#anyways if you happen to be that person and are seeing this right now:

[codtrashsammy]

Cute Meet?

Started as a kinda character study and idk what happened, i'ma be honest. I haven't written anything with length in awhile, so feel free to leave cc and let me know what you think <3 Just a cute meet kinda scenario, reader is an anxious lil thing and Simon 'Ghost' Riley is obsessed upon first glance. Love? No, not yet.. but obsessed, yes. Word Count: 1.3K Pairing: Simon Riley x Reader/You Warnings: No warnings, no use of y/n tho Enjoy :))

Ghost is the keeper. Ghost is stoic, cold, even apathetic. Ghost can kill a whole platoon without batting an eye, can be covered in the blood of his enemies and be entirely uncaring to watch it flow down the drain once he has enough time to scrub the caked blood from where it seeped through his clothes. He is in charge, able to control his emotions effortlessly, able to lead. He is everything he needs to be. And then there’s Simon. Ghost is the keeper. Simon is the man beneath the mask who needs one. Simon is more akin to a stray dog than a human at times. Face hidden from the world, yet teeth always barred and ready to bite. Hidden behind a mask, a carefully crafted mask that is Ghost. A man with more scars than flesh, a man with more trauma than peace, a man who simply longs for the normalcy of life without a way to reach it. And then came you.

Ghost couldn’t care less for you. The mask is on as he’s on leave, shopping in a grocery store to get something to eat on while he stays in that damned motel for the next couple of weeks before flying out once more. The mask stays in place, a protection, a show the keeper is in charge. You don’t mean to run into him, you’re definitely not the type to go looking for trouble- you’ve had enough of that in your life, and you’re just starting to get your shit together for the nth time. But as you’re both leaving, you stumble, bumping right into him and leaving a couple of his poor bags strewn about on the sidewalk rather than carefully held within each hand. “Fuckin’ ‘ell,” Ghost grumbles with a sigh, clearly not pleased by the circumstances while watching a can of beans he had bought simply roll off of the sidewalk area and into the road- promptly ran over by a vehicle looking to park. No beans and toast now, british man. “I am so sorry-” You immediately apologize, the sheepish and embarrassed look on your face obvious as you dust yourself off and try to begin gathering the mess that you had caused. Ghost is annoyed at you. Just one look and he’s annoyed. But Simon? Simon is enchanted. The sweet, sheepish smile on your face, the way you scramble to help, the heat to your cheeks in your embarrassment as you scatter around trying to fix the situation. The way your hair falls and how you’re clearly nervous, but you still act anyway. You don’t care of how he looks- all brooding and intimidating with his hoodie over his head and the black medical mask over the lower half of his face. You couldn’t care less of that- you simply want to make things better. Simon notices that though. Simon remains frozen for a few moments, hidden interest in his eyes as he watches you scramble about, resorting your things just to have an extra couple of bags for his things. And you just hand things back over to him, the sheepish smile still on your face, the embarrassment clear- but gods, you look like such a sweet lil thing, lookin’ at him like he’s a human, a person. “‘S fine,” Simon eventually spits out, taking the bags from your hands and glancing once more at the beans staining the roadway now, before turning to focus his attention back on you. He could let you leave now. He could, it’d be so easy. He could leave it at that and walk away, probably never hear or see from you again. I mean, hell, he’s only known you for all of 5 minutes, and it’s because you’re a clumsy little shit who fucked up his shopping. It’d be so easy so why does it feel so hard. “D’ya always ‘ave to make such an impression?” Simon quips out, readjusting the bags comfortably in his grip. You can’t even pretend not to notice his accent- it’s unusual for where you live, you don’t think you’ve ever heard anything like it outside of the media you’ve consumed. It’s pleasant, rings around in the ears for a bit. You finally meet his eyes, and gods, they are gorgeous. Deep, rich, brown- like chocolate with golden flecks scattered. Especially in the sunlight- like they are now- pools of liquid gold swimming about a chocolate river. “Ah- No- Um-” You struggle to find the right words, now your cheeks are warmer, and it’s less from embarrassment and more from the pretty eyed stranger you just fucking throttled on accident. But at least he doesn’t seem angry, so there’s always that. “I’m so sorry,” You settle on apologizing again, one of your hands moving to nervously run through your hair, pushing some strands out of your face. “‘S fine. Really.” Simon says with a slight nod, and you can feel the burn of his eyes as they trail over you. You can’t decide if he means it or not, though, he sounds oddly monotone for such simple words. “Still, I feel bad, I uh- I’m kinda clumsy at best,” You blurt out, sheepish smile on your face despite its softness as you glance away from him before looking back once more, “I uh- just wasn’t paying much attention to where I was going- a real bad habit of mine, honestly- which is surprising cause you’re kinda huge and hard to miss-” 

What the fuck did you just say?!Your cheeks heat up further, hands moving to gesture with your words now. You’re rambling, you know you are, but god did not give you the ability to shut the fuck up. “N-Not that that’s a bad thing! You’re uh- very well-built!” what the fuck you’re making it worse- “I-I mean- You uh- You have lots of muscle a-and that’s a good thing! And you have pretty eyes- always a bonus!” Simon’s eyebrow slowly lifts, his eyes crinkling at the sides. Simon’s been called a lot of things in his life- but he’s realizing at this moment that no one has ever called his eyes pretty. They’re brown. He can recall Johnny referring to them as ‘shit brown’ more often than not.  And you just look so fucking adorable- continuing to ramble, but he’s hardly paying attention to the words now, watching your cheeks get darker, your hands gesturing with your words, nervously shifting on your feet as you try to ‘save’ the situation. Such a precious lil thing, too pure for this world.

