling the both of them with his volume. “He—you’re not real. You’re… Be quiet. I have real things to get done tonight!”

Danny’s dead heart throbs. Is there another dead kid? Did Danny let another kid get killed in Danny’s place? “Do you?”

The man loses his voice.

“We’re already here,” Danny points out. He steps closer—closer to the truck that drove his dead body around town, further from the dumpster where his body had been dropped. The disposal hadn’t been a funeral, but it’s closer than anything Danny’s ever had. “You’re here. I’m here. Aren’t you here for me?”

A choked breath. Danny gets closer. The ectoplasm in his skin is too warm and too cold—but he has no idea what he looks like from the outside. Is he glowing? Is he see-through? Does he just look like any other dead kid: a little too cold, a little too pale?

They’re eye to increasingly shorter eye. Up close, the man just looks like any other guy. Shaved in the face. Wrinkles around his eyes. A nose. A mouth.

Danny’s not afraid of him. His head tilts. “You’ve already killed me three times. What are you going to do now? I’ll just come back again. I won’t even notice. I died. I know what you look like—I know how to find you. It’ll be easy.”

The man’s pupils dilate—

And then there’re hands on Danny’s neck. And. It’s kind of painful, but Danny doesn’t have to breathe. So. He just kind of…pretends to be hurt?

He’s meant to be stalling for time. The cops are coming. All he needs is time.

So Danny makes some somewhat dramatic sounds and kicks out with his feet, because a fight lasts longer than a passive victim. He lands a hit to the man’s stomach, and another to his chest—he doesn’t drop Danny the way Danny might have expected, but Danny isn’t going to run out of air, so this can last forever until the man lets go. Or does something.

“Stop— coming— back,” the man snarls, and suddenly sounds nothing like the dudes who man the tech counter at the Walmart. “I got you— you should be gone!”

Danny is gone. But he’s also here. And he’s also been gone for a very long time, and he’s also getting choked out by a guy in a gas station parking lot. It’s been a rough few hours of waiting for this dude. He might as well make it worth it.

So maybe his body turns a little translucent. Just a little. Just enough to see the streetlight through his skin, probably, and the hazy road behind them.

Getting thrown to the concrete hurts, but, you know, not as badly as getting tossed into a wall by Skulker on a rampage. Danny’s barely going to be bruised after this.

The guy runs to his car, and Danny frowns, scrambling back up, and, wait. Wouldn’t having bruises be better? As evidence? They better not heal too quickly, or else that’ll be it of his physical proof.

“Where are you going?” Danny asks, more perplexed and angry than anything. Isn’t he supposed to try to kill the witness??

But the guy hauls butt into the cab of his truck— and then the lights go on and the tires start spinning, the engine roaring to life.

If Danny wasn’t actively on camera at the moment, it would be easy to fly after the car. As it is, he’s pretty fast, but he’s not quite quick enough on his feet to chase after a pickup truck careening down the highway in the dark.

The man’s gone in a few seconds. Honestly, Danny’s kind of annoyed about the whole thing. It would have been nice for it to work.

Sam climbs down from the roof of the gas station, phone in her hand. “No, I just— he choked out my friend and drove off! Send someone over here already!! You— do you need the license plate again?!”

Danny just looks at her. Sam covers her phone’s mic with a hand: “They’re saying five minutes,” she mouths.

Great.

Danny hunkers down, throat bruising, and Sam sits down beside him. They wait.

By the time the cops pull into the gas station, the guy’s more than out of sight. Sam’s the one who takes the lead on dictating their story. Danny sort of doesn’t realize how out of it he is until someone tries to throw a shock blanket on him. He almost hits the guy square in the face— and Sam’s the one who has to catch his arm.

Uh. Oops.

Jazz and Tucker roll in, hardly pretending to have not been nearby; Jazz wraps her arms around him, and Danny lets her.

Sue him. It’s late. He’s tired.

“...And I can’t believe you weren’t able to get down the road in time to catch a man who choked out my best friend,” Sam snaps, which, aw! Danny’s a best friend. The cop she’s attempting to strip down for parts looks less sympathetic than Danny feels. “You’re barely a ten minute drive up the highway! What were you doing, meandering?”

“No,” the cop grits out, eying Sam like a bug on his shoe. “We were telling the officer down the road what to look out for.”

Apparently, jamming the gas down hard enough to bust your speedometer gets you pulled over at the speed check.

The night is over before Danny knows it. Someone gets him to the station, someone takes photos of his bruises and takes his statement. Someone calls Mom and Dad and then Danny’s in the GAV, half asleep and exhausted beyond belief.

He falls asleep on the couch, Mom’s fingers in his hair.

It’s not like the Amity Park police tell them anything, but Jazz is the one who finds the report on the news.

She records it on the TiVo for him.

“Eustace Miller, from Tennessee,” Sam reads aloud, knee to knee on his couch. Tucker adjusts his glasses. “Looks like he was already on the run.”

“Or as good as,” Tucker agrees quietly. “Looks like they’re pinning a couple of cold cases to him.”

They watch; there’s pictures of him from his hometown, and from the towns he would visit on his joyride across the country. There were pictures of his family. There were pictures of kids Danny would never meet: kids who were already dead, and who had been for months. Years, even.

They’d looked so happy in the photos from when they were alive.

…Danny could relate.

Jazz turns the report off that night, thumb on the power button. And that’s all it takes for Danny to stop waking up in a trash bag.

#phic phight 2024 #tw murder #tw child murder #tw death #I think that covers it???#wait #tw choking #there we go #Danny works out some of his feelings about dying young #danny phantom #phic phight #this is very quickly being edited and posted on lunch break please bear w/ me #faer fic #sam manson #tucker foley #jazz fenton

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pretty-little-mind33 · 18 days

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The Alcott

James Potter x fem!reader

Summary: You love James but he loves Lily. It's simple… until it isn't so simple anymore.

Genre: Angst (happy ending)

Warnings: James x Lily mentioned, "unrequited" love, idiots in love, swearing, violence, harassment, crying, arguments, protective!james, jealous!james, stupid!james, Lily isn't a villain (pls i love her!)

You know two things for certain—

You're head over heels in love with James.

He's head over heels in love with Lily.

In the beginning, you saw the entire situation as some messy game of cat & mouse, and you'd been determined to win. You had foolishly been convinced Lily didn't like James in any way. It never seemed like she had any interest in him.

And James? Well, James adored your attention. It very clearly sparked his already enormous ego, and you couldn't deny you liked the thrill of him liking your shameless flirting.

It was fun and harmless while it lasted and it seemed like there was a mutual understanding to both pretend you didn't notice the stolen looks, or shy smiles, the feel of his hand brushing yours in the hallway, the small written notes in class, or the letters he'd sent over the summer…and of course the present he'd left you for your 17th birthday; a small, necklace with expensive tiny rubies.

It felt surreal.

It was surreal because the moment you find out James has been dating Lily since Christmas break you feel sick. "Lily? Lily Evans?" You ask your friends, almost choking on your scrambled eggs.

"Yeah. Apparently, Marls said that Lily kissed James in the Common Room after his practice yesterday," Mary says, immersed in the gossip, "Either way, I heard from Sirius Black that they've been inseparable ever since New Year. He says it's rather annoying."

You hear her muffle a yelp as Pandora kicks her shin from underneath the table. "Oh, I forgot you like James, Y/n," Mary says and sends you a sympathetic smile.

You feel crushed inside but you force a smile, "Me? Oh, please. I can find so much better than Potter. He was just a silly crush," you swat your hand in the air, "I'm already over him," you say.

Pandora doesn't look like she believes you but she doesn't say anything. Instead, she and Mary let you sit in silence and pretend not to know you're unintentionally staring at James and his friends from across the dining hall.

James is laughing and your chest tightens. He seems over the moon as he has his arm around Lily's shoulder and she looks at him with a look you've never seen her wear. She actually looks like she's enjoying his jokes now.

You can't help yourself as you start to compare yourself to Lily. You chew on your nails as you start to remember every insecurity you've ever had and you feel miserable.

You aren't really supposed to feel miserable, you reason, deep down you knew James wasn't yours. He was always hers. He was just waiting for her to claim him and you were a silly distraction.

You pry your eyes away from James and Lily when he stands up. You think he sees you for a moment because you can feel his stare. However, when you lift your head and make eye contact for a moment. James's expression is unreadable and he's the first to turn his head. He grins and continues his conversation with Lily as you're frozen in time.

"Y/n?" Mary calls your name and time resumes.

"Yeah?" you whisper, composing yourself and crossing your arms on the table.

"Here," she hands you a crumpled-up note and points behind her, "It's from Danny."

You take the note from Mary and tilt your head to see Danny Dulac staring at you from the Slytherin table. Danny Dulac is the Captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team. He's tall, extremely smart, and has the silkiest blond hair.

Danny sends you a smile and motions toward the paper in your hand which reads:

~I heard Potter is out of the picture now. Does this mean you're free for a Butterbeer on Saturday?~

You think it's a joke but when you look up, Danny looks dead serious. Mary leans over and when she sees the note over your shoulder, she exclaims, "Oh my Merlin, Danny just asked you out!" she pushes on your shoulder excitedly and you shush her.

You stare at the cursive and your mind races. You spent so many years liking James that it had never even crossed your mind that you could like other boys, or that they could like you.

"Well? Answer him," Pandora insists and makes a little circle motion with her hand.

Once you find a quill from inside your book-bag, you reply with a small, enthusiastic,

~Yes!~

* * *

Over the week leading up to Saturday, you try to pretend James and Lily don't exist.

It's much easier than you imagined because you have Danny's to pay attention to now. Turns out Danny Dulac is a gentleman who carries your books in the hallway and compliments you whenever he has the chance.

You don't feel the loss you felt when you found out James and Lily kissed—at least not when James isn't staring at you from afar. You knew James wasn't that fond of Danny—being the Gryffindor Quidditch Captain and all—but ever since Danny has been hanging around you it seems like James can't stand the guy.

It's confusing, especially because James hasn't made any attempts to talk to you since his relationship with Lily became public.

You sit in Potions next to Marlene when Remus Lupin comes up to you. "Y/n?" he asks in a quiet voice and you look up at him, "It's from James," he shows you the note in his hand and you stare at it like it's one of James's stupid pranks.

You thank Remus and open it anyway,

~Meet me at Hogsmeade on Saturday?~

Without a word to Remus, you scribble an answer,

~I have a date~

You fold the torn parchment and hand it to Remus. You watch him walk back to James and Sirius. When James sees you've actually written him a response, his eyes sparkle and he hides a smile. However, his smile disappears once he reads the contents and you’ve never seen him so perturbed.

He starts to scribble on the paper and, with his eyes focused on you, hands it to Remus.

Remus shakes his head adamantly so James then tries to hand it to Sirius, who also shakes his head. James's last option is Peter but the poor boy has fallen asleep on his Potions book.

You smile. Your attention is pulled from them when you see Danny next to you.

"Hi," he smiles.

"Hi," you answer and the last thing that could possibly be on your mind is James Potter.

* * *

You pull at the hem of your dress and adjust your jumper nervously. Danny has just made the same joke he made a few hours earlier and you really try and force out another chuckle.

"You ok? You look a little warm," Danny says foam from the beer lays across his upper lip.

You blink. You like him, you try to convince yourself, he's smart and super handsome and he carries your books for Merlin's sake—

"I'm completely fine, continue?" you smile sweetly and lean in towards him from across the table. You want to look interested.

Danny smirks and looks around. "Wanna go somewhere quieter?"

No, you want to say. You won't want to go anywhere with him because that means you have to listen to him some more and he's oh so boring.

Only you don't say no, you say, "Sure," and allow him to take your hand.

Once you've found a small, empty corner of The Three Broomsticks, Danny pushes you to the wall. His hand is resting near your forehead and he leans in as if he wants to kiss you. You panic and push him away, "Oh I'm super warm actually. One second," You turn and your hands tremble as you pull your jumper over your head and let it slide down your arms.

Danny looks a little annoyed when you turn back around. His eyes lower and he frowns, "Pretty' necklace. Who's it from?" he points out and you look down.

James's necklace.

"Oh. A friend," you say dismissively and rush to unclip it as it falls into your hands.

"A friend huh?" Danny crosses his arms, "Is it from Potter?"

You feel your cheeks become warm. Why would he ask that? You aren't sure what expression you're making but it cannot be a normal one.

"No!" you say and Danny yanks the necklace from your hands. Your heart sinks as you try to take it back instantly.

Danny holds it away from you, making you feel small, "You can't keep this."

"Why not? It's mine," your lip wobbles.

"Because it's from him and he has a girl. It's completely inappropriate."

You lower your arm and your heart hurts. Is Danny right? Maybe you have thrown away the necklace as soon as you found out about James and Lily? Why are you still wearing it?

"Plus, if you want to be my girl you'll throw away this dirty necklace," Danny snarls as he runs his fingers along the silver chain. You freeze.

"What?" you can't believe he just said that.

"What?" Danny counters. He seems confused at your sudden shift in tone.

"I am not your girl. I don't want to be your girl."

"Bullshit, Y/n," Danny rolls his eyes and stuffs your necklace into his robe. He walks closer, this time menacingly, and you feel stuck. Your hands press against the wall and you look at him. Your eyes brim with tears, mostly in hopes he'll leave you alone when he sees them. Danny just raises his hand and harshly brushes them away with his thumb, "You should feel lucky someone like me even likes you," he smirks.

You feel like someone just punched you in the gut and you stutter, "Get away from me."

"No," Danny says and leans in. Only, he's suddenly ripped from in front of you and you inhale, surprised. You blink as Danny stumbles when someone seizes his collar. You feel someone else's hand on your shoulder and you turn to look at them.

"Are you okay?" Kind, considerate, Lily Evans whispers, concerned at your tears.

"What the fuck?!" You hear a loud crack as Danny groans in pain. You look towards the sound and see James Potter take Danny's collar again, his knuckles already stained a little crimson. James looks furious.

"Did you hurt her?" he hisses and shakes Danny like it's nothing.

Lily soothes you by rubbing your shoulders and she calls James's name as a warning.

"Hurt her? We're on a date, Potter. She wanted it," Danny snarls and you wince. You didn't want it. James looks at you and Lily from the corner of his eye and his heart breaks when he sees your expression.

"Fucking nutter!" James exclaims and punches Danny in the stomach. This time, Danny doesn't just take the hit. Instead, he tackles James and they trip onto the ground. Lily screams at her boyfriend and you scream Danny's name.

You try to pull Danny away from James but it's only when you hear a loud crack as Danny lands on his left thigh that he pauses. You gasp, covering your mouth with your hands, which makes James pause and he looks confused as Danny pulls out your necklace from inside his robe. The small rubies have shattered and when Danny opens his hand, the chain and the shards drop onto the ground.

He stands and taunts, "Some gift, huh Potter?" James's expression falls.

You crouch down, scooping the, now completely ruined, necklace into your palms. You try to hold in your tears and the world around you turns silent as you look at your present. "Shut it," You hear Lily snap at Danny and she doesn't hesitate to help you stand. Her arm holds yours and she looks almost as furious as James.

"She's crying because of you, you prat! Does that make you feel good about yourself, huh?" James points out with frustration.

You know he means well, but it doesn't help that he basically announced to the entirety of The Three Broomsticks that you're in tears. You sniffle and look at Danny. His blue eyes shine with a mixture of embarrassment, pity, shame, and resentment.

"Whatever," he just snarls, "She's not worth it. She never was," he says as if you aren't standing directly in front of him.

"You piece of shit," James hisses but Lily interrupts him.

"James. No," she scolds like a mother and James whips his head around to glare at her.

Instead, he makes eye contact with you and his face falls once more. His posture softens and, to your surprise, he doesn't move when Danny bumps his shoulder to leave.

"I'm sorry, James," you say sadly, still holding his present.

He looks confused and tilts his head as walks closer to you. Murmurs drift around the room as students continue to watch the scene. Lily looks around, seemingly just as uncomfortable as you, and James does the same.

He gestures to the door and raises one of his eyebrows in a question. Lily nods. Quietly, you follow them outside and as you walk.

James and Lily somehow find their way next to each other. It's almost automatic for them and your heart breaks. Lily whispers into James's ear and his eyes glance at you. You look away, insecurities burning your chest.

"You okay?" Lily asks, turning around when you start to fall back behind them.

You hum and pick at your nails, "I- I'm gonna go," you mutter. Lily wants to protest but, without a word, you stand before James and let the broken necklace fall into his open hands.

He looks at you with wide eyes and then clutches his hand around the necklace so fiercely. He shakes his head and your name leaves his lip but you don't wait for him to continue. You turn to leave—what can he possibly say now that will make you feel better?

"I like you!" His voice resonates in your ears as your breath leaves you. You turn around, almost hurting your neck. You couldn't have heard him correctly. Your eyes bounce to Lily but she doesn't look hurt. She doesn't even look surprised. Instead, she sends you a small smile.

You blink, "Pardon me?" You walk a little closer to James, "You like me? As in romantically or as a person?"

James starts to stutter, "R-romantically."

You look towards Lily, bewildered. "But, you're dating her!"

James turns to look at Lily just as she speaks up, "No, we broke up. We didn't even last more than maybe two weeks, Y/n." She laughs, "You two should really talk—"

James nods at her and then turns to you once more. His arms stretch out as if he wants to make sure you won't run away from him. "Please, Y/n. Hear me out." He sounds so small and for someone with such a big personality, you're suddenly afraid.

You find yourself nodding slowly and let him lead you behind The Three Broomsticks. James lets you lean against the wall and then he nervously runs a hand in his hair.

"James, I don't understand," you say quietly, "You like Lily. You have always liked Lily—I was always just some girl you entertained because you liked the attention. I've always known that."

James's face falls as he listens to you and you see his hands hesitate towards you. "You were never just some girl," he says adamantly.

You frown, "Yes, I was."

"No, you weren't," His voice rises and you press your back against the wall, staring at him as he explains, "Listen, I ended things with Lily. It was my decision. I realized I couldn't stay with her and do you want to know why?"

You shake your head instantly but he tells you anyway.

"Because she wasn't you. She didn't make me feel as full as you always do. When she laughed, I never had the same butterflies in my stomach," James pressed his hand to his chest, "My heart didn't feel compressed in my chest whenever I looked at her. I didn't blush at her compliments like I would yours, or want her to smile only because of me. Just like you used to. Bloody hell, I thought of you when I kissed her."

Your entire body feels warm as embarrassment washes over you. "Why did you then?" your voice breaks, "Why did you put me through that? You knew what I felt for you and you chose Lily anyway. How can I trust you now, James?"

You watch his lip tremble as he looks at you with his doleful brown eyes and your heart shatters for the fourth time this hour alone.

"I don't know," he buries his face in his hands, making an exasperated sound, " I know that answer isn't good enough for you, and I know I can't take back the pain you felt when you saw me with her. I do know that."

You don't know what to answer.

James runs a hand over his jaw and looks at you, "I suppose I couldn't let the fantasy go," he admits in a whisper.

You turn your head away, "Y-yeah—Lily Evans, the fantasy. I understand."

"W-what? No, that isn't what I meant!" James assures you, "I've been stuck on Lily for years. I know I didn't see you, but—but I see you now."

You stare at him. He looks so upset that your anger turns into pity, "James—"

"Y/n, please don't reject me. I can't bear it," his voice breaks as his eyes water. He walks closer and drops the broken necklace he'd given you in your palm. Your hand closes around it without thinking. "I've been such an idiot but I can't imagine losing you like this."

"You lost me the moment I saw you with Lily. You don't deserve to have me—not like this, and definitely not anymore," you say sternly and watch as you break the heart of the boy you're madly in love with.

"James, you strung me along for months and months, and then threw me away without hesitation for her. If you liked me, you would have never let me cry over you for weeks," your voice becomes louder.

James's hurt expression twists and his eyes darken, "You spent your days with Danny Dulac for fucks sake! What the hell was I supposed to do?" he also raises his voice.

"You aren't allowed to be jealous!" you say and push your index into his chest, tears streaming down your cheeks, "You ruined this," your voice dies as your hand flattens on his chest and he grasps it in his. James pulls you closer and leans his head onto yours.

For a moment, you let it rest there, but then you pull away. "I can't do this," you mutter, "you only want what you can't have, James," you whisper and you know your words would hurt him but you don't care. You hear him call your name as you walk away from him.

* * *

Over the next few months, it's as if you and James never existed.

You don't speak in class and when James wants to talk outside of classes, you ignore him. Eventually, he stops trying. He doesn't go back to Lily like you'd expected him to. Instead, time goes by, you both graduate, and it isn't until Marlene's 21st birthday that you see James Potter again.

He's in the middle of a small crowd: his smile as bright and wide as you remember. He's laughing like he would in school and you stand to the side of the room, suddenly unsure what to do with yourself.

When James sees you, his smile falters for a moment. He looks you up and down and when his eyes land on the necklace you're wearing, his heart thumps in his chest and he can't help but wander over to you. You almost run from him, but enough time has passed for you to stay still.

"Hi," James says, looking into your eyes.

You look up, your voice merely a whisper, "Hi."

Weirdly, conversation flows easily. You talk about work, hobbies, and eventually you land on relationships. Somehow you've found each other in a secluded side of the room, you're leaning against the wall as James's arm rests near your head. It isn't confrontational—no, instead you feel safe caged in his strong arms. Your eyes train on the muscles of his arm—of course he plays Professional Quidditch now. You need to remind yourself to pay more attention to Quidditch from now on.

"You seeing anyone?" James hums, his eyes flickering to your necklace again. You fiddle with it subconsciously and shake your head.

"You?"

James shakes his head too and he finally asks the question that's been burning his lips, "You fixed it," he raises his arm and his thumb skims the rubies.

You hum and nod. "I did."

"Why?"

You laugh and look at James. "Because I love this necklace," you pause a moment and you whisper, "And it reminds me of someone."

James seems surprised and he runs a hand in his curls. He looks at you and leans in a little. "C-can I?" he asks and a part of you wants to shake your head…tell him to fuck off. But, this is James Potter. He's the only boy you've ever loved—no matter who came after him. You nod and James's hand cups your cheeks as his lips press against yours.

"I've been thinking of doing this for years," he says breathlessly through his kisses.

I have too, you want to say but instead you just pull him closer.

"I love you," James says suddenly and pulls away. He looks flustered as he tries to explain himself. "I- I never stopped."

You look at him and utter three words James didn't think he'd ever hear, "Neither did I."

960 notes · View notes

straykeedz · 5 months

Note

When kinktober is over could you do felix x virgin reader if you haven't already? That would be amazing💜

-🏐

felix x virgin!reader for you sweet anon! hope you like it ♡

tw: female anatomy; fingering (f receiving); handjob; nipple play; protected piv sex; loss of virginity; clit play; hints at blood but nothing graphic; ♡

smut, minors dni. 🤨

it was meant to be a 2k words drabble… it’s 6,1k words 🤐

❄️

“This...” Felix starts, eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he uses a stick to draw a perfect heart around the two standing figures he just made, “is us.”

