Pairing: Edogawa Ranpo x Reader (can be read as any gender, no pronouns used)
Genre: fluff
Word Count: 1 351
Warnings: established relationship
Summary: Ranpo is trying to distract you from work
Prompts: don’t do that - but
A/N: First time writing for the sweetheart that is Ranpo
The sunbeams of the Japan autumn sun were falling in through the windows of the Armed Detective Agency, warming your back nicely as you were finishing up your most recent report.
It was a slow day. The air had begun cooling down from the summer heat, creating a comfortable temperature outside that allowed you to go strolling to work in your favourite pair of jeans and a nice shirt under a new cardigan. In the café downstairs you had picked up the morning order for the office, your own favourite drink, black coffee for Yosano and Kunikida, café late for Atsushi, orange juice for Kenji and Kyōka, cappuccino for Tanizaki, and some extra sweet hot chocolate for Ranpo. You still had grabbed two more sugar sachets for Ranpo, never knowing if today was the day he felt like he needed an extra sugar rush, and had headed up to the office.
Everything was as always, Kunikida was bustling about, busy as ever. Atsushi was giving his best to type down his report, his fingers still not used to the keyboard. Tanizaki and Kyōka had headed out for a case, Yosano was locked away in her office and Dazai was lounging on the couch, humming some song you had a feeling you didn’t want to try to understand the lyrics to.
While you own fingers flew over the keyboard, you felt someone approach you from behind you, their shadow blocking the warm sun on your back, and a moment later arms wrapped around your shoulders, and a head dropped against your nape.
“What are you doing,” you sighed, looking up from your screen, trying to get a glimpse of the soft black hair that brushed against your cheek.
“Boooored,” Ranpo’s whiny voice sounded against your skin, his warm breath sending a shiver down your spine as he exhaled against your neck. “There’s nothing happening.”
“You’ve solved two cases in the past-” you glanced at the clock on your screen, “three and a half hours. I wouldn’t call that nothing.”
“I didn’t even leave the office,” Ranpo whined. “My brilliance is torturous. I cannot ever be satisfied.”
“Yes, torturous indeed,” you mumbled to yourself as Ranpo’s arms tightened around your body.
It didn’t bother you, that he was so physically affectionate, never had. He generally didn’t mind clinging onto people, but since you had joined the agency, you had become his new favourite person, it seemed.
In the first week alone, it had gone so far that Kunikida had asked when you would marry. In the years that had passed since then, it had become an usual occurrence that Ranpo would cling to you, or even pull you to sit in his lap when you were taking a break in the café below the office. And that meant a lot, considering it made it harder for him to get cake into his mouth. It had even become normal for him to share his sweets with you, which had surprised Fukuzawa enough the first time he had seen it, to choke on nothing.
Everyone else assumed, that that was it, that Ranpo simply liked having you around him, and you, with an angel’s patience took his platonic affection without ever getting angry at him for clearly overstepping any personal boundary there had ever been.
What the others didn’t know, was that it was anything but platonic. You weren’t sure when exactly it had started, him pulling you tighter against himself, your hands sneaking around his neck or into his hair, his lips no longer just breathing against the shell of your ear but kissing your nape or the junction of your shoulder. But it had happened, and now it was impossible to imagine falling asleep without him hugging you against him, clinging to you like a little koala.
It was not necessarily a secret you had kept from the rest of the agency, and you were quite certain both Fukuzawa and Dazai had long caught onto your relationship with the master detective, but it also was not something you discussed with anyone. It was nobody’s business, and since Ranpo had been like this with you since the start, nobody paid it much mind.
Well, you paid it much mind, especially, when Ranpo kissing along your nape distracted you from your work.
“Ranpo…”
He hummed, blowing warm air against your skin, before pressing another kiss against your spine.
“You’re distracting me,” you told him, earning a kiss behind the ear this time. “I mean it, can you wait with this until I’m done here?”
“Don’t do that,” he whispered against your ear, his voice sounding almost wet as if he were about to cry.
“But-”
“Don’t send me away.”
Clicking your tongue, you pulled away from him enough, to look at his face. Indeed, his eyes were squeezed together like always, but a heartbreaking expression of sorrow was written all over his face. Heartbreaking, truly. And fake.
You gave him a stern look. “We have 30min until lunchbreak. You can wait that long.”
His devastated expression melted into the mischievous one you knew had been hidden underneath.
“But I’m bored! What will you have me do in those thirty minutes, I wonder?”
“Either you go and bother Dazai, or you find your self-restraint and behave,” you told him bluntly, a bluntness that was as fake as his sorrowful expression a few seconds ago. You could never be too strict with him, but you really wanted to finish the report before lunchbreak, mostly so you could spend it relaxing with him.
“Oh, how cruel you are,” he sighed dramatically, letting go of where he had still been clinging to your neck and walked over to his desk.
For a moment you really believed he was about to bother Dazai instead of you, or return to his own desk, when he grabbed his chair and pulled it next to you. As soon as he had sat down, he leant over, resting his forehead against your shoulder.
“You always need body contact, hm,” you asked, reaching up and running your hand through his hair before returning to typing out your report. “You’re so needy.”
Ranpo only hummed. You knew he needed this, the constant contact, the small touches, an ever-present reassurance that you wouldn’t leave him, that he wasn’t alone. The first time he had explained it to you, his fear that was buried so deep under his confidence that it never came to light unless he let it, the first time he had laid his soul bare for you to see, you had cried. You hadn’t minded his affection before, and ever since then, when you spent too much time in the same room with him without him touching you in some way or form, you got anxious yourself. So, feeling his heavy head rest against your shoulder now was as reassuring to you as it was to him.
Absentmindedly, eyes still fixed on the screen as your fingers continued typed, you turned your head and pressed a lingering kiss against Ranpo’s hair, as if trying to make up for making him wait. His hair smelled of chocolate and a hint of vanilla, and the strands were soft against your skin, making your smile.
“Did you just kiss Ranpo-san’s head?!” The screech was uttered by none other than that Atsushi.
Casually you looked up from your screen, over to the white-haired boy, who had jumped up, eyes as big as saucers and jaw hanging to the floor.
Shrugging with the one shoulder Ranpo had not occupied, you asked: “Do you also need a head-kiss?”
Ranpo against you shoulder protested at your offer: “Kisses are reserved for me!” while Dazai delightedly cackled from the couch: “You’re one of the quick one’s, hm, Atsushi-kun!”