Simon was enchanted at first glance.

Ghost decides he could be, too.

A pretty thing like you? In this world? Oh, love, that’s just not safe. You’re a lil bundle of nervous, clearly. How’d ya make it this far? Who made ya like this? Unsure, rambling, nervous? Ghost wants to learn you. Wants to figure out what events molded you into this cute lil thing. You clearly need someone- he won’t judge, Simon needs him, too.

Ghost decides he wants to know you. Simon has made that thought known.

“You know what? I’m gonna shut up!” You finally say, voice a higher pitch and the heat being felt in the tips of your ears at this point as you take a step away from the masked man, who you know you’ve done ruined the chance to know with your inability to shut the fuck up.

“Tell me yer name before ya do,” Simon says, voice smooth like it’s the easiest and most casual thing in the world.

He’s so… quiet. He let you ramble and make an absolute fool of yourself- but now he’s actually wanting to know your name?

After you manage to knock yourself out of your stupor, you finally offer your name to him, cheeks finally cooling down a bit. Only to heat back up once he repeats your name in that voice of his, all low and gruff- says it differently than anything you’ve ever heard before- like it’s something important, something that matters.

“Simon,” He supplies, adjusting his bags in one grip as he offers a hand to you.

Simon and Ghost are two very different people who share this skin suit.

But they both decide you’re theirs.

#simon ghost x reader #cod x reader #141 x reader #simon riley x you #ghost x you #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you

[nomazee]

Hello, congratulations on your milestone! 🎉

May I have (for the mix-and-match 😚) Dr.Ratio and the word-concept "bathtub"? 🫢

Take your time! ❤️❤️

this one was fun to write too (as per usual with ratio) i've written for dr ratio so much in the last two weeks i think i am becoming him.... Im slowly morphing into veritas ratio please save me... THANK YOU FOR REQUESTING this was lovely :3

my 1k event!

—°+..｡ﾟ｡ﾟ+.*.｡.—

“No way. You take bubble baths with a rubber duck?” 

Veritas freezes for no longer than a millisecond before whipping his head around to see you in the doorway of the bathroom. He’d been relaxing just moments ago, sinking into the hot water with his eyes closed, and yes there was a rubber duck in the bath with him but that was not by choice. It just happened to be there when he ran the bath, and he opens his mouth to argue but is quickly cut off by your endless rambling. 

“Anyways, I came to wash your hair. One of your assistants told me you just left in the middle of your usual work hours, and I thought, ‘wow, how odd, the Ratio I know would never do that!’ And then I thought, what better way to cheer my dear friend up than keep him company and wash his hair! It did look a little greasy today.” 

“I am not your dear friend,” he argues mockingly, but the bite in his voice falls short when you circle around the bath and set down your paraphernalia on the tiles next to you (a microfiber hair towel, shampoo, conditioner, some miscellaneous hair foams and sprays that he really does not trust you with). “You are the most insufferable person I have ever had the displeasure of knowing. Get out of my bathroom.” 

“This is our bathroom now, Ratio. We’re a community, you and me.” 

“It’s ‘you and I.’”

“Exactly! You and I, a community. You’re getting the hang of it now.” 

Veritas sighs, surrendering any potential of a relaxing evening to your whims. This is, unfortunately, how it usually goes, and he has yet to make a real effort to stop it. A voice in the back of his head taunts him because at his core, he has zero desire to stop it at all. 

“Come on,” you keep babbling, threading your fingers roughly through his already-damp hair. It’s not a pleasant sensation at all, and he winces and holds back a pained yelp. “It’s kind of like going to a spa, or whatever. I’m trying to pamper you. Be grateful!” 

“There’s nothing to be grateful about when you’re trying to scalp me,” he could push your hands away easily, bat you off and make you leave. Instead, though, he gives you a minute to tame your inelegant movements into something gentler. He hears the sound of a bottle uncapping, and then your hands are back on his scalp, lathering honey-scented shampoo into the layers of his hair. 

“Is this better?” you ask cheekily, tracing circles in his hair, digging your fingertips in and scratching just a little bit, hard enough to feel it but light enough that it’s still soothing. Veritas sighs through his nose, deep and heavy and sinking back into the water. There’s no mocking retorts, no quips, no sarcastic tone, just the even cycle of his breathing and the rhythm of his heartbeat thudding in his ears. If he tries hard enough, focuses enough, he can hear yours too, but it makes his stomach twist with an uncomfortable, unnameable feeling. 

In your bundle of things that you brought, there’s an empty plastic cup, and you use it to scoop water from the tub and rinse the foam from his hair. Veritas feels wholly exposed, for obvious reasons among others, and the urge to kick you out still sits heavy in his chest. Right next to it is a warmth, though, something holding his sensibility hostage, something that finds this more comforting than it would be if he’d sat in the bath until the water went cold, all alone, without your hands washing his hair clean of oil and grime and the weight of his research. 

