A Dream Unrealised

Renjun, talking to a ghost about a flashlight: Turn it on if you want to hurt us.

[Light Turns On]

Jeno: Fucking shit- God. Why do you keep asking questions like that. What’s wrong with you? Do you want to fucking die?!

Words to use instead of “said” organized by emotion/intention

One Piece

hi lia!!! i love your writing sm especially REDAMANCY IN YOUR GAZE. !!! so nicely written and hits me right in the feels ;w;

anywhoo i'm here to submit a request! hope this sparks your inspiration but if not feel free to delete it, ok? no pressure <3

i'm curious to see you writing angst, so can we perhaps have zhongli, xiao, kazuha, and itto with the situation/prompt: 'seeing their s/o reader dying'? bonus brownie points if reader died in their arms c: yeah i woke up and chose violence today ahah it can be in whatever format you feel most comfortable with!

ps. just reject this if you feel uncomfortable with the concept!! i didn't see a rule against this so i thought i'd drop by and ask. thank you and have a nice day <3 <3 <3

- 💠

★彡 KISS ME WITH YOUR EYES CLOSED.

SUMMARY. you have left with a piece of their heart and you're never coming back. or in which you spend your last moments in your lover's arms, but you are already beyond saving.

CHARACTERS. xiao, kazuha, zhongli, itto.

GENRE. angst, established relationship, hurt with no comfort.

CW. character death (no specified cause), mentions of blood (no specified injuries), unintended anger outburst + shinobu cameo in itto's part.

THOUGHTS. thank you for liking my writing and sending in this painful request <3 i'm unsure how well i executed this and i'm looking for room to improve — but for now, enjoy this angst that me and 💠 anonnie offered! >:)

✰ masterlist.

XIAO's words fail him, a failure stuck at the back of his throat from the deepest parts of his beating heart. Such a contrast to your heart that no longer thumps at the same tempo as his.

He is supposed to be used to this — no, he should have grown used to this already.

The putrid stench of death, the pools of scarlet red on the ground and his clothes, the void in his chest that he can't explain every single time.

For eons and eons, Xiao has seen lives perish before his eyes; his comrades, innocent lives, monsters, all of them. That is what he is meant to do; an Adeptus lives to bear pain, to shoulder it with resilience.

So, then, what is this feeling? Ache like never before, a longing for a different outcome, a sense of denial he is unfamiliar with.

Xiao stares blankly at your peaceful face, eyes closed and undisturbed. As if you are only lulled by the soft tune of slumber and merely sleeping in his arms — but that is no more than wishful thinking, he knows this.

Yet, still, he dares to hope.

How ironic, the Yaksha has never gotten along well with the concept of hope. But here he is, gathering the littlest courage to hope that you'd snap open your eyes and laugh at his forlorn expression like you always would.

But you don't, and Xiao realizes he is nothing but a hypocrite.

The same pain he is supposed to shoulder oh-so fearlessly is here, gnawing at his heart and consuming it alive — for once, Alatus doesn't think he can bear it any longer.

He is alone all over again.

๑ ⋆˚₊⋆────ʚ˚ɞ────⋆˚₊⋆ ๑

Death, an old friend of KAZUHA's that he never wishes to confront ever again. But that statement only reeks of blissful ignorance, doesn't it?

Death casts its gaze on whom it wishes and it takes and it takes, that is the natural course of life — yet, it has become far too familiar of an acquaintance in his life that Kazuha can't help but despise it.

In the back of his mind, Kazuha sees a vision he thought he has long bid his goodbyes to already. The booming flash of thunder, a sword pierced through the floorboard of the Tenshukaku, a fallen friend and a reminder that he was far too late.

This moment is all too familiar.

The darkening clouds above his head, his hands that cradle you close, and your scent that is growing fainter and fainter by the second. Kazuha rests his face into the crook of your neck, muffling his cries against your skin; but you are as cold as ice and snow, so unbelievably cold.

Has the curse of fate come to take from him again? Kazuha's heart is only one, but death seems to favor him so much that it keeps taking pieces of his soul little by little.

Once, a lingering pain he learnt to move on from. Twice, he lets it be this time. Thrice, he begins questioning, just what more does it want from him? His family, his friend, now his one and only lover; Kazuha isn't sure what is left of him now. So, so many have been taken away from him.

"[Y/N]," Kazuha feels ashamed of the way his voice breaks as he whispers your name. He can't even speak properly, but how can he when you lay so feebly in his arms? One movement and it feels as if you'll crumble to dust, unreachable and away from his grasp.

He still has so many haiku's to read to you, songs he wants you to listen to, places he wants to see with your hand in his. So many of them, yet those dreams are nothing but regrets now.

Death will never leave him alone, will it? Even if tears stain his cheeks, even if he pleads with his life, even if he wishes to trade his life for yours, Kazuha is powerless.

