oda/reader.
note: flangsty. turns out to be AU-ish. a songfic for RoseMGottschalk; Pierre by Ryn Weaver.

I danced in the desert in the pouring rain,
drank with the devil and forget my name,
woke with somebody when the morning came,
no one there to shame me for my youth

It was quite crazy, to say the least. Abso-fucking-lutely crazy, reckless, downright suicidal and every other synonym there was for attempting to drink the infamous demon protégé under the table.

Because damn, he had a good resistance.

“Oh, come on,“ you laughed, setting your now empty glass down with a clink and a crooked grin as he did the same, staying mostly unperturbed and steadfast. “Can't you let a fair lady win like a gentleman?“

He flashed you a wide smile, just as one of his companions interrupted with a “He's a dumbass, not a gentleman,“ and pushed his round glasses up the bridge of his nose.

“Ango, you're such a meanie!“, the brunette laughed, patted his workaholic friend on his back and placed a hand up to the side of his mouth, as if that would help in hiding his next words. “Don't listen to him, my dear y/n, he's just salty because he's married to his job and can't find a girlfriend.“

That earned him a slap to the back of his head and an exasperated “I'm very capable of finding someone to engage in a romantic relationship with!“, which, in return, set off a chain reaction of sorts: Dazai and Ango entertaining a hearty argument, the only reserved person sighing, and his calm mien causing you to shift your attention to him.

You tilted your head at him and peered into his eyes where the sky and ocean met.

“...you're a quiet one, aren't you?“

Before he could answer, the sky and ocean crashed over you.

'cause i wouldn't be with you

and then i found me a lover who could play the bass
he's kinda quiet but his body ain't
spend the days dreaming and the nights awake
doin' things we know we shouldn't do

The next day, you woke up with a pounding headache, opened windowblinds and a freshly made cup of coffee.

Wait, what?

“Good morning,“ an all too familiar voice rang through your head, like wind through a wind chime. Tilting your head, you were met with the same redhead from the previous night, sitting in an armchair and halfway through a book. “You're awake, I see.“

“Uh,“ you spoke, eloquently.

He shut the book with a kind of care that intrigued you and met your gaze. “You blacked out yesterday,“ he explained, “and Ango was too busy to deal with our Executive, so I took it upon me to drive you home. You don't remember, but you leant against the door to open it yourself, then just crashed to the ground once it moved.“

You winced at the slight jolt of pain in the side of your head as you sat up, then pressed around to feel a bandage wrapped around your skull.

“There wasn't blood,“ he went on. “But I didn't want to risk a swelling, so I let you hold a bag of ice to it and patched you up before you fell asleep.“

You nodded at his words and leant against the wooden headboard, brushing through your hair with one hand. “This... kind of makes sense.“

He blinked twice, lips set in a thin line and eyes gleaming with something more than neutrality.

You sighed and dropped your hand, swinging your legs out of the bed. “How can I be sure you're not the bad guy, though?“

He shrugged, the smallest smile pulling at his lips. “Guess you have to find out.“

Your brow shot up, and you huffed. “Is that an invitation for a date?“, you asked.

“Do you want it to be one?“, he asked back, and god, you were so screwed. So disastrously screwed.

I can't let him in
You call me up and ask me how I've been
I'll call your bluff and
Keep on telling, telling, telling you lies

One date turned to two, which turned to three, and soon after to the mutual agreement to meet each Saturday evening.

You found out a lot about him. His name, his favourite sort of curry, his current occupation which he mentioned like one might mention the weather, his Ability, and his dreams of becoming a writer.

He found out a lot about you. Your name, your favourite brand of sweets, your vagabond-esque way of living (he couldn't help but yearn for that kind of spending one's time here, too), and your plans for your next destination.

“England?“, Odasaku managed to say through a mouthful of (quite spicy) cup noodles, forgetting a few of his manners around you.

Maybe he was just comfortable with you. He most likely was, considering how his heart always skipped a beat, his eyes having an unusual spark in them, and how roses bloomed in his cheeks whenever you gave him a lopsided grin.

He guessed that was love.

You felt the same, but didn't want to. You just couldn't, you had told yourself that from the very first time you'd brushed your fingers over his sleeve.

It was a flash of sunset and ocean skies, clashing and twirling and incinerating, until nothing was left except the embers, the raw cries, and the rebirth of someone else.

Your Ability was to experience someone's death. You were able to see when and where it would happen, but never how to prevent it.

You've tried that once, only once, and soon after, you were forced to witness how the cycle of life was a force to be reckoned with.

So it became a wretched habit to lie to him. No matter what he asked you, How do you feel?, Are you alright?, Should I come over?, you simply lied. Because you were in love with him, and you knew that, if you'd tell him the truth while staring into his peculiar eyes, he would have you, just like that.

God, he would have you until the day he died.

Oh, count down to the day they may come true

With every passing second, the catastrophe only inched closer, like a grown cat preying on a freshly born crow.

And then, it snapped. You snapped.

You didn't know why, but you dialed his number as quickly as you could and said, “Come with me,“ in one breath.

“To where?“

“England,“ you replied, twirling the telephone cord around your finger. “I heard it's beautiful that time of year. Besides, it would be boring without you.“

That was as far a love confession as you could manage in this moment.

You could hear the faint smile at the other end of the line. “But I have work to do, y/n.“

You jerked a brow up. “You mean rescuing kittens from trees?“, you quipped, leaning against the doorframe.

“I'm a member of a really dangerous organization, did you forget?“, Odasaku answered, and it sounded so much like the sing-song tone he used with the children that you couldn't help but fall a little more.

“...yet, I guess I can make an exception for you. When and where?“

You smiled in bittersweet victory.

Oh, count down to the day they may come true
I'm counting dow-ow-ow-ow-own
I'm still so dow-ow-ow-ow-own
I'll come around.

Exactly one month, two weeks, fourteen hours and twenty-seven minutes later, you sat beside the redhead, propping your legs up on his suitcase with a giddy smile, awaiting the moment your flight would be announced.

“Hey,“ you muttered and tilted your head. “What have you told your friends about all this?“

“The truth. As for Dazai- the brunette you met once-, I have told him to leave that place, as soon as he could, and to help the helpless.“

You nodded, looking out towards the vast fields and scattered planes outside. “You had a feeling, huh? That something would happen if you stayed?“

Odasaku tipped his head back, blinking twice. “I guess you can say that, yeah... and you?“

“Oh,“ you laughed. “When doesn't something happen?“

After another month, Odasaku received a panicked call from Dazai, explaining how everything has gone to hell, how he's on the run with the kids, how Ango was a traitor all along and Mimic just a trap to eradicate him.

After two years, you and the others began to share a life at the Armed Detective Agency, an apartment huge enough for everyone, and the mutual feeling of a happily-ever-after.

As you lied down in your bed, pulling the covers over both you and Odasaku, a thought crossed your mind.

Maybe, this time, no one has to die.

Maybe this is how the world should have always turned out to be.

×××

why do i feel like soda is so wacky in this one -

anygays, for further clarification: yes, i just screwed with the canon bsd timeline, because i can/wanted to/no one should die wtf -

ergo, me fucking with the timeline resulted in t h i s, a mess of an alternate universe which i came to love the more i wrote for it.
i hope y'all enjoy this chaotic piece, mwah!