A big, bright happy smile spreads on his face as he points at the two little snowmen standing next to each other, holding hands - well, holding branches, technically. Felix looks so happy and proud of his creation - two little snowmen who look like very much like you and him. However, something is missing.

“They’re cute, but...” you trail, before dipping one finger in one snowman’s face to give it two little eyes and then a wide smile. Then, you repeat the same action also on the other snowman. “Now they’re happy too, just like us. Together and happy.”

Felix nearly melts at that because it’s true, you are happy - he’s the happiest with you. He pouts and sniffles, although he’s just playing with you, he’s not actually tearing up. “Sweetheart...”, he whines, intertwining his cold fingers with yours, before pulling you closer. “This is so us - happy and in love with each other. And so cute, too!”, he squeaks, looking at the two now smiling snowmen.

It had snowed early in the morning.

It’s the first snow of the season, and the first snow you get to witness together with Felix. You love snow, and he does too, especially as Christmas time is approaching. Your first Christmas together - you don’t know it yet, but Felix already got you a present, one that is carefully hidden under his bed in a cute package. He can’t wait to give it to you, he’s sure you are going to love it.

He nuzzles his nose with yours and smiles at you. You can’t help but notice how cute he is - with his nose red and so, so cold, smiling at you so brightly it makes your heart melt. Your favorite person in the whole world is right in front of you, and you are dating him - could you be any luckier? You are the one who gets to kiss his lips, to hold him close to you, to run the pads of your fingers all over his pretty freckles - yes, you are the luckiest.

You love him - your heart starts to pick up its pace at the realization. You want to tell him so bad, but every time you try to get the words out of your mouth they’d just get stuck. You love him. You love him. It almost feels surreal, to feel a love so deep and overwhelming in the best way possible.

You abruptly pull away from him only to let out a couple of sneezes, covering your nose and mouth with your hands as you do, and Felix chuckles at how cute you are. Right after you sniffle, he lets out a chuckle and pokes your cheek with his finger, making you shiver from how cold his touch is. “Let’s get inside, I don’t want you to catch a cold.”, he says, intertwining his fingers with you.

“Wait.”, you quickly pull your phone out of your back pocket. “Let me take a picture first!”, you smile at him, before snapping a picture of the two snowmen together - it’s definitely going to be your new lockscreen.

“Wait, I’ll take one too.”, he’s quick to take his phone out of his jacket and do the exact same thing.

“You do know that I could’ve just send you the pic I took, right?”, you giggle as he types the passcode to his house. Then, he pushes the door open and motions for you to get inside like a true gentleman would, even though you’ve been dating for a few months already and there’s really no need for this kid of chivalry between the two of you anymore.

Felix’s house is warm and even though you love snow, you have to admit you like being warm better - you don’t particularly like to be shivering and trembling all the time when outside. You take off your jacket and, even though it isn’t cold inside, you shiver nonetheless from the lack of layers on your body. Felix notices.

“Oh, are you cold?” Felix pouts at you, taking off his own jacket and hanging it on the coat rack. You are about to answer him that no, you’re alright, but you shiver once again, involuntarily. “Ah, sweetheart, how about I make you a hot tea, hm?”

You nod, and he cups your face in his hands, much warmer now, before he leans in to kiss you on the lips. “It would be perfect.”, you whisper on his lips.

“Then go to my room and make yourself comfortable under the covers to keep yourself warm. I’ll be there soon with tea and some snacks, and then we can watch a movie or something. Sounds good?”

You nod once more and then hurry to his bedroom. You’ve been there before, of course, and the two of you would cuddle there most of the time anyway since Felix lives with a roommate - that way you can have all the privacy you need without risking being interrupted. Not that there’s much to interrupt anyway - you haven’t taken that step forward yet.

You and Felix have been dating for nearly six months, but haven’t had sex yet. You’d done other things, though, like foreplay and stuff like dry humping, but things never escalated, even though you literally saw each other naked. He’d had his hand in your panties and his fingers inside of you a few times already, and you’d done the same as you both took your time to learn how to pleasure each other the right way. He’d also gone down on you a couple of times and pleasured you using his lips and tongue, making your body literally shake from the intensity of the orgasm that had washed all over you.

He’s more experienced than you. It’s not that hard, being more experienced than you - considering you are a virgin. Felix knows that, and that’s why he never pressured you into anything, and only touched you when you asked him to first - however, whenever he is around you, he still treats you as if you were made of glass and he were scared to break you, and never really initiates things unless he’s one hundred percent sure you are into it too.

Felix’s bedroom smells like something sweet - you can’t really describe the scent, but it smells just like his skin. You smile as you make your way inside his bedroom, taking a look around the room - perfectly clean and tidy as always, his gaming station impeccable, with all of his action figures displayed in a certain fixed order. And then on the bed - a bed made incredibly neatly, lies the plushie you’d gifted him a couple of months before. You are kind of surprised to see it on his bed and not with his other plushies.

“Ah, I told you to get under the covers, sweetheart.” Felix’s voice makes you jolt in surprise, and you turn to look at him - a cup of tea in each hand and a bright smile plastered on his beautiful face. “Sorry I startled you.” he chuckles, “I just don’t want you to be cold or get sick.”

“You didn’t give me time!”, you giggle. “I thought it’d take a while for the tea to be ready.”

“That’s the magic of having a wired kettle, the tea’s ready in no time.”, he giggles, too, then places the two cups on his desk. “It’s still super hot, maybe we should wait a bit before drinking it.”

You nod, then sit down on his bed and take the plushie in your hands. A cat, with small ears and a fluffy tail. You smile at the memory of how happy he was when you’d gifted it to him. “Why is it on your bed and not with all your other plushies?”, you ask Felix, your eyes set on him as he, too, sits down on the bed, next to you.

“Yah, don’t be ridiculous!”, he gasps dramatically - such a drama queen. “It’s not like the other plushies, this one is special. It deserves a more special place.”, he explains, and a shy smile spreads on your face.

“Yah, stop it...” you squeak, embarrassed, as you feel your cheeks turning pink.

“It’s true, though!” Felix insists, taking the plushie from you in his own hands. “You gave it to me, it surely makes it the most special plushie I own. Cannot compete with those lame ones.”, he chuckles, pointing at his plushie collection, on a shelf above his gaming station. “I sleep with it.”

You look at him with wide eyes. “You sleep with it? Like, do you actually cuddle it?”, you ask, kind of surprised.

“Yah, of course I do! It smells like you!”, he quickly answers back, as if you just asked him the stupidest question. “When I close my eyes, it almost feels as if you’re next to me. It helps for when I miss you.”

You could honestly melt right here, right now.

You look at him, mesmerized by how freaking handsome he is - he looks like a dream. Sharp jawline and a perfectly curved nose; plump, heart-shaped lips, so soft every time he presses them against yours in a sweet kiss. Beautiful freckles all over his cheeks and nose - a perfect constellation on a perfect face. And his eyes... the most beautiful you’ve ever seen, of a deep brown color and so, so sweet. God, you’re so in love with him, and you want him to know - you want to tell him, and you want to show him.

He doesn’t know it yet, but you really think you’re finally ready to take the next step - to have sex with him for the first time. You’ve been thinking about it for a while now, and you’re sure about it. You love Felix, and you trust him with something so important to you - so, you want him to be your first. You’ve been thinking about it for a while, yes, but you never felt readier than now. Just looking at him makes your heart hammer in your chest and your head spin, and you feel the physical need to be as close as possible to him.

“Felix?”, you call his name softly, and he snaps his head in your direction immediately, lifting his gaze from the plushie he’s still holding in his hands.

“Hm?”

“Can we get under the covers and cuddle? I’m a bit cold.”

It’s only partially an excuse. Felix smiles at your cuteness, then nods, and in a matter of seconds you both find yourselves under the soft covers of his bed, as he pulls you closer to his body to keep you warm. You fist his hoodie with one hand, as he gently rubs your back over the thick material of your own hoodie, your leg thrown over his lap. Then, he kisses you on the top of your head, and you quickly snap your head up to meet his lips.

“Kiss.”, you pout.

“Want a kiss?” Felix rhetorically asks you, and chuckles when you nod, looking him in the eye.

His lips are warm against yours, and soft - they always are. He doesn’t really deepen the kiss until you delicately tap his lower lip with the tip of your tongue - only then he lets his tongue brush your lips. Your fingers let go of the fabric of his hoodie to cup his cheek as your soft kiss turns into a desperate make-out session. - tongue swirling, lip biting, heavy breathing, your chests rising and falling quickly.

It takes a ridiculously short amount of time before you can feel your wetness pool in your underwear, and Felix grows hard inside his boxers. He’s quick to let his hand reach his crotch, ready to grab his growing bulge in order to hide it from you - he doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable, he does it every time, thinking you won’t notice, but you always do. This time, you wrap your fingers around his wrist and stop him, and he knows you can feel how hard he is now.

“‘M sorry.”, he mutters, embarrassed, pulling away from the kiss, and you notice he’s blushing a bit.

“It’s okay.”, you quickly say, before crashing your lips on his once more.

Then, with your fingers still wrapped around his wrist, you move his hand until his soft fingers brush the hem of your leggings. You don’t miss the way his breath hitches in his throat. You two already did that, he already touched you down there with his fingers, but it’s been a while now since he last did it. You let his fingers brush the hem, before you let them slip under the waistband, and that’s when Felix abruptly pulls away, looking at you like a deer caught in the headlights.

“Sweetheart, are you sure?”, he asks. He wants nothing more than to pleasure you, but he also wants to make sure you really want it.

You nod, smiling at him shyly. “Yes.”, you whisper on his lips. “Touch me.”

Once more, Felix sucks in a breath - your words send a shiver down his spine, and he hopes you can’t feel the way his cock is now impossibly hard in his sweats. You can. And you can’t wait to wrap your fingers around it. You can’t wait to feel it inside of you for the first time.

Felix’s fingers brush your clothed pussy over the fabric of your panties, and it’s enough to make you shiver - meanwhile, he still places a few kisses on your lips every now and then. His fingers touch you right where your clit is, and a soft whimper leaves your mouth as he applies the littlest of pressure on your sensitive bud. You kick your head slightly back, which allows him to attach his plump lips to the soft flesh of your jawline and neck. You feel him smirk against your skin once the pads of his fingers brush the wet spot on your panties. The next thing he does, is hook his fingers on your panties, pulling them to the side to finally touch you properly. Felix’s digits brush your wet folds, and you both moan to the touch as he coats them in your hot arousal.

Felix knows how to touch a woman, he knows how to touch you. He only had his hand down your panties a handful of times, yes, but he made you cum every single time, and it was always a mind-blowing orgasm that left you panting heavily. The first time he touched you, he made you cum from stimulating your clit only. The second time, with your consent of course, he slipped one finger inside, then two, and made you cum from repeatedly brushing your g-spot. The third time, you nearly passed out, because he stimulated both your clit and your g-spot at the same time.

“Can I put a finger in, sweetheart?”, he asks you, leaving an openmouthed kiss on your neck as the pad of his middle finger brushes your folds.

“Hm-hm.”, you hum, nodding your head swiftly, impatient to feel him inside of you.

He slides the first finger painfully slow, but you gasp nonetheless. You can’t help but wonder how it’ll feel when he’ll slide his length inside of you for the first time. Oblivious of your wild, dirty thoughts and your true intentions, Felix starts to slowly pump his finger in and out of you to let you get used to the feeling.

“Another one.”, you whimper, and he has to fight a moan from escaping his throat as he easily slips another finger inside of you.

You feel hot and wet around his fingers, and you’re squeezing them so tight he almost can’t move them inside of you. Instinctively, he thrusts his hips to meet yous like a natural reflex, which allows his hard-on to brush your crotch and makes you both whimper. Felix stops moving his fingers inside of you when he feels your own fingers slip down the hem of his underwear.

“Sweetheart...” a shaky breath leaves his lips when you wrap your cold fingers around the leaking tip of his hard cock. “You do- you don’t have to.”, he whispers, looking you in the eye.

You smile at him, then peck his lips as you squeeze him, making him whimper. “I know. I want to, I love touching you.”, you say as you start to slowly pump him.

Your touch is so different from his own, Felix can’t help but notice. In a better way, naturally. You’re delicate when you squeeze him, slow with your movements as you move your hand up and down his length, gracious when you brush his leaking slit with your thumb to smear his arousal all over his cockhead. Usually, when he masturbates, he does it hard and fast, as his only goal is to cum - when you do it, though, you like to take your time with it, admiring every reaction of his, taking in the faces he makes, the way his lips part and his eyebrows furrow as he’s about to cum. He’s the first man you touched so intimately, the first man you craved to pleasure - you love to see him unravel under your touch.

It’s the same for him - he’s absolutely whipped for the way your eyes roll in the back of your skull every time you’re about to orgasm, the way your toes curl, the way you wrap your fingers around his wrist and look him in the eye as if to say please, don’t stop, not now. And he would never. He loves to feel the way you clench around his fingers as you cum for him, letting out a whimper as your chest rises and falls due to intensity of your orgasm.

As you’re about to do now, after his fingers brush your sweet spot one more time - you’re so close. Initially, you thought about asking him not to make you cum, because you wanted to do it around his cock for the first time, but then you remembered you’d read somewhere that it’s better to be as relaxed and lubricated as possible, so that the feeling will be more pleasant. That’s why you don’t try to hold back or to fight your orgasm as you feel it approaching.

Your hand, slipped under Felix’s underwear and wrapped around his thick, hard cock, stops moving as you recognize the not-too-familiar-yet-still-familiar feeling starting to build up in your lower belly, your legs already starting to shake as they do every time he makes you cum from g- spot stimulation.

“Hm, are you close, sweetheart?” Felix asks you, placing a kiss on your jaw. He doesn’t seem to mind that you stopped touching him.

You nod, already panting. “Yeah, ‘m close.”, you whine, squeezing your eyes shut.

With the right pressure on your g-spot, you cum around Felix’s digits, finally finding your release with a high-pitched whimper that makes his cock twitch. Your walls clench and pulsate around him as you coat his fingers in your orgasm. Still breathing heavily, you hide your face in the crook of his neck, breathing in his cologne and the scent of his skin.

“You did so well, sweetheart.”, he kisses the side of your head as he slowly pulls his fingers out of your sensitive pussy. Normally, he’d waste no time in wrapping his lips around his own fingers to lick off your arousal from his skin, but this time he’s interrupted by you, resuming your movements on his cock, pumping him a bit quicker now.

“O-oh, love.”, it’s his turn to squeeze his eyes shut now.

You gasp at the new pet name - you already love it. You love him.

You feel him twitch in your hand and he thrusts his hips to meet your movements. “Don’t cum, not yet.”, you tell him, snapping your head up to meet his face. He opens his eyes and looks at you confused as he fights off a moan.

“Why?”, he whines, he must be close already, so you stop moving your hand completely.

Your heart starts to hammer inside your chest, and you swallow the lump in your throat. You’re about to tell him. You’re gonna tell him you’re finally ready to make love to him for the first time, that you want him to take your virginity. You’re thankful you’re lying on the bed right now, otherwise your knees would’ve give in, you’re sure.

“Felix, I...”, you take a deep breath. You’re telling him, you can do it. “I’m ready. I want you to make love to me.”

He sucks in a breath, and his eyes widen, his lips part. “Wha- are you- are you sure, sweetheart?”, he sounds sincerely panicked.

You nod quickly. You don’t want him to think you’re just saying this because of the heat of the moment, you need him to know you’re really sure about this. “I’m sure, I really am. I’ve been thinking about this for a while now, and... I trust you, and I want you to be my first.”, you take another deep breath. “Felix, I lo-“

“No!” Felix nearly shouts, which startles you. “Shit- sorry, sweetheart. But you’re not doing this.”, he places a kiss on the tip of your nose. Then, he pulls out his fingers from your panties and wipes them off on his hoodie to clean them from your arousal, before he cups your face with both of his hands. Meanwhile you take your hands out of his sweats, too. “You’re not telling me that you love me before I do.”, he chuckles, seeing your panicked expression.

“But-“

“No.”, he whispers on your lips, looking you in the eye. “I love you. So much, and I’ve wanted to tell you for a while now. I was going to do it tonight.”, he nuzzles your nose with his.

Your heart is beating so fast in your chest you’re scared you’re actually gonna pass out, and tears start welling up in your eyes. “I love you.”, you finally say it back. “I love you so much, I’ve wanted to tell you for a while, too!”, you pout.

Felix kisses your pouty lips sweetly. “I love you so, so much, sweetheart.”

You kiss him back, slipping your hands under his hoodie, brushing his naked back your fingers, and he shivers at your cold touch. “I love you too.”, you kiss him on the lips once more, then gently bite his lower lip, which makes him whimper. “Now make love to me.”

Felix’s heart hammers in his chest, and it’s his turn to swallow the lump in his throat. This is a big thing - he’s gonna take your virginity. There’s no turning back from that, it’s not something that can be undone, like in video games. But you trust him, you just told him that, and you want him. And God, he wants you too.

So he nods, looking you in the eye. “Okay, sweetheart.”

Felix’s fingers grab the hem of your hoodie and he slowly lifts it together with the t-shirt you’re wearing underneath it, exposing your naked stomach. You do the rest, crossing your arms over your torso and pulling it off in one swift motion, letting it fall on the floor. Felix bites his lip once his eyes take in the sight of you wearing nothing but a lacy, see-through bra, wanting nothing more than to swirl his tongue around your hardened nipples. In one quick motion, he sits up on the mattress and takes off his hoodie, letting it fly across the room without a care in the world, which makes you giggle. You slide your leggings down your legs as he does the same with his sweats. He nearly drools once he finds out you’re wearing matching panties, which means he can clearly see the outline of your pussy. Little does he know it’s the same for you - the sight of the bulge in his boxers is turning you on like crazy.

“God, love, you’re so beautiful.” Felix compliments you, voice husky as his eyes take in your barely clothed figure, spread on his bed. He gets closer to you, lying on his side, brushing your cheek with the back of his knuckles. His touch burns on your skin - you want him so bad.

“You’re pretty handsome, too.”, you giggle, biting your lip.

He smiles as well, then leans in to kiss you on the lips. The kiss is not exactly sweet and soft like the other times - this time it’s lustful, hot, desperate, filled with anticipation of what’s about to happen. And then Felix’s lips move to the corner of your lips, then your jaw, kiss you all over your neck until they reach your collarbone, then the valley of your breasts. Without uttering a single syllable, you arch your back, giving him silent permission to unclasp your bra. He manages to do that on the third try - stupid shaky hands. He’s nervous too, how could he not be?

Sooner than later, your bra ends up on the floor as well, falling right next to your hoodie. Felix is delicate when he cups one of your breasts with one of his hands, and he’s even gentler when he wraps his lips around your nipple, wetting your sensitive nub with his saliva. You let out a choked moan when he gives it a long suck and hums against your skin. Then, you feel his hot, wet tongue swirl around it, and that’s when you run your fingers through his hair, delicately tugging at it.

“Felix...”

He whimpers, with your nipple still in his mouth, and it’s the hottest thing ever. You can’t wait to hear the sounds he’ll make once inside of you. His lips let go of your nipple, and you suck in a breath once the cold air hits your skin.

“You make me crazy. You know that, right?” Felix rhetorically asks, looking absolutely fucked out from just sucking on your tits. You find it absolutely cute and incredibly hot at the same time.

He doesn’t wait for an answer - instead, he starts to leave a series of kisses that go from the valley of your breasts to your navel, stopping only when he reaches the hem of your panties. Yes, he can definitely see the outline of your pretty pussy, especially from this angle, and it’s making his mouth salivate.

“Need to taste you, sweetheart.”, he mumbles, kissing your inner thigh, as he hooks his fingers on the side of your panties. “Need to taste this pretty pussy, it’s been so long...”

“But... I want to cum around you...”

Felix nearly has a heart attack.

“Sweetheart, you- you’re gonna be the death of me.”, he chuckles, but he’s serious.

You giggle, propping yourself on your elbows to look him in the eye. “I’m only saying the truth, though.”, you say. “I want to feel you inside of me for the first time. I’ve waited enough.”

Felix really does want to eat your pussy, but he can do it some other time. He already made you cum earlier, so he doesn’t worry whether you’re stretched out or wet enough, because he knows you already are - plus, he’s going to use lube anyway. So, he nods, and then sits on the mattress once again only to take off his underwear, sliding his boxers down his thighs, freeing his hard cock in the process. It’s thick, and it’s hard. It looks even harder than it was before, and a little bit intimidating, but you want it anyway.

“Let me grab a condom.” Felix whispers on your lips before he pecks them quickly.

Felix had bought a box of condoms and a bottle of lube when he first started going out with you, before he even knew you were a virgin. He never really mentioned, especially not after you confessed your inexperience, because he didn’t want to make you feel pressured or anything. He’d bought them just in case, he wanted to be prepared if the opportunity ever presented itself. His hands are a bit shaky as they fish a condom from the box, and then the lube. Meanwhile, you take off your panties, your heart beating fast in your chest. You’re not nervous, nor anxious - if anything, you’re thrilled.

Too lost in your thoughts, you didn’t even realize he’d already put the condom on his hard length and is now squeezing a generous amount of lube on the tip of his cock and on his fingers as well. Then, he positions himself between your spread legs, kneeling between them as he smears the thick lube all over his length - with the same fingers, he brushes your folds, using the lube to coat your entrance as well. He wipes the excess on his thigh, not really caring about the stickiness. Not when you’re right there, lying on his bed, legs spread for him as he’s about to enter you for the first time.

“Are you still sure you want to do this with me, sweetheart?”, he looks you in the eye as he asks you this question.

You nod, and smile at him. “Yah, of course I am. I love you, remember?”

Felix’s heart beats fast in his chest. He takes a deep breath, then swallows the lump in his throat, and aligns the tip of his cock with your slippery entrance. His body hovers over yours, and all of his weight is shifted on his elbow, as he uses his other hand to hold the base of his cock, not entering you yet.

“You ready, love?”, he asks you, pecking your lips once more.

“Ready.”, you take a deep breath.

And he pushes in. Delicately, thrusting only about an inch inside of you, and you try your best not to tense or clench around him as he sinks deeper in you. His hand lets go of his cock and he is now able to balance himself on his two elbows, positioned on each side of your head. He looks you in the eye as he pushes inside a little bit more, but stops abruptly when he feels you whimper and clench.

“Hurts?”, he asks, voice hoarse and deep.

You shake your head as a no, breathing through your nostrils. It doesn’t hurt, it’s just slightly uncomfortable, but nothing unbearable. You only have to get adjusted to his size. “Nope.”

“You sure?”, he furrows his eyebrows, not entirely convinced.

“It’s a bit uncomfortable, but it’s okay.”, you tell him. He looks panicked as soon as he hears yourwords. “Felix, relax. I’m good, I’m enjoying it.”, you reassure him, nuzzling your nose with his. “You’ll tell me if it gets too much, right?”

You nod. “Promise.”, you smile at him and kiss his lips.

He pushes the rest of his length inside at an excruciatingly slow pace, and the both of you let out a deep moan once he bottoms out. You try to look down to where your bodies meet, and he does the same, biting his lip when you clench around him, your walls squeezing him deliciously tight. He’s not going to last long, you feel amazing, wrapped around him like you’re made for him.