"I love you," the man presses his lips to your forehead, he spares no mind to the tears falling down his cheeks like a stream of water he'd drink a fistful from during his travels.

One last time, just one more. But his words fall on deaf ears, for you are already gone and you're not coming back.

Yet again, death has torn away another piece of Kaedehara Kazuha's heart.

๑ ⋆˚₊⋆────ʚ˚ɞ────⋆˚₊⋆ ๑

ZHONGLI drowns himself in complacent silence. He says nothing, he has nothing to say. The rueful sigh that escapes his lips is the only indication of the lid placed over the gaping sorrow in his chest.

The former Archon of Geo does not shed tears. If he cries, then would it have changed this outcome? No, it wouldn't. If he cries, then would it have lifted this pain in his chest for a brief moment? Perhaps, it would.

But if Zhongli allows tears to cloud his eyes, then hethese last few moments with you. Fate cannot be changed nor can it be severed, all he can do is embrace it wholeheartedly.

"Even if it hurts?" A ghost-like whisper hovers faintly above his ears, trying to shake his resolve. Zhongli affirms himself, "Even if it hurts." He doesn't acknowledge the littlest speck of desire to falter and say otherwise in the corner of his mind.

Even if it hurts.

After all this time, you are still as beautiful as the first day he laid eyes on you, Zhongli smiles as he closes your eyes with the palm of his hand.

Those gem-like [E/C] irises of yours that always stare back at his with such affection, your voice that greets his ears like a gentle melody, the raindrops of love you shower him in so generously.

He can't help but reminisce.

After all, reminiscence is one of, if not the most, loyal friend of his, unbound by erosion of time as long as there is someone who lives to tell the tale. Zhongli knows the story of you shall live, for he will be the one to tell it.

"Rest well, my love."

He will not forget you.

The former Archon of Geo does not shed tears. Yet, that day, the corners of his amber eyes begin to dampen just a little.

๑ ⋆˚₊⋆────ʚ˚ɞ────⋆˚₊⋆ ๑

ITTO swears he sees his life flashes before his eyes. He is frantic, flighty even as if waiting for someone to get this over with and pinch him awake. This feels like a nightmare, it's just a bad dream, right?

But the warm pool of blood pouring onto his clothes is real, too real to just be a part of his imagination.

No, no, no, this can't be happening.

"Shinobu—" Itto calls out to his deputy leader hurriedly, agitation all too present in his voice. But the anxiety in his stomach churns even worse when he sees the mortified look in Shinobu's eyes; he doesn't like what it alludes to, not one bit.

He pleads almost desperately, "They'll be okay, right? Right?!" Shinobu has never lied to him, she always tells him the truth and so, he waits for an answer.

Reassurance, some hope that everything will be alright, just anything — but he receives no more than silence. And it angers him, Itto can feel the frustration rushing through his veins to his heart and to his head.

His grip on your frail body tightens and a pained holler tears itself from his throat, "Say something, dammit!" But he doesn't mean it, he doesn't mean to yell so harshly at her. He isn't usually like this, what is going on?

When in reality, the answer to his question is right there in his arms; your frail figure lying in his embrace is just a fact waiting to be acknowledged, but he doesn't want to accept it.

Do you expect him to just accept it like that so easily? You know he can't do that, he just can't.

"There is still hope, there is still hope," Itto chants to himself, but even a fool would know those words are nothing more than empty reassurance.

The so-called strongest Oni in Inazuma is so out of it Shinobu can't even gather the courage to point out the truth.

What will become of her boss if she tells him that you are no longer breathing?

๑ ⋆˚₊⋆────ʚ˚ɞ────⋆˚₊⋆ ๑

© seelestia, july 2022. do not repost, plagiarize, translate nor claim as your own.

switch up your verbs (part one) ~

walked - hiked - moved - shuffled - toddled - sauntered - ambled - tiptoed - meandered - strolled

laughed - chortled - chuckled - giggled - snorted - guffawed - howled - snickered - shrieked

wanted - ached for - wished - craved - coveted - fancied - pined - aspired

ran - sprinted - galloped - scampered - bolted - trotted - dashed - raced - jogged

jumped - bounced - hopped - leapt - hurtled - vaulted - barged - bounded

PROMPTS   FOR   THE   HEAVY   HEARTED

the burdened:

“  being alive is exhausting.  ”

“  i ruin everything i touch.  ”

“  no one ever helped me when i needed it.  so,  i just.  try to do my best to keep others from feeling that kind of loneliness.  ”

“  i feel like the pain is all i am anymore. ”

“  i wish i remembered anything other than loneliness.  ”

“  i’m not a particularly good person.  but sometimes i wish someone would think i am.  ”