You break him of his reverie, but the sudden sound of your voice isn’t as intrusive as he anticipated. “You know, you should start using this oil thing for your hair, I got it from one of my coworkers,” by now, his hair is completely rid of any remaining shampoo, and your hands are rubbing a thin layer of conditioner into the ends of each strand, “and it’s supposed to help your hair grow. I think you’d look great with long hair, Veritas, don’t you agree?” 

“What, do you think about that often?” It’s supposed to be something snarky, something to shut you down before you dig too deep, but you never catch the hint—it’s your best and worst quality. 

“Maybe,” you admit, heft in your words, a density that needs to be cut open and examined. He’s good at that—good at looking and prying, but he’s the worst if he’s next to you. You’re nowhere near as thorough of a researcher as him, but he thinks (with a sense of embarrassment) that when the subject is him, you’re the most qualified person around. “Wouldn’t it be nice? With your hair all down to your shoulders, maybe. And if you really think it’s a hassle to take care of, I’ll just do it for you.” 

He’s perfectly capable of taking care of his own hair, thank you very much, but the idea of having you wash it for him, brush out the tangles in it every other day is appealing to a starving man like Veritas. He aches, and the skin at the nape of his neck itches. 

“You’re saying nonsense,” he says, and he can feel the way his brow has tightened and he instinctively goes to chew at the dead skin on his lips. “My hair is perfectly fine the way it is.” 

“Oh, I don’t doubt that,” you respond, “just giving you options.” Your hands finally leave his hair, and suddenly the water in the bathtub feels frigid and icy, and Veritas represses a shiver. “Your hair is squeaky clean. Now, get out of the bathroom! It’s my turn to hang out with the rubber duck.” 

“Would you—?!” Veritas turns to glare at you, but the impish grin on your face makes him falter. You’re incorrigible. “The duck isn’t mine! And you have your own bathroom. Stop invading my space.” 

“Sigh,” you say aloud, because you’re corny and theatrics are written into every part of your personality. “Oh, grandest Ratio, I really did think we were friends, but you wound me so deeply! All this time has meant nothing to you! All this new shampoo that I bought just for you, gone to waste…” 

“For gods’ sake,” he mutters, reaching for a set of pajamas that you’d so conveniently taken from his own dressers and brought with you while on your mission to wash his hair. “Turn around so I can get dressed and then you can use the bathroom. So annoying.” 

“Not annoying enough to kick me out, though,” you say, and you’re completely right, and Veritas will admit that one day, but certainly not today.

—°+..｡ﾟ｡ﾟ+.*.｡.—

gen taglist: @tragedy-of-commons @lasiancunin @hanyi-writes

#nora hits 1k #veritas ratio x reader #dr ratio x reader #ratio x reader #dr. ratio x reader #hsr x reader #honkai x reader #honkai star rail x reader #veritas x reader #oh veritas my beautiful annoying obnoxious scholarly man

[wasteddmoondust]

pineapple || james potter

pairing: james potter x reader 1,219 words, teacher and james go on their first date! what could go wrong? a/n: can you tell i am horrible at titling my fics... somehow i just need it to relate to what happens. so uh. enjoy!

prev. chapter

You feel your heart going absolutely crazy. You know it's first-date jitters, but somehow it feels worse this time. It's nothing special, really. You try to tell yourself. Just another first date. Just like other first dates (that has turned to nothing...) And now this first date is the father of one of the children you teach. Yeah, nothing special.

After several attempts to make yourself busy by looking at your phone, you hear your name. It's James and he's walking up to you.

"First name basis already?" you ask smugly.

He chuckles, "What? Sorry, I guess I'll just call you-"

"Please don't, I hate being called that outside of work."

"Got it."

The two of you walk together and he leads you to a quaint coffee shop, James swears by the coffee made here. When the orders are made you find a seat and sit down.

"It's been a while since I've been on a date," he says, hands fidgeting with the receipt.

"Same here," you admit.

He stops playing with the receipt and furrows his brows. "Really? But I'm the parent."

"And I'm the one taking care of your kid for a whole day, 20 kids, actually."

"Huh... and you don't even meet people in the industry?"

You snort. "Unfortunately no, a lot of them are older and married with kids. There's no one to date there. Trust me, even the older teachers try to make me get on dating apps. If anything, you're doing them a favour."

He grins that grin that makes your heart do a little flip. Oh god, it's happening, huh?

"I'm happy to do that."

You continue your conversation, keeping it light with small talk. Then, a waiter comes by to give you your meal and you both thank him. James' phone dings, he checks the message and he replies to it while you patiently wait for him.

He looks back up at you and keeps his phone. "Sorry, my best friend is taking care of Harry today, he was just sending an update."

"That's alright. Is he doing okay?"

"Harry?" he asks, looking a little nervous. His arms are resting crossed on the table. "Uh- yeah. He's fine. Not so sure about Sirius. He just said he's letting Harry use his tattoos as a colouring book."

You laugh. "Yeah, I can see that. He does love to colour. Have you always wanted to be a father?"