Atsushi sunk back down in his chair, muttering about how nobody told him anything here, while you went back to finishing up your report. You wanted to finish it before the break after all, so you could spend the warm autumn noon hunting down the latest crepe shop in Yokohama for lunch together with Ranpo.
Pairing: Dazai Osamu x Reader (can be read as any gender, no pronouns used)
Genre: (angst to) fluff
Word Count: 2 360
Warnings: use of (y/n), mentions of dying (nobody dies tho), Reader is scared Dazai doesn't love them
Summary: Even after a year of dating there are three words Dazai and you have yet to exchange
A/N: Happy Birthday to Dazai, even though his birthday is already over in Japan...
A soft exhale brushed over your slightly parted lips as you pressed “send” on the file you had spent the past three hours preparing. A look at the clock on your desktop screen told you, you it was only half past three, but the sun shining in through the windows of the Armed Detective Agency had already a strong orange tint.
Absentmindedly your gaze wandered over to your boyfriend’s desk, finding it empty. You wondered what kind of unimportant task Osamu had found this time to get around doing his paperwork.
Confused you tilted your head.
Taking a closer look at his desk that bordered yours, it seemed like the files Kunikida had piled on it this morning had already been moved to the “outgoing” folder, which meant he had at least made the effort to shift them around at one point. But had he actually done them?
Reaching over to his desk, you grabbed a bunch of the files out of the box, flipping them open. Indeed, they had all been processed neatly, in Osamu’s handwriting. What was wrong with him? Usually he only did them when Kunikida stood next to him, threatening him with exposing some kind of embarrassing secret of his to you.
The first time Kunikida had used that threat, Osamu had thought he had been bluffing, and thus you had learnt of the time Osamu had been ‘stuck’ in a restaurant’s bathroom for an hour straight because the clearly labelled door would have opened through pulling, not pushing. Of course you had thought Kunukida had made that up, after all, someone as clever and cunning as Osamu would never- but a glance at your then-boyfriend-of-three-weeks had revealed just how true Kunikida’s story was, the red flare of his cheeks having glowed under the cool blue light of the office’s illumination.
Ever since then Osamu knew to take Kunikida’s threats seriously. But since the blonde skill-user had not spent the better part of the day standing next to Osamu, supervising his work, you couldn’t help but wonder if your boyfriend had unlocked a new skill that allowed him to finish his paperwork within the blink of an eye.
Or maybe he was sick? No, if he were, he’d have clung to you the whole time, whining about how miserably he was feeling. Sometimes he really behaved like a huge child. Why did you put up with him again?
Because I love him.
Yeah, only that you had never told him that. You had been dating for almost a year now, and Osamu had as good as moved in with you, but you had never told him you loved him, nor had he told you he loved you.
Of course, you made sure to express your feelings in action and a few times it almost would’ve slipped over your lips in moments when you were distracted or tired, causing you half a heart attack each time you caught your tongue in time. And as hard as it was sometimes to decipher his behaviour, you were fairly certain Osamu was at least somewhat emotionally attached to you.
But there was always this fear.
This fear that he’d pull away the moment you expressed how serious and deep your affection for him had grown. This fear that he’d take it as the sign to draw back and drop you like he dropped all these girls he had been meeting with before the two of you had almost died in each other’s arms during a mission, before he had pulled you into his chest and kissed you as if it were the last thing he would ever do before both of you suddenly had the same idea which had ended up saving your lives, before he had asked if saving each other’s lives qualified him for a date with you. As if you had been out of his league before that, when really he was the one who could barely save himself from suitors who were attracted by his intellect, his charm and of course also his good looks.
Tearing your thoughts back into the moment, you shook your head and took a deep breath, focusing back on the screen before you displaying the confirmation that your file had successfully been delivered.
Another glance at the clock. 15:35pm. You reached for the notepad besides your screen and ticked off the report you had sent just two minutes earlier. The next point on the list was… annoying. Not difficult or hard, just annoying. With a small sigh you went back to work.
Your eyes were trained on the screen, following the signs that appeared while your fingers were flying over keyboard, focusing on the words you strung together. You barely noticed the hand that carefully placed a plate with grapes and strawberries next to your keyboard, white bandages covering the skin from right underneath the thumb until they disappeared into the lazily rolled up sleeves of a dress shirt. A moment later the hand disappeared and a second, equally bandaged hand placed a cup of freshly brewed green tea next to the plate.
This time you noticed the movement from the corner of your eyes, glancing at the already retreating hand, unable and unwilling to hide the smile tucking at your lips. It didn’t happen often, but occasionally Osamu would bring you snacks while you were working. It were little things like these, the little efforts he made, every day, small things that accumulated over time which made your heart beat hard in your chest whenever you thought of him.
“Thank you, Osamu. I love you.”
The moment the last syllable had left your lips, you realized what you had just said, and froze up. There were reasons why you had never told him. You knew he struggled with forming permanent, close relationships, with opening himself up to others. If you came across as too eager, too clingy, too pushy,… he’d leave faster than you could blink.
All you could hope for now was that he hadn’t heard you, so you quickly continued typing, having barely missed a beat in your rhythm. Exhaling slowly, you relaxed your shoulders.
He hadn’t said anything, so he probably had snuck away and not heard your confession, otherwise he certainly would have snickered, or teased you. Only for you to come home to an apartment later that had been cleared of all his things. No, he hadn’t heard you. Most certainly not.
You had already typed another full line before a sudden voice right next to you startled you into interrupting your work once again, this time making you whip your head around to look at the man standing next to your desk.
“I love you, too.”
Osamu’s voice had been quiet, his eyes not fixed on you but instead a drawer of your desk, before he looked up almost hesitantly. There was something shimmering in his eyes which not even you, as his girlfriend of a year got to see often; a vulnerability and hesitancy, as if he wasn’t certain he had just trusted someone with a secret they would mock him for. You could never help but feel unsettled when this shimmer glossed over his eyes: Dazai Osamu wasn’t the kind of person to fear being mocked. Not by anyone. Not by anyone but you.
It took a moment for his words to register in your brain, until you had processed them, and you couldn’t help the way your eyes widened at the realization of his words.
“Osamu that’s- that’s not what I meant,” you quickly denied, before noticing how it had to sound to him. “I mean, I didn’t mean to pressure you into saying it back! I don’t want you to say things like that just because you feel obliged to-”
The soft smile that begun spreading over Osamu’s face irritated you enough to forget what you had meant to say.