“You feel so good, love.”, he praises you, placing a soft kiss on your bare shoulder. “I love you so much.”

“You feel good inside of me.”, you return the compliment. “You feel so big, I feel so full.”, you whimper.

You chuckle when you see him widen his eyes. “Yah, don’t- don’t say things like that!”

“Why?”, you furrow your eyebrows.

Felix’s cheeks turn pink. “‘Cause I’m not gonna last long if you do.”, he admits, hiding his face in the crook of your neck.

You giggle, then wrap your arms around his back, delicately scratching his skin with your fingernails. “Ah, don’t worry about that. Let’s just enjoy the moment, alright?”, you mumble, kissing the side of his head, breathing in the scent of his hair. “You’re already making me feel so good...”

But nothing compares to when he actually starts to move inside of you. A shiver runs down your body when he pulls almost all the way out, before thrusting back inside slowly, allowing you to feel every inch of his thick cock parting your folds. Your head falls back on the soft cushions and you roll your eyes back when he does it again, which makes you get goosebumps all over your skin. You quickly intertwine your fingers with his, squeezing his hand, and he stops thrusting.

“Am I hurting you?”, he asks, and you notice his breathing is already heavy.

“No- no, feels good. Move.”, you mumble, focusing on the feeling of having him inside of you. Felix chuckles, and resumes his thrusting. “You can- do it a bit faster now.”, you pant. It doesn’t feel uncomfortable anymore, now you’re relaxed enough and are completely enjoying it.

Felix moves a bit faster like you asked, but still not too fast, because he doesn’t want you to be sore later. You squeeze him incredibly tight when he brushes a spot his fingers know well, although it feels much different now that it’s his cock brushing it, it feels more intense.

“You’re so tight, oh my God.” Felix pants, cock already throbbing - he’s not going to last long, he’s so close. “I’m already close, I’m sorry.”

“I’m-“ you’re cut off by a moan “I’m close too. Could you... maybe...?”, you mumble incoherently, hoping he’d understand what you want to say.

He does, bringing two fingers to his lips before spitting on them, then placing them on your sensitive, neglected clit. He starts to rub you there, drawing circular shapes on your throbbing nub, shivering each time you let out a whine or a whimper or literally any other sound. He knows you’re close when your walls start to pulsate around him and squeeze his cock incredibly tight, making it impossible for him to move inside of you and God, he’s so close to his own release... He lifts his gaze to you, looking you in the eye as he continues to rub your clit until he feels your legs starting to shake - that’s how he knows you’re cumming.

“Felix, I’m- I’m cumming.”, you pant, digging your nails in his flesh, holding onto him for dear life as you fall apart with his cock buried deep inside of you.

You throw your head back and squeeze your eyes shut as you let the wave of pleasure was over you, and before Felix knows it - he’s releasing too, filling the condom with spurts of his seed as he lets out a deep, hoarse grunt. Surprisingly enough, he doesn’t feel bad about finishing so soon, because at least he made you cum too. Still breathing heavily, he lets his head fall in the crook of your neck, kissing your soft flesh.

“Was it good, love? It didn’t hurt too bad, did it?”

“It was perfect.”, you kissed his head, and he lifted his head to peck your lips. “You were perfect.”

He smiles at you, caressing your cheek. “You were perfect, too, my sweetheart.”

He can already feel his cock softening, so he’s quick to hold it by the base, ready to pull out. You wince slightly, realizing you’re starting to feel a bit sore between your legs. He gets up to take off the condom and get rid of it, but as he does that, he notices a couple of red spots on it, and instantly feels bad at the thought he hurt you, even if it was completely unintentionally. He ties a knot on the condom and throws it into the thrash can next to his bed.

When he comes back to bed, he wraps his arms around your body and pulls you closer, kissing your head as he caresses your naked back with one hand. Only then he realises that his heart is still beating fast in his chest - he loves you so much...

“You don’t have to go to classes tomorrow, do you?”, he murmurs, intertwining your legs with his.

You shake your head, lifting your head to look at him. “Nope. Our professors emailed us this morning. They cancelled their classes because of the blizzard.”, you try your best to fight back a yawn. Felix notices and chuckles - you’re just so cute.

“Sleep here tonight?”

❄️

——————————————————————————————-

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avatar-anna · 8 months

Note

I was thinking you could do a “5 times y/n told Harry she was pregnant” for the young!dad series !! That would be so interesting especially since in the last piece you mentioned that Harry already had a feeling she was pregnant before she even told him

The Thing About Having Six Kids

so i got this ask and a couple others that were kind of about the kids' birth/pregnancy a while ago, and went with five different instances about each kid in the youngdadrry universe. it's all surrounding their birth, finding out about pregnancies, etc. enjoy!

Young Dad! Harry x Young Mom! Reader

Simone

(a text conversation between Harry and Y/n)

Y/n: i'm pregnant

(one day later)

Y/n: Harry?

Harry: Are you sure?

Y/n: i'm sure

Y/n: i have four different pregnancy tests to prove it

Harry: I don't know what to say.

Y/n: the 24 hours it took you to respond kind of told me that

Harry: I'm sorry about that. It's just...a lot

Y/n: it's fine i guess. at least you finally responded.

Harry: Did you think I wouldn't?

Y/n: honestly? yeah. it's not like we're married or in love or anything. you don't even live in the same country as me

Harry: What are you going to do?

Harry: I know but I wouldn't just like disappear on you

Harry: I was just shocked that's all

Y/n: idk. i'm still trying to figure out a way to tell my parents

Harry: Shit my parents!

Y/n: that's kinda where i'm at right now

Y/n: but i think i want to keep it

Y/n: the baby

Y/n: fuck that sounds crazy to say. i have physics homework due tomorrow but let me stop and make a life altering decision really quick about whether i want to have a baby or not

Harry: I'm sorry. You know...

Y/n: for getting me pregnant? knocking me up? putting a bun in the oven?

Harry: It seems too early to joke about this

Y/n: it's keeping me from freaking the fuck out at the moment

(ten minutes later)

Harry: I want to talk about this properly and figure this whole thing out but I have to go

Y/n: please don't feel obligated or anything. this was just a courtesy

Y/n: i don't expect anything from you. i get it if your management wants you to delete my number and never see me again. i just thought you should know.

Harry: What are you talking about?

Harry: Y/n?

3 missed calls from Him <3

Collette

"Let's have another baby."

Y/n was close to nodding off, so it was very possible that she was dreaming. She looked behind her. It was dark in the bedroom, but Harry was close enough that she could see him, could see that his head was propped on his elbow so he could look down at her.

"What did you say?" she asked, because she needed to be sure.

"I...I want another baby," he said, voice soft even though they were the only two people in the room. Simone was fast asleep in her own bedroom, tuckered out after a long day of playing at the park and eating ice cream and fingerpainting with Harry. Now that One Direction was officially on hiatus, it was just the three of them—Y/n, Harry, and Simone. Y/n thought it would take some getting used to, living a relatively normal life. But their little family actually fell into it quite easily.

Perhaps a little too easily.

"Say something."

Y/n hadn't realized she failed to respond, but to be fair, that was a pretty big bomb her husband just dropped. Her husband. They'd been married for a few months now, but it still felt surreal, which was probably why the idea of having another baby felt too far from reality to comprehend.

"I just...I don't know what to say," Y/n said honestly. "I—I'm not sure we're ready for that."

"We weren't ready the first time," Harry said when Y/n finally flipped on her other side to face him. This seemed like a conversation he really wanted to have, so she thought facing him would probably be best. "I just think this might be the time, you know? I don't have an insane schedule anymore, there's no more management to say that we can't, and I've always thought about giving Simone a sibling. Don't tell me you've never thought about it."

"I...I have," Y/n said.

She did think about more kids. As young as she and Harry were and as impossible as their relationship seemed at times, Y/n couldn't help but think about wanting more. She loved Harry, and she'd been loving these moments they'd been able to share as a proper family recently. Harry was right, if they wanted to have another baby, now would be the time.

"Tell me what you're thinking," he said as she felt more than saw his hand push some hair away from her face.

"What happens when you start working again?" Y/n asked.

"What do you mean?"

"I know you, H," she said. "And I love you. Everything about you. And one of the parts that make you who you are is the music. This...this little bubble we're in, I love it too, but I know you'll want to go back to it someday. And then you'll go on tour for ten months, and I'll be alone to raise two kids by myself for a majority of the year."

It was harsh, but she trusted him enough to take it. This was the thought that always held her back. Y/n thought about the possibility of expanding their family on more than one occasion, especially in recent weeks when things have been practically perfect. But the reality was that Harry would want to go back to work. She knew, maybe better than anyone, the desire he had to make his own music, to create and write in ways he couldn't while in the band. And perform. Harry loved to perform live. Y/n knew that this time spent with just their family was fleeting, and she cherished every minute of it, the same way she knew Harry did. It was only a matter of time before he went back to work, and she wasn't sure she could raise Simone and a newborn without him.

"That's...That's all over now," Harry said. When Y/n tried to protest, he continued on. "What I meant to say was, the ridiculous schedules, the strict rules about when we can and can't spend time together, the separate hotel rooms. Mama, things can be different now."

"But management—"

"I bought out my contract," he said. "I haven't really given it much thought in a while because I just want to be present with you and Simone, but I've got a few people in mind for new managers. People who will prioritize our family."

This was certainly news to Y/n. It was hard to talk about Harry's management or the harsh thumb they pinned him under, so oftentimes it was a topic they avoided. Hearing him say this now, knowing how much money it would've taken to buy out his contract...that was a huge deal. As far as she knew, the other boys were just sticking with it until the contracts were finished. But Harry went and did what Y/n didn't even think was possible.

"Our family," Y/n repeated, and for a moment, she could see it. The three of them becoming four. It was crazy to think about, to think so far ahead into the future, but Y/n wasn't scared by it.

"Let's have another baby," Harry said again.

Looking at him, Y/n's heart squeezed in her chest. He'd been growing his hair out for a while now, and it was long enough that it reached just passed his shoulders. She loved it, thought it made him look older, more mature. And okay, hot. And Simone loved it too. She loved braiding it and putting bows and flowers in it or just twisting it around her finger. His shoulders were broad and lean, though he'd put on a little muscle in his arms from doing handiwork around the house, something he claimed he loved to do even though Y/n had heard him curse from another room while he worked on his latest project.

She looked at his face, the one that looked so different yet so similar to the one she'd met when she was seventeen. She wondered what those teenagers would think of the people they'd become, of the things they'd seen and experienced.

She thought about it. The baby-to-be. It would have Harry's eyes and smile, her nose and hair color. If it was a girl, she could wear matching outfits with Simone, if it was a boy...Well, they could maybe still match. Y/n thought about all the baby clothes—the adorable little onesies and shoes and mittens to keep the baby from scratching their face while they slept. She didn't let herself think of the late nights and sore boobs and dirty diapers. In this moment, she just thought about all the good feelings, every perfect moment that could be.

"You promise things will be different? I can't—I can't do it alone," she said, needing to hear him say it again.

Harry didn't try to kiss her, he didn't put his hands on her waist or pull her to his chest—all tactics he would normally use to distract her. This conversation was too serious, too important, and she loved him all the more for understanding that.

"I promise, Y/n," he said, taking her hand in his and squeezing it. "I will never make you regret living this life with me."

"That's not what I—"

"I know, but I just...I needed to say it."

He needed to make that promise to her, to himself. Life had not been easy, and Y/n knew Harry blamed himself for a lot of the hardships they faced.

"I don't," she said, kissing their joined hands. "And I won't. Ever. "

Harry grinned, and Y/n could tell even in the dark that his gaze was a little watery. Still, he inched forward and said, "So...?"

Y/n leaned forward and kissed him, her leg slotting between his. "Let's have another baby."

Maeve and Jules

"I'm sorry, did you just say twins?"

"I did. I'm seeing two heartbeats here. See?" The doctor said, pointing at the monitor she'd been observing closely the last five minutes.

Y/n couldn't quite believe what she was hearing. It was one thing to be pregnant (again), but an entirely different one to be pregnant with twins. "That's—"

"Amazing," Harry breathed.

Y/n turned her head away from the monitor to look at her husband, whose eyes were glued to the screen with a look of wonder in them. As she'd begun to process her own feelings about housing not one but two babies in her belly for nine months, she hadn't really considered how he might feel about it.

Looking at him now, she could tell he was ecstatic.

Y/n was still panicking a little, but seeing the elation on Harry's face was comforting. She took his hand in hers and squeezed it hard, needing to feel the warmth of his palm to ground her.

"Hey," he said softly, bending down to kiss the top of her head. "This is a good thing. Unexpected, but good."

"I know," Y/n said, letting out a shaky breath. "I know it's just...a lot. I mean...twins?"

"Nothing we can't handle," Harry said, kissing her cheek.

His confidence was reassuring. Maybe he was freaking out on the inside and not letting it show for her sake, but Y/n felt better about the situation at hand and was ready to continue with the appointment.

To the doctor, she said, "Are they healthy?"

The doctor smiled warmly. "They are. It looks like one of them is about a week behind, but that's nothing to worry about."

"Really? They're twins. That doesn't seem possible," Harry said, his brow furrowing adorably.

"It's rare, but it is possible. Fraternal twins can be conceived as much as twenty-four days apart," the doctor said.

Y/n understood perhaps a split-second before Harry, but when he did, he turned as beet red as she felt. The doctor didn't seem to mind their embarrassment, though she'd probably seen all sorts of couples and situations. Y/n imagined there wasn't much that the doctor hadn't seen before.

The appointment wrapped up pretty quickly after that. Harry snuck out of the hospital through a separate door while Y/n set up her next appointment. She met him in the staff parking lot, where he was standing by the passenger door to help her in. Harry gave her a quick kiss before closing her in and walking around to the driver's side. As he drove, Y/n was thinking about a number of things—twice the amount of clothes, twice the amount of crying, twice the amount of diaper changes. She was excited at the prospect of having a baby. It was a conversation she and Harry had before they started trying, but the idea of twins was a lot to wrap her head around.

She looked at Harry, wanting to ask how he felt now that they were alone, but she stopped herself.

Harry had one hand on the steering wheel, the other covering a wide grin. He was blushing a little too, and Y/n couldn't help but ask what had him smiling like an idiot.

"I'm trying to figure out which times," he said.

"What do you mean which—Are you kidding? Which times we conceived the twins?"

"Aren't you curious?" Harry asked. "Twice, babe. I put a baby in you twice. I mean, one of them had to be when we were on the yacht, right? I always feel good after we have sex, but I feel like we really outdid ourselves there. Clearly."

Y/n just looked at her husband in shock. "You are..."

"What? It's cool!" Harry insisted, but he was laughing too. "And it takes the edge off a little. Come on, you try."

So he was more nervous than he was letting on. That was comforting in its own way too, but Y/n appreciated his attempts to lighten the mood. They could have a serious conversation later, but for now it was fun to just forget all of that. Just for a moment.

Y/n gave him a dry look, trying to appear like she wasn't impressed until she eventually rolled her eyes and smiled. "Mm...I agree with the yacht, and...when you came back from London."

"Really?" Harry asked, more curious than surprised.

"Yeah," Y/n said with a little sigh as she remembered the night in question. "That was a good night."

It was one of those rare occurrences where Simone was in her own bed and Collette managed to sleep for more than a couple hours. They'd spent the whole night catching up and giggling like idiots and kissing and enjoying the pleasure of being truly alone with each other. Y/n loved those moments with Harry, where everything was just so simple and easy and it was just them having a little fun. They definitely should've been catching up on sleep while they could, but neither of them wanted to, so they stayed up with tired smiles and slurred movements until they heard Collette's cries through the baby monitor.

"It was. We should do that again sometime," Harry said. Taking Y/n's hand, he kissed the tops of her knuckles.

"You just want to go for triplets," Y/n teased, even though she knew that wasn't what he meant.

"I'm not that crazy," he said, but his smile told her he was thinking about the possibility. Maybe just a little. "I'm excited for this."

"Yeah? What do you think? Boys? Girls? A boy and a girl?"

Harry shrugged. "Our track record would suggest girls, but..."

"You never know," Y/n finished for him.

Geneva

"We have some pretty big news to share."

Once a month, the Styles family held a Zoom call with their friends and family who were scattered across the globe. Since lockdown began, there was a lot of adjusting—online school, not being able to go to the park to play, being at home all day. It was a lot for everyone, but Harry and Y/n did their best to make the adjustments smoother. And when they needed a break, they set up the monthly Zoom calls.

They were mostly just to catch up. Once all the children went to sleep, Harry and Y/n stayed up late talking to other adults about everything and nothing, maybe even played a different drinking game or two to round out the night before they went back to being parents. Tonight was a special night, though.

Multiple faces looked at Harry and Y/n expectantly through their computer screen. Both of them were sporting big smiles as Y/n leaned on Harry's side, one of his older sweatshirts covering her body and the almost imperceptible bump that was beginning to show now. Today was the first day she'd begun to show, and Harry nearly lost his mind with excitement. Finding out Y/n was pregnant had been somewhat of a surprise, but when she told him, he was over the moon. He's started to suspect, having recognized some of his wife's symptoms by now, but they'd been waiting for the right time to tell their families and friends, and tonight was the night.

"What's going on, darling?" Anne asked.

Neither Harry nor Y/n could barely contain their excitement, which probably gave away the news before they actually said anything. However, in their own eagerness to share the news, neither of them saw a few people on the call sporting knowing looks.

"We're having a baby!"

Cheers went all around as everyone congratulated the couple. Questions were asked about due dates and how far along they were and what they were going to do about the lockdown situation. Everything was just as Harry had hoped it would be.

And then things took an interesting turn.

"Who won?" Jeff asked.

"Won? What do you mean—"

"If my math is correct, which I'm pretty sure it is, I believe it goes to Gem," Sarah said, looking down at her phone. "She went with three and a half months. Glenne narrowly missed with three. No one had four so it goes to Gemma."

A collective groan went throughout the Zoom, leaving Harry and Y/n very confused.

"Did you place bets on us?" Y/n asked, sounding more astonished than offended.

"When lockdown became permanent, we knew it was a matter of when not if we would be getting the announcement," Jeff explained. "Someone has a physical copy of the pool somewhere."

"And all of you did this? Mum?" Harry said, brows raised higher than Y/n had ever seen them. When Anne nodded sheepishly, Y/n had to stifle a laugh. "So none of you were surprised?"

"I love you, dear, and I'm so so happy for you, but since you were seventeen, anytime you've come to me with big news, it's been about having a baby. For my own sanity, I've just come to expect it."

Harry looked down at Y/n, who was grinning behind her hand. For her husband's sake, her gaze softened as she reached up to kiss his cheek. "I mean, they have a point. Even you guessed it before I told you."

As the shock finally wore off, Harry smiled. He supposed it wasn't the worst thing in the world. So, he and Y/n were predictable, even though they hadn't really been trying this time around. They were in love and had a lot more time together currently. Things were finally back on track for them and their relationship troubles seemed behind them now. They were happy, and as long as his family was happy, some light teasing and bet placing seemed harmless.

He did pin everyone on the screen with a mock glare before moving on, though. "You guys made a whole pool. Really?"

"Yeah. Can you believe Jeff thought it would take eight months for you to get pregnant?"

"It was for the adjustment to lockdown period!"

"Eight months?"

And on and on it went. Harry just smiled and rested his hand over Y/n's belly, thinking about how much it would grow in just a few short weeks.

Natalia

"I want Mommy!"

Harry sighed and pulled his only son into his lap, pushing the curls away from his face and wiping the tears from his cheeks. "I know you do, JuJu."

Harry and the kids were waiting to hear from Y/n's mother, but he hadn't gotten so much as a text. He was anxious, worried that something was wrong, but Julian's crying served as a good distraction for the time being.

Julian continued to cry, still not understanding why he couldn't see his mother when he'd become so used to seeing her everyday. Harry would've been with Y/n had it not been for the little boy's crying, and he made the split-second decision to stay home while Y/n delivered the baby with her mother as support. He'd never missed any of his children's births, but for this, he could stay behind.

"She'll be back soon, bubba, I promise," Harry said, kissing Julian's cheeks and holding him close. "Should we go play with your Lego set? I know you've been excited to build it. Maybe we can build something to show Mummy when she gets home."

Julian shook his head and continued to cry into Harry's neck. Realizing his son was content to be miserable, Harry didn't ask again. He sat with Jules for a while, holding the boy to his chest and running a hand through his hair until his sobs turned into sniffles, and the sniffles into long, slow breaths. He waited a few extra minutes before taking Julian up to his room and setting him on his bed, making sure to place his favorite stuffed animal in his arms before leaving him to sleep off his troubles. As he walked away, Harry sort of wished he could do the same.

Every birth had been different. When Y/n had Simone, it hadn't been extraordinarily long, but it was extraordinarily stressful due to their young age. Collette was a fairly quick birth, perhaps a little too quick, seeing as Y/n barely made it to a hospital bed before the baby started crowning. The twins came early, which was apparently common for twins, but that didn't make it any less surprising to Harry and Y/n, especially because Harry was at the grocery store and Y/n was at the park with Simone and Collette and a nanny who was also there had to call an ambulance. Even still, Geneva's birth was probably the scariest, only because of all the rules and regulations brought on by Covid. Y/n's mother quarantined for two weeks so she could stay at the house while Harry and Y/n went to the hospital, as Y/n could only have one person in the room with her.

And now a year later, they were doing it all over again. Harry had been confident that this birth would go off without a hitch, that everything would be just fine, but the lack of word from his wife or mother-in-law made him nervous.

Later that day, Harry was still waiting. He'd gotten a text from Y/n's mother, which let him know that Y/n still wasn't ready to push but that they were getting close. That was an hour ago, and Harry had to believe that it was all happening now.

And he was missing it.

He knew being here with the rest of his children was important. That they were worried about their mother and probably found Harry's presence comforting. He just wished they could all be there in the waiting room instead of at home and fifteen minutes from the hospital. The not-knowing was killing him, and he was pretty sure his kids could sense it.

"Daddy?"

Harry's eyes flicked to where Collette was standing in the doorway of his bedroom. She was in her pajamas, a shirt and matching pair of bottoms with her favorite cartoon on them. Harry had been pacing around his room, his phone gripped tightly in his hand as he waited for someone to call him, but seeing his second daughter standing there, squinting at the light from his bedside table lamp told him he was up a little later than normal.

"Hi, peanut. What are you doing out of bed?" he asked.

Collette shrugged, her hair catching the light. She wiped at her nose and stepped further into the room until she stood in front of him. "Mommy always braids my hair before I go to sleep."

"She does, doesn't she?" Harry agreed. "She's kind of the best, huh?"

Nodding, Collette turned toward his bed and climbed up on it, looking at him expectantly. Even after having four daughters, Harry wasn't an expert at braiding hair. The girls always went to Y/n before school, and she did each of their braids or ponytails or pigtails happily. Harry always made sure to watch with a keen eye, and practiced on Y/n when she let him. He supposed now it was time to put all his practice to work.