“  i’m just always the one who gets left behind.  ”

“  i never seem to belong anywhere.  or to anyone.  ”  

“  i’m alone.  and it’s my own fault.  but it doesn’t make it hurt any less.  ”

“  i don’t know how to just live.  i constantly feel like i’m waiting for the other shoe to drop.  ”

“  i always expect people to hurt me.  because they usually do. ”

“  i don’t know how to let go of my trauma.  i don’t know what i am without it.   ”

“  it’s better if i’m alone.  i can’t hurt anyone if there’s no one close enough to get hit by the debris of my fuck ups.  ”

“  there are just too many people depending on me.  i can’t rest.  i can’t let them down.  ”

“  i don’t have anything or anyone left anymore.  ”

“  i’m not strong.  or brave.  i survive ‘cause there’s not really any other choice. ”

“  i tried to give up before.  but the universe just didn’t let me.  ”

“  i just want to be done.  i’m tired.  i’m so,  so fucking tired.  ”

“  i know it’s selfish.  but i wish someone would just take care of me.  ”

“  every time i start to feel like things are getting quieter and i can feel safe,  something bad always happens.  ”

“  i tend to love people more than they love me.  and it’s okay.  i don’t mind but…it can be lonely.  ”

“  i just don’t feel like my life makes any difference to anyone.  i’m just here.  ”

the comforter: 

“  hey,  look at me.  i’m listening.  you can tell me anything. ”

“   how can i help you feel less alone?  ”

“  i’m here and i’m not leaving or letting you change the subject.  now talk to me. ”

“  i know you feel like you’re alone and i’m not going to invalidate that.  but i can tell you that i’m here.  and i know there are people who want to care and help if you’ll let them.  ”

“  whatever it is you’re struggling with,  i want to help and it’s not going to make me look at you any different.  ”

“   i like having you around.  and not because of what you can do for me or give to me—  i like you.  i value you as a person.  ”

“   i just need you to know that you’ve never been ‘nobody’ to me.  you’ve never been nothing.  ”

“   you’re important to me.   you hear me?  you’re important.  and that’s never gonna change.   ”

“  i’m not going anywhere until you get some sleep.  ”

“  i want to take care of you.  please,  let me.  ”

“  no one is meant to be all alone.  that’s not how humans are built.  you don’t need to do all this on your own.   ”

“  you don’t deserve the bad things that happen to you.  you never did.  ”

“  i can’t promise you aren’t going to have any more hardship.  but i can promise i’m gonna be right here to get your through it. ”

“  you make a difference in my life.  i’m not just saying that.  it wouldn’t be the same without you here and i don’t want to find out what it’d be like to not have you around. ”

“  next time it gets this bad,  you call me okay?  now you just sit there and i’m gonna make you some tea and soup and we’re gonna talk this out. ”

“   is it getting bad again?  ”

“   you are so much stronger and braver than you think.  ”

LOVE YOU WITH MY EYES CLOSED

Thomas Shelby x Reader

Part one Part two Part three

Summary: At a young age Y/N was given away for marriage, years later the dust began to settle and her life caught a rhythm she stopped fighting. Is Tommy, the man she once knew too well, ready to play along and let her go once again?

Word count: 2.9k

Warnings: depression, heartache, mental and physical abuse

A/N: Slow introduction, next chapter will pick up on pace. Enjoy

Coming back to Birmingham ignited more mixed feelings than Y/N expected it ever would. Pushing through the difficult changes back in the day caused her to stomach so much pain and.. distress at the inability to make her own choices. She thought there was nothing in her to cause fear anymore.

A weird kind of fear it was, this time. Looking out the window as the train plummeted through the fields, shaking and groaning under the weight of people all heading to the city she couldn't shake off. Four years passed so quickly, in a pace she didn't understand when she looked back at the first months of constant struggle she endured. Leaving everything behind. Becoming nothing more than a tool to life of.. prosperity for her family.

She fought it for so long, back then. Much to her father's misunderstanding, her unbreakable spirit made everything so much more difficult.

Yet eventually everything must come to an end though, in a reality where her value was tightly connected with how pretty she was, and how aesthetically pleasing she looked, hanging on the arm of a man she barely knew.

It was much easier to ignore from the distance, but the closer she got to Birmingham, more wounds began reopening, hurting and itching despite her neutral expression and unmoving figure.

One of his hands rested on her thigh, the other one holding a newspaper. The lack of communication was nothing short of normal between them. After all, when nobody was around, they didn't have to pretend as much. Nickolas Winterbourne, a man coming from a life where nothing ever ran out, where pantries were never empty and clothes never dirty. He existed in a controlled environment snuggly clothed in money at every corner, shielding him from any difficulties life planned to throw his way - unaffected by the simple disdain of modern times they happened to live in.