Slowly he crouched down, placing his hand on the armrest of your chair and turned it enough to make you face him. Biting your lower lip, you watched him scan over your face, his hand subconsciously moving from the armrest to your knee. Warmth sept through the thin fabric of your fabric trousers, the elegantly cut kind Kunikida had advised you to wear when you had first started working for the Armed Detective Agency.
“It’s true though,” Osamu said, his voice so quiet that you’d be surprised if anyone but you could hear it right now. “I do. I’ve known for a while now. It’s not that kind of fleeting feeling of a crush, even though I wanted it to be only that. But the more I began to deny it, the more I realized that you have carved yourself into my heart and now it carries your name. Admitting it is scary though. What if you don’t feel the same?” He brought one of his hands up to your face, the backs of his fingers ghosting over your cheek, warm and familiarly gentle. “What if I allow myself to love you, and you leave, or get taken from me? To love you means to offer myself to the possibility of hurt and I don’t want to be hurt anymore. But I want to love you. I do love you. With all I have.”
Orange afternoon light caught in Osamu’s whiskey-coloured eyes, igniting his long lashes in warm auburn. Single hairs threw fine shadows over his skin, and all of a sudden you once again realized how delicate his features were, how beautiful his face, how warm his gaze.
His words echoed in your head, tumbled over one another, until you couldn’t grasp a clear thought anymore, so instead you bent forwards and gently touched your lips against his. The hand he had still placed at your cheek came to cup your chin, but he didn’t pull you closer, just held you.
Kisses like this were rare. Osamu was always excited and full of passion, and so were his kisses. And the times he wasn’t, when the shadows in the corners of the rooms got too long and deep, threatening to swallow him whole, his lips moved desperately against yours, demanding you to offer him a lifeline, a way out, a distraction from old memories coming back to claim him and pull him back into the dark.
Now he let the kiss linger, your faces close enough for your lips to touch, for warmth to be exchanged, for him to feel your pulse beneath the delicate skin of your lips. But nothing more.
When you pulled away after several seconds, you saw Osamu’s eyes had fluttered closed, and remained closed for a moment longer. While he couldn’t see, you instinctively darted your tongue out, wetting your lips; they tasted of him. Even such a short kiss was enough for him to leave his mark on you like this.
“Thank you.”
His eyes were still closed when he spoke, making you tilt your head at him.
“For what?”
“For making saying these words for the first time something… so normal. Nothing extraordinary. Just intertwined into our everyday lives. It lessens the anxiety.”
“I was scared too, you know.” You didn’t elaborate on the reasons. He didn’t have to know you thought he might not love you. But he was Dazai Osamu, always ready with another surprise up his sleeves.
“I know, my angel. I know. I’m sorry I didn’t say anything earlier.”
“No, don’t be. It’s not your fault, nor mine. It just was. Just happened like this.”
“I like the way this happened.”
When he finally opened his eyes, they were gentle and warm, and the way he looked at you was nothing short of lovingly. Yes, lovingly. And this expression had been in his eyes for a while now, when he had looked at you, you just hadn’t been able to identify it. How long had it been there already? You were not sure. Most certainly not from the beginning on, when he had ignored you entirely for your first months at the agency. But it had been there for a long time, longer even than you had been dating. You knew you had seen it in his eyes, when he had lent in to desperately kiss you that time you had almost died together. You wondered if that had been the moment he had realized his feelings for you. One day you would ask him. But not now. Now you just wanted to know-
You had already opened your mouth to ask him if he wanted to take a small coffee break with you, when Kunikida’s booming voice interrupted you.
“Dazai! File OS0346 are missing the sketches I specifically asked for!”
Osamu, still crouching in front of you rolled his eyes, making you chuckle.
“Kunikidaaa,” he whined. “Can’t that wait until-”
“Of course it can wait,” Kunikida interrupted your whiny boyfriend. “But then I’ll tell (y/n) all about the time-”
“Nope, nope, no, I got it, I got it,” Osamu quickly jumped to his feet. “Already on my way. No reason to destroy my good image here.”
“Which good image,” Kunikida growled, throwing a file onto Osamu’s desk as he passed it.
You couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped your lips, earning a playfully scolding glance from your boyfriend, who slipped into his office chair, whining dramatically while doing so.
“Just so you know, Kunikidaaa, I’m signing out at exactly 5o’clock, and so will (y/n), and nobody will be able to contact us until tomorrow morning.”
Turning your chair back to face your desk, you glanced across the room, seeing Kunikida’s reddening face as he was staring daggers at Osamu. You chuckled again and tried focusing back on the report you were supposed to write.
Underneath the desk, something bumped against your foot and a moment later hooked around your ankle. Safe from Kunikida’s or anyone else’s eyes, Osamu had linked his feet around yours, shooting you a smile and a wink before both of you focused on your work again, the small contact at your feet a constant reminder that your lives were now inseparably intertwined.
Pairing: Nakahara Chūya x fem!Reader
Genre: meet-cute
Word Count: 942
Warnings: none
Summary: Chūya makes an unexpected encounter over some poster
Prompts: lost pet meet-cute
A/N: I’m not saying I’m participating in Inktober or Flufftober or whatever else. But I’m trying to get back into a writing routine, so I thought this would be a good start. No promises on how many days I’ll actually write.
Hands stuffed into the pockets of his black dress pants, Chūya strode down the streets of Yokohama. The air was still warm even though it was already October, but the dark clouds overhead weighted down on his mood. He should be in his office, he thought, doing paperwork, but his head seemed to be filled with the same kind of dark and heavy clouds as those that hung over the city.
His eyes, absentmindedly wandering over the shopping windows, stopped at a poster. It wasn’t the first one he saw like this today, but he had not paid it closer attention yet. Anyone who saw him walk past these printed out posters, no bigger than the size of a normal notebook would have assumed he just didn’t care, but the truth was that Chūya ’s heart hurt at what he knew the poster would contain.
From a single look at it, it was obvious, that someone had put them up, looking for their lost pet, the picture of an animal he didn’t want to take a closer look at gave it away.
Chūya sighed and quickly turned away. Sure, he was a mafia executive, and barely human at that, but he still could understand the pain of someone who had lost their pet that was like a member of their family. Stuffing his hands deeper into his pockets and shrugging his shoulders in an attempt to ward off the depressing atmosphere of the day, he kept moving, and promptly bumped into someone.
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” the young woman quickly apologized, seeming to shrink under Chūya ’s glare. “Uhm, you haven’t seen my dog by any chance?”