The braiding didn't take long, and Harry didn't do half bad, in his humble opinion. Collette was just going to sleep in it anyway, so he wasn't too bummed by the few loose strands that he'd somehow missed.

He'd finished rather quickly, though Collette didn't slide off the bed to go back to her room. In fact, she nestled under the covers on Y/n's side of the bed, mumbling, "Night Daddy," before falling asleep. Harry didn't really mind. It wasn't the first time one of the kids stayed in his and Y/n's bed, and tonight, he figured he could use some company.

What he wasn't expecting was all of his children to stumble into his room. First it was Maeve, then Jules, then Simone, and finally Harry went to get Geneva, just so it was a proper sleepover. No one fought for space—which was a first. All the kids just found their spot and went back to sleep as if they were in their own rooms. Harry resisted the urge to take a picture so as not to wake anyone up with the flash of his phone's camera.

He hadn't planned on falling asleep. One moment he'd been watching a football game with the volume off, and the next he was blinking his eyes open as the sun began to stream in through the curtains. All of his little ones were still fast asleep, though Harry knew that would change soon. Maeve and Simone woke up early to watch morning cartoons, and Geneva would want her bottle within the hour.

Harry began to shuffle around and prepare for the usual morning routine—brush teeth, ok prepare the bottle, make breakfast for the early risers—when his phone rang. Startled, Harry rushed over to where his phone was plugged in, a huge grin splitting his face when he realized it was a video call from Y/n.

"Hi," Harry whispered, careful not to wake anyone up. "How are you? How's the baby? Is everything—"

"I'm fine, H. Everything's fine. Everything's perfect," Y/n said, a sleepy smile on her face.

Hearing that helped his heart stop racing, but only a little, as excitement flooded his veins. Y/n called him, which could only mean that—

"Wanna meet your daughter?" Y/n said, and even through the phone, Harry could see tears line her eyes.

Harry nodded, too overwhelmed with love and anticipation to form words. Quickly, he found an unoccupied spot on his bed and carefully sat down.

Y/n passed the phone to her mother who angled the phone so that Harry could see the baby, whose face was just barely visible through a pink blanket. He immediately felt tears well in his eyes, his throat going dry as he looked down at his daughter. Even through the phone, he felt every emotion he'd ever experienced when meeting his children for the first time. It was the most unique experience, Harry always thought. He'd seen and done so much, yet he still thought there was nothing like looking down at his newborn baby for the first time.

"Is that baby sister?"

Harry looked behind him to find Julian peering over his shoulder. Jules looked at the sleeping baby curiously, taking in his sister's little nose and tiny fingers and pouted lips. Then, he said, "Is Mommy there too?"

The camera panned up to Y/n, who was smiling and blowing kisses to Julian. "Hi JuJu, my love. I've missed you!"

"Mommy!"

"Mommy?"

"Mommy's home?"

Now everyone was up and crowding around Harry, taking turns talking to Y/n and baby sister, who had yet to be given a name. No one seemed to mind, though. If anything, they were more concerned about when Y/n and the baby would be coming home so they could have a party.

"Soon, my loves. The doctor wants me and the baby to stay one more night to make sure we're healthy. You think you can be good for Daddy?"

There was a chorus of yeses before everyone said their goodbyes, the novelty of a new baby sister wearing off when there were cartoons to be watched downstairs. Harry kept Y/n on the phone while he got Geneva's bottle ready, wanting to stay on the phone as long as possible.

"I know you must be tired," Harry said an hour later. He was in GiGi's nursery and watching her toddle around and play with her toys while talking to his wife.

"I'll hang up soon. I want you to get as much screen time as possible before I go," she said, turning the camera to where the baby was sleeping in the bassinet beside her hospital bed.

"Have you given her a name yet?" he asked.

Y/n shook her head. "I know we decided on one, but I wanted you to be with me when I said it for the first time."

"I love you," Harry said as his heart melted to mush.

"I love you too," Y/n said. She lifted the baby out of the bassinet, cradling her head with the expertise of someone who'd done it for years. Looking at Harry through the phone she said, "You wanna do the honors?"

Laughing out of pure bliss, he nodded. With all the tenderness and care he would've used if he'd been there in person, he said, "Welcome to this crazy, crazy world, Natalia Styles."

#harry styles #young dad! harry #young mom! reader #young dadrry #young parent!harry styles #harry styles blurb #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfic #harry styles oneshot #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x you #harry styles fluff #harry styles writing #harry styles one shot #harry styles fic #harry styles x y/n

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pholla-jm · 4 months

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So Close, Yet So Far

IMAGINE: SO CLOSE, YET SO FAR ~ LUFFY X READER GENRE: FLUFF Mizpah- the deep emotional bond between people, especially those separated by distance. ********************

Luffy could have swore he saw something familiar.

Something so familiar that it made his heartbeat increase and excitement fill his body. He would recognize that form anywhere.

That’s why he didn’t hesitate to run after the familiar figure. Ignoring the calls from his nakama. Their shouts for him fell on deaf ears.

“Ugh,” Nami groans while pinching the bridge of her nose, “I swear, those ears are just for decoration.”

Luffy ran all around town, asking if they had seen this figure he saw earlier. He described this person with perfect precision, yet no one had seen them. It confused him, frustrated him even more.

He could have sworn he saw you. The hope that filled him, just from the thought of seeing you, was too great. He wanted nothing more than to wrap his arms around you multiple times and take in your familiar scent that he grew to love. But you were too far away from him.

Now that the feeling of hope was starting to fade away, another feeling replaced it. Longing filled his heart. It felt like you were just arms reach from him, but you weren’t. You were miles away, seas away even.

Luffy laughs to himself. It’s not possible that you were here. You were home, at Dawn island.

“Luffy! What are you doing?” The ship’s cook shouts at him. Luffy was silent, not really hearing his question. Sanji was quick to notice this. “Luffy, is everything alright?”

Luffy blinks a couple times, finally hearing Sanji’s voice.

“Yeah. Just thought I saw someone.” “Oh, who?”

Luffy grins widely, “don’t worry about it.”

Luffy turns around and walks the other direction.

Sanji doesn’t push it, but he thought it to be very for him to be acting this way. Maybe he was hungry? Yeah, that has to be it.

Many, many hours later, the crew was heading back to the ship. Some were drunk and half awake. Some, taking care of each other. Luffy stayed silent the whole time. Something that the whole crew found weird, but decided not to bring it up. They didn’t want to jinx their luck.

All Luffy wanted to do was head to his quarters and look at some of the things you gave him before leaving.

“I was beginning to think that no one was going to return to the ship.” An unknown voice calls out once the crew is back on the ship- well mostly unknown.

An unknown person leaned against the railing of the ship, flipping through pages of one of Robin’s books.

While everyone either drew out a weapon, ready to fight if needed. However, Luffy’s reaction was opposite. His eyes widened, mouth forming into a huge smile. He could feel his heart start to beat faster like it used to.

It was you.

The same you he was looking for just hours ago.

You looked different though. You hair styled differently, and you had a bit more muscle on you. But your voice sounded exactly the same.

A deep inhale entered Luffy’s lungs as he couldn’t contain his excitement anymore. “(Y/N)!” He shouts happily and throws himself at you.

“(y/n)?” The crew questions. Why would Luffy know this person?

Laughter fell from your lips as you wrapped your arms around Luffy’s body. His arms wrapping around you multiple times. As much as he could, just enough to let you breathe, but enough to feel you as close as possible.

“Luffy.” You breathe out with a happy smile on your face. It was surreal seeing him again. “I’m so happy that you’re here!” Luffy voices your thoughts as well. “Me too.”

“OH!” Luffy says pulling away from you, “I want you to meet my crew!” He says, pulling you towards the confused crew members.

“Who are you?” Nami questions. “This is (y/n), they’re from Dawn Island.”

“Ooh, so is this another one of your siblings?” The blonde asks.

Your face scrunches up at his words and Luffy laughs, “nah. They’re more special than that.”

“Eh??!” The crew shouts at this revolution.

“So wait… wait. What are you doing here then?” One of them asks. “Well, I got bored of waiting on the island so I went on an adventure of my own.”

You turn to Luffy with a small pout on your face. You had told Luffy that you would wait for him when he first left the island. But you couldn’t wait any longer. You were itching to leave the island, have an adventure of your own. And then find Luffy on your own.

“I hope you don’t mind, Luffy. I know I said I would wait.”

Luffy’s grin doesn’t falter, “I don’t mind! You found your way back to me!” You laugh, “of course. I’ll always find you.”

“Are you going to stay?” Nami asks. “If you don’t mind.”

“Of course you’re staying!” Luffy says and relief floods you. You really didn’t want to leave Luffy again. And Luffy really didn’t want to leave you again.

You were finally here, with him. Within arms length.

#oneshot #one piece #one piece x reader #one piece x you #monkey d. luffy x reader #luffy x reader #luffy x you #luffy x y/n #op x reader

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auteurdelabre · 5 months

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Something to Fight For (SERIES) Part 20

Something to Fight For Chapter 20 Word Count: 11.6k Pairing: Dad!Joel Miller x f!reader (no use of y/n, no physical descriptions) Tommy x Maria, Bill x Frank Warnings: SMUT SMUT SMUT. Loves of cheese. Extra cheese with a side of cheese. Love and more love. Happy ending. All the happy shit.

masterlist here

a/n: Ya'll this feels so strange. Even though the epilogue is on its way sometime soon, writing this chapter felt very final. Its a bittersweet feeling. After this story I won't have all of us together again. It's been a journey for us all, hasn't it? You've felt like real friends, caring for this story I invented. Sorta surreal, huh? And I TOLD YA'LL THE ANGST LED TO A HAPPY ENDING. I really hope that if you've never left a review, you decide to do so on this chapter. I also hope if you have left reviews before, you do so now. Detailed ones, ones where you tell me your favorite part cuz It was so beautiful to write, but it was also hard. I feel like I'm sayin' goodbye to a part of me. Also, SMUT WARNING. Sorry, I am not a smut writing professional. It's just sorta the icing there on Bill's cupcake. It doesn't come naturally to me, but these two deserved i t don't you think? I love ya'll. See you in the epilogue.

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Joel is finishing up watering the front lawn when he hears a car coasting down his street. He doesn't pay it any mind, turning off the spigot and heading towards his front door.

He's thinking about you. How warm you felt curled against him this morning. How your puffy eyes and gentle smile makes his heart sing even now. He wipes his damp hands on the back of his jeans.

You must be breaking things off with Paul, right? Joel saw the ring box. He saw your bare finger.

And your eyes, your eyes said so much. Even as he was leaving he saw the dueling emotions there. The quiet anxiety from your mom's incoming call mingling with the open desire to have Joel stay. He felt it coming off of you in waves.

He would have. He would do anything you wanted.

He'd help you build that sanctuary with his own bare hands. He'd move you box by box into his home tomorrow if you gave the word. He'd hold you every night and make love to you every morning if that's what you said you needed.

He'd even figure out how to travel back and forth from home to Chicago and Austin for the next six months without it disrupting Sarah's life too much, if it's not a permanent move on your end. A combination of odd weekend visits and daily phone calls seems manageable. He'd even learn how to text properly. He doesn't want you back in Chicago, but he'd do it. He will continue to fight for you.

He needs to tell you this, he decides. He needs to spell it out. The word love was sputtered last night, without thought. But he needs to say it with clear eyes and your body against his. He needs you to know exactly what he's offering. He'll call to see if you’re free before the wedding to talk.

This can't wait.

He pulls the front door open, his hand reaching into his pocket for his cell phone. He hopes you answer.

"Joel!"

He spins in the door frame, his eyes widening. It's you. You're here, pulling yourself from the driver’s side of a car he doesn't recognize.

You're wearing some green dress that has far too many bows but Joel doesn't give a shit, all he can think is it's you it’s you and your here for him. You have a blazing look in your eyes, sharp and focused all on him as you march to his front door.

He feels a pull at his abdomen, a delicious sensation because there's no indecision in you anymore. It's there written in your face: you want Joel. You're here for him, to claim him.

Because he's wanted.

Joel feels a smile break over his face, his teeth a slab of white against the tan of his face that has you laughing and sobbing in equal measure. He steps away from the door because you're running to him the rest of the way, your face breaking into a smile as you launch yourself into Joel's arms.

"Honey-"

He doesn't get another word out because you've launched yourself into his chest, circling your arms around his neck. He grunts as your body collides with his and grips you in surprise. He holds fast to you against him, staring down at your tear-streaked face.

And then you're gripping his face, pulling it to meet yours. Kissing him with a ferocity that he's not expecting but is oh so responsive to. There on his doorstep you kiss him, your mouth hot and needy as Joel kisses you back, pulling you against him before panting as brings you inside the house, almost carrying you over the threshold.

You're frantic, needing to touch and kiss and make up for lost time. To show him through your passion just how much you've missed him, how much he means to you. He's still got you in his strong arms, his hands skating down your back. Your hands are coming to his collar, desperate for him to press you against the wall as he did not so long ago at your place.

Whoa slow down.

You need to talk. To get things right. You break apart from Joel slowly, your mouth reddened. Joel smiles so widely you're concerned he might pull a face muscle.

"Too much?"

You shake your head as he begins lowering your feet to the floor.

"Not enough."

Then the silence descends as he stares at you. Joel has this uncanny ability to remain so still he almost looks static. His fingers drag the strand of hair caught on your damp lips, but his finger stays at your cheek, frozen. The moment feels heavy, thick with tension and you second guess everything.

Maybe now is a bad time. This seems like one of those things a person does when they look and feel perfect. And you don't. You're sweaty and dressed ridiculously and you're pretty sure your hair still has grass in it.

Joel seems to sense your indecision and responds by reaching out his broad hand and taking yours. You immediately relax, the warmth of his grip guiding you to the kitchen.

You look up his arm, your eyes sliding to his strong profile and his full mouth as he leads you. He feels your eyes on him and he turns, smiling sweetly.

I love this man.

His hand presses you gently into the seat at the kitchen table, urging you to relax into it. You look up at him and hold in a sigh when he traces a forefinger along your cheek again.

"I'll be back in a sec."

He leaves the room and for a moment you sit there in the kitchen of so many memories you feel so incandescently happy that it brings tears to your lash line. Coloring with Sarah. Decorating cupcakes. Joel's dinner, the dropped salad. Laughter, tears, so much is just in this single room of the house.

Joel reappears seconds after you wipe the tears away. He sits across from you, his broad shoulders flexing as he places something on the table.

He clears his throat, finally dragging his eyes to meet yours and now suddenly he looks nervous. This makes your anxiety flood your senses, starting to creep up your spine.

Then you realize the time. How Joel is dressed. How you’re dressed for fucks sake. The wedding is only a few hours away and Sarah is probably still getting ready. Why did you think now was the best time? This is something you should have done when you could take your time, not rush. You’d just been so excited to see him, to tell him.

"Shit I'm sorry. You're probably still getting Sarah ready," you say wincing and preparing to stand. "We can talk about this later, tomorrow or -"

Joel raises his hand in your direction, just his palm between you, stilling your ascent. His eyes are troubled by your reaction.

"Stop. Honey, just sit there a moment, please."

Honey.

How is it that words or nicknames that sound so trite coming from other people sound so perfect coming from Joel? You nod, planting yourself back into the chair and taking a deep breath.

"Tommy took Sarah about an hour ago. Maria wanted her to get her hair done with the bridesmaids, a little something special for being the flower girl."

You smile. That sounds like Maria.

"I was just getting ready here, but I got time." Joel's eyes tell you he's sincere, that he always has time for you. And then suddenly he's so earnest. "I'm real glad you're here."

"Me too."

"Be lyin' if I said I haven't been thinking about you since I left."

"Same here."

"Yeah?"

You nod and Joel's face is like the sun breaking through clouds. But in life rain always does fall, and as if just remembering this, Joel's face tenses. That familiar tic in his jaw is back at he gazes at you.

"Paul?"

"Gone. Done. Over."

You spare him the details. You have a feeling if Joel knew even a hint of what went on today he would personally drive over to Paul's house and finish what Bill started. And you don't want that. Right now you just want this happy, hopeful joyful warmth.

Joel swallows and you can see he needs the clarity. To know that he's not imagining this. "This a permanent thing or-"

“I called off the engagement," you explain plainly. "I couldn't marry him. I couldn't be with him. Ever. Not when I feel how I do about you."

Joel tries to hide the smile, but it blooms all over his face all the same. His mouth curls, his eyes squint and you have to physically restrain yourself from leaping across the table and kissing him senseless.

You think he's going to ask you to explain in more detail. To tell him exactly what you mean about how you feel about him. But his eyes are on the pink paper at his elbow. Joel taps it with a forefinger before sliding it towards you, his eyes on your face. As it approaches you see it's an envelope.

"Open it up," Joel tells you softly, even though you can see that this envelope has been opened and closed a multitude of times, creased and folded.

You open it with shaking hands, unsure of what to expect inside. He wrote you a letter? When? Large crooked letters greet you.

"Joel I wunt u to bee my Vallentane. I love Sarah. I love you. I wint to be yr wife. LOVE - "

You read your name aloud, your eyes flicking to his. "What is this?"

"You don't recognize it?" Joel taps the card with a forefinger. A familiar Snoopy sticker greets you and suddenly your face breaks into a confused smile.

The Valentine that Sarah had made all those months ago, the one she'd insisted you personally give to her father.

“Sarah…”

"When I asked her about it the next morning she said that you had written it."

You laugh out loud in disbelief at the shrewdness of Sarah. Joel chuckles along with you.

"She loves you. She thinks you hang the moon," Joel drawls.

"The feeling is mutual," you say with a soft smile.

"You're wanted in this house, in this family," Joel says motioning to the letter. "You make us better."

You weren't expecting this. You actually can't speak.

Joel is thinking, clearly displayed in the lines between his brows, the way his dark eyes scan in front of him as if he's trying to recall something very specific. After a moment you sober, closing the card because you need to say it before you lose your nerve. You need to tell him everything.

"Joel -"

"I'm in love with you," Joel tells you bluntly, beating you to it. "Have been for a while. Thought it was kinda obvious but I'm realizing you're a woman that may need things said out loud a couple times before she believes them. So just to be sure there's no misunderstanding, I'm tellin' you plainly as I can: I love you. I don't want anyone else. I just want you."

The sound of Joel telling you he loves you may just be the most beautiful thing you've ever heard. Better than any song. Even the one he sang to you. He reaches across the table to take your hands in his.

It makes your eyes water and a smile to break out over your features. It also creates a knot in your throat, making it impossible to speak. But that might be for the best because Joel is still going.

"And I don't just love you because of how you love my daughter, though I'd be lying if I said that didn't have some part in it," Joel admits. "I just don't remember the last time I wanted someone to share my day with or wake up next to as much as I do with you. I go to sleep thinkin' about you. I drive by a shitty Italian restaurant and I think about you. I see a fucking dog at job site I'm working and I think about you. Something happens to me and it's you I wanna talk to about it."

You want to believe these words, you want to believe them so badly but then just as your heart starts to glow, something holds you back. Something that always seems to grip those threads of joy only to slice through them. An ugly, twisting thing that makes you wince and curl into yourself when you remember what Paul said. When you think about your phone call with your father earlier. How can you be so happy when you’ve just been so cruel?

Selfish.

Joel's eyes scan your face, immediately picking up on your agitation. He drops your hands and your eyes slide closed because suddenly you feel so weak. Your head drops forward and all the good feeling, the sweet burst of joy is gone, leaving you drained.

"Honey."

His voice is so tender, so gentle. He's there at your side within seconds, kneeling beside your chair. He's gripping you loosely by the waist, the other hand cupping your face.

"I can tell right now that you're having trouble hearing this because somewhere along the way you were taught you didn't deserve to be loved," Joel says, his eyes searching your face. "And you're wantin’ to tell me you're a horrible, selfish person. And that I should just forget about you."

He knows. He knows my worst self. He knows everything.

You feel so vulnerable but his eyes are blazing so brightly right now you can't look away.

"But I'm never gonna do that," Joel says, his thumb grazing along your cheekbone. "'Cuz I think you're the best thing to happen to me since Sarah was born. And if I have to spend my whole life convincing you of that, I will. I will fight every fucking day because what we have is worth fighting for. You are worth fighting for."

If falling in love had a specific moment it would be this one. Joel Miller, all muscles and wet eyes staring up at you as he kneels at your side promising you a love and life you could only dream of.

"So that's all I wanted to say," Joel finishes with eyes so luminous you could cry. "I love you. Be with me. Just... just let me fucking love you."

His last sentence makes your heart seize. You're so overcome you can't speak right away. Instead you slide off the chair to join him on the floor, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and embracing him, head balanced on his shoulder.

Joel reciprocates immediately, pulling you against him tightly. There you sit with arms around each other as Joel rocks you. This moment, this deep serenity works its way through your tight muscles and increment by increment you go boneless against him.

I love him.

With a tremble you pull back. It's still too overwhelming to look at him directly so you just balance your forehead against his, the two of you breathing deeply. You breathe slowly, you matching Joel’s steady tempo.

I love him so much.

And then finally you tilt back from him, needing to see the warmth of his dark brown eyes. He's there, present, his eyes fixed on yours.

"I want a cat."

Joel nods without thinking before his face contorts into surprise and then confusion.

"Wait, what?"

"A kitten, actually," you decide. "An orange one. Sarah was saying she wants a kitten anyway. "

A grin has broken over Joel's face. It makes him look younger, his entire disposition vibrant. It matches yours. His hands are coming to cup each of your cheeks.

"Anything you want," Joel breathes. "Anything."

You smile, no, you beam up at him. You can tell him. You can. You can trust Joel to hold your secrets and not hate you. You can trust Joel with your love because it doesn’t come with receipts or price tags or debts to be owed. Your love for him will be cherished, not a ransom so you can be plucked apart piece by piece.

"I came here because I needed to tell you in person that I'm not going to Chicago," you say with a tensing inhale. "I spoke to my dad today."

Joel's thumb is stroking your cheek and for the first time since you've entered into his home, he looks scared. His dark eyes are suddenly pensive and you can see the way the wheels are turning. You’re confused by this reaction.

"Don't do this for me," he murmurs. "I can't be the reason. Even if I want it more than anything. You'd resent me if you did."

"I didn't," you promise him. "I did it for me. I did it because I want to be happy. I don’t want that life back in Chicago. And I did it because I can't go another day without you, Joel."

Hope blooms there in the dark brown earth of his eyes. It grows beautiful and brilliant but under glass. It's too good to be true; he's so eager, so desperate but past experience has humbled him.

"Waking up in your arms this morning was one of the best feelings in the entire world," you explain with open honesty. "I want that every morning. I want to have coffee with you and go to the park with Sarah. I want to read her to bed every night and then crawl in next to you. I wanna make pancakes on Sundays and go to trivia nights with you and Maria and Tommy. I want a life with you."

Joel's heart is rapid and staccato the more you spill forth because what you're saying sounds dangerously close to what Joel desires. Is it possible?

"I'm absolutely crazy about you, Miller," you confess without hesitation now, wanting to take the tentative insecurity from his gaze. "I'm done pretending I don't want you. I'm tired of not holding you. I'm tired of being away from you and Sarah. I want a family with you, I want a future. I want it all but I only want it with you. I-I love you Joel."