James looks stunned, but laughs it off. "Not a normal question for the first date, is it?"

"Well since you already are one," you shrug.

James thinks for a while before answering. "Yeah... I've always wanted kids... Well I'm sure you've seen from the documents I sent to the school when Harry enrolled. I'm widowed..."

You nod, you do in fact know this, you had read through those documents for every child. Understanding their family structure and dynamics can be a big help in understanding the child and improving their development in school and at home.

"She uh- had complications at birth and didn't make it." He let out a sigh and shrugged. "So now it's just me and Harry. And I wouldn't trade him for the world.

"You really love him, don't you?"

"I do."

"You know you can talk about him, right?"

James looks down and purses his lips. "It's just that... other people I've dated weren't really... keen on the fact that I have a kid. You know, another person's child and all."

You tilt your head down to try and make eye contact with him. Somehow, your hand reaches out to his. "You know that doesn't matter to me, right? I already knew you had a son, hell, I even taught him for a whole year, and I still accepted your date."

His mouth forms a small frown, but his hand grabs yours anyway. "I just didn't want to seem weird."

"You're not. Promise," you give his hand a squeeze.

"Is it too early to want to kiss you?"

You both stare at each other for a second before you burst out laughing, making him laugh too.

James starts to tell you about Harry, and visibly gets more comfortable the more he does it. He tells stories from his first words to potty fails. He shows videos and pictures. From there, the both of you fall into an easy rhythm of branching from topic to topic in your conversation. You exchange bites of your food. Before you know it, you're laughing while your meal is long done and you're both on your second cup of coffee.

For some reason, you feel an itch in your throat.

Nonchalantly, you ask, "Did your pasta have pineapple?"

"Yes, why?"

"Firstly, who the hell puts pineapple in pasta? Secondly, I think I'm having an allergic reaction."

James sits up in a panic. "Oh god- I'm so sorry-"

You cough into your first. "It's fine, it usually doesn't react as bad as it used to but I like to stay away from pineapples anyway. I'm not gonna die. Can you get me some cold water, please?"

He immediately stands up and gets you a glass from the counter. You down the glass in seconds and you feel better.

"I'm so sorry that was embarrassing-"

"You're sorry? I gave you a bite!"

"I forgot to ask, it's my fault."

He gently places a hand on your shoulder. "I'm so sorry, let me make it up to you"

"James, trust me, it's fine-"

"I'll bring you on a second date."

You furrow your brows. "You just saw me cough my lungs out from an allergic reaction and you still want to bring me out?" you can't help but laugh at the ridiculousness.

"I mean... I still find you attractive after all that so if you find me attractive after I rambled about my own child to you though you have taught him for this past year I don't see why not."

At this point, you're pretty sure your cheeks hurt from all the smiling you've been doing the entire time.

Despite your protests, James insists on driving you home. When you reach the entrance to your apartment building, he tells you to wait before rushing out of the car to open the door to the passenger's side. You giggle and take the hand he holds out to you as you step out of his car.

He tugs the hand that is holding yours to make you face him. He's so close, you're desperately hoping your cheeks don't show how flushed you are.

"So... same time next week?" you suggest.

He nods. "No pineapples this time, guaranteed."

"And you're allowed to talk about Harry."

He beams at that, looking down and letting out a sigh before looking back at you. "Is it still too early to kiss you?"

"Yes, but for now I'll give you this," you press a kiss to his cheek. You slowly walk towards your building, your arms stretching until you gently let go when you're too far away. "I'll see you next week!"

And like that, you disappear into the building. James is left standing there, still in disbelief of the entire day.

He lets out a sigh, smiling, and gets into his car. He 's so excited to tell Sirius when he gets home.

a/n: if i'm being so honest i have zero idea how most allergies work so please don't get technical with me... also!!!! thank you so much for the love on part one eek i am on a roll i'm so happy to be writing this series.

taglist: @willows-lane @celosiastarr @nsr-15

#marauders x reader #marauders imagine #zee writes #james potter x reader #james potter imagine #james potter x you

[sunkissed-zegras]

I’m just saying…. headcannons for paige with a bestfriend to partner who’s an introvert.

And I mean those introverts who seem quiet but the moment they get comfortable around you it’s over, but like only they get to see that side.

Paige seems like an extrovert that adopts introverts, like just imagine her having to drag her partner out of their room all the time cuz they’re a damn hermit.

-🐹

─ warnings | mention of drinking, teasing, fluff, nothin' else?