And before Chūya had had the chance to avert his eyes, she had lifted a poster between them, the same kind of poster he had so desperately been avoiding looking at.
It showed a colour picture of a small dog underneath big fat letters that read ‘LOST’. Under the picture, there was a short description of the dog, name, colour, age, and so on, as well as contact information.
“He ran away from the dog walker last night, in Yamashita Park,” you continued explaining, and Chūya quickly averted his eyes from your pained, yet hopeful ones, opting to study the poster instead.
Yamashita Park, hm? That wasn’t too far from where they were at now. And there were a lot of restaurants around, so it wasn’t the strangest idea to come looking for your dog here.
“Haven’t seen it,” Chūya mumbled out, trying to move past you. He knew it was rather rude, but he had the distinct feeling he would get roped into something he had no interest in getting roped into if he continued this conversation.
His attempt to escape the conversation got foiled by you though, as you stepped into his way.
“Please,” you begged him, drawing his eyes to your face again. “His name is Kotaro, he’s five years old, I got him from a shelter, he’s lived on the street for the first four years of his life. He’s been through enough bad things in his life.”
“So have I,” Chūya growled, but his mood seemed to have no impact on your determination to get him to listen.
“Then you know how bad it is, don’t you? He’s just an animal, he doesn’t understand why humans are cruel to him. Please, if you see him…”
You grabbed one of the posters you had been holding and offered it to Chūya.
“Why should I,” he mumbled, both annoyed and impressed by your persistence. It wasn’t every day that someone had the courage to get in his way so shamelessly. But then again you had no idea who he was, how dangerous he was. And your dedication to your pet made his resistance falter. He did want to help, but how could he?
“Because you’re a decent guy,” you offered, “and because you know how hard life is when you don’t know where you belong.”
Chūya stared at you. The confidence with which you had said the last sentence had thrown him off more than he liked, this much he had to admit. There was a shimmer in your eyes that made an impression on him, and he had a feeling he would regret it, if he wouldn’t at least pretend to show some sort of interest in your search.
He sighed. “I really don’t have the time-”
“Just take the flyer,” you demanded, shoving the sheet of paper against his chest. “And call me if you see him.”
And with that you turned away, already calling out to the next pedestrian, some American looking tourists. The poster you had shoved against his chest begun sailing to the ground, and Chūya was barely quick enough to pull one of his hands out of his pockets to catch it. Your dog did look like he had been through some stuff, but also as if he had found a home with you. The random thought, whether you had enough space for another stray appeared in Chūya’s head, and he quickly shook it, trying to get rid of the idea.
Rolling his eyes, he grabbed his phone and dialled the number of one of his subordinates. “I want everyone to look for a lost dog, about knee hight, black, called Kotaro.”
And when five hours later said dog was curled up in an armchair in Chūya’s office, and you invited Chūya out for dinner over the phone, as a thank you, he wondered whether maybe, if he played his cards right, it would only be the first of many dinners he could spend with you.
Pairing: Dazai Osamu x fem!Reader
Genre: hurt/comfort - fluff
Word Count: 2 611
Warnings: OOC!Dazai (sorry), sexual harassment (not by Reader or Dazai!)
Summary: Your date for New Years starts getting pushy but luckily Dazai is there to interfere
A/N: For @un-lawliet ... and the photographs are actually from taken from Osanbashi Pier in Yokohama on New Years Eve 2023
Masterlist
Behind your back, blue lights of the harbour illumination were sparkling brightly in the last minutes of the old year, but their glitter did nothing to easy your discomfort. You really regretted having agreed to this date with the barista from the café you always picked the Armed Detective Agency's order up from. Especially since the longer the date progressed the more you wished you had instead agreed to spend New Year's Eve with the other members of the ADA. The man, John, was cute, with huge blue eyes and lazily sideways swiped hair, the American accent in his voice giving his speech a charming tilt.
And he was a welcome distraction from those coffee-brown eyes that kept haunting you.
Dazai was your coworker, you kept telling yourself, and he was the flirtiest man you knew. He flirted pretty much with everything and anything that crossed his path, except for you. In the beginning you had been rather happy he hadn't focused on you the same way he did with everyone else, but the better you got to know him, the more you hoped he'd also pay attention to you the way he seemed to do with everyone else. Sure, receiving the attention you had been craving for the past year would probably only make your feelings for him worse and end in heartbreak, considering he could never be serious. You had seen him go out with enough girls only to barely acknowledge them after, as if one date had been enough for him to completely lose any and all interest in them entirely. You feared if Dazai were to ever direct his attention to you, you'd end up meeting the same fate.
Your thoughts got interrupted by two warm and strong hands on your waist, making you tense up. Your date, John, had tried being handsy with you all evening and honestly, the more he tried the more your alarm bells rang. Not to mention that the date didn't go as planned at all. First he had been late and had dragged you to some cheap pizza place instead of the rice bowl restaurant you had agreed on. Then he had continued talking only about himself and how amazing it was for him to have scored a place in the exchange program to Japan before he even started making degrading comments about your "office job" because, unwilling to explain to him about abilities and the ADA, you had told him you worked as an assistant in a detective agency, which he had somehow understood as an invitation to look down on all office workers ever.
You should have called it quits after that, telling him you wanted to end the date there and instead have called up Kunikida to pick you up, so you could spend the rest of the evening with your coworkers and friends. But John had convinced you to come to Osanbashi Pier with him, so you had only sent a quick text to Atsushi, complaining about your situation.
Sure, the view over the harbour towards night-time Yokohama was fantastic and the light show, the illumination and the music creating a beautiful atmosphere, but with John sticking to your side, trying to pull you in every chance he got, you'd be lying if you said it didn't destroy the mood.
"Only ten seconds left of this year now," he whispered his tall frame towering over you, warm breath fanning over your ear, making you shudder.
The crowd around you began a count down, and you pressed closer to the balustrade of the pier, trying to avoid the overbearing contact with John's body, but he only stepped closer.
The Ferris Wheel at the other side of the harbour counted down the remaining seconds, colourful lights shining through the cool December night. You wondered what their light would look like reflected in Dazai's eyes.
Just when the countdown hit two, John spun you around to face him, and leant in. Panic surged through you, and before his lips could touch yours, you twisted in his arms, pushing away from him.
"What do you think you're doing," you shouted over the cheering of the crowd around you as the clock stroke midnight. The Ferris Wheels lit up in all colours of the rainbow.