For what it was worth, Y/N considered herself lucky. He was… polite, usually gentle which was way more than she could have ever asked for from people in his social class. His hands were smooth, untainted by physical labour that he never had to do. His disposition contradicted his father's, a man purely self-absorbed and cruel with one purpose – wealth.

Y/N was grateful for the person he was deep down, even though he was forcing her into situations they could avoid, yet rarely violating her physically or mentally.

Nickolas was… indifferent. His demeanour calm, collected and bordering on bored most of the time. His eyes looked at her with a never ending patience and neutrality she grew to appreciate, after watching the way many of his brothers treated their own wives. She was lucky.

The mindset she worked so hard to build, throwing away the values she dreamed of as a little girl, the warm dreams of having a loving marriage with several kids, conversations that would seem to go on forever sprinkled with tender kisses on the forehead and warm touches that would warm her up on cold nights. She exchanged those hopes for expensive dresses and a mansion much too big for any amount of wood to warm. There were continual expensive dinners and meaningless conversations with people she wouldn't care to see ever again with fake seemingly polite smiles. These people never stopped beckoning for their service, acting like the simple action of pouring themselves tea was too much to burden their minds with.

So she was grateful, playing along with the quick pace of life they had. Dressing up quickly, perfecting the empty smile she got used to wearing on a daily basis.

“Be grateful, because you could have had it much worse” she mentally repeated to herself.

A soft squeeze of his hand tore her out of her thoughts, his brown eyes watching her patiently. He witnessed the difficulties she struggled with back then. So her silence rang louder than ever.

”We will spend two days in Birmingham and be back on our way. Tomorrow is the day of the gala, and the day after you will spend on your own matters.” He spoke quietly, reading the troubling emotions in her eyes. He always saw through the mask of neutrality he taught her how to wear like her second skin: a mutual understanding.

Her eyes slowly followed along the lines of his face, finally settling on holding eye contact. Slowly nodding, she covered his hand with her own before forcing out a small smile.

”Thank you” She responded, straightening her back before the train started slowing down before coming to a full stop.

Patting her thigh for the last time, he pulled away.

”Come on. It's time to go”

~~

After getting out of the train, Y/N watched how after stepping out her boots immediately covered in mud.

Some things never changed, she thought with a smile as the scent of smoke filled her nostrils.

”Christ” Nickolas muttered, his face twisting in disgust. Birmingham was nothing like the London they were used to, first expression of the city obnoxiously underwhelming for Winterbourne.

Standing by the road sign they waited for a moment before the designated car pulled up, halting by their feet as the driver opened the door, offering to help in packing the luggage.

Y/N seemed distraught, looking around as she immediately recognized the streets despite small differences and the fact she didn't leave even remotely close back then. A city centre it was, fair distance from Small Heath. A place she used to call home.

”Come on, get in the car” Nickolas whispered, noticing her distracted gaze, grabbing her arm lightly and nudging her towards the vehicle, bringing her out of memories thick like smoke. Looking at him she nodded, obediently getting inside before the car took them to the hotel.

One she had never been in before. This whole situation felt suffocating in ways so weird, she was barely able to look him in the eyes. Even as they moved to the building, getting all the formalities done she couldn't help but let her mind wander towards the ghosts of her past.

Loud, obnoxious laugh filled her head bringing a little smile on her red lips. One that definitely belonged to John, his eyes glimmering with mischief like most of the time. Through the eyes of imagination she saw Ada's long, dark hair she constantly complained about, sighing dramatically in a way that never ceased to make Y/N roll her eyes. Suffering from success, she used to call it, teasing her friend with whom she grew up so close.

A sound came to her ears as lift brought them to the right level, she moved seemingly on an autopilot when her husband fumbled with keys, looking for the right one.

As the door swung open she let out a silent sigh as she remembered. The memory she worked on suppressing so long caught up randomly, big, blue eyes surrounded by thick, dark eyelashes. Colour so dynamic, swiftly changing with the feeling simmering beneath his tough exterior, yet always so bright and clear when he looked at her. She felt like she saw him for the first time, despite it being nothing but her exterior shell shattering at the unwanted memories flooding back in.

Suddenly, she felt out of breath and barely an hour after checking into the hotel, she was in bed facing away from Nickolas. The wall she put up between them nearing the height of one he tried to shatter after getting to know the girl. She seemed so small as she lay on her side, every inch of her body hidden under covers. Hair scattered on the pillow, keeping his gaze away from her features.

They just got here, and he was already losing, Nickolas thought, before remembering the small detail that could shatter his reality if ease if looked into.

”Goodnight” He whispered, pressing a kiss onto her shoulder before turning away and giving her space as the lights went out.

It was only so long he could bend reality to his will, he thought, before closing his eyes and allowing Morpheus' embrace to swallow him up.