The smile is broad on his handsome face, bringing out the dimple that makes your heart hiccup.

"Really?"

"Yeah."

He's got a forefinger tilting your chin so you face up to him.

"No runnin'?"

"Only to you."

That does something to Joel. Like a snap to his spine. Only to him. Because he's yours and when your lips press against his it's like every wall that exists comes tumbling down, shattering spectacularly.

You’re his.

It's here, its happening. He's so grateful, so overcome he can't hold it in.

It's only when you feel damp warmth against your cheek that your eyes fly open. You see another tear slip down Joel's cheek, his eyes still closed as he kisses you tenderly and you feel something within you burst.

You didn't expect to be crying but here you are, sniffling with hot tears slipping your face. Joel is all glassy eyed trying to wipe your tears from your cheeks as you do the same for him, both your thumbs gliding over each other's cheekbones.

"What a pair," Joel says with a sniffle.

You both give big watery laughs at this, giggling like you had only a day ago as you walked down the aisle. His thumb is lingering along your lower lip when the laughter slowly ebbs.

Then his face is tilting towards you and you don't have to turn away. Because there is no Paul, no Tess. Because Joel is taking something for himself and so are you.

Mine.

Your lips join once more, your eyes falling shut as he brings you back into his arms, sighing against you. He rocks you slowly in his arms, moving his mouth to your temple and murmuring sweet nothings, promises, loving verse.

Slowly you tilt your head back, your heavy lidded gaze on his. Your eyes trail over his mouth, then back to see him watching you intently. His dark eyes flicker in understanding. His mouth is on yours once more for a scorching kiss and then Joel is standing, holding a wide hand to you.

You take it without hesitation, rising to your feet and walking hand in hand to the bedroom. You smile softly at each other as he gently pushes the door open and as he does all you can think is that you're finally here with him in his bedroom properly.

He looks nervously around, as if he’s expecting everything to fall to pieces.

“What are you thinking about?”

“That I wish I’d cleaned the fucking room.”

You see the bedroom through his eyes now and hold in a chuckle. The scattered clothes on the ground, the belts slung over the treadmill in the far left of the room, the bed haphazardly made. The empty water glasses on the nightstand, the CD’s scattered atop the dresser.

“I can work with this,” you assure him, giggling nervously as he leads you to the bed. He assures you with relief that the sheets are clean before you both sit at the edge of his bed. His hand is on your knee, thumb tracing small circles on the soft inner, leading to your thigh.

You watch this hypnotized, breathing unsteadily when his hand begins to drift upwards, under your skirt. He says your name once, seeing the uncertainty in your features. When you don’t reply he says it again, and now you glance up at him. His brows raise, a silent question. What’s wrong?

"I'm scared," you whisper, your mind suddenly going over everything that could go wrong with this relationship.

What if you break up? What if Joel turns? What if you run again? It feels too good, too perfect already and time has taught you not to trust the calm times. Time has taught you that calm times come before tidal waves. That calm times are a harbinger of greater carnage.

"Me too." Joel kisses the corner of your mouth. “But I got you, baby.”

You nod, still pensive, even though the pull below your navel is debilitating at this point. Joel urges your gaze to his, seeing the lowering of your lids and the gentle shuddering of you. You can see him there, thick and waiting in his jeans.

“We could wait until tonight,” Joel offers, grazing your arm with his knuckles. “Or tomorrow. Hell, I’ll wait as long as you need. I just want you here is al-”

No. You don’t want to wait. You need Joel in a way you’ve never needed anyone.

“I can’t wait,” you inform him before the sentence leaves his mouth. You’re on your knees on the bed, your body pressed against his as your mouth tilts towards him.

“Well alright then,” Joel chuckles, his hands going to either side of your neck, his thumbs resting on the architecture of your jaw. You melt into his kiss, your hands gripping his shirt by the front.

Joel shifts back against the headboard, bringing you along with him to straddle his thighs. He kisses you languidly, slowing your frenetic motions. He can feel your movements, quick and sharp like a hummingbirds as you kiss him, tongue sliding between the seam of his soft lips. He pulls back gently, amused.

“We got time, baby,” he breaths against your trembling mouth. “Don’t have to rush anything.”

For some reason that hits you directly below the navel. The knowledge that Joel wants to take his time with you. No rushing, just the lazy pursuit of mutual pleasure. It’s so opposite to what you know of sex.

He's tender, his movements slow, his touches light. But that's not what you want right now. You want to feel it, more heavy tactile reality that this is happening, your body with his. You're straddling him, licking into his mouth as he holds your thighs, his mouth moving over yours as he groans.

I want to take care of him.

Joel has spent so much of your time together taking care of you – doctor’s appointments, kennels, that night of the Christmas party . . . Joel is always looking out for others and you want to take care of him for once. It’s not expected or forced upon you, it’s got you slick between the thighs just thinking about it.

“Take my dress off,” you whisper. Joel’s hands come to the hem of your dress with zero hesitation and he peels the unflattering dress from you, lifting it up over your arms stretched high over your head. It’s tossed gently to the other side of the room, making a soft flutter as it descends. You sit astride Joel’s lap in nothing but your lacy green underwear that you’d bought specifically for the wedding.

No bra, you’d decided. The dress fit better without it. Seeing Joel’s eyes darken you’re so fucking glad you decided on that.

“Jesus,” Joel breathes, mouth coming to circle your left nipple without pause. You moan into his mouth, feeling as his hands span your middle back, pushing you into his greedy mouth. You feel him grinding against your core, his jeans rasping against the gusset of your panties.

“Clothes off, Miller.”

He grins up at you, shimmying out of his jeans, kicking them down his legs as you bracket above him. You take your time pulling the shirt over his head, marvelling at how he looks as he disrobes. His skin is gold, his body a mixture of strength of softness. His hair tousled his mouth full and parted. He looks delicious.

You see his eyes snap back to your bare chest, getting ready to claim another straining nub between his teeth when you pull back, smiling. He tilts his head curiously as you begin backing up, sliding your body down his.

He’s breathing shallowly, quickly as your cheek brushes past his boxers, grazing his length there. He gives a sharp grunt, watching as you pull down his boxers, releasing his cock with a spring. You tug them off completely, tossing the boxers over your shoulder with a flourish before nestling yourself between his legs and admiring the rosy head of his cock.

Like you said. Joel Miller looks delicious.

You trail a finger along his length, fascinated by the rigid yet silken texture. It twitches at the contact. You smirk up at him from between his legs, your pupils blown wide at the view.

Joel is so fucking sexy. Laid back, legs tilted to give you space to lay between them, his cock is there waiting for your mouth and this time it’s happening. No distractions, no delays. You have been aching to get your mouth on him. You dip your head forward, eyes closed as your mouth brushes the head. You hear Joel give a low gasp, thighs twitching.

"You don't have to do this," Joel moans, even as you give kitten licks along the tip. You smile as his fingers brush your cheek, sweet and affectionate.

Your mouth moves over the head, flicking with your tongue and then taking it into the wet warmth of your mouth. You begin to suck, delicately at first, just enough to hear the first shuddering groan from Joel.

Joel Miller is a giver. Joel Miller doesn't know what it is to take from the people he loves, to have something for himself, a secret treasure of only his. But you'll show him and starting now because you have so much you want to give to him. If you could carve out your heart and carry on living you would do it, present it to him to safeguard.

"You don't have-"

You pull your mouth off of him slowly, watching him quiver. His eyes are open and he's looking down the length of his body to see you.

"Joel, I love you but please shut the fuck up and let me do this," you say fake crossly, wet lower lip grazing his tip. "Just let me make you feel as good as you've made me feel."

Joel's eyes are glossy. "Say it again,"

"Shut the fuck up?"

His head jerks so slightly you're not sure you caught it. "No. The other thing."

You smile slyly before your flattened tongue slides from base to tip, your eyes on him the entire time. "Let me make you feel good?"

"The- the other-"Joel makes a strangled groaning noise and you move over the head again, kissing gently as it twitches before taking in his thickness deep into your warm mouth once more.

As you lay there between his legs in the bed you're struck by the realization that you feel so relaxed. The bed is warm and Joel is warm and when you hear his groans you feel so impossibly good.

You shut your eyes and just feel and taste and enjoy Joel. You've never wanted to do this for a man so much. Never wanted to take your time and explore them like this. With Joel every piece of him feels sacred, every part of him worthy of your intimate attention and every time he lets out a little moan or grunt you feel yourself grow giddy. You love making him feel good.

Joel is squirming, his grunts hitting you right at your core. He can't think now, his entire body poised. Your mouth feels so fucking good, he needs more of it.

Joel never thought that a blowjob could feel loving, but this does. He lays there watching you; your eyes shut so softly, mouth moving achingly slow around him. It feels tender, it's you wanting to take care of him, sweet and soft and oh fuck ... Joel feels his breath come out in a shudder. You feel so fucking good around him. Too good.

Your hands are palm flat on his thighs, bracing there as you take more of him into your mouth, sighing happily and hollowing your cheeks. Before long you can hear the sound of him whimpering. Soft, gravely whimpers that make you feel heady because you're making Joel fucking Miller whimper.

"Don't wanna finish in your mouth, baby," he rumbles, pressing your cheek gently. "Not tonight."

You understand, pulling gently off of him. Without pausing you crawl the length of him, coming to rest in his arms beside him. He pulls you flush against his chest, your hips meeting. He’s breathing in soft pants and you can feel him hard against your thigh your own lower half aching with need for him.

He stares at you for a long time, a curiously long time considering what you'd just been in the middle of doing. His eyes are warm and open as he takes in how your face looks flushed and needy. Yet it's you who says it.

"You're beautiful."

Joel immediately feels himself flush at your compliment. A guy being beautiful? He's never been called beautiful, and it makes him feel shy. You notice the shy way he looks away, tips of his ears pinking.

"No," you insist, gripping his face in your hands. "Don't. I love looking at your face. Your beautiful, perfect face."

He smiles, all teeth and dimple which sets your heart racing. He props his head up with one hand, the other going to the back of your neck. He holds you there, one thumb stroking the side of your neck as he stares at you.

As you lay there, face tilted into Joel’s pillow you smile, inhaling gently. The scent of his shampoo and just him. It makes you feel calm, but it also makes you pull a face, cringing as you recall something from months ago. Joel can see it immediately in your face, his own features turning concerned.

"What?"

“Nothing.”

You feel Joel’s eyes on you even with yours closed. You give an embarrassed smile. "Promise not to laugh?"

"No."

You bark out a surprised laugh, drawing an amused chuckle from Joel. You love making him smile like that, in that unguarded, playful way.

"Never mind then," you say with a smug smirk, rolling away from him.

"C'mon," he needles you, nose brushing against your neck to tickle, drawing you back to face him again. "Don't be like that. No secrets."

He says it smiling, but you hear that underline in the last sentence. No secrets. No, you don't want any between you either.

“It’s just a bit embarrassing.”

“I don’t mind,” Joel insists. “I’ll trade you an embarrassing story for yours.”

“You go first.”

“Once when I was eight I got caught stealing baseball cards from one of my friends at school. My mom got called down to the school and I had to apologize in front of everyone.” Joel looks so sheepish recalling this memory you want to laugh.

“Joel that’s barely embarrassing,” you say rolling your eyes.

“Ah ah, deals a deal,” Joel insists, gently tilting your chin so you face him. You sigh.

"Fine. It’s stupid. It's just. . . Back before, when you and I weren't together. . ." You trail off, this story not feeling funny anymore. If anything it makes you sad.

"What?" Joel looks nervous. "Tell me."

"I snuck in here one time when I was babysitting,” you say in a rush, eyes closed. “And I uh, touched myself on your bed."

Joel looks like he's been electrocuted. He physically jerks. "What?"

You feel yourself going beet red all the way to your roots. Why did this seen like a good story too share? It's humiliating. You pull the sheets over your head, your voice coming out muffled.

"I told you it was embarrassing!"

"Jesus Christ," Joel growls. "You were touching yourself in my bed?"

You're silent under the sheets, your breathing unsteady. You'd expected him to laugh at you or even pity you. Neither is happening. His voice drops an octave.

"Did you come?"

Your toes curl at the husky tinge in his voice. You're powerless when you feel him dragging the sheets down your face, exposing your face to him. His eyes are like furnaces, desire licking the edges.

"Did you?"

"Mhmm," you manage.

"Show me," he rasps and it's like you're back in the kitchen, hands down your pants as Joel begs you to touch yourself for him. You feel him peeling off your panties under the sheets, rolling your hips so that he can remove them entirely.

"Please baby," Joel whispers, kissing your shoulder. Then he pauses to kiss you gently, so gently, reverently on the mouth, eyes searching yours.

"But only if you want."

Joel doesn't want what you won't give him freely. He has no desire to take and take like Paul and James. And because of this you want to give him everything.

And so you nod, flushing when Joel removes the blankets from your body leaving your naked body tingling and exposed to the cool air.

He makes a low sound in the back of his throat. He takes your hand gently in his, raising it to his mouth. You think he means to kiss you knuckles when his pillowy lips circle your fore and middle finger. Not breaking eye contact he sucks them into his wet, warm mouth, trailing his tongue over your digits, coating them in his spit.

Satisfied, Joel drags them from his mouth, urging the damp digits along the seam of your throbbing pussy and gently pushing inside. You whimper at the contact, your eyes stuck on his as you begin to work your fingers on either side of your clit. You don't look away from Joel as you do. You simply flush under his heated gaze, your toes curling as you moan at the sensation of not only touching yourself, but by being watched by Joel as you do. He's thick and aching as he watches you but he makes no attempt to touch himself.

He rests his palm over yours loosely. He's not guiding, not moving, he wants to feel you touching yourself, wants to learn what turns you on.

"I can't believe you're real," he whispers as you begin to rock against your hand. "So fucking perfect."

You're not perfect. Your body has flaws, many that you could point out to him. But when Joel looks at you, dark eyes melting along your curves you know he believes what he says.

He removes his hand from over top yours, wanting to just watch you. He memorizes the way your lower lip quivers, the way your brows saddle as you stroke yourself. He’s never been so turned on in his life.

"What were you thinking about when you did it?" Joel asks you huskily.

"You," you murmur, eyes lazily closed as your fingers work between your thighs. You can feel his eyes on you, raking over every part of your body.

"Yeah?" You can hear the smile in his voice. You both already knew the answer, but his ego likes hearing it out loud.

"Fucking you," you groan, fingers working hurriedly over the pearl of your clit. "Your mouth, fuck your mouth is so sexy Joel."

Joel's (very sexy) mouth moves over your nipple, kissing there. His eyes are on you as he does.

"And your tongue," you whisper, arching further into his mouth.

His tongue laves at your straining nub, his teeth coming to graze and then gently nibble. That sends electric currents running through your entire body, your legs jerking out without thought or control.

Then he pulls back, his eyes roaming your flushed and naked body. Your eyes crack open to see him; mouth parted and fixed on your face as you squirm. You whimper his name, the taste of it sweet. He drops his head forward to kiss you, a tender thing.

"C'mon baby," Joel urges against your temple. "Show me how you made yourself come on my sheets."

You cannot form words. When Joel talks like that, filthy and low and growled it hits directly between your legs. You can offer only a symphony of grunts and mewls and whimpers and you feel your entire body tighten and then blissfully release.

"Oh that's it," Joel murmurs lazily as he watches you come. "Oh fuck. ... Yeah baby... Just like that... All for me."

Always for you, you want to tell him. But you're too far gone, the bliss overwhelming you. And finally you come, coating your fingers as your head is thrown back into the pillow.

Before you can say anything, Joel is between your legs, gently prying them apart. You make a surprised noise as he throws your legs over his broad shoulders, opening you to him. You watch as his fingers part you.

"Fuck if I'd known," Joel murmurs, licking a stripe up your pussy. He doesn't finish the thought, simply begins to kiss your cunt with wild, open mouthed kisses that have you arching back into the bed.

"Joel I -"

"C'mon baby," he groans, sucking on your clit languidly. "My mouth and my tongue remember? Be good and come on 'em now."

Jesus Christ. You’re already there. Already so close when he sucks your clit into his mouth, humming in delight as your thighs tremble around his head. And its only seconds when you feel yourself cresting. He feels it too, making encouraging humming noises as his hands come to hold you in place, spanning over your lower abdomen.

And then you feel your entire body release against his tongue, punching out groans as he laps between your legs, murmuring how good you taste, how much he’s missed your pussy, how he can’t believe how lucky he is.

You murmur his name, arms outstretched in his direction. He crawls to you, up the length of your naked body pressing glossy o’s on your exposed flesh as he ascends. Then his face gets near and you can see his eyes are unfocused. You sigh softly as his mouth finds yours.

He kisses you long and slow, his tongue dancing with yours. It's not long before you feel his free hand sliding down from your neck, over your straining nipple, along your lower belly and then coming to cup your sex softly.

You let out a small choked noise when his fingers slide down the seam, parting you. Brushing against your aching core.

"Want you inside me," you urge, impatiently, his mouth still moving over yours. Joel chuckles, a warm, loving sound that feels like a cracking fireplace.

"You nice and wet for me?" he asks even though as his fingers slowly curl around your swollen bud, he can tell you're absolutely soaked. He sinks the first finger in, finding absolutely no resistance. You're so ready, so open and you take him to the knuckle without hesitation, moaning.

He watches the emotions flicker across your face as he adds a second finger, slowly working them in and then out. Sees the shuttering of your eyes as you lean into his hand whimpering. Your exquisite, your here, your his.

"All mine," he rumbles against your jaw.

It feels so good. His wide fingers hit those perfect spots that you're fingers can never seem to reach. You crack your eyes open to see Joel staring at you, his eyes so dominated by his pupil they look black. He moans softly when you're eyes meet his. He's taking his time, so fucking slowly.

"Please Joel," you whisper breathlessly. Your eyes are heavy with need, matching his. “Don’t make me wait anymore.”

He nods and the bed creaks as he rolls gently over top of you. Another deep kiss is pressed to your mouth as his hips find yours. He notches himself at your entrance and instinctively your thighs go to bracket his hips.

I love him. I love him. I love him.

Your entire body is trembling, and this is only soothed when you realize that Joel's is as well. His entire body has broken into small, shudders of aching need. Your eyes drift open and his heart swells as you grin up at him.

You need him. No more waiting. You lean forward, kissing him gently. He responds in kind, one hand against your lower back pulling you tighter to him. You think that you could spend your entire life kissing Joel and it wouldn't be nearly enough.

He's braced on his forearms above you, one wide hand coming to brush the hair from your face.

"Wanted this for so long," he tells you in a murmur and you know he doesn't just mean the sex. Your eyes are glassy as you nod up at him.

"Me too."

He moves slowly into you, your shifting hips leading him into your waiting core. You hiss slightly at the intrusion. He's bigger than Paul or James.

"Easy," Joel whispers against your temple. "Don't have to rush it."

You nod as his mouth comes to meet yours, his body moving languidly against yours. His left hand finds yours gripping the sheets. He slips his palm over yours, lacing your fingers in his and holding you there. You feel your entire body melt into his.

"Fuck, honey ... So good," Joel groans as he continues to sheaths himself in you, his head falling forward against your shoulder on the pillow. You whimper, needy and desperate for more. He feels so good. So right. "Those sounds."

He licks into your mouth, groaning as your hands come to rest under his arms, gripping his broad back as you urge him deeper and deeper.

“You’re so deep,” you groan, body jerking against his. The bed creaks gently, rhythmically as he fucks you. No, not fucking – he makes love to you. As if he thinks your body is as sacred as you think his is.

"Say the other thing," Joel whispers against your neck. "Please."

You feel his hips surge forward, filling both your body and heart. You smile, tilting your cheek so he looks at you. You won't say this next part until your gazes are locked.

"I love you," you say, rolling your hips up against him, your body in communion with his. You see his eyebrows saddle, his eyes watery.

"Again, please," he groans, his eyes never moving from your face. He didn't even need to ask because the words are already there, offered to him as they will always be offered to him.

"I love you, Joel."

His mouth is on yours, and his hips plunge deeper into you and now he's rambling between deep kisses, speaking against your mouth.

"I love you... so long... F-fuck, feel so… Wanna make you feel good, fucking l-love you so much."

His hips are snapping, his resolve unravelling as you cry out. He feels so good, so perfect between your thighs. You wonder if it is always supposed to feel this good, this easy. Desire licks at your belly, your hand coming to cup his cheek so he's looking at you. Something about his eyes, seeing them vacillate between dreamy and sharp makes you lose control.

"You gonna come again baby?" Joel murmurs to himself, his body coiled. Joel is, as he was not so long ago that time when you rode his thigh, amazed at how quickly you do. How perfectly in synch your bodies are.

His voice is tinged with lust obviously, but also a deep affection that borders on awe. It makes your pulse spike and your body begins to spasm because you’re so fucking close, the pleasure building to an almost uncomfortable level.

"J-joel-"

"S'okay," Joel tells you with a kiss. "I've got you. I've got you, baby, just let go."

These words, these gentle urging words are what send you cresting and you come with a sharp moan. Your body moves in time with his and you don't realize that you're crying until Joel's hips slow and he's peering into your face.

"Do you want to stop? Are you okay?"

"What?! Don't stop!" You gasp, urging his hips with a small tap of your hand. It feels so good, you’re already on the precipice again.

He seems to understand because his movements restart in earnest and his mouth is kissing your tears away. You’re hiccup-crying but only because it feels so perfect, the bliss so intense and you're just so thankful for him. For existing. For loving you in a way you'd never thought possible. And you’re crying because you get to be the one to love Joel.

And soon you do come again; your cries are loud, jagged and needy as he thrusts against you over and over. You chant his name, kissing his mouth, arms around his shoulder for purchase as he seeks to bury himself further inside you.

"I love you," you cry, your hips rolling against his, wanting to make him feel as good as you do. "Love you so fucking much, Joel."

He spills into you, his groans sharp in your ear as he groans out your name, long and low. It seems to go on forever, filling you so deeply. His body is still wrapped around you as his hips finally stutter to a stop.

You stay like that, tangled against one another until Joel presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth and gently eases himself from between your slick thighs. You both sigh as he rolls to your side, pulling you into his arms as if he’s terrified to let you go.

You want to go to sleep, snuggled like this in the warmth of his arms but you’re far too aware of the time.

"We should shower," you say with a pant.

"Together?" Joel murmurs, raising a brow over the eye peering in your direction from the pillow.

"Christ, Miller," you say with a breathy laugh. "If we do that we're never making it to the wedding."

And while there isn't time for a communal shower there is time for a soft "I love you". It’s whispered against one anothers' lips, like a flower pressed between the pages of a book, before you leave hand in hand for the wedding a short while later.

There will always be time for that.

///

Sarah has always been a grateful child. She's always been quick with her thank you's, never found it difficult to share her toys and loves seeing those she cares for happy.

So when her fifth birthday wish of a mama had come true so perfectly in the form of you, she thought it only fair to use her sixth birthday wish for something more philanthropic.