─ taglist | @xocherishxo @iienstein @yazmunson @euphternal and here's a link to my taglist if anyone would like to join!!

honestly, you are so right in that assumption

she definitely gets closer with more introverted people, bc opposites DO really attract

when you guys first met it was your freshman year at uconn, at first you'd probably think she's WAY too much ─ maybe even cocky LOL (but who can blame her she's the best)

but when you spend more one on one time with her, you realize she's really funny and sweet

because you're so quiet, paige would be naturally drawn to you cus she gets to know you

so she just pesters you until you eventually give in and hang out with her

from that point on, the one is never seen without the other

you guys would always be together

but like... usually, you're just WITH paige so people don't really acknowledge you cus you're so quiet

but then paige would like force you to socialize

"this is y/n, i promise she's fun you just gotta put a little liquor in her-" "PAIGE."

she would push you toward her close friends the most, def like ice, azzi, nika and kk

ESPECIALLY kk!

and then you eventually would get really close with them, you all have your cute little friend group

you and ice would make fun of paige and kk together, you and azzi are kinda similar so you find yourself hanging out with her alone a lot more, and nika would force you out your shell a lot too

after a couple months of being friends, paige would definitely find herself catching feels

like i've said in my other headcanons, she just thinks you're such a big source of comfort for her and it slowly just becomes full-on adoration cus

she adores you

and you compliment her personality so well she is just like "i NEED to have her right now"

she ends up confessing one night after a really terrible game and then y'all kiss ...

and the rest is history 🤗🤗🤗

jk here's some relationship headcanons

again, you are so right nonnie

like i mentioned, one is never seen without the other

so you're always tied at the hip, especially at parties

at first she has to force you

like FULL force

she calls backup ofc ice and kk come and then its 3 vs 1

they end up winning

and this happens time and time again, you just get so worn down you'd rather just endure the damn party then listen to all three of them scream at you

which was the goal 🥰

and you're definitely the sober one 95% of the time so you will be taking care of a very drunk paige

(maybe some separate headcanons for her if yall want)

and sometimes even ice/kk but it's mostly just your girlfriend

anyway, yeah you take her home, take of her and then get her into bed

and when you try to leave she will be so dramatic, she forces you to stay with her

you don't mind cus you love cuddly paige

but the 5% when you're the one who's blackout drunk, paige is gonna take such good care of you

because you're so introverted when you're sober, you're probably gonna be such a rowdy drunk

yes im her shes me

so paige makes sure you don't get into trouble and gets you home safe and sound

but if you do something stupid, she will never ever let you live it down

"remember that time you jumped into the pool and-" "SHUT THE FUCK UP"

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

#paige bueckers smut #paige bueckers fanfiction #paige bueckers x reader #paige bueckers fic #paige bueckers #wcbb #wcbb x reader #uconn huskies #uconn #uconn wbb #uconn women’s basketball #ncaa women’s basketball #paige bueckers x oc #paige bueckers headcannons

[fyorina]

ᡣ𐭩 I, CARRION

FEATURING: beast dazai osamu

SUMMARY: the day of the event has arrived and dazai is second guessing everything, but it's too late for him to back out now.{wordcount: 12k; fem!reader; romance & tragedy}

AUTHOR'S NOTES: PART FOUR wow guys we're really getting into the meat of the fic now. HAHAH this is the chapter i had to split into two parts, initially it was going to be one big one but then it would've been a whopping 23k words and that's a bit much even for me. i didn't want to cross the 20k realm HAHAHH. anyway, this chapter really was a pleasure to write, the second scene was my favorite but the ending was SOOOO close to usurping it

GENERAL WARNINGS: again, i'll just leave this warning on every chapter - dazai struggles a lot with disassociation/derealization & losing himself in the pages of the book. as always please let me know if i forgot any warnings

SEE: UNREAL UNEARTH SERIES MASTERLIST READ: BADLANDS SIDE A

“Gin-chan, I’m so nervous.” 

You pace around Dazai’s penthouse anxiously, twisting your fingers in front of your body. The event is taking place tomorrow night. You still don’t have an outfit for it—Dazai told you not to worry about it, you’re still worrying about it because what does that even mean? You don’t know what to expect from the event, and Gin is evasive when you ask her about what will happen, just keeps telling you that it’ll be fine as long as you stay with Dazai.

“There’s no reason to be nervous,” Gin says, as she always does, still tapping away at her laptop. Glasses hang off the bridge of her nose and there are dark circles beneath her eyes. You feel a bit ashamed about constantly going on about your nerves when you know damn well she, Dazai and all of the other executives of his company have been working nonstop the past few days trying to finish preparations. “Dazai-san will be with you the whole time, and if he has to talk business, someone will sit with you until he can get back so you’re not feeling awkward.”

Somehow, you think that might be even more awkward because you doubt a random person is going to want to babysit you while Dazai is busy, but you don’t voice your thoughts, instead just withering as you circle the large room for the sixth time in the past five minutes. 

You’ve hardly seen Dazai all week. You don’t really mind, you know he’s swamped with work and you’ve been keeping yourself busy going out cafe hopping and shopping. Gin comes with you when she can, but it’s usually Nakajima Atsushi or Tachihara Michizo that joins you—Gin had introduced you to the two security guards a week ago when she’d been too busy to come with you to a cafe downtown. You don’t mind the company but you can’t help but wonder why Dazai is so insistent that someone comes with you.

Well. You can’t help but wonder about a lot of things, really. You’re pretty certain that Dazai is still hiding something major from you. You don’t know a lot about business, and you especially don’t know anything about his business, but something isn’t right. You’re not stupid and everyone is not as slick as they think themselves to be, you see how tense and anxious people get when you mention him to them, more so than the average worker would be at the mere mention of their boss, and everyone in the entire damn building is armed, even though they clearly try to hide it whenever you’re in the area. 