In contrast to him, Y/N didn't fall asleep once. The unknown anticipation swirled around in her stomach, pushing her even further away from the man sleeping by her side. Something was coming, and she knew it.

~~

”Do you really trust what you're saying?” Her voice came to his ears, quieter, less confident than usually she'd speak to him.

Leaning forward on his arms, he let his head drop in defeat for a moment before lifting him up. Strong, unyielding gaze meeting her worried, slightly anxious eyes.

Her position in the family and in company made her learn how to deal with emotions on her own for years.. which was never an issue. Woman could only be so vulnerable after raising that many kids and protecting them from the disgusting reality with her fragile hands and soul on her shoulder. But she managed.

So the rare vulnerability she displayed that evening, looking in her nephew's eyes was nothing short of special. The string of responsibility connecting them in ways none of his siblings would understand.

Staring blankly for a moment, he ended up nodding.

”I know, Polly.” He spoke up, his voice heavy with exhaustion and the fear he tried to bury somewhere between his ribs, to never be seen again. But it was there, alive as ever, making his heart thump in an unnatural rhythm. Reminding him of one of survival. Desperate attempts to stick to life even when the dirty earth in the tunnels tried to swallow him alive.

”You need to trust me when I say things will go back to normal. I waited for long enough.” His voice came out sharper than he'd like it to. Blue eyes soothing the damage his voice has done and Polly understood.

Being a witness to the struggles he faced on daily, responsibilities piling on him like layers of clothing, giving no space to grieve the loss of someone who was never supposed to be gone.

…and so he didn't. Instead building an empire on his bitterness and pain, trusting that… whatever was up there would provide if it was meant to be.

That day for once in his life Thomas wanted to pray.

~~

“You need to pick up your pace, Y/N. We can't afford to be late to such an event.” Nickolas snapped, his usually calm and collected demeanour dishevelled with stress as he watched time ticking away on his watch.

She didn't sleep, almost at all. Putting on the mask was more difficult than usual, having to layer the makeup on her tired face, exhausted eyes. The years of struggles managed to catch up in the nine hours she spent on trying to fall asleep. Dreamless nights and loveless days connected with the anticipation in her stomach making it impossible to close her eyes.

”What will they think of us if we show up late, Y/N?” He shot once again watching her movements with his chin higher than he usually carried.

In moments of distress Y/N saw his father in him, usually perfectly hidden away lack of spine showing through the wounds of what the perfect life did to him. Minor inconvenience making him furious.

”Put on your jacket and smoke a cigarette, Nickolas. By the time you're done I will be waiting.” She responded in a neutral way, already taught to not feed into his bitterness in such situations. Not because he was right, but rather to avoid making him cranky as he would surely ruin her already difficult evening.

Watching her with contempt for a moment, he let out a heavy breath before stepping away.

”Five minutes or you will walk there. I'm not going to be late because of your irresponsibility.” His voice faded with the distance growing between them.

Y/N sighed looking at her reflection.

A man that was never supposed to be a husband.

All eyes were on them as soon as they arrived. Y/N smiled, nodding along to the people she saw for the first time as they spoke to Nickolas. She was to not speak unless spoken to, Mr. Winterbourne taught her four years ago. Smile, look pretty and watch your husband. Be attentive and elegant at all times.

Entering the event took them about fifteen minutes with all the pleasantries Nick kept giving away to his associates. Deep down she hated it. The constant need to pretend, not a single movement one of her own.

”Mr. Winterbourne!” A voice came from behind their back as they walked into the main room. An older man with jet-black hair approached quickly, his arm wrapped around the waist of his wife. Glancing at her, they exchanged a joyful look before standing right by Y/N. “Long time no see” His voice was low, but not threatening. Something about the tall and broad man was inviting, friendly.

”Indeed, it's been a long while.” Nick responded, straightening his back before greeting the older woman, getting a hold of her hand gently and kissing the temple. ”How is life treating you, Sir?” His tone mannered and calm, just like always whenever he was in a public eye. After getting a response, he began talking about the details of the gala before the woman suddenly interrupted him.

”...and who is this beautiful woman?” She spoke completely relaxed to which Y/N’s eyes widened in surprise. If she interrupted her husband or any man he was currently talking to in such a manner, she'd get severely punished if not slapped at the spot. Nicholas raised his eyebrow but quickly put on a collected exterior again.

”This is my wife, Y/N” He introduced her, slightly embarrassed that he forgot to do so in the first place. What would they think of him? The older man reflected, kissing her temple with a smile and his wife took her hand in her own.

”Oh, I see” She said, looking at the ring on her finger. ”Absolutely beautiful, how about we get something to drink while men talk about the important matters?” She suggested light-heartedly, winking at her husband who chuckled, shaking his head before giving a simple nod.