That day with her father at her side, whispering to make a wish she had done so with thought of Joel and he alone.

I wish my daddy had a wife.

And now as she stands looking up from her basket of real flower petals to see you and her daddy walking hand in hand towards her, gazing at each other and then her.

The two of you are trying so hard not to be too obvious and failing spectacularly. Daddy is smiling so widely Sarah actually smiles just looking at him. He's staring at you as the two of you walk, making your way to the ranch.

You're all blushing, laughing at something Daddy said. You both look so beautiful with you in your dress and him in his suit.

The two of you both look over and see Sarah at the same time and it's hard to say who looks more excited, you or daddy.

"Hey bug!" "Hi babygirl!"

The two of you laugh at your mingled pet names as you reach her. You're the first to drop to your knees and Sarah doesn't miss the way her father stares at the back of your head with a sweet little smile.

Sarah feels her tiny heart hammering as you look to her with arms outstretched and she runs into them, her tiny arms wrapping so tightly around your neck you give a grunt.

Sarah looks over your shoulder at her Daddy. She's confused when she sees his eyes are wet. But his smile is right, so she doesn't think much of it. She pulls back and is confused that your eyes are wet too.

But maybe it's just allergies? Sarah heard one of the other bridesmaids talking about how an outdoor wedding was hell on hers at the salon earlier today.

"Daddy can we have pancakes tomorrow morning?"

"'Course, babygirl."

"And you'll be there right?" Sarah says, looking to you imploring. You seem momentarily taken aback, glancing up at Joel suddenly anxious.

"Yeah, she'll be there," Joel assures you both with a smile. "She's actually gonna be over a lot more often."

Sarah looks at your face breaking into a smile again. Sarah grins, wanting to scatter all the flower petals in the world right now. But then you sober, taking both of her little hands in yours.

"If that's okay with you, Sarah," you say seriously, your eyes searching her face. "I don't want you feeling uncomfortable."

Sarah can tell there's no guile there. If Sarah told you no, you'd respect it. She can feel that.

"S'okay with me," Sarah says. "I like you there."

"Thanks bug," you say and press a gentle kiss to the crown of her head. Like a mom would. Sarah feels warmth blooming through her body.

"Maybe you could have a sleepover at our house." Sarah looks over at her Daddy. "Daddy can she sleep over?"

You give Daddy a funny look when he barks out a laugh.

"Yep," Daddy says trying not to grin too wide. "She can sleepover whenever she wants."

You stand, taking his hand again, smirking and Sarah wants to say more but then the mean wedding lady is there.

But Sarah doesn't care, because she's looking at Daddy kissing your head and all she can think is that she's so happy that her birthday wish came true.

///

"You're late," Abby snaps as she approaches the three of you. "And are those grass stains?"

She looks over your dress with distaste, holding your bouquet and Sarah's flower girl basket.

"Probably," you say giving her a level gaze. "Had to kick the shit out of someone before I got here."

You wince only when you realize Sarah might have heard that. But she looks distracted by the basket.

Joel gives you a surprised look that matches Abby's. Abby thrusts the bouquet into your arms and murmurs an order of going to the barn as she hands Sarah the basket.

You hold the bouquet at waist level, turning to Joel with an expectant look. He offers his arm and you take it. Sarah goes dashing excitedly ahead and you follow as Joel gives you a curious look.

"Do I wanna know?"

"I'll tell you about it sometime," you with a wink. "Maybe."

You never will though, because if Joel knew half of what Paul did there would be a fine dusting of Paul scattered all over his new apartment in Leander. Your eyes scan for Maria and Tommy.

"Did I tell you how gorgeous you look?" Joel murmurs, distracting you.

"Bullshit," you bite back with a smile. "I look like a sad piece of lettuce."

"Well, I always liked eatin' my vegetables," Joel whispers back.

"Joel!"

You clap a hand over your mouth, holding in the bubble of laughter. You refuse to walk down this aisle collapsing into laughter again. You turn your head into his shoulder as you walk, hiding your laughter as Joel chuckles.

He feels his heart swelling as he looks down at you tucked up against him, face pink.

"I love you so fucking much," Joel whispers against the crown of your head. You look up, smiling bright.

"Ditto, Miller."

///

When the two of you walk down the aisle, you try not to be too obvious. This is Maria and Tommy's day. You make sure you don't look at each other; you don't graze hips as you walk, you don’t smirk. You simply link arms, walking at the right pace for the band.

Tommy is at the end of the aisle with a new haircut looking at you and Joel with an inscrutable look.

You've done well, you think. But then Joel gives everything away when you drop linked arms. Because instead of just walking in separate directions you feel his wide hand skate down your back, hitting your lower back, fingers curling before pulling slowly away, as if he can't stand not touching you.

Just that contact is enough to have goosebumps rising all over your body. You duck your head, unable to meet Tommy's gaze as you walk past him.

You stand across from one another on either side of the aisle, forcing yourself not to stare at one another.

But you feel Joel's eyes on you, and you relent, dragging your gaze from the sea of faces and over to him. From here you can see just how good Joel looks. Dark navy suit, tailored, crisp white shirt underneath. He looks so sexy you actually have to force yourself to look away.

You feel eyes on you and you glance over to see Frank smiling up at you in the crowd. You feel your face pink as he shoots you a waggle of his eyebrows. Bill isn't watching you, his eyes are on Joel.

Maybe Frank isn't the only one to think your boyfriend is cute.

Your boyfriend. Joel is your boyfriend.

It seems like everything and yet not enough.

Then the sound of the band starts up again and you both quickly look up to see Sarah with a serious look on her face. With amusement you watch as she delicately takes one petal from the basket, crouches and places it on the aisle runner atop the grass. She does this with the next petal. . . And the next one. . . Moving an inch at a time.

You see Joel giving a smirk accompanied by a wince as the crowd titters. At this rate you're all going to be here for hours. Inspired you call out to her over the music.

"Make it colorful, bug."

She seems to understand, her face breaking into a wide smile. She nods, thrusting her hand into the basket and tossing handfuls of colorful petals into the air, moving quickly down the aisle.

The crowd cheers as you and Joel laugh, watching her dance down the aisle tossing the flower remnants in every direction. Finally she reaches the end of the aisle, looking up to you expectantly.

"Was I good?"

"The best.”

Maria enters on her father's arm. You can see Sheila crying in the front row, blowing her nose as you hold in a giggle at this.

Maria is ethereal. The dress made for her. Ethereal isn't even enough to describe how angelic she looks in the off-white dress that clings to her hips and dances down over her knees. The sun is setting, casting everyone in the golden hue of the day. It feels magical.

She double winks at you as she nears the end of the aisle and you return it. A code from your club days.

Two winks: you good?

Two winks back: I'm good.

She smiles and nods, handing you her large brides bouquet before turning to face Tommy who is staring at her in quite the same way Joel stares at you.

The Minister waits for the band to conclude the last strains of the song before he begins.

"Dearly beloved..."

///

You and Joel have done very well at keeping your hands to yourselves for the duration of the wedding. It was a bit difficult during wedding photos, but there were so many orders of where to stand and how to pose that you were both distracted.

It's easy during dinner because you're seated on either side of the couple at the head table. You're squished between Maria and an annoying cousin of hers that won't stop talking about her manicure.

Joel is next to Tommy with Sarah next to him, her tiny feet kicking the air as she eats her pasta.

The speeches are lovely with lots of laughter, lots of wine and lots of good food. The music is amazing as well, upbeat and fun and it gets the crowd dancing. When you look at the band you feel a little thrill go through you when you remember Joel singing to you.

You watch him now, Sarah's hands in his as they dance together. She's giggling and saying something that makes Joel laugh. In a motion as old as dance itself, Sarah's tiny feet are atop her father's and he shuffles them around the dance floor.

Bill and Frank are dancing, well, Bill is shuffling while Frank goes full out, arms in the air as he sings along with the vocalist.

Maria and Tommy are very good dancers, shockingly so. You love seeing the affection they have for one another, even when they're laughing and doing silly dances.

It's the slow dance that brings a halt to your plans of restraint. You sit at your table, falling more in love with Joel every second.

You watch him stride to your table, popping Sarah into her chair with the coloring book and crayons Maria made sure were there for the kids attending the wedding (she thinks of everything!) she happily goes back to the Disney princess she was coloring.

Then he's come to your chair and holds his large hand out to you.

"May I have this dance?"

As if you could refuse.

You beam up at him, taking his hand and letting him lead you to the dance floor. You admire the breath of his shoulders, the tapering of his waist. And he's all yours. Because you are never letting Joel Miller go.

Ever.

The song is slow and sweet. You glance over to see Maria and Tommy kissing gently before her head nestles in the crook of his neck.

You long to do the same with Joel, but you don't want to draw the extra attention.

Instead you try and remain stoic as Joel's hand spans your lower back. One of your hands goes to curl over Joel's shoulder, your free hands in clasped in one anothers.

You dance like this a while, trying so hard not to make it obvious that you're desperately in love with the man that holds you to him, swaying you gently to the music. You hear him gently humming the tune of the song under his breath.

Joel is trying his hardest not to stare at you, but it's impossible. He's wished for you so long that it still seems surreal that your here in his arms and your staying.* it makes his stomach twist pleasantly.

He looks down at you, mouth hitched in a boyish grin.

"So, you still like me?"

"Nah," you reply, your eyes dancing. "Pretty sure I'm in love with you."

"That's a relief," Joel murmurs, aching to kiss you. "Because I was thinking I'd like to marry you sometime pretty soon."

You feel your heart jump at this. Your entire body breaking out into a delicious shiver as Joel stares down at you.

"That's convenient," you reply just as smoothly. "Because I was thinking I'd really like to be your wife someday soon."

Joel grins widely, so handsome and so sexy that you feel overcome. The song ends and with reluctance you pull back. You can't go several more hours without feeling him against you. You tilt forward, dropping your voice.

"Outside. Five minutes."

Joel nods, pretending to part from you. You walk back from the dance floor on your way to grab a drink when you spot Bill making his way back from the drink station. You call him over.

"Thank you for earlier," you tell him, heart swelling. "Both you and Frank. I don't know what I would have done."

"Was nothing," Bill says shyly.

"It was everything," you correct gently. "But I think you know that."

Bill's shrugging. "Saw you arrived with the contractor."

Now it's your turn to give a shy shrug. "Yeah."

"You told him," Bill observes. There's no emotion in his voice, good or bad. You suppose because then he'd feel responsible one way or the other. But his eyes give everything away.

"Yeah."

"And?"

"I'm really glad I did."

The corner of Bill's mouth curls ever so slightly under his beard.

"Good."

You feel so much affection for Bill in this moment. Watching him stride over your lawn to protect you this morning. The advice he's given you. Baking cupcakes for Sarah. The way he's just there when you need him. Glowering or sullen yes, but he's there.

"Bill.... I just... My dad was never... I just wanna," you're stumbling over the words, trying to find them. To thank him for being the father you always wanted without even realizing. To thank him for his steady, calming presence even when it didn't come naturally to him.

And in a move you'll swear was a dream, Bill pulls you with one arm into his barrel chest. He holds you there tightly only a moment and releases you.

"You know we're always here if you need."

And then he's gone before you can say more, striding away from you and back to Frank who is deep in conversation with Sarah.

You're in a daze when you feel a hand glide over the small of your back. You watch as Joel moves past you and out into the warm night.

He glances back just before ducking around the corner, just long enough to give you a sultry wink that hits you so hard you actually stumble walking. Jesus, your entire body is thrumming. You need to get Joel back into bed as soon as possible. Maybe you won't ever leave it. There are worst fates.

You wait a few moments, trying to be discreet before you slip out from the loud party and outside. The cicadas reach you, the warm breeze dancing along your face as you step out the barn doors.

"Hey pretty lady," a deep voice sounds from your left. "You single by any chance?"

You turn, giggling when you see Joel leaning against the outer wall of the barn. His jacket is off, his white button down sleeves rolled to the elbows. He looks delicious.

"Nah I've got this big, strong boyfriend," you tease as you slink towards him. "And you better be careful ‘cuz he's got a real bad temper. He punched a guy in a McDonald's once."

Joel holds in a sharp laugh, reaching for you. "Yeah but he had it coming."

"Couldn't agree more," you nod, allowing Joel to pull you into his arms.

You go boneless against him as he kisses you, his hands on either side of your face. He pauses only when he feels you tense up, his large eyes scanning your face.

"What's the matter?"

"I'm scared at how good this feels," you confess to him without hesitation. "I've lived a whole life of waiting for the other shoe to drop. This feels too good. I'm too happy."

"You don't have anything to worry about," Joel promises you. "No shoe droppin' with the Millers. We take care of each other."

"I'm not a Miller."

"Just a formality," Joel assures you between kisses.

You grin through a watercolor blur and wrap your arms around his neck.

"I love you," you say against his jaw, just because you can say it. You get to say this to Joel anytime you want.

"Ditto."

Joel wedges a finger under your chin and tilts your face to him. He presses his mouth over yours once more. You sigh, arms wrapping around his neck. He's so wonderful.

His mouth finds yours again and again and your hips find his and before long he has you pressed against the barn with one of your thighs wrapped around his waist. His tongue is slipping slowly against yours as you whimper.

You can't help it; kissing Joel is like a drug and you always want more. Your hands are at his collar, his hands at your lower back pressing you into him.

"You gonna sleepover tonight?" Joel laughs, kissing you down your neck. The sleepover comment from earlier still amusing him.

"If you'll have me."

"Anytime," Joel promises, his body flush with yours against the side of the barn. "Need you in my bed as much as possible. Wanna take you there right now."

If Joel has it his way you'll never leave his bed again.

His kisses grow more insistent and he feels your body shuddering against his. Could you make it to his truck? Just for fifteen minutes?

"Save it for after the cake cutting, would ya?"

The two of you break apart sheepishly at the sound of Tommy's voice. You glance behind you to see Tommy and Maria smirking at you as they come through the back of the barn.

Joel feels Tommy's eyes on him, twinkling and merry. Joel's mouth twists into an embarrassed smirk.

"Shut the fuck up."

Tommy moves over to his brother, somehow seeming to know that you and Maria need a quick chat.

Maria's eyes are wet, and she's trying so hard not to grin too wide, for fear of creasing her very heavy wedding makeup.

You think back to all the times she tried to warn you off Paul, all the times she tried to push you to Joel and you feel your face crumple. You wrap your oldest friend in your arms.

"Maria, I'm so-"

"Don't you dare apologize," Maria tells you firmly, pulling you back so she can peer into your face, wiping the tears that have escaped down your cheek. "Not for this. Never."

"Okay," you nod, knowing that this is what your friendship is. No recriminations, no long-standing grudges. Just two friends who want to see the best for one another.

"I just wanted you to be happy," she says, eyes welling. "That's all I ever want for you."

"I am," you whisper, voice breaking. "I'm so fucking happy."

Sarah dashes over to you, wanting to show you and her aunt all the flowers from the tables she's collected into her flower girl basket. You hoist her onto your hip so you can all marvel at the colorful arrangements inside.

"Next time listen to me when I tell you something," Maria says with faux irritation over the basket. "I'm never wrong."

"Except when you tried to tell me I looked good in leather pants," you reason.

"I'll give you that one," Maria relents and you both dissolve into laughter. Despite having no idea what's so funny, Sarah joins in, one arm around your neck as she giggles.

At the sound the Miller men glance over at you with stars in their eyes. Tommy places a hand on his older brother's shoulder, shaking his head as if you're the silliest bunch he's ever laid eyes on.

"Well, that's our future, Joel."

"Yeah," Joel says, grinning at you as you catch his eye beaming.

"Yeah it is."

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller #joel miller smut #pedro pascal #dad joel miller #fanfic #fanfiction #smut #happily ever after #happy ending #slice of life #joel miller fic #happy Joel Miller #wedding #Sarah Miller #joel the last of us

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bellewintersroe · 8 months

Text

Daniel Ricciardo x Reader Spice 🌶️

Anonymous asked: Hi!! I would love to see you write some more daniel Ricardo smut, maybe it starts out as a media thing and they eventually get together and everyone goes wild thinking he was just being his normal sweet smiling self. Maybe in some Interview he lets something spicy slip. <3

Warnings: smut 18+, talks of sex, oral, Daniel being a little bit naughty- I didn’t know how to include them starting as a media thing, so I altered it slightly, hope that’s okay! It’s a little short

When Daniel and I first met I was working as an interviewer on the paddock. It had been my life long goal to work around F1, and soon my work gained a large following, especially on social media. It felt good to finally represent women working within motorsport, of course there was hundreds more who deserved recognition, possibly more than I did, but I loved spreading the word for young girls with a dream that they can work in a mainly male dominated workplace. The job was fun, it always ran (most of the time) smoothly, I gained many, many more friends, but one person in particular I became particularly close to. Daniel Ricciardo, currently driving for red bull, he had been one of my best friends from the beginning. We’d always stop to chat, his interviews were always the most fun (not to be bias) and he was also one of the most supportive and sweetest about everything I did. I came to learn very quick that my feelings for Daniel had scathed way past a friendship and after one boozy night our feelings became known and the rest was history. My relationship with Daniel was so intimate and fun, we’d sneak around a lot of the time, keeping our relationship semi out of the public eye for the first couple months. Privacy, not secrecy was the best thing for us.

The best thing of all was when I had interviewed him the many times after we’d gotten together. I’d find our cheeks flushed way easier than before, we’d hold eye contact for a little too long, and there was subtle touches here and there that was difficult to resist.

“Here I am with Daniel Ricciardo, the winner of the Monaco Grand Prix today!” The excitement was oozing from my voice as my boyfriend stood to one side, beaming away. “Congratulations Daniel, we’re all so proud of you! How does it feel to get your redemption from 2016?!” I held out the microphone as his hand engulfed mine, holding it closely.

“Incredible, y’know. It’s such a surreal moment, I’m pretty speechless.” He laughed, borderline breathless as his eyes scanned over my face. There was a glisten in them that Redbull had threatened to take away, but not anymore, Daniel wanted this so bad, and I was so proud of him for achieving it. “Well I’m super proud of you, I couldn’t be happier.”

“Aw, c’mere.” He engulfed her in another hug, arms tightly squeezing around her waist. To onlookers we were witnessing the couple sharing an adorable moment, Daniel being as innocent as ever. “How are you gonna celebrate later?” I then asked, feeling his hands slowly trail off me. “How are we gonna celebrate?” His eyebrow then perked as I felt my breath hitch and a heat rise to my face. I was rarely speechless as an interviewer.

“I don’t think everybody wants to know how we’re gonna be celebrating later..” He joked as I raised a hand to my face. “Oh- Daniel!” My cheeks were burning overwhelmingly, and the sound of his giggles only made it worse.

“No they don’t, you’re right, let’s keep that off camera…”

Keep it off camera we did… well, semi off camera. Daniels phone was angled down to me as I gazed up through my lashes, lips wrapped all the way down his twitching cock. “Fuck, that’s it baby, keep looking at the camera. So sexy.” The Australian groaned as I deep threaded his member as much as I could.

Daniel was moaning and groaning, seething through his teeth as he fucked into my face. Spit was drooling down his cock and my lips and a small gag caused him to pull off. “Fuck. Such a good girl.” Daniel praised, wiping at my chin. I was sure half my makeup had come off with it, but I didn’t care.

“I’m your good girl.” I panted, reaching out to nudge him down onto the bed. Tonight was his night, his celebration, I rode him endlessly, with every inch of energy I could muster. Daniel didn’t take too long to explode his cum inside of me, he was a shivering moaning mess, sweaty and exhausted from the pleasureful night.

“Best celebration ever.” Daniel poked fun at the interview earlier in the day which had now gone viral. Nobody expected Daniel Ricciardo and myself to be in such an openly honest relationship, nor did they expect the smiley man to be capable of such dirty things, but they were so wrong… “Oh, Daniel…”

#daniel ricciardo x you #daniel ricciardo smut #Daniel Ricciardo x reader smut

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rusmii · 6 months

Note

Can I request a oneshot where Dazai has a dream ab reader ( fem iydm) and it’s rlly detailed ( the dream ) and everything feels real? And when he awoken she was sleeping beside him which did not help his situation.

๋࣭ ⭑dream surreal ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

osamu d. x fem!reader

╰ back to navi

syp: dazai can't help but overthink a fight that might never happen. but somehow learns how to respect you as a person even more now.

tw//: dazai centric(no literally y/n is nowhere to be seen during most of it), timeline jumps a bit(a lot at the end), arguments, it's implied that dazai is nonchalant asshole whenever an argument happens, hurt/comfort, learning experience, dazai accidentally tortures himself in his sleep, mentioned drug, im kinda too tired to tag everything but since its dazai yall know the drill, i'll leave the rest up to interpretation lmk if im missing any tags

♡: IM SO SORRY THIS TOOK ME SO LONGGG but i rlly did not like how i wrote this.. did not go the way i wanted and i tried fixing it but didn't wanna postpone it anymore so i hope i didn't dogshit it😭🤕

wc: 6k

dazai hums to himself, skipping on the way home from work. today was your guys' 3rd anniversary, and the two of you had reserved dinner at the beachside in Yokohama. it wasn't expensive, but it didn't have to be with it having more sentiment value. it's where the two of you had your first date after all.

he fishes through his pockets to grab his keys, the tiny chinkle dangling in the air as he unlocks the door. as soon as he opened the door, he kicked off his shoes and ran into your shared bedroom, "belladonna!! are you excited for-"

"osamu." you said with venom laced in your tone. dazai stopped mid sentence, his arms now loose to the side as he stood by the entrance of the doorway. "hm?" he tilts his head, "what's the matter, bella?" dazai asks. he noticed an envelope in your hands, and pictures scattered across the bed you were standing in front of.

he could feel your glare boring holes into his soul. "don't bella me. the hell is all this?!" you nearly yell despite your close distance with each other. he looked at you with a confused face. what could have made you so mad that you were practically screaming in his face for... oh.

as dazai stepped closer to the bed he also saw the pictures more clearly.

it was pictures of him from his mafia days, along with pictures of his closest companions. ango, chuuya, mori, kouyou, the old man and oda. his breath is caught in his lungs as he stares at oda's picture. it had 'couldn't be saved' , 'RIP' , and other similar things written in a thick black marker.

there were also other multiple pictures that were taken of him murdering or torturing people from his teenage years. he bit the inside of his cheek, he remembered all those moments, the moments he couldn't take back or erase from his memory. everything was there. from the moment mori found him and brought him to his clinic, to chuuya and him meeting for the first time, and to when oda was dying in his arms.

everything was there, and he couldn't deny it. the evidence of who he really was- was shining through the roof, and he heard you opening the envelope you were hiding earlier.

he watched your movements like a hawk, watching as the contents of the envelope spilled onto the bed. there were very few bullets he used to kill his victims, the gun used; all dirty and worn down(he's pretty sure it's still broken), the drugs he's taken; the empty bottles lay around as the syringes with empty needles bounce off the bed, and lastly a paper.

you held it up, and his body went stiff as you read the contents. "dazai osamu's list of crimes. 1073 in total." dazai pursed his lips into a thin line. whoever was documenting everything couldn't get his crime count right. he committed more than 1073 crimes in total. but you didn't have to know that, did you? not when you were freaking out about his fraud.

he chuckles to himself, wait till you find out about his killings.