"New Year's Kiss, what did you think," John grinned broadly as if he were proud of himself, reaching for your waist again to pull you back in.
"No thanks, I'm good," you denied.
His expression shifted from overly cheerful to threatening.
"I think I deserve one, don't you? I've been very patient with you the whole evening!"
"I said no." You tried sounding strong, but somehow a proper fight was a lot easier than standing up for yourself. Carefully you took a step back.
"What do you mean, no?"
Another step back and you collided with something warm an firm; the chest of another guest.
"I do suppose she meant it in the way it usually is used, as a denial or rejection," a male voice interrupted, the voice belonging to the man you had stumbled into. A shiver ran down your spine as you recognised it as Dazai's. What was he doing here? "But do correct me if I'm wrong, my love." Affectionately he patted your head as he always did. The contact sent excited sparks through your body.
"Who the hell are you," John snarled, taking a threatening step towards Dazai and you. Instinctively you tensed, preparing to defend yourself, but then Dazai's hand slipped from your head to rest on your shoulder instead, and you knew he was ready to pull you behind himself, should the need arise.
"The person who will make sure to snap your hands off at the wrist if you dare touching her again without her explicit wish."
You knew Dazai's words were directed at John to protect you, but you still couldn't help the shiver that ran down your spine at the ice in his voice. Feeling you tremble, Dazai squeezed your shoulder gently through the long coat you were wearing, his caring touch such a strong contrast to the threat in his words.
"Dazai-"
Carefully you turned around to face him, trusting him to warn you in time should John try to move in. His usually warm brown eyes were hardened with disgust, leaving no doubt about how angry he was on your behalf. Behind your back, somewhere over the harbour, fireworks exploded in the night sky, earning "ahh"s and "ohh"s from the crowd around you. The reds and greens lit Dazai's face up from one side, making him look even more threatening. But you also couldn't help but think that if the expression in his eyes had been softer, he would have looked angelic.
"What's your problem, man," John asked, sounding truly annoyed now.
"My problem is that you tried to kiss her when she clearly told you she didn't want you to. We might go as far as calling it sexual assault," Dazai hissed, trying to take a step forward, but you placed your hand at his chest, stopping him. With every deep inhale he took the cool fabric of his open coat shifted slightly over the smooth material of the expensive waistcoat he wore, giving away how worked up he was. Immediately his brown eyes flickered down to your hand on his chest and then your eyes.
"Don't," you mumbled and Dazai's eyes softened immediately.
"What? You gonna let her put a leash on you like some fucking dog?" John's continuously raised voice started drawing the attention of the people around you to the dispute, making you want to hide against Dazai's chest.
"Oh, kinky," the detective chuckled. "Are you into that, my love?" The last part was directed at you, driving heat to your cheeks.
"Hey-"
John took a step forward, but before you could react, Dazai had shoved you behind him.
"If you take one more step, we'll find out if I can throw you far enough that you'll actually hit the harbour and not the street below," Dazai warned, the playful edge in his voice having vanished again entirely, leaving only a sharp cold. "What do you think, my love? It's quite far to the water. Think he'll make it?"
Tightly gripping onto Dazai's arm, should he actually plan on making good on his words, you directed your attention to John again.
"You should leave," you advised.
Much to your surprise John didn't disagree and instead turned away from you with a clearly audible "bitch" on his lips.
When the next firework exploded in a rain of reds and oranges in the sky above you, he had disappeared in the crowd. Immediately Dazai turned to you, grabbing you gently by the shoulders and leaning down to eye level.
"Are you okay? Are you cold? You're shivering." The concern with which Dazai treated you now was the exact opposite of the way he had talked to John just a second ago. At his question you realised he was right. You were indeed shivering, but not from the cold and rather the stress the past minutes had caused you.
"How did you find me," you asked instead of answering as Dazai shrugged his coat off and threw it over your shoulders, tucking it into place without meeting your eyes.
"Atsushi showed me your message about how you wanted to leave and didn't know how. I got worried," he admitted and somehow he sounded unfamiliarly sincere, still evading your gaze.
"Thank you," you mumbled, leaning your forehead against his shoulder when you realised he wouldn't look at you.
"Can't have anything happening to you, you're too important to me," Dazai whispered, wrapping his arms around you, and holding you close, nuzzling his nose against your hair. He faintly smelled of green tea and ginger cookies.
For a moment you stood still like that, only processing what he had said.
"Why do you always call me 'my love'”, you suddenly asked, trying to pull away far enough to look at Dazai's face, but he kept you pressed to his chest.
"Can't you tell?"
Blue and purple fireworks lit up the night.
"Would I ask if I could?"
He sighed gently, placing a kiss against your hair. "You're not some tempting looking berry that could kill me with the first bite. You're- well, my love."
This time when you tried pulling away, he let you. His eyes reflected the glow of the Ferris Wheel behind your back and the sparks of the fireworks in the sky above the pier. The little light was enough to reveal the vulnerability in his gaze. It was strange. Dazai Osamu didn't do vulnerable. He was wrapped in bandages, protecting the traces of his hurtful past from preying eyes, always wore a cocky smile to hide the sadness that sometimes threatened to shimmer through. You knew him well enough to have seen him pull up these walls more than once. But now instead of throwing the gates to his soul shut, he pulled them wide open, letting you see everything, the pain, the fear, and seemingly infinite amounts of love. For a moment you thought you should be scared of being let in, being presented with all his heart like this. But instead all you felt was overwhelming gratitude and relief at finding your feelings returned.
Reaching up, you brushed a strand of his hair out of his forehead. His skin was cool to the touch and his eyes flickered closed for a moment before he forced them open again, giving you a long and intense look which finally pulled the words from your lips which you had held back for too long already.
"Please kiss me."
Dazai's eyes widened surprised at your request and flickered to your lips, but he hesitated. Instead of leaning in, his gaze grew absentminded for a moment, a muscle in his jaw ticking. Still focused on the way you nervously but your lip, he slowly spoke.
"If you let me kiss you now, you'll never get rid of me again," he warned.
"Who says I want to?"
"I mean it," his eyes finally found yours again as if he had snapped back into the moment. "I know you think I'll just move on like I do with everyone else, but the reason I can't stay with anyone else is because they aren't you."