”Great idea. I will find you in just a few moments, Precious.”

The way their interactions took place made Y/N truly shocked, she's never seen such behaviour among people in their class before. Were people of Birmingham different than them?

Waiting for his approval obediently Y/N only moved when he gave her a stern nod, clearly not pleased with his own performance, yet he would never admit it.

His behaviour was different this time, she could clearly see it. He was more emotional in the wrong way, every little detail making him visibly angry.

”I’m Meredith” The seemingly fourty year old woman stated, glancing at Y/N sideways. ”You seem to love these kind of events, don't you?” She joked, seeing the way Y/N’s smile dropped as soon as they turned away from their husbands. Internally she panicked hearing the elegant woman's remark, her eyes widening with fear. ”Oh, no worries. We're on the same page… besides. They serve really good drinks, so soon enough it will be bearable.” The tone of her voice was light and amusing as she gave Y/N a little shove. Her demeanor was relaxed and open, matching her husband's which was… refreshing.

”Better get to it then” She mustered a smile in response.

To be fair, time did start passing faster as they settled by the table, slowly sipping on tasteful drinks and talking in a way that allowed Y/N feel much less comfortable than she was at first. A breath of fresh air.

”We’re local. My husband, Christopher, is the owner of several businesses passed down through the family. That's how he knows Winterbournes.” She explained eventually before leaning in closer. ”He doesn't get along well with your father in law. Tradition and peace are the only things keeping them tied together.”

Y/N listened carefully, appreciating that after a couple drinks Meredith's tongue got a bit loose. Usually she'd never hear a single detail about her husband's business or family. She wasn't family by blood, so her access to information was very restricted.

Getting lost in her thoughts again she zoned out for a second before Nickolas’ voice came to her ear from close proximity.

”This is my wife, Y/N Winterbourne.” He introduced her and it took a second to stand up, smooth out her dress before her eyes met the guests.

…and just for a second, her heart stopped, mouth slightly parting as she met the blue gaze she dreamed of for so many years.

”May we dance, Mrs. Winterbourne?” Thomas Shelby asked, standing side to side with her husband. Slightly shorter yet visibly towering over him.

For once she forgot her manners, not able to tear her eyes away from him as she gave a quick nod and without another word, he grabbed her hand pulling her towards the dance floor among other couples. Completely stiff and frozen, her vocal chords were not cooperating as she was on the verge of a panic attack.

His hands grabbed her own, setting them on his shoulders as he pulled her closer.

”Breathe” He said quietly in a husky tone as his scent almost made her faint.

❥ [ 03. ] three hours

I WISH YOU WERE SOBER — [ previous. masterlist. next. ]

synopsis — in which you were never really one for spontaneity or precipitous decisions, until you got yourself drunk at your senior year university party and woke up the next morning with the most dreadful of hangovers…along with a painfully distorted memory of a stolen kiss on that hazy evening.

note — venti @ my dumbass supportive and final braincell

taglist — @tihgnari @ceylestia @eissaaaa @venyan @sohyuki @senjurro @bobaducky @dinoshimaaa @sharoshing @ioverjn @hey-comrade-hold-stil @skaramush @lesboluvs @clovcly @ventuswhat @zephestia @theother-victoria @neptun-es @ihaveahunterlisence @minyoungieee @astolary @wrenhyperfixates @heartonthemoon @goodthingimsam @capybara4lyfers @slvdsjjk @michelindu @kimiesstuff @itssoizzy @kazuzux @hiqhkey @layla240 @justrisahere @one-offmind @diaflower @liquor-kissez @tokanite @pooonyo @sweetstrawberrybabe @yeeden @nejibot @lcvez @rion-s @sakushoujo @koiir @lost-wicked-artist @dampam

— for whatever it's worth / nagi seishiro x reader. (ain't that the worst thing you've ever heard?)

— light angst. happy ending. yukimiya kenyu as plot fodder (sorry.) friends to lovers. misunderstandings.

— part two of i dreamt you loved me. quick warning: i'm not exaggerating when i say i was braindead when i was writing this. it's bad but it's your problem now <3

you thought you were being honest with yourself when you said you’d be fine.

you understood, truly—that you would miss him more than you should, even when he's so close. you think, if you message him, he'd reply anyway; but all your messages remain unsent, kept hidden the way you think your feelings should’ve been kept.

it’s a frustrating thing, to remind yourself every day that you don’t need nagi no matter how much you miss him; to tell yourself you don’t miss the comfort of his presence, the warmth of his lips mumbling against the pulse on your neck, his calm voice keeping you earthed.

it’s not even supposed to be this way.

despite nagi approaching you that day, he doesn’t do it again. he’s across the room or running away from you the moment he notices you coming. while you keep pushing the distance, he keeps pulling.

you start wondering if you kept pushing, pushing, pushing–if you kept doing that, would you be too much of a bother already? if he was doing this much to avoid you, shouldn’t you just suck it up and walk away?

a week later, you don’t get any more time to decide. yukimiya is there, walking beside you as you enter your usual café, a charming smile on his lips.