"what's so funny?" you squint your eyes. "nothing, but... wow.." he says, astonished as he picks up a photo of oda's orphaned children. just before they went boom. "whoever recorded every one of my moves did one hell of a job! we should invite them to our dinner date to applaud them, don't ya think [name]?" he laughs heartily.

if looks could kill, he'd for sure be near earth's core with how intense your glare was. "[name]?" he asks as you grab your phone and charger, going to the closest to grab the nearest jack you could find. "[name!]" this time, it was dazai whose voice had gone serious, "what are you doing??"

"what's it look like?" you spat back. he bit back the urge to tell you that you were overreacting and that he's a changed man, so he wouldn't ever act as he did back in the port mafia.

too bad this was dazai osamu. he didn't care about the consequences if he didn't have to think about it. you'd always come back running into his arms after a week anyway. "so what if I acted like a teenage dirtbag? I've changed, so shouldn't that matter now; and only now?"

you gawked at him like he just said something stupid, which he did. "did you just seriously say that?"

"what's the big deal?" he shrugs his shoulders, "what's done, been done."

"what's done, been done?" you repeat, "what's done, been done?!" you yell. "this- that's murder osamu! how could you just... act so nonchalant about it!?" you couldn't believe this was who your osamu really was. you'd always assume that he had a rough past, and you weren't wrong, but you got the story wrong.

"it is, but you get over it quickly. trust me on that."

you stare at him. how could you trust someone who's been lying to you the entire time you've been together? lived together? breathe the same air and become intimate with each other? your head was starting to turn from this boom of information. "It's the past. get over it." his voice now low and threatening. was this the same voice he used for his teenage dirtbag years?

"it doesn't involve you. it shouldn't and never involve you." dazai softens his voice once he realizes what kind of tone he is using. "ever," he clenched his fists, "so drop the topic."

your gaze never left the list of crimes that you let fall to the floor. you shook your head, acknowledging that this relationship wasn't going to work. not when this relationship was built on lies. "I'm sorry, dazai." you used his last name this time.

"so this is it?" dazai says, "we're ending things because I did stupid shit back then? is that it?" he presses the questions on you, but you ignore him as you slip your jacket on, opting to get your stuff later. "no dazai."

"then what?!" his voice was starting to become more frantic as soon as he realized that this might really be it. this wasn't like your usual arguments with each other. it always ends up with you crying and dashing out the door, leaving for a week, then coming back without him ever needing to apologize or talk about it.

"tell me!!" he stalks up to you and grabs your arm, but you shove him off you. "think about how I feel once in a while, you selfish jackass!!" you scream and stomped out of the apartment. dazai trailed after you until he stopped at the doorway of your guy's apartment.

"there's nothing to think about when you're a mindless, brainless worm who thinks they know what they're doing!"

you gasped at that. was that what he really thought of you? "oh! well, I'm sorry I'm too stupid for a genius like you!" you stopped midway in front of the door, "in fact, why don't you find a one night- bed to bed bitch who's willing to sit on her ass and half listen to your bitching for some cash!!"

and that was it. you walked away as he yelled at your back, not once trying to come after you. you'd return to him after a week of anger. he knows you will.

Day 1:

he marked the date mentally in his head. he always made sure to keep track of your fights. since today was the 1st day, he wasn't worried about it in the slightest bit. but he groaned. his head throbbed as he sat up on his bed, taking in the leisure sun.

it was about time to head into work, but he was already a minute late, so why rush?

he dipped his feet out of the bed, walking into the bathroom as he prepared to shower. the sound of the water running was heard as he stripped naked. once he checked that the water temperature was to his liking, he stepped inside and sighed, the water running down him, giving him a slight euphoric sensation.

for a moment or two, dazai was relishing in the water. his head was tilted back as he closed his eyes.

his mind whisked him back to the night before. the fight you two had was nothing like the others, where it'd usually formed from a petty squabble. this time, it came directly from an unknown source, and he'd like to know who recorded his timeline of events.

"come back! you don't know what the hell you're doing!!!"

he could hear himself screaming at your back. his voice loud and clear, but his bungled mind and rigid body said otherwise. he physically cringed inside the shower as he recalled every little thing he said to you.

"you need me! you can't leave me!!"

"[name], are you really going to leave me?! after you said you'd never leave!? damn hypocrite!!"

he cringed at that. of course, you'd never leave him. why would you? you love him after all! you'd never leave him! he didn't have to worry because you'd never leave him!

right?

he let out a long breath and banged his head on the wall. well shit. maybe he should really apologize this time.

"dazai-san!" he heard his subordinate call out to him, "hmmmmnn?? what is it atsushi-kun?~" dazai couldn't sleep a wink the past night, but despite all that, his cheerful self still remained for the day.

he was currently at the agency, sleeping his ass off as he watches the tanizaki siblings go at it

"um, a package has arrived for you." the young boy holds out a small box— just a plain brown box with his name on it. To Dazai, from.

he took a look at the box, and his eyes wandered down to where it was sent from. "who sent it?" he asks, taking the box from him and setting it down on his desk. by this point, almost everyone at the agency had stopped what they were doing to nose into this situation. even kunikida had stopped writing and looked over from his desk. "dazai, what is that?"

"why, a box, of course!" he laughs and ranpo sniggers from the side, "open it, you'll regret it if you don't."

dazai became intrigued at what the lollipop sucking boy said. it wasn't everyday ranpo would warn them of something so trivial. he cut open the box from a box cutter he asked from kunikida; him complaining about how dazai never is prepared for anything.

"yeah, yeah." dazai brushes his lecture off as he opens the box, "look! it's.. a note.?" now that got his attention. he stares at it for a bit as he holds it up, inspecting the strange note that was written on black paper, the ink in white.

an argument will ensue.

what the fuck? "dazai-san, what does that mean..?" Atsushi, who was already by his side, asked out loud, "I don't know.."

was it referring to yesterday? dazai felt as if his saliva was stuck in his throat. he bit his lip as he recalled the fight you two had last night. "dazai, what's wrong? is everything okay?" this time it was from kunikida, who looked a little worried from his lack of expression.

"yeah." he whispers below his breath, "yep!" his voice now as loud as it was when he barged into the office late, "everything is A-OK!!"

"are you sure?" yosano asks, not convinced. dazai winks at her as he gives her a thumbs out, tongue sticking out. she sighs, knowing that she isn't going to get an answer from him. "well, if it isn't bothering you, then it doesn't bother us."

kenji nods in agreement. "if anything happens, don't forget to tell us." kyouka follows up, dazai smiles, and soon everyone is back to working like normal.

well, dazai is sleeping as usual.

Day 2:

dazai has woken up to the sound of someone repeatedly knocking on his door. at first, he thought it was a door to door salesman and went back to sleep, hoping that they'd get the hint and go away. but when the knocking persisted and didn't stop, he groaned, getting up from bed.

he stares at the box sitting on his nightstand, the note still inside of it. he wondered if this mysterious ghost watched every single one of your guy's previous fights.

just as he was about to grab the box again, the knocking turned into banging. dazai jumped from the sudden change of pace and hissed at the cold, hitting him as he rolled out of bed. "coming, I'm coming!" he yells from the hall of the apartment.

the banging still didn't stop, and he started to think about every single curse word he spewed at the person as soon as he opened the door.

"what?!-"

but unfortunately he doesn't get to do so, because as soon as he opens the door he is met with nobody.

"-the hell??" he replaces and looks from right to left, checking to see if anybody ran off. he didn't notice anything off, but he saw a sign that read: look down, with an arrow pointing to the ground.

as dazai looked down, he saw another plain brown box on his doormat. one that you'd absolutely insisted that this lonely place needs. he crouched down to inspect it, making sure that it wasn't an enemy trap before picking it up and slamming his door shut with his foot.

the box was bigger, not as big but certainly not as small as the one from yesterday.

he placed the box down onto the kitchen island and walked around to find a knife. as soon as he found a small knife, he turned around to cut the tape down the middle.

the sound of the knife cutting through it; the flimsy flaps of the cardboard hovered up and down. he sets down the knife and pulls open the flaps, being met with another note and a few photos.

he picks up the note first, reading the contents.

she's upset. brush it off.

dazai threw the note to the side, not wanting to overanalyze so early in the morning. he then picks up the photos, there were two of them.

one of him and the other of you.

the photo of you was when you received a yellow envelope and the same plain brown box from the doorstep, and the other was a photo of him smiling as he held up a few things from his mafia days.

brush it off.

his eyebrows furrow as he remembered the last line of the note. "ughh!!" he groans, "it's too early for this!"

kunikida looked like he was about to burst a fuse, "dazai!" he called out to the brunette who was lazing around on the couches. "hm?" dazai looked up from where he was at, eyes going blank when he saw the red-faced kunikida stomping towards him. "get back to work!!" he yells down.

"eww!! kunikida-kun's spit particles are all over me now!!!" dazai waves his arms around, "i've been infected by the W-V!!!"

"huh?! W-V?!" kunikida spurts out, whipping out his notebook and grabbing a nearby pen, "tell me, what else do i have to look out for when identifying the symptoms?"

"hmm, let's see. since i've just gotten it, like- a second ago, the first symptom would be that you'll feel veeeeerrryyyy tired early in the mornings!!"

scribbling could be heard, "i see. what else?"

"next would be how stressed you'd get! i mean, seriously!!- kunikida, have you ever gotten yourself checked?!" dazai lets out an exasperated gasp. "oh my.. kunikida-kun...!"

"what!? what is it??"

dazai stays silent, his eyes widened, a feigned fearful expression on his face as kunikida dreads his answer. "you've been..."

"infected..!" dazai whispers the last part and kunikida's eyes blew wide open, "huh?!-"

"just kidding." dazai yawns and kunikida threw him across the room.

"what even was W-V, anyways dazai-san?" atsushi suddenly appears in his view, "hah.. atsushi is so swirly!! haha!!" he bursts out laughing, and atsushi just sighs.

"forget it, it's just another thing he made up." kunikida pushes his glasses back into place, "dazai, stop brushing things off. you'll regret it one day."

the said man stays silent, watching the blonde man walk back to his desk. whether atsushi noticed his silence or not, the white-haired boy sticks out his hand with a smile.

"i think kunikida-san is right. please don't brush the problem off."

Day 3:

"walk back safe!" atsushi waves to dazai, kyouka nodding her head, and dazai smiles at them; in acknowledgment of their words.

stepping out from the elevator, he couldn't help but think about how peaceful his day has been today.

and the words that kunikida and atsushi had said yesterday. don't brush it off. just like the note. he didn't know if it was just a coincidence or if it was related; dazai sighed as he walked past the florist shop that he used to always stop by when you used to work there. it held some great memories of his failed attempts at flirting and your coworkers hyping him up.

he looked at the 'closed' sign on the glass door: closed today! sorry for the inconvenience!:(

that's weird. usually, they were open every day. dazai glanced to his sides, stepping closer to the glass door after he made sure no one was there to witness it. he pressed his face against the glass, peering into the dark shop.

the flowers stuffed in bouquets, and potted plants scattered all around. there were rows of flowers and plants aligned on the aisles, a simple description of it under each of them. he scanned around for a few minutes before finally eyeing the flower he was looking for. the flower was your favorite flower.

he sucked in a breath as he remembered how happy you were when he gave you those flowers for your guy's third date. how surprised you were when he remembered what your favorite flower was. sure you had multiple, but there was this one flower you could name on the top of your head with ease.

it made him smile, knowing that you were happy. at that time, he didn't know that your happiness was his.

after staring for a couple minutes, dazai knew it was about time to head back, so he glanced one last time at the flower before turning on his heels and leaving for good.

a few twists and turns, and soon, dazai was back at the apartment. a shortcut! he'd like to call it. 'zai, that's stupid.' you'd laugh every time he found a new way to shorten the shortcut. 'whaaat?? it's my specialty!' he'd always reply back.

bickering would always ensue afterward, but just like all the other times, it was over within a week.

as dazai made his way down the hall of the apartment complex, he noticed someone turn down the hall and disappeared from plain sight. he didn't bother to chase after them, thinking it was another resident of the building.

he let out another groan. "of course, it'd show up at one point." he spat under his breath, speed walking closer to his door to pick up the plain brown box. as he was about to pick it up, he stopped his tracks. his mind immediately jumped back to the mysterious person who turned the corner. could it have been him?

he crouched down to the box's level, carefully picking it up to check it out. rotating the box, he shook it slightly, feeling the object inside moving.

'it's light.' he confirms. he looked back at the end of the hall where the mysterious person went to and got up with the box clutched in his arms. he stalks down the hall, his footsteps heavy as it echoed through the silent hall.

"shit." he says once he's reached the end, "what the fuck..?"

the wall that's staring back at him; mocks him. he turns around to find the same dead-end wall on the opposite end. the stairs down being elsewhere.

dazai bit his tongue, slowly backing away as he retreats back to his place. now, he knew he had problems with his head, but one thing for sure was that he did not hallucinate. and the note in front of him, stuck to his door, confirmed that all right.

don't run, face the problem. open the box. remember. happy, is she?

dazai ripped the taped paper from his door and unlocked it, almost ripping the door off its hinges. locking the door as soon as he got inside, dazai set the box down next to the other brown box on the kitchen island. he moved around it to grab a knife and walked back to stab it open.

he didn't particularly care about its contents anymore; having been fed up with the daily gifts his admirer gave him.

opening the box, he was met with a flower and another note.

he couldn't pay attention to the note. not when the flower was staring right up at him, a few petals already having been scattered around inside the box. the flower in question was your favorite flower. the stem was cut off, but the petals still retained their color. it must have been recently that the stem was cut off.

dazai slowly picked up the note. it was something he didn't expect: do you feel guilty yet?

he froze. so whoever this mysterious ghost was surely had to know about his situation. but the question was, how, though? was there a break-in? were there cameras around that he didn't know about?

that was impossible, dazai would've known if he was being watched. he was being thrown for a loop, not understanding the motive of this person. was it trying to get him to apologize? for which fight? he didn't know, but now he needed to figure it out.

as he walked to the bedroom, another note was plastered on the bedroom door.

the guilty verdict.

Day 4:

dazai had decided to take the rest of the week off. when asked why, he shrugged them off, only answering in shallow replies. they were worried, of course, but didn't want to push him. he was dazai after all; you don't question dazai.

but in actuality, dazai was focusing all his attention on his secret admirer.

he pins the notes to the corkboard, the pictures, and the flower next to their respective notes. colored yarn used as lines are a jumbled mess; crossing each other. everything was dated as well as the plain brown boxes sitting beneath the corkboard.

dazai also had a whiteboard, small but will make do.

he starts by writing down every encounter and event that could clue him closer to the culprit.

• 1st - note appears from the agency - small plain box - nothing inside • 2nd - note appears from his doormat - slightly larger than the box from 1st - 2 pics - repeated knocking • 3rd - note appears from doormat - mysterious suspect runs - dead-end - note on door - note on bedroom door - [name]'s favorite flower

that was all for now. it had been three days (four if you count today). he was anxious, awaiting the next arrival of the box. from early sunrise to the bright afternoon, there hadn't been a single commotion or hint of the next note.

dazai starts pacing back and forth in the room, his hair all shriveled and messy from the frustrated hands that ruffled through his hair.

it had been an hour after he had fallen asleep. he didn't know when or how, but he had the sense to wake up; his chest heavy as a weight sits atop him. he couldn't move, and by now, dazai could feel himself travel down memory lane.

the dark ceiling of his place; a place that he would have never considered calling home before he joined the mafia. he shivers in the cold, the lack of heating and insulation in general made him sweat like he had just gotten fighting with chuuya, and the chilly coldness of the crisp air hitting him like a storm on random nights during the monsoon season.

night after night, he would always never have enough sleep. the container being too dark for him to properly rest; the young teen is always on the lookout for nearby assassins. at some point during one of his usual sleepless nights, dazai felt a strange weight on top of him as he dozed off.

snapping himself awake, he was met with eyes that matched his, the shadow that loomed over him had no emotions, but his words spoke through dazai's core.

dazai's eyes became wide as he shot up from his spot, scrambling to sit upright as he narrowed his eyes up to the look-alike of him sitting right in front of him. "what— who..— you're me." he manages out, feeling the words clog inside his throat.

"i'm you!" the shadow happily announces, clapping its hands.

the shadow leers at dazai, the wide blood filled eyes looking right into his soul; through him as if he's reading him. "so?" dazai asks as he crosses his arms, "what did you come to tell me this time?"

the shadow titters for some time before inching closer; and closer; and closer; and closer.. until dazai can feel the cold air fanning him. "to tell you what to say whenever you're in the wrong-" it's finger poking at his chest; his heart, "-sorry."

he moves his finger up slowly, "that's all you have to say." the shadow whispers, the finger now pointing to the center of dazai's head, "or would you rather have her gone?"

"hah!" dazai guffaws, "do you really think-"

"were you thinking?"

dazai glares silently, his narrowed eyes flickering between the bed and anywhere else but him. "of course I was." he says, and it laughs, this time mockingly. "ah yes, of course you were thinking, totally thinking!!" — "shut up!" dazai screams, throwing his pillow at the shadow who disappears on impact. dazai breathed heavily as he closed his eyes, his head lolled to the side as he succumbed to slumber.

Day...

dazai sat alone on the chair, his meal getting cold as he waited for you. normally, you'd do the cooking, but this time around, he decided to do it.

it had been two weeks since you left; there was no need for a calendar if he marked every single date mentally anyway. dazai stabs the egg on his plate, the yolk oozing out of it. he had his phone charged and on at full volume at all times, waiting for a call or text, but he had received nothing.

it had been radio silent from you for the past two weeks, and it was killing him from the inside.

the silence had been deafening in his once cozy home. most of your stuff was here, but you still didn't make any indication of coming anywhere near the place. he also hadn't received any notes from his suspicious lurker.

he sighs, maybe another week?

Month...

dazai sat alone on the chair, his meal getting cold as he waited for you. normally, you'd do the cooking, but this time around, he decided to do it.

it had been a month and a half since you left; there was no need for a calendar if he marked every single date mentally anyway. dazai stabs the egg on his plate, the yolk oozing out of it. he had his phone charged and on at full volume at all times, waiting for a call or text, but he had received nothing.

it had been radio silent from you for the past month, and it was killing him from the inside.

he sighs, maybe another month?

Year...

it had been close to a year since you left; there was no need for a calendar if he marked every single date mentally anyway. dazai stabs the egg on his plate, the yolk oozing out of it. he had his phone charged and on at full volume at all times, waiting for a call or text, but he had received nothing.

it had been radio silent from you for the past few months, and it was killing him from the inside.

he sighs, maybe another?

Years

dazai stares at his shaken self.

"what— who..— you're me." he manages out, feeling the words clog in his throat.

“i'm you!" dazai happily announces, clapping his hands.

dazai leers at him, his wide blood filled eyes looking right into his soul; through him as if he's reading him. "so?" he asks as he crosses his arms, "what did you come to tell me this time?"

dazai titters for some time before inching closer; and closer; and closer; and closer.. until he can feel the cold air fanning him. "to tell you what to say whenever you're in the wrong-" his finger poking at his chest; his heart, "-sorry."

he moves his finger up slowly, "that's all you have to say." dazai whispers, the finger now pointing to the center of his head, "or would you rather have her gone?"

"hah!" he guffaws, "do you really think-"

"were you thinking?"

he glares silently, his narrowed eyes flickering between the bed and anywhere else but him. "of course I was." he says, and dazai laughs, this time mockingly. "ah yes, of course you were thinking, totally thinking!!" — "shut up!" he screams, throwing his pillow at dazai who disappears on impact. he breathed heavily as he closed his eyes, his head fell to the side as he succumbed to slumber.

#765#567#

dazai opened his eyes, "[name]?" he asked in confusion, your figure in the tv that was in front of him. dazai found himself restricted and unable to move around, his arms and legs locked in place as the chair rocked with every movement.

he makes an annoyed sound, looking around for ways to escape, but there was nothing. dazai didn't know what kind of room this was. it was a solid plain black room filled with the void. it seemed as if he and the tv were floating in mid-air.

just then, the tv started flickering on and off, the screen glitching as the background played.

you were lazing around the house, propped on the couch, as you were mindlessly scrolling through your phone. for a minute or two, all the footage was just you laying on the couch. suddenly, the doorbell rang, and you immediately looked up with a scrunched up face. you weren't expecting any visitors this late into the night, so you assumed it was probably another door to door salesman. it wasn't until the knock came for a second time, then a third and so forth until you couldn't ignore it anymore. you got up to go confront whoever was annoying you this late at night.

suddenly, the tv was switched to a different channel. dazai could barely make out the two voices talking, the footage showing you and a shadowy person next to you. it was holding a yellow envelope, he didn't know what it was telling you but you seemed to be in disbelief as you were handed a light box filled with unknown contents.

another click, and the channel switched again. this time, it was back to where the other channel left off. you opened the door and were greeted with no one. looking around, you stepped out of the apartment a bit to scan the hall. much to your dismay, there was no one, and you had just been ding dong ditched. or at least that's what you thought before glancing down and noticed a plain brown box with a yellow envelope on it.

dazai screams from where he was, telling you not to pick it up yet. it was pointless, of course.

the channel is turned again, and it's an entirely new scenario. his yelling had stopped at that point, but it didn't ease his anxiousness. what was it going to play next? he could probably guess, but he wouldn't, wanting to witness it for himself.

he braces himself for whatever is going to play, finally feeling self-aware of everything all of a sudden. he could feel the cold, humid atmosphere surrounding him. the background noise of the tv; static.

he flicks his eyes everywhere, never leaving his sight on one thing.

dazai lets out a surprised sound when his eyes meet yours. your face in full view on the tv, the glitch having suddenly fixed itself as well as the static noise. it felt eerie as your teary face stared back at him.

"[name]?.." dazai calls out to you, "yes?" his eyes grew big, not expecting you to respond back to him.

dazai didn't know if he should keep talking or if he was starting to go crazy. "[name]?" he asks again, not believing that you were talking with him through the screen. you wipe your eyes, "what is it?"

"what's wrong, osamu?" this time, it was you asking the question. he stayed silent. "osamu?" you ask again, tilting your head as you leaned closer, your face zooming in on the screen, "hey, what's wrong? why do you look like that?"

when he didn't answer again, you lifted a hand and placed it somewhere. he didn't know where it was since it was out of frame, but he could feel the slight warmth of your touch on his hands. it was a weird feeling since both of his hands were still restrained. "osamu."

you kept calling out, "osamu-" — "i'm sorry."

it came out as a surprise for the two of you. your eyes were as wide as his, not expecting him to apologize out of the blue. "i'm sorry," he says again.

he could feel the other touch of your hand being placed onto his. "i'm sorry." this time, it was louder, his voice echoed throughout the void. your warm touch rubbing circles on his palms and the back of his hands. "i'm sorry." a broken sob left him, "im sorry; im sorry."

dazai didn't know what came over him. for some reason, he found himself unable to stop repeating his apology. it was so half assed, he could barely voice it out, and when he does, it comes out as a sob. he's sure that you could barely hear it, his voice being just above a mumble. "im- i don't know how to, i'm sorry." his head was hung low, tears dropping onto his lap; his arms and pants getting wet. he couldn't face you, not when he was snot ridden.