You and your friends have joked about the uber wealthy before, and how no one above a certain tax bracket obtains their wealth without some sort of blood money; you’re about 99% sure that’s what’s taking place here too, and it would certainly explain all of the secrecy. More so than trade secrets at least, you feel a bit dumb for that to have even been an explanation in your mind. You just don’t know the specifics. You don’t know if you want to know the specifics, you think you’d prefer to remain ignorant because 1) you definitely don’t want to have any sort of culpability, not when you’re on path to graduate school and hopefully a very prestigious job with the government, and 2) … you don’t want to face the reality of what that would mean. 

You like Dazai. More than like him. You’ve been slowly coming to terms with the fact that you really, truly care for him, and if you end up learning the… specifics of his job, then you’re going to be forced into making a decision you don’t want to make: preserving your future and morals or risking them for him. And you’re not going to sit around and claim to be some upstanding, virtuous person. You’re not. But you are ambitious, and you’ve had your mind set on your future since you learned how to pick up a pen and write. You’ve worked your entire life to get where you are now, slaved your way through a prestigious undergraduate school in Japan and spent months preparing for the entrance exams for graduate school, only to what? Throw it all away for some man?

God, you almost feel sick. Distantly, you wonder how awful of a person you must be for the threat to your future success to be the main reason why you’re questioning yourself, and not the fact that it’s very likely that Dazai and his conglomerate have some sort of business with Japan’s underground, maybe even direct dealings with the mafia itself. 

You pause from where you’re pacing around the room, eyes widening a bit as another realization hits you. You had thought it was odd that Dazai and Gin and all of the executives of the conglomerate have been so stressed and anxious over an event that they’re not even hosting, but what if… Your throat spasms a bit as you swallow, wondering if Dazai is about to bring you not to an event hosted by their rival, but to an event hosted by the mafia. You don’t think he would put you in danger like that, you don’t want to think he would put you in danger like that and you wonder if you’re just sending yourself down a spiral of unnecessary paranoia. 

But it doesn’t make sense. Dazai is enamored by you, and you don’t think you’re being conceited by saying that because he has made it abundantly clear. There’s no way he would ever put you in danger like that. Not unless… you feel a bit green remembering his reaction to you saying that you’d go out on your own and stay with your friend the weekend of the event. You could feel the anxiety radiating off of him for a split second before he asked you to come with him. You also remember how he always makes sure someone is with you when you go out, and god, you swear you’re not a conspiracy theorist but nothing is making sense when you look at it through your rose-tinted lenses but looking at it through these lenses. The lenses of a man who is obviously smitten with you, and who might have dealings with the mafia—of course he wouldn’t want you to go out on your own because he’d be scared that you might be targeted as a means to get to him.

Oh, you feel dizzy. What have you gotten yourself into?

“Are you okay?” Gin is looking up at you, brows furrowed in concern. “You look a little sick.”

“I’m fine,” you say, but the words sound pathetic even to your own ears and you know Gin doesn’t believe you from the way she tilts her head to the side to study you.

Luckily, you’re saved by the bell. Literally. 

Your head snaps to the side as the elevator dings, and ordinarily, you would be ecstatic because who else would be coming up to the penthouse besides Dazai and while you’ve certainly missed him over the past week with how busy he’s been, you’re not sure if you’re ready to see him right now with the way your thoughts have just spiraled, because you think you might blurt something out that you can’t take back.

But, for better or for worse, it is not Dazai that enters the penthouse.

“Good morning, ladies,” a familiar voice croons as the elevator doors slide open. Your eyes light up as you whip around, eyes falling upon a face you haven’t seen in almost two weeks. “I come bearing gifts.”

“Albatross!” you say, excited, a smile splitting your face, because yes, even knowing about the possible affiliation with the mafia, you’re still excited to see the blonde—he’s never been anything but sweet to you, and he’s really the only one besides Gin and Chuuya who doesn’t treat you weirdly because of your relationship with Dazai. 

“D’aw, look at it, Lippmann, told you the doll would still remember me,” Albatross grins, dark glasses hanging on the bridge of his nose as he tosses you a wink and then looks back toward the elevator.

Your gaze follows his, and your eyes fall upon a vaguely familiar person stepping out of the elevator and into the penthouse, carrying a few boxes. Pale hair cut into a bob, a pretty, androgynous face, dressed to the nines in a light purple waistcoat and matching pants—where have you seen him before? Wait-

“You’re-!” you begin, eyes wide and lips parting in shock.

“Walter Lippmann,” the man greets you with a kind smile and soft eyes, you feel a bit flustered, you can hardly meet his gaze. “Everybody just calls me Lippmann though.”

You try to speak, but you’re a bit starstruck—the last thing you’d expected was for a movie star to step into the penthouse. You’re looking between Albatross and Gin and then hesitantly back at Lippmann as you try to figure out what’s going on. 

Albatross cackles. “Looks like she’s gotta crush, Lippmann. Better not let the boss find out, he’ll get jealous.”

“Albatross,” you complain, hands flying to cover your hot face. “Not true, I’m just surprised. Am I allowed to be surprised?”

“Yeah, sure, doll, that’s it,” Albatross says, clearly not believing you at all as he throws himself onto the couch next to Gin, looking up at you. “The boss asked us to pick up a dress for you. Go try it on, I’m going to raid his liquor cabinet while you do—if he asks, you better take the blame.”