“you go ahead and sit, i’ll order for us,” he offers, nodding towards the booth you always take.

you nod, “oh, my order, it’s—”

yukimiya arches an eyebrow, looking at you like you’re silly, “i got it, y/n.”

the feeling of your cheeks heating up is instantaneous. “well then,” you try again, taking your wallet out, “my payment.”

he keeps that expression, then he’s shaking his head. “i got it, y/n,” he stands his ground and you’re left to sigh, taking the defeat.

just as you take your seat, the door clings with the sound of someone entering. on instinct, you turn towards it only to feel your breath getting knocked out of you because nagi is there and he’s looking around the place like he’s searching for someone.

he keeps looking until meets your gaze (and maybe you still love him too much, because you could almost say for sure that his eyes brighten at the sight of you) and when he starts walking towards you, you think perhaps you’re having a fever dream.

“y/n.”

“nagi-kun,” you almost squeak, still surprised. nagi almost wants to wince, because you’ve only ever called him that when you were still unfamiliar with each other.

he reaches a hand towards his nape, a habit he does when he’s uncertain, “can i join you?”

you gape for a moment, confused, because there he is—the one you miss the most, the best friend you crave so badly—the one who left your feelings unanswered; yet you’re not even sure if you’re meant to say yes because yukimiya is there, walking towards you, stopping right beside nagi and placing your drinks on the table.

“oh,” you hear nagi, realizing you’re not alone.

yukimiya turns to him, his smile falters for only a split second you almost miss it, “ah, nagi-kun, yes?”

nagi only nods with tension brewing in the air, you kind of want to cry only because it feels as if you’ve found yourself at a shitshow of a situation. sighing, you smile apologetically at yukimiya. “come sit, yukki,” you hesitate before speaking again, “i think i should step out and talk to nagi for a moment though, is that okay?”

he nods despite the apprehensive look on his face. you stand, gesturing nagi towards the door.

when you’re outside, nagi is the first one to speak.

“we can just talk next time,” he offers, as if this wasn’t the first time in weeks that he’s even tried to talk to you.

he watches your lips curl into a frown, and he knows he’s said the wrong thing, “i just don’t wanna intrude in your… date?” he continues, sounding uncertain.

you laugh mirthlessly, “what do you mean, date?” you ask. you feel half hurt, half confused. you’re not sure why, but it feels like a punch to the gut that he’s telling you this as if he’s completely forgotten about your confession.

“oh, i just thought–he likes you, right? i thought you had something going on…”

“are you serious, sei? or have you forgotten?”

“forgotten what?”

your responding sigh let out is harsh, drawn out, and maybe if nagi had more empathy in him, he’d even hear the hurt, “that it’s you, sei. that i love you, and you’re–” your voice wavers, your initial sob is heavy, and nagi watches the way your face crumples, trying not to cry even though it’s futile, “you’re asking me if i like someone else when you know–”

“oh,” he trails off, his finger incessantly tapping at his thigh, a nervous tic.

“yeah, oh. i hate you and fuck you for that,” you tell him, except your voice is weak and there’s no real bite in your tone, “that’s fucked up, sei.”

“sorry,” he tells you, and he means it, no matter how much it seems he’s at a loss for words. he licks his lips before his mouth parts again, “i just mean,” he pauses, fumbling for the right words to say, “we’re friends first, before anything else, right? if you like him, you should give it a shot.”

you can’t help the exasperation when you react, tears free falling down the pavement beneath you, “is it that hard for you to acknowledge my feelings, sei?”

there’s nothing but the faint sound of the cafe inside and the hiccup of your sobs yet your heartbreak is deafening. right there, you realise it would hurt if he was around as much as it did when he wasn’t.

“just tell me this, nagi,” you exhale, trying to brave it, “why can’t it just be us?”

you don’t know how to feel when he answers you without thinking, like he knew this already. “i can’t reciprocate your feelings, y/n. i can’t be the boyfriend you want,” he tells you. it’s honest, as he always is, and it's a stalemate from there.

there’s a whimper of your hurt you try to bite back with your tongue before you nod one last time, “i should go back,” you tell him.

you’re walking away before he could say anything more.

it doesn't take long for you to realize that nagi is truly gone from you this time around.

while you try to move on, you tell yukimiya about your feelings, but he’s persistent, and he thinks it’ll be fine if it meant he even had a chance.

except it feels oddly empty sometimes, even when you find yourself in the affections of yukimiya. until february and march pass and you realize you're still willing nagi back, you grieved. your love, his absence, the futile attempt you'd made at untethering the red thread keeping you woven to him—you grieved it all.

the next month without him gone and you find yourself slipping away from yukimiya. you confess that you’ll probably love nagi for a long time and until then you couldn’t let him wait around for nothing.

soon enough, though, you find yourself hanging out with isagi at the cafe to catch up—something you could only usually do together since you can't find the will to join all three of them with nagi there.

this time, though, your heart wins.