Instead of answering him, you just kept looking at him, challengingly. Usually, Dazai was not one to easily loose a staring match, but this time he caved far quicker than you had anticipated. The only warning you got was a twitch of his nose before he leant in, pressing his soft lips against yours, making your eyes flicker closed. The smell of green tea filled your nose, as golden stars exploded over your heads, shining through your closed eyelids. Dazai's kiss was careful but determined as he placed his hands on your waist, pulling you against him and when you wrapped your hand into the short hair in his nape, he quietly sighed into the kiss, sending another shiver through your body.
Your heart was beating so hard in your chest that you could have sworn Dazai had to feel it and as if he had read your thoughts, he moved one hand from your waist, and instead slowly ran it up and down your back, gently comforting you into the kiss only to teasingly run the tip of his tongue against your lips once you had relaxed into his arms, making you inhale sharply at the foreign sensation and the sweet taste. Your reaction pulled a warm chuckle from his lips and heat into your cheeks but when you tried pulling away, he only let you do so for a moment before he grabbed the back of your head and pulled you back against his lips, this time more urgent, making you gasp which in turn allowed him to slip his tongue into your mouth.
It felt like he had taken up all your senses, his hair smooth under your fingers, the scent of green tea filling your nose, his breath and your heartbeat in your ears equally drowning out any other sound, his subtle taste of ginger cookies and mints making you dizzy. And when you pulled away, blinking your eyes open and gasping for breath, you met his eyes, fireworks of gold and silver reflecting in dark pools of brown that seemed to have found their own glow from within, shining with something you had never seen this strong in his eyes before. But it had been there for a long time, you suddenly realised, this softness with which he considered you, affection, that usually was well guarded behind the mask he always wore so meticulously. But now he had dropped that mask, for you. And that had to be the greatest gesture of trust you could imagine.
A smile pulled at Dazai's lips as he watched you study his face, not the usual teasing or silly smile, but an honest, heartfelt one.
"Happy New Year," you mumbled, reaching up, brushing the back of your fingers over his cheek. You could have sworn a slight hint of pink dusted over his face but in the dim and ever-changing light of the fireworks it was impossible to be certain.
Dazai laughed quietly, placing his hands at your waist, under his coat which he had thrown over your shoulders earlier, but over your own jacket and pulled you against him until your hips were flushed against his.
"Happy New Year," he whispered back before he leant in to kiss you once more.
Pairing: Dazai Osamu x fem!Reader
Genre: hurt/comfort
Word Count: 1 457
Warnings: mentions of alcohol, talk of breaking up, mentions of wounds and blood (symbolically)
Summary: Dazai only met with you to break up with you, but he can’t bring himself to do it.
Sakura Festival Masterlist - Masterlist
The air was tense. Not just from the impending thunderstorm that was brewing over your heads as you were sitting with your backs against the stem of a blooming cherry tree, shoulders almost touching, but also from the words you knew Dazai was holding back on. You had known today would come, and when he had asked you to meet out here, under that lone cherry tree with the view over the bay, you knew that this was it.
Really, maybe it was best this way.
Or at least that's what you kept telling yourself. Dazai had somehow seemed to have grown sadder in the past months, and you knew the time in which your presence brought him the comfort to keep the memories of the past at bay way over. Maybe he had grown used to you, the same way people started to grow used to the effect of alcohol, but with you there was no increase in the dosage.
This triggered the unwelcome thought that maybe he had only ever been with you because you made him feel better. Maybe your relationship had never been more than a bandage to wrap the wounds of his past. And now that the bandage was blood-soaked, it had gotten useless, and he was about to discard it. If your relationship really had never been more than that, then it would be better to end it.
But you didn't want him to end it!
You knew you should respect yourself more than that, but you knew it would break your heart. It had been foolish at best, stupid at worst, to allow him to pull you into this whirlwind of an affair. An affair that all too soon had turned serious enough to be a relationship, and him introducing you has his lover had only sealed that deal. And your stupid, little heart had fallen for those soft brown curls, those dark eyes that held both such joy and such pain. You should have held tighter onto your heart, but it had taken off, settling straight into Dazai's palm where it now patiently waited to be crushed.
At your side he suddenly groaned and stretched his arms over his head, his coat sleeves falling down to his elbows revealing his bandage-wrapped forearms. You had never seen him without those bandages. Part of you wondered if you should have asked him to take them off at some point, just to give him the feeling you wanted to reach deep into his heart. But you never had, out of respect for his boundaries.
"Just do it alread," you whispered, unable to take the silence any longer.
"I can't," Dazai replied, placing his hands down in his lap. "I really thought I could but… I can't." He kept his eyes trained on the horizon, blue, storm riddled waves meeting dark grey clouds. "I don't want to."
"You've drawn completely away from me, Osamu. You don't even hold me anymore at night and when you kiss me, it feels like you only do it as a chore, not because you want to. You brought us here to break up with me, so just do it."
Lightning cracked through the sky, followed by the deep rumbling of thunder. He still didn't meet your eyes.
"'s not a chore," he disagreed, but his voice barely carried over the wind. "you're right, I came here to break up with you but- I don't want to lose you. I… any relationship I've ever been in has been for no other purpose but my entertainment. I'm not prideful enough to deny that. But then I met you and I thought it would be just like that again. Another girl to share my meals with, to keep me warm at night. Yet it wasn't. And it scared me. Still does. And I thought I'd want to end it. But the more I think about it, the less I want to."
His voice carried over the wind picking up, tucking cherry petals from the trees and through the air like snow flakes. Another lightning flickered across the sky.
"I need you to understand the difference here. I can imagine what it would be like without you. It's not like I'm solemnly dependant on you, and I know you aren't on me. But I don't want to imagine it. I don't want to live without you anymore. But it's taken me to bring you out here to break up with you, to really understand that."
You turned you head away, unable to look at his averted eyes any longer. His words were brutally honest, cut small wounds into your heart, but you had a feeling they were the kinds of wounds you needed to heal. From the corner of your eyes you saw Dazai turn to you, but you refused to look at him.
"If you want to end things here, I understand. I'll even do you the favour of being the one to end things if that's what you need me to do. And I will do it, even though I don't want to."
You slightly shook your head. "I don't want you to, but Osamu-" turning to him, you momentarily forgot what you had wanted to say when you saw the emotions flickering in his eyes. Love, hope, sadness, despair, determination.