You see Gin roll her eyes. “You will not raid his liquor cabinet, Albatross,” she says firmly, but the man only winks at her.

You turn your attention back to Lippmann, who’s carrying the dress in a garment bag, a shoe box tucked under his other arm. He gives you a small smile and then motions for you to follow him; you’re still starstruck as you follow him into Dazai’s bedroom, pointedly ignoring the way Albatross snickers. 

You watch as Lippmann hangs the garment bag up on the closet, placing the shoebox down on the bed. He turns toward you after and says, “Try it on and make sure it fits properly. And make sure you like it.”

You nod, lips parting to speak but no words leave your lips. You look up at the garment bag, down to the shoes, and back to Lippmann and then you ask, “How do you… how do you know Dazai?” 

Lippmann gives you another gentle smile, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. You notice, a bit curiously, that he seems to take a moment before he speaks, as if choosing his words carefully. 

“I knew Dazai’s father,” he says after a few seconds. “I work with the Mori Corporation sometimes regarding press and political matters. Like a spokesperson when Dazai is unable to.”

Hm, you think to yourself before nodding, a movie star as a spokesperson for a corporation, that’s a bit odd, isn’t it?

Your brows furrow slightly as you try to fit the new knowledge in with all of the rest you’ve put together over the past few weeks but it’s just another jagged puzzle piece that’s not fitting in anywhere.

“I’m a huge fan of your movies,” you finally tell him, rubbing the back of your neck as you toss him a sheepish smile. “Like, no joke, almost cried when you had your discussion panel for The Good Society three months ago because it was two days before my entrance exam to grad school so I couldn’t go.”

Lippman laughs, pale cheeks flushing as he looks down at the ground before back up at you. “Honestly, you didn’t miss out. The whole panel was a mess, and the AC broke twenty minutes before, so it was ridiculously hot.”

You don’t really know what to say to that, cursing the fact that you are 1) still half dazed on top of 2) already being naturally awkward, but Walter Lippmann is Walter Lippmann, so of course he knows just what to say and do.

He nods to the dress that he hung up on the closet. “Try it on and then give us a show,” he says, winking at you before he makes his way out of Dazai’s bedroom back into the other room with Albatross and Gin.

You sigh when you’re alone again, tilting your head up to look at the ceiling for a moment, wondering what your life has become before you make your way over to the dress. You unzip the garment bag, curious to see what Dazai had picked for you, and your eyes shoot open when you see the red gown within the bag. Smooth and silky, off-the-shoulder, it’s probably the most expensive thing you’ve ever laid your eyes upon; you feel like you shouldn’t even touch it, much less put it on. 

But Lippmann and Albatross and Gin are out there waiting, you can hear them talking through the door, so you force yourself to gingerly pull it off of the hanger, careful to not be too rough with the material. It doesn’t take you too long to get your clothes off and the dress on, but when you do, you can hardly bring yourself to move away from the mirror. 

You look beautiful. You do. The dress is a perfect fit, it compliments your skin, it compliments your hair. You look beautiful, but you feel like a fraud, like a clown in a ball gown, hoping that the beauty of the dress would draw attention from the fact that it’s not meant for someone like you. 

You don’t know how long you stand there, staring at your reflection. Too long, evidently, because you hear a sharp knock at the door and Lippman’s concerned voice asking if you’ve gotten the dress on.

“Yeah,” you say quietly. “I’m dressed.”

You hear the door to Dazai’s bedroom creak open but you don’t turn to look.

“I think this costs more than my student loans,” you breathe out, staring at yourself in the mirror. You smooth your hands over the silky material, eyes catching the way it clings to you perfectly. “God, where the hell did he get something like this? It’s like it was made for me.”

“Probably was,” Lippmann says from where he’s leaning against the doorframe, lips quirked up into a half smile as he tosses you another wink. “Perks of dating one of the richest men in Japan.”

You let out a noise caught between a whimper and a laugh, suddenly feeling very, very out of place.

Lippmann clearly catches your sudden change in attitude and his brows furrow. “Do you not like it?” he asks curiously. “There’s plenty of time for him to send for something else.”

“No, no,” you hurry to say, voice catching. Although you’re unsure how twenty-hour hours constitutes ‘plenty of time’, but you digress. “It’s perfect. It is.”

“What’s the issue then?”

“I just…” you trail off, eyes lingering in the mirror. “I feel silly, I guess. How obvious is it that I’ve never worn anything like this before?” 

“Silly?” Lippmann asks, amused, peeling off the doorframe to make his way over to you. You swallow thickly as he straightens your posture and then uses two fingers to make you raise your chin. “You look stunning. Like a woman who belongs on the arm of the most influential man in Japan… Like a woman who doesn’t need to be on the arm of any man.”

Your face feels a bit hot as you let out a puff of laughter. “Now you’re exaggerating.”

“I certainly am not,” Lippmann says firmly, taking a step back. “You’re only getting in your head. From what Chuuya has told me about you, you’re more than suited to outwit and outclass anyone in attendance at that event.”