“have you guys been hanging out with nagi lately?” you regret it as soon as you ask.

“you should just message him,” he replies, looking at you expectantly. but your reaction doesn’t fail him when you recoil at his suggestion.

“absolutely not, yoichi-kun,” you sigh. with a pout, you try again, “he’s free today, right? do you think he’d come here if you asked him to?”

he scratches at his cheek, “i can call him.”

it’s comical enough that he’s almost amused, the way your lips stretch to a wide grin as he slips his phone out to call nagi. but when the ringing stops and you hear nagi’s faint voice, you try not to pay attention to the phone call only because you don’t want to get your hopes up.

it’s quick, though. and isagi’s pausing to talk to you, “he’s asking if it’s fine with you, y/n?”

of course isagi tells him you’re there, but you nod anyway, because it sounds like he’s coming.

when nagi’s finally there, with bachira and reo with him, you don’t know why you’re so relieved; everything falls into place and the air is easy to breathe.

it’s late when everyone starts saying goodbye and you stay standing by the door of the cafe, wondering if everything is going to be okay from here.

“y/n,” nagi calls from beside you, “let’s walk back together.”

it’s not a question, but years of being friends with him tells you this is his way of letting you know he missed you. you chew at your lip, trying not to smile, because it feels like you have him back.

your smile wins with warmth filling your chest, “okay—yeah, i’d like that.”

he falls into step beside you, the silence is comfortable but there’s been so much left unsaid since you last saw him. you steal a quick glance, taking him in, you missed him so much that you’re not sure you should even bring it up anymore; like if it meant you’d have to eat your feelings just to keep him around, you would.

somehow, nagi senses your hesitation, taking the initiative to speak first, “it was really boring without you around.”

your heart skips a beat, treacherous, “really?” you reply, the smile evident in your voice.

he hums, “mm, didn’t have anyone to lean on when i sleep.”

“is that all i am to you?” you say lightly, laughing, but the words meant more than you intended and your laughter dies down. grimacing, you clear your throat, “sorry, i didn’t mean it like that.”

nagi only nods, his gaze intense as he looks at you. you continue, trying to ease the awkwardness, “i’m just glad we’re okay again, sei. and for what it’s worth, i probably don’t love you anymore.”

you try to save it with a lie, but your words hang between you like paperweight, and nagi's expression shifts slightly at your response.

he stops, urging you to look back at him. he takes a step towards you, so close you almost stumble back, hand reaching out to tilt your chin, just like that day when everything between you shifted. but then he speaks, his voice quiet and measured, "i do, though.”

it's a simple statement, but it carries a world of emotion with it, and you can see it etched on his face. he watches you when he says it, the gleam that appears in your eyes at his confession, "and i want you to feel the same again." his tone is confident, almost daring, something you can’t do anything about.

you can feel it, the depth of his desire, his insistence on everything he wanted; now it’s you, and you almost want to tell him you love him, still, that you never even stopped.

“but why are you telling me this?" your question is a whisper, hesitant. “you said you don’t want a relationship, sei…”

“i don’t think i mind if it’s with you.” the sincerity seeps through his voice even when he shrugs, his eyes are trained on your lips.

hope blooms within you and you think nagi can tell, because there’s a twitch of a smile on the corner of his lips.

he really wants to kiss you, but you’d probably be upset for real this time if he does, so he moves to press a kiss on your forehead instead before stepping away.

with your flustered expression though, you’d think he just kissed you and more.

it feels like home–nagi’s arms around you, the warmth of it, the comfort. it’s familiar but it feels so much more this time around.

"wanna hear something weird, sei?" you ask him softly, like you’re telling a secret.

nagi hums, his eyes closed. "what is it?" he asks, voice laced with sleep.

"when i missed you," you started, "i dreamt about you–i dreamt of you sitting in the kitchen telling me you couldn’t be bothered to eat, but that you really wanted me to cook for you.”

he opens his eyes, meeting your gaze, a small smile playing on his lips. “that’s how bad you missed me?”

you scrunch your face, not taking the bait, “no. maybe i was just hungry, sei.”

you feel nagi pull you closer, lips pressing to your shoulder blade, muttering against your skin, “i’m glad you’re here again, y/n.” and it sounds like i missed you then, too.

“me too, sei. i'm happy you're here.”