"Osamu," you repeated. "I don't want this to end, I love you and I know that we're still young, so much can still change, but for now I want to be with you. But we can't go on like we have in the past months! I can't constantly doubt your affections for me, whether my touch doesn't actually disgust you, whether I can hold a man like you. Every morning for the past few months I've woken up, thinking I had to be perfect, perfect clothes, perfect make up, perfect hair, perfect work just to earn my stay at your side-"
"My love," Dazai shook his head. "Why didn't you tell me you felt like this? It's true, I wasn't sure what I felt, but now I know. Now I know for sure. And I made my decision. I want to fight for you, for us. I want to be with you. Your touch," he took your hand in his. Your skin was cool from the spring storm stripping away the warmth from your hands, but his were warm and familiar. Lifting your hand up to his face, he nuzzled his cheek into your palm. "Your touch could never disgust me. It has never brought anything but comfort and an unrivalled feeling of safety. And it confused me because I've never known anything like that before. But I love you just like I love your touch and I'm no longer afraid to show or tell so. And I'm no longer afraid to feel so. I love you the way you are. The way you wake up in the morning, no make-up, no fancy clothes. I don't want a mask you put on; I want your authentic self. I want the weird ideas you sometimes get. I want the pranks you pull on me and Kunikida. I want your fears and your worries and all the emotions you consider bad and think you shouldn't feel. I want all of that just as I want your love, your joy, your laugh, your happiness. I want all of you… and that's quite selfish."
Slowly he dropped your hand back into your lap, but as he was about to let go, you grabbed hold of his hand.
"Then be selfish," you asked. "And I'll be selfish too. Because I want all of that from you too. I don't want things to end here. Just promise me, we'll get better at being with each other."
The wind caught Dazai's hair, ripping at it mercilessly as he stared at you with wide, brown eyes as if he was unable to believe you were willing to give the two of you another chance. Finally he nodded, the smile on his lips, faint, barely there, but you knew him well enough to know how relieved he was.
"We will get better," he nodded, placing his hand at your face, and pulling you in for a kiss. Soft, sweet, lingering. A kiss like you hadn't shared in weeks.
"Promise me, Osamu," you whispered against his lips. "Promise me we'll make this work."
Pink blossoms danced through the air as another lightning lit up the sky and the first drops of rain started to fall.
"I promise," Dazai replied, pulling away from your lips only long enough to phrase his answer before he leant back in, sealing his promise with a kiss.
Pairing: Nakahara Chūya x Reader (can be read as any gender, no pronouns used)
Genre: fluff
Word Count: 2 360
Warnings: mentions of death + illness + poverty
Summary: Chūya takes you on a date but things don’t quite go as he expected
Sakura Festival Masterlist - Masterlist
All of a sudden, Chūya wasn’t so sure anymore, whether it had been a good idea to bring you to this park. Two years, that’s how long he had waited for the perfect time to ask you out, you a member of the armed detective agency. Two years in which he had scraped together his courage again and again to talk to you, only to always be interrupted by this idiot of a bean stalk called Dazai. But finally had done it, asked you to accompany him on a nice walk in the park to watch the cherry blossom together.
Chūya had been fairly certain he had made himself clear enough so that you would understand he had a romantic interest in you, but still he had been uncertain about how you would interpret the situation. Just to be sure, he had brough you a small bouquet of flowers when you had met up in front of the closest train station.
Now you were holding the flowers in your arm, a mix of whites, pastel pinks and light greens; a perfectly romantic, not too heavy, lighthearted spring bouquet. Your other arm was linked with his, rather formally he noticed, and not at all as close as he would have liked, making him question everything he had said and done in the past twenty minutes since you had met up.
You had seemed to be so happy about the flowers, had taken his arm so casually when he had offered it to you, had laughed so unashamedly at his dry sarcasm. But ever since you had first stepped through the gates of the park, you had stiffened up. Did you not like the park? He was sure he had told you where he intended to take you for your date. Had something happened here, and coming back made dark memories resurface? Did you not like the flowerbeds, filled to the brim with all the colours of the spring? Were you allergic to the cherry blossom that was in full bloom over your heads?
Just as you had reached a point, from where the water of the bay below reflected the already low sun beams in orange and golden sparks, and glittered through the pink petals of the Sakura trees, you suddenly stopped walking. Chūya, who had been about to suggest sitting down on a bench, got startled out of his thoughts. Confused at your sudden halt, he finally fully turned his head to take in your expression, which he had avoided doing in the past minutes, only glancing at you from the corner of his eyes until then. Shock raced through his body when he saw tears swimming in your eyes.
“What’s wrong,” he asked so quickly that he stumbled over his own words, not even caring about the way his voice hitched. Quickly he pulled away from you, placing his hands at your shoulders instead and chasing your gaze as you closed your eyes and turned your face away from him. “What’s wrong, talk to me, please.”
“Can we sit down for a moment,” you asked instead of answering him.
Your voice was quiet, but Chūya quickly nodded his head, gently but firmly guiding you to the closest bench. Warm afternoon sunlight flickered through the branches of the trees above you, making your skin glow beautifully. A tear ran down your cheek, catching the sunlight and glittering like a diamond.
Chūya’s heart broke at the sight of that tear; he was sure the crack had to be loud enough for you to hear.
What had happened?
Why where you crying?
Had he done something wrong? You had wanted to sit down, maybe your shoes were hurting your feet? No, he thought after a quick glance down, you were wearing sneakers. Unlikely that they would hurt your feet enough for you to cry. Maybe you had a stomach-ache, or cramps. Or a headache. Or all of that at once? Or had he had done something wrong? Said something wrong? Had you expected him to-
Before his thoughts could spiral further out of control, you suddenly spoke up.
“Do you even know how beautiful this park is?”
The question caught him off guard. He had expected a lot, had hoped you would address the cause of your distress, but you wanted to talk about the park? Alright, he would indulge you.
“I mean, it’s a beautiful park,” he shrugged, his eyes wandering over the plants and small pathways before you. “I like the colours and the way the sunlight reflects in the harbour.”
“I never could have imagined something so beautiful to exist in the world.”
Chūya blinked. Was that why you were crying? Because you thought this place was beautiful?
“How long have we known each other, Chūya? Two years?”
“Two years, three months and about one week,” he mumbled, although he wasn’t sure you had actually meant it as a question.
“Did you keep track?” The amusement in your voice lessened some of his anxiety.
“Of course not.”
Of course he had. Two years, three months and one week since he had first met you, since he had watched you burst into a semi-serious fight with Dazai and continue to scold Dazai for just running off and apologizing to Chūya for any inconveniences Dazai might have caused. At that point you obviously hadn’t known about Dazai’s and Chūya’s intertwined past, but Chūya had immediately known that no matter what anyone else thought, you had to be the closest thing to an angel that existed in this twisted and cruel world, and he would do everything to make sure you were taken care of and looked after.