"you do know, and i'm proud of you." he could feel your faint lips on his forehead, a hand moving some of his bangs to the side. "don't cry samu', you're okay. you can do it, we can do it."

"what are we doing?" he sniffles.

"fixing our trust in each other."

dazai brought his head up, and your soothing voice matched the small smile you were giving him. your eyes so full of emotion and.. vulnerability. he felt shivers run down his spine, the eye contact you guys were making made him feel open. too open for his liking.

he wanted to turn away, shut down, and run away again. there was no fight, no argument, no running away if there was no problem, right? each turned down fight proved his logic to be true, the two of you always returning back to your usual routines as if the fight never happened a week ago. it was the perfect formula, a set one that the two of you established over the next few fights.

it was unfortunate that dazai would always reject your input and feelings; refusing to communicate with you because of his logic.

he didn't know what to say, all working gears in his brain stopped turning. everything was stuck, and he sat there, confused. "how?" he croaks out.

he could see your smile getting longer, the hope in your eyes brightening. "let's talk," both of your hands clamped around his, "together?"

it came out as a question, but it sounded happier.

"you're not mad?" he asked. "no, why would i be?" your soft expression remained. "because..." dazai faded off. he thought he would have known the answer to you confidently, but his genius self falters for a bit. "because.. you'll leave me anyway.."

"will always leave me, slamming the door in my face. leaving me like how everyone i tried opening up to left, died even."

by the time he's done with his rant, he's out of breath. he said it pretty fast, but you weren't his partner for no reason.

"guess even prodigies like you can be dumb as fuck sometimes." you deadpan. now that appalled dazai, "huh? what does that mean!" he felt insulted but at the same time he couldn't help but feel as if you were right.

you laugh to yourself, "osamu," you laugh, "is that what you think that i think?"

he was even more confused. why were you laughing?? this was a very serious matter, and you're just... making fun of him. "yes..? it's what everyone thinks of when they're with me."

"don't laugh!!!" he barks from the chair, "sorry! sorry!" you wipe the corners of your eyes. "what?" he pouts when he notices your distant stare.

"let's take a step back, 'kay?" you say, and suddenly the warmth of your hands disappears from his. take a step back? "don't think about it from what you've experienced. think about it from my perspective." he listens intently, taking in what you said.

"so.. you're not going to be mad at me?"

your lips curl a bit, "never. you don't have to tell me every single detail of your life, but i at least deserve the right to see you as vulnerable in front of me as i am to you."

he nods his head, finally starting to understand why you never came back after a week this time. the repressed feelings he forced you to hold back had exploded under its pressure, unable to pile anymore stress onto it. "i promise to do better for you, [name]- be better. i promise."

you gave him a teary-eyed smile, holding up your pinky, "promise?" dazai couldn't move due to his restraints but still held out a pinky nevertheless, "promise," he was looking at you so tenderly, "i promise."

the tv is turned off, and a time is displayed on it. he could hear beeping coming from somewhere. before he could try to identify where the sound was coming from and what was happening, dazai felt his slightly dried up tears roll down his cheek as he cracked his eyes open.

the beeping sound was coming from his right, and when he turned to over, he saw it was an alarm clock going off at the time you set for him to get up for work.

"what?.." he groans, wiping his wet eyes as he scans the room. it was still dark out, and the beeping kept going. "shut up." he hisses as he slammed his hand down on the alarm clock. he sighs, reaching over to your side of the bed. he knew that it was going to be another hopeless day of waiting for any calls and messages from you.

he attempted to grab more of the blanket and a pillow from your side but was met with something; someone already there. dazai jumps back surprised, not expecting anybody to be sleeping there. since it was still dark out, he couldn't really make out the shadowy person on his bed.

"hn.. dazai?" you groan, feeling him poke at your side. when you got no answer, you turned around in concern to see an upright dazai staring down at you in shock. "dazai?" you question him, slowly sitting up.

"you- you're back.."

you stare at him in confusion, "uh- i've been here?" he stares back. you could see the glisten in his eyes despite it being dark out. "dazai?" — "i'm sorry." he cries out all of a sudden.

you were being tackled onto your back, "what- dazai?! what's wrong??" you caught yourself before you fell off the bed, quickly wrapping your arms around him as you massaged his head.

"dazai! answer me!" you say, trying to push him off of you to no avail, "dazai!-" — "please don't leave." his voice was barely above a whisper, "just- stay. please. i'll talk to you.. when i'm ready."

you could tell he was in hysterics. you didn't know the reason why or how he came to be, but you laid there, giving his back and head gentle massages. "okay, i'll be right here with you then. you gave him a gentle kiss on his head, holding him in your embrace.

°° ©churuai ; don't repost my works to other sites, copy/plagiarize my works, or translate my works into a different language without my permission. if you intend to use most of my ideas from a post of mine, please don't forget to credit ♡

rbs and comments appreciated <3<3

#bsd #bungou stray dogs #bsd x reader #dazai x reader #dazai #bsd dazai #idk what else to put #this oneshot was so bad im sorry anon forgive me😭🙏#[⋆⋆⋆] — runi's works ♡#[☆] — anon

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laivi · 5 days

Text

— " (I'M) WAITING FOR THE SUN "

｡ ㅤꕤ ㅤ PAIRING: dazai osamu & reader.

SYNOPSIS: it was just a single string, so thin it could easily be cut with scissors, however, with just that mere red thread, it tied you to him.

tags ➜ alternate universe — modern, no abilities, painter!reader, writer!dazai dreams, pining, generally a fluff, soulmates trope, catching feelings, open ending, named reader — only last name though, dazai osamu is bad with feelings implication. ‹𝟹

⋆ author's notes: I wanted to try something new and the first thing that came in my mind was soulmates trope.

send an order!! → guide ❀ flowers ←

You have always been a dreamer.

Oftentimes you would drift away from your surroundings into an imaginary world, your sense of reality blurring away.

In that world you would feel relaxed, happy and at peace even if it's for merely a few minutes. A world where you could erase everyday from your mind and form an illusion of something you were unable to grasp, a world filled with colors and beauty.

It's bittersweet.

And although it's painful knowing these are nothing more but surreal fantasies, hopes and dreams it's worth it in the end.

However—as of late, your daydreams changed into a one singular daydream that, for whatever reason, keeps replaying in your mind like a broken record.

Day or night, in the painting room or in the peace of your room, whenever you close your eyes, be it a ten minute nap or eight hours of sleep the same scenario will play in front of your eyes over and over again.

Sun will shine its way through the grass as your fingers brush against your creamy white lace dress. Birds will sing their song to which you'll hum under your breath as the fruity smell of just bloomed flowers lingers in the air.

You'll sing and dance and laugh as if you're the only one in the world.

Then after a while you'll approach a big cherry tree in bloom, and suddenly you won't be alone anymore. There, in front of that very tree, will stand a person with chocolate colored brown hair carried by the wind, wearing a white button up shirt along with black trousers.

They'll look in the distance, seemingly unfazed and each time and even after twenty times you've seen the ending, you would approach them slowly when—as if on cue the person will turn around and you would freeze up at your spot, your heart skipping a beat because in front of you will stand the most beautiful human you have ever encountered. For a moment, they'll lock eyes before they vanish into the air, leaving no trace behind.

Then you'll twitch, snapping back to reality.

bleary and cloudy, immense hues of darkness lay hold of your sight, then as the starch gradually settles to the bottom and the skim rises to the top, at last your eyes wearily open—unable to remember his face.

It's as if when their eyes lock everything fades and your brain stops. It's weird and the more times it happens the more annoying it gets.

The person in your dreams feels familiar yet so out of reach. Like you've known them your entire life but hasn't even met them yet, as if the two of you were tied by a red thread of fate.

His presence is strong. Unique. Strange.

You can remember the way the smell of carnations surrounded him, the way his chocolate colored brown hair rode on the breeze, the way they were so tall you almost felt embarrassed standing near him but you can't, for the love of god, remember their face.

You feel their stare on your face. You know that your eyes lock each time and that each time they do your heart skips a beat. You know it and yet you can't pinpoint even the most obvious things, like their color.

You want to know more and everytime that you feel like you're getting closer to discovering something, you would get pulled out of the state of unconsciousness, snapping you back into reality.

It was as if it was mocking you, laughing at the anger it was giving you.

Your eyebrows knitted together, hands balling into a fist.

You ha—

The sound of wood splitting in half brought you back into reality, disrupting the scrambles of thoughts beginning to form within your mind.

huh ?

You lift your head, met with the sight of your paintbrush splitted into two. The other half of the paintbrush falls, accompanied with the sound of thud.

Your lips, which were previously formed into a thin line, parted.

"nazoki, did you just break your brush?"

you tense up. you feel everyone's eyes shift to your frame, hushed whispers accompanied with snickers filling the room. sweat builds up on your hands as the giggles continued, and you bit down on your lip, hovering your gaze on your thighs.

"It can be easily fixed but remember, that's not your own and you need to learn how to be careful with the brushes."

meekly, you dipped your head in response.

"yes ma'am..."

❀

It was already late when you arrived back home.

The sun had gone down, and the skies embraced by hues of warm colors had turned into vast of blackness already.

You didn't change out of your clothes, with the fatigue beginning to overtake your body, you didn't bother to do so.

You gently unlocked the door to your room and slipped inside.

you were greeted with pure abyss, which was anticipated since it was already night. however, there was still some disinctive things within the shadows, like the books sheltered on the shelves, the roses in the vase on the nightstand, and the paintings in the corner of your room.

you perk up.

you moved, walking towards to the empty canvas at the corner of your room.

In front of you, you laid down an empty white canvas and some newly bought paint from few days ago. without a second thought you started painting. You didn't know what you were going for just yet but you settled on just letting your hand move freely across the canvas.

One stroke then another—you paint sky, petals and a silhouette.

So far it's turning pretty decent but the more you draw the more anxious you became. The brush in your hand starts shaking as you reached out to paint the silhouette's face.

...

What now?

Cold sweat runs down your face and you had to take a moment to snap back to reality. Suddenly your stomach fills with dread and you had to take a break from painting.

The face. You couldn't remember the face.

You didn't finish the painting that day.

❀

There is no need for you to open your eyes because when you came to your own senses, feeling grass beneath your palms as the sun beams directly in your face, you knew exactly where you were.

Despite going to sleep in a bad mood you can't help but feel strangely relaxed now that you're here.

Slowly opening your eyes, you sit up and took a look around. Nothing, as far as you're aware, has changed. It's still the same dreamy place you visit everyday (sometimes even multiple times).

Birds are still singing, the sun is still shining and the flowers are still blooming.

After a short walk you find out the unknown person is also still here, simply staring at the distance.

You freeze in place and simply admires them from afar, staring at their back profile.

They stand there unbothered.

You take a big risk of walking up to them—not too close but not as far in an attempt to get a better view. Nothing.

You're scared.

Then you get a crazy idea.

Now you're terrified.

Quickly, before you get a chance to make a cowardly decision and back up, you ran towards the person and grabs their wrist, not giving them enough time to turn around.

First thing that you felt is warmth. Their skin is warm.

You lift your head head and meets their face that is now painted with a shocked expression, lips parted. When your eyes meet you felt fear, surprise, shock, happiness, anxiety all at once because you've finally caught them.

Then all emotions swirling within your chest dulls and the person slips away, disappearing from your grip once again.

❀

First thing, you did when you woke up is rush towards the canvas and frantically attempts to copy down the face, that expression of surprise and alarm, as similar as possible before eventually it too leaves your mind.

However it doesn't turn out anything like you've seen just a few moments prior. The expression on its own looks pretty amazing and the face is really unique, not quite like anything you've drawn before, but it's not his.

Shit.

Why? why couldn't you do it?

You were so close and yet—

You slipped up.

You didn't get it. You needed to remember. You didn't know why.

All you knew is that this person drives you crazy.

❀

Surrounding you, there was variety of pages of papers, canvas, multiple art supplies.

You pull out canvas after canvas messing up, repainting, scrapping, breaking, trying again, over and over again but nothing feels right.

Before long, what little memory of the person's face is left in your memory vanishes leaving you with an uneasy feeling in your chest. You fall to your knees, gripping the paintbrush in your palm firmly, cursing yourself. Why? Why couldn't you remember?

It continues like this for a while. After every nap you would pull out your sketchbook, which has by now found its new place under your pillow, and try to sketch the face but each and every time you'd be met with another failed attempt.

It felt like a curse of some sort. Wanting to remember but not being able to. Wanting to know but not being able to meet. Wanting to understand but not being able to learn.

You've tried many different ways. You tried jumping him. You tried running into him. You tried approaching him slowly. Sometimes you'd lock eyes with him, sometimes he'd disappear the moment they establish physical contact. You'd sketch day and night but you just couldn't nail it.

Slowly but noticeably a pile of crumpled up paper in your trash can started increasing. So far you've ruined three canvases and wasted almost an entire sketchbook which gave her an confrontation from your roommate, both from the trash and the one canvas you borrowed from her.

"If you need canvas, please just buy one for yourself. I'm gonna get scolded by my mother."

"the trash can in your room is starting to overflow with trash... some of the trash are even on the floor already, please dispose of them if you can. I don't know what you're trying to do but you should give it a little break, it doesn't seem like you're getting anywhere either way."

you've apologized multiple times for it, but in spite of her intentions being different, the painful truth behind her words pierces through your heart like an arrow. You weren't not getting anywhere that much is right but she's trying.

you were trying so hard because for the first time in a while you had a goal set in mind.

That night you didn't bother the guy. Instead, you sat down leaning on that big tree watching him stand just a few meters ahead of you.

You haven't given up of course but god you were tired. you sigh, releasing the tension in your body, closing your eyes beneath the tree's shadow.

You didn't know what you expected but someone snapping you out of your thoughts you sitting next to you was not it.

For a moment, you were too scared to look aside because this is a rare opportunity and you couldn't mess this up and yet at the same time you could wake up at any moment so if you were to waste this it would eat you up from inside for days. Anxiously, you moved your head and catches sight of the brown haired individual's side profile. It's the sight so dazzling you suck in your breath and bites your lip and just stares.

Every time you visit, you noticed a small detail you haven't before. Like how they shift from one leg to the other when the cold breeze brushes against their concealed arms, you wondered if it was really that cold for him, or how messy his hair was, you could've presumed he didn't take care of himself.

Today, you notice his eyes are shimmering brown, bright and full of life, no . they weren't full of life, they were filled with pure abyss, barely reflecting any source of tiny sparks. He was tired, lonely, and empty. You wondered how long they spent in this realm. Does he have a home? What's his story and how did he end up here? Just now after you take a good look at them, you started questioning all those things. Up until now all you knew was that they were here each time you fell asleep and that your face gets red and your heart skips a beat whenever you get near.

For the first time that you stared at them for more than two seconds, you started noticing all the little details. His bone structure, every single lash on his eye, even how messy his hair was. You take a mental note of it and stares for so long that you didn't even realize he might've feel awkward until they cough and move their face to the side, hiding their face a little bit further with the locks of his hair.

"I'm sorry."

You speak up slowly.

You wonder if he was even real.

"I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

Silence. Heavy, uncomfortable, cold, suffocating silence.

He gives her a side eye but don't say a word. You, not knowing how to react, just stares. You stare back, drowning in their eyes, not even realizing how close they've gotten to each other.

You have drawn many portraits of many different people up until this point in your life. The beauty of it all is that every person is different, unique and beautiful in their own way. Each painting you did is special because it's not like any other. That's, in your opinion, the beauty of this world. Even now, this person that might be nothing more than a fragment of your wild imagination is unlike any other you've met.

They are so beautiful it made you sick. Not just their physical appearance but their aura and their company. The way when their hands touch it sends an electric shock through your body or the way you get all warm and fuzzy inside when you were near him.

you swallowed down a thick saliva, forcing yourself to speak again, you didn't know what you were gonna say but with the tense atmosphere between the two of you, you wanted to ease it up, thus allowing the words in your throat to carry out.

"Hey."

The boy shifts his gaze towards you upon your call, moving his head along his gaze. You feel the hue of light red beginning to adorn your cheeks as soon he turns his head to your direction.

You fidgeted with your fingers, "You're a very pretty person."

You could feel his stare on you, but he didn't utter a single word.

"When I say pretty, I don't mean it just at that... you're so pretty that I could be with you all day just to watch the cherry blossom tree's bright pink light glow on your skin and how it brings out a million subtle sparks of color in your eyes, and In the evening, I could draw you all night long until I have no more strength, and when it's finally night with the moon, I could close my eyes to remember the day going by as a reflection of you."

as you spoke, you couldn't help but notice how close your faces were with just a few centimeters apart from each other. you two were so close, It distilled a warm fuzzy feeling within your chest.

"you're quite talkative."

for once within several dreams, he finally uttered a single word, and just the mere sound of his voice made you speechless. he leans his head slightly closer and you couldn't help but think that your faces will crash. you were sure your faces will crash and you're scared if they do the universe as we know will explode but the world collapses before you could get a chance to blink and suddenly you were panting in the pitch dark of an all too familiar room.

❀

They say everything comes with its good and bad sides so you presumed the same must go for this entire situation too.

If it were up to you, you'd say the good thing is you finally finished your painting. After so much time and effort you have finally created something you're satisfied with.

Bad, or rather unfortunate, thing is that the next time you went to sleep you didn't dream at all. At first you thought it was a mistake so you pulled her blanket over your frame and went to sleep again despite the morning sun desperately trying to climb on your bed through the closed windows and your roommate gently knocking on your door.

Nothing.

After a few more times of not being able to wake up in that imaginary world of yours, you started to freak out a little. It was understandable though. When you spend so much time somewhere, so much that it turns into a habit, it's only natural to get worried when it abruptly stops with no sign whatsoever.

For now you'll just have to learn to adjust to your new reality.

❀

It has been a year since you last dreamed of that dream.

you struggled to accept the truth, occasionally glancing at the painting you've finished right after your last dream. however, as time passed by, you managed to divert your attention to much more important things, slowly forgetting the world you would often dream off.

you didn't know whether you liked it or not but you supposed it was fine since a lot of great opportunities were beginning to appear to you.

"That's why nazoki-san, we would love to invite you as a guest artist for our next gallery showcase!" Words were ringing in your ears like an echo. There were thousands and one emotion flowing through her body. Excitement, joy, disbelief, anxiety and so much more.

Finally, It's finally happening. You couldn't help but think to yourself. All that hard work and effort is finally paying off.

When you got a call from a nearby gallery asking for someone with your last name, you presumed it was for your mother, a professional artist who had few of her works showcased there, that's why the first thing you felt when they said it's you they needed was confusion.

You've been drawing for years, joined many different art courses and took many drawing classes, participated in many events but getting an offer to have some of your work showcased in a big, professional and well-known gallery for one of their events was something new—a step closer to achieving your dream.

Of course, you didn't hesitate and swiftly agreed to the offer.

It's only when it came time to choose your best work you got a tad uncertain about which paintings to pick.

You decided to go for one landscape drawing, one abstract and one portrait.

Choosing a landscape and abstract was easy, you simply chose your most recent work, a work which, by chance, was seen by her classmates and some teachers and received tons of compliments.

Choosing a portrait was a bit harder though—there was just so much diversity between your models you'd feel bad choosing one out of many other, just as beautiful, ones.

You dig through the canvases in an attempt to find a perfect one when your hands suddenly brush against the beige fabric pulled over one of the canvases, hiding it from view.

A drop of cold sweat rolls down your neck as you uncover the familiar painting. It's still the same as you left it a year ago.

When your dreams stopped you felt as if you lost a part of yourself. Being unable to face the painting you worked so hard on, you ended up covering it up and leaving it to collect dust in the pile of canvases.

Even now when you looked at it, a part of you feels like sinking but the feeling of dread is easily outshined with the feeling of nostalgia and warmth.

you decided which portrait to bring to the event.

❀

More people have visited the event than you had originally planned, it was almost a bit overwhelming. Almost. All the praise you got made up for it.

You would be lying if you said you didn't like to be praised. You loved the words of affirmation, to hear someone from a higher level acknowledge her efforts and make sure you're on the right track.

You were silently lurking in the crowd the entire day, starting conversations when you'd get the chance, giving speeches about her art.

You talked and talked, over and over again, repeating what you've already said over twenty times by now and every group so far would listen carefully. Seeing them genuinely interested in your work made it all worthwhile.

Soon enough, night fell and people started leaving one by one, saying their goodbyes. It's a shame that the day has come to an end but if you're lucky maybe you will get more chances like this in the near future.

"nazoki-san!" One of the gallerys workers approaches you, "Would you mind picking up your work? I still have some guests to see off."

"Alright! Thank you so much again!" You bow down your head before you make your way to the hall where your work has been showcased up until now. It was a part of their agreement that when the event is over you'll get to bring your paintings back home.

When you step foot into the room, however, you find you weren't not alone. Almost like a deja-vu, in front of her stands a familiar brown haired person with their back turned towards you, in his hand, he held a book, it seemed like he was looking for some inspiration.

Your heart sinks.

Immediately, you stop in your tracks.

How?

Blood in your veins freezes as the cold sweat starts dripping down your face. It can't be…could it?

"E-excuse me-e—" you tried to speak up but your voice breaks in the most embarrassing way possible.

The person twitches in surprise, turning around with a startled expression on their face and it's the same damn expression you saw that day when you first grabbed their hand. you swear it is. It has to.

The person points an index finger to himself, tilting his head to the side, "Me?" as soon as you heard that voice, you knew damn well it was.

For a short moment their eyes lock. It's the same chocolate colored eyes holding the same lonesome warmth and oh you want to rush towards them at full speed and tackle them to the ground but youi calm yourself down and continues to talk, "We're closing."

Your voice comes off stronger and steadier this time but the hint of nervousness can still be distinguished.

"Oh… I'm sorry. I got lost in my thoughts."

So much happened today. You talked a lot, you walked a lot and on top of that you woke up early with only three hours of sleep the night prior, perhaps you're just imagining things. Maybe you're daydreaming again. But his voice sounds so real and you can see them so vividly even with you vision blurry from exhaustion.

There is so much you wanted to know, how, why, what, when, huh?? you heard stories about people's dreams coming true, about how some met people in their dreams but you never imagined anything so…extraordinary happening to you. But here you were with so many questions lingering in your head and so little time so you decided fuck it no matter what happens this time, no matter what kind of story your faith is writing, whatever happens in this timeline you weren't letting them go again.

The chocolate haired person gives you a warm smile, although, It looked a bit forced, you didn't say anything as he turns back to glance at the painting in front of them one last time.

"I was just thinking about how this painting looks a lot like me."

Your knees buckle up underneath you.

Weak .

you felt weak.

but you couldn't even focus on that, all you could focus on was how the person you've been longing for was indeed right in front of you.

and with that, the interlude halts.

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