How many times had he sent out someone to make sure you were kept away from the most dangerous fights? How many times had he threatened a very amused and smug Dazai to protect you and make sure you got home safe? More times than he could remember. But it had paid off: you were here with him now. Only that you were crying, and he still wasn’t quite sure why.
“So two years, three months and one week,” you repeated. “How much do you know about my past?”
Chūya blinked again, turning back to you. Your eyes were open now, looking past the stems of the trees and staring into the sparkles of sunlight on the water of the bay in the distance.
“What does the past matter,” he asked. “The present is all that counts.”
“But the present is built on the past,” you disagreed.
Chūya bit his lip. The reason for your sudden change in emotions lay in your past?
“I know that you joined the ADA when you were seventeen,” he slowly spoke. “Edogawa-san was the one to recruit you.”
“And before that?”
Chūya felt like he was being quizzed in a classroom in front of the entire class. And hadn’t studied.
“I know you were living on the street for a while, but-”
“I grew up in the slum of Suribachi City.”
Your sudden interruption made him shut up. The slum? He hadn’t known that, and honestly, he had trouble imagining you down there, with the scum of society.
“You know Suribachi City, don’t you?”
Chūya nodded. He had spent enough time there, between the corrugated iron huts and carton shelters.
“The slum is the deepest part of the City. Down there, the smog is so thick, you can barely see the next corner of the street. Rats and other pest live between humans like their pets, and the sheds stand so close that sunlight barely reaches down there.”
Chūya had only been to the slum of Suribachi City once. Back then it had been only out of curiosity, but that had quickly been satisfied when the stench in the air had made it hard to breath. The hems of his trousers had been stained with mud and other unidentifiable liquids, which he never got to wash out properly and he had ended up throwing that pair of trousers away. Back then, he had only seen a couple of criminals lingering in the shadows between barracks, but the thought that children might be living down there had never crossed his mind.
“My parents ended up down there – I don’t know how – and had me. I was born on the coldest day of the year and my mother always said that’s the reason why I ended up surviving the rest of the winter. We barely had anything when I was little. We were living so far down that even the concept of sunlight was reduced to a faint shimmer within the fog.” You closed your eyes and tilted your chin up, letting warm sunbeams brush over your cheeks. “Most days we didn’t have any food. I can count the days, in which I went to bed with a full stomach on one hand. My parents… they were the best parents anyone could wish for. They both worked hard, and still made sure to spend time with me. There was never a moment where I needed them, or wanted their attention, in which they weren’t there for me.”
Your voice had grown rough over the past sentences, and Chūya reached out a hand, wrapping his fingers around yours. They were so cool that he could feel it even through his gloves.
“The first time I saw the sun without the smog of the slum… I must have been six or seven years old. The first time I saw a flower, I was twelve, the first time I saw a tree… fifteen. That was after my parents had died.”
“How did they die,” Chūya asked, realizing too late that his blunt question might upset you. In his head he was already plotting to bring justice to whoever had taken their lives.
“It was the autumn of that bad flu outbreak,” you answered. “All three of us had it. First dad, then mum and then me. We all got sick within a week, and two weeks later they were dead. I could barely move, but I made it out into the street, trying to find help. That’s how Ranpo-san found me. He brought me to Yokohama to a hospital, got me a job at the café, got me a private tutor to teach me how to read and write, and eventually convinced Fukuzawa-san to employ me at the Agency.”
“I didn’t know…” Chūya gently tightened his gloved fingers around yours, relieved when you returned the soft squeeze.
“Other than Ranpo and Fukuzawa, hardly anybody knows,” you shrugged. “Dazai probably figured most of it out, but only the broad timeframe. The others… they don’t pry. And I like it better that way.”
“Then I have to thank you double for trusting me with your story,” Chūya said, slowly lifting your hand to his lips and pressing a small kiss to your knuckles.
When he looked up and found you were watching him, his breath hitched in his throat and quickly he lowered your hands again.
“I’m just sorry for making things awkward,” you sighed, holding a little tighter to Chūya’s hand, when you felt him trying to let go. His fingers immediately wrapped back around yours. “It’s just… I spent so long living without proper sunlight, no knowing what trees looked like, how songbirds sound or how roses smell, that sometimes… it’s all a little overwhelming.”
“Don’t be sorry,” Chūya shook his head. “There’s nothing to apologize for. And you didn’t make things awkward. I was just worried I had done something to upset you.”
“You didn’t,” you reassured him. “Quite the opposite really.” You took a deep breath. “I know you waited for a long time to go out with me, and now all I’m doing is crying because everything’s so beautiful here. That must be quite disappointing.”
Chūya chuckled. “Don’t worry your pretty head about that. You’re beautiful even when you cry.” Admittedly, he had seen you ugly-cry before during a shared mission, and even when your eyes had been swollen from crying, he had never felt anything other than affection for you, and the urge to sooth those sobs that had left your split lip. Now your lips were smooth and so soft looking. The thought that he wanted to know what they tasted like crossed his mind. He quickly shooed it away. Not the right time. “But if you want to cry some more, I have tissues.”
“You’re an awful man,” you gasped in mock offence, before scooting closer to his side and resting your head against his shoulder. It was warm and heavy against him, and he carefully turned his head to press a kiss against your hair.
“Do you want to stay here,” he asked after a while. You had started playing with his fingers, your cool fingertips exploring the leather of his gloves absentmindedly as you looked out into the park opening before you.
“As nice as it is,” you sighed, “we should get up. We’ve been occupying this bench for long enough.”
You were attempting to pull away, but Chūya held tighter onto you. “If you don’t want to get up, we don’t have to. There are enough empty benches all around. If people want to sit, they can do it on another bench.”
“Even though we have the best view?”
“Well, if they want this view, they’ll just have to wait,” Chūya decided, hiding his smile against your hair as you relaxed back against him. You had not seen proper parks for the first fifteen years of your life, you deserved to enjoy the most beautiful views for as long as you wanted, and he would make sure you got all the time you needed.
As pink cherry blossom petles drifted through the air, catching the sunlight which made them seem to glow from within, and your breath evened out as you slowly fell asleep against Chūya’s shoulder, your hand still in his, the flowers he had brought you on the bench next to you, Chūya was sure, it had been the perfectly right decision to bring you to the park for your first date.