Your face feels hotter now, smiling as you roll your eyes. “Flatterer,” you say, but you feel a bit better, chest lighter as your gaze turns back to look at the mirror. “... Do you-”

A sharp whistle from the door draws your attention from Lippmann; there’s a lecherous smile on Albatross’s face as he leans against the frame and looks at you, glasses hanging off the bridge of his nose. “Damn, if you weren’t the boss’s girl…”

Gin slaps him hard on the back of his head, glaring at him before turning a small smile to you. “You look beautiful,” she says softly. “He’ll be speechless when he sees you tomorrow.”

Your throat feels tight as your lashes flutter, a smile on your lips as you look down at the ground. Even though the concerns of your realizations from before still weigh heavily in the back of your mind, you can’t help but feel a bit giddy at the thought of seeing Dazai tomorrow.

The giddiness is long gone.

You still haven’t gotten dressed.

You’re sitting at the edge of Dazai’s bed in your bra and panties, staring at the wall with your knees pulled to your chest. Your dress is hanging on the closet on the far side of the room, heels sitting on the floor beneath it. You’ve done your makeup and you put your earrings on already—pretty, dangly diamonds that are the most expensive thing you own, the last thing your brother gifted you before he cut you off entirely. You need to be getting dressed, Dazai will be up here any second to pick you up to leave for the event, but you just can’t bring yourself to put the dress on, anxiety eating away at you.

It’s not even because of the realization you’d come to yesterday, it’s because you think you’re about to make a fool out of yourself. Even if you’re wrong about the theory that you might be heading into an event hosted by the mafia and their associates, you’re still heading into an event that’s going to be attended by people who are much wealthier than you, and you already feel out of place and you’re not even there. 

The dress is beautiful, but you think you’ll look like a clown in it, everyone will know that you’re not from the same sector of life as them with a single glance. Lippmann’s words from yesterday are in one ear out the other now that you’re closer to the actual time of the event.

You’re so lost in your thoughts that you don’t even hear the bing of the elevator arriving at the penthouse, and you don’t notice Dazai until he pushes open the cracked door to step into the bedroom. And you feel like you should be embarrassed sitting half naked on his bed, rather than being dressed and waiting for him, but you can’t muster it, eyes dragging up from the wall to land on his concerned expression. 

And he’s a sight, you think. He’s so handsome. Absently, you think he might be more handsome than the last time you saw him but you think that’s a bit ridiculous because he hasn’t changed at all. He’s wearing the same long black coat and burgundy scarf, but the sleek, dark suit he wears beneath it is different, more expensive than all of the others that he’s donned the past few months you’ve known him. 

His lips are turned downward as he approaches you, placing a blue box down on his dresser, dark eye soft with concern, and you also can’t help but notice that he still wears the bandages around the upper left side of his face, covering his eye. You want to know what’s beneath them desperately, but you can’t bring yourself to ask, hoping that he’ll show you on his own terms.

He stands in front of you, and you rest your chin on your knees as you stare forward, staring at his abdomen instead of looking up at his face. But he doesn’t let your gaze linger there, bringing his right hand to cup your cheek so he can gently lift your face upward, forcing you to meet his eyes. You can feel the rough edges of his bandages scraping against your skin, and you instinctively lean into his touch. You try to remind yourself of all of the realizations you’d come to yesterday, tell yourself to not be as at ease with him, at least have some semblance of your guard up, but you fail.

“What’s wrong?” he asks you softly, letting you lean into his touch as he brings his other hand up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “Are you okay?”

And you feel selfish, you realize, as you try to figure out what to tell him. You can’t even fathom the amount of money he spent on your dress and the shoes, and here you are being a baby because you’re self conscious. You don’t even want to reply to him, so you try to turn your face away but he doesn’t let you.

“Tell me,” he says quietly. “I’ll fix it, whatever it is.”

“It’s silly,” you finally breathe out, averting your gaze to the ground as you let your eyes flutter shut, turning your face in his hand to kiss his palm before leaning back into it. “I’m being a baby, I’m sorry.”

“It’s not silly if it has you upset,” Dazai tells you, and he kneels down in front of you to catch your gaze again and briefly, you think it’s absurd that you have such a powerful man at your whims like this, kneeling before you, willing to do anything to make sure that you’re content and happy. It makes your throat swell a bit, those inferior feelings rising back to your chest with a vengeance, because what the hell did you do to deserve this? There’s nothing special about you. “Tell me what’s wrong, let me help.”

“I just don’t understand.” 

Oh my god, your voice cracks, you can feel your eyes go a bit misty, and instantly, Dazai’s concerned gaze is narrowing, as if trying to calculate what exactly is the source of your distress so he can remove it, and it only makes you want to cry more because what did you do to deserve all of this? 

If you’re right about all of the assumptions you made the other day, and Dazai is bringing you to this event even though by all means he should not because there’s likely going to be a lot of shady business occurring that could incriminate him and all of the other people at this event, then why? Why would he risk that just for a girl he met a few months ago? You can’t fathom it.

God, you know better than anyone the effects imposter syndrome can have on a person in school, but the last thing you expected was to be dealing with it in love too.

Love, the word makes your stomach churn because you do love him, you realize, as he stares up at you desperately trying to figure out what’s wrong so he can fix it. And how scary is that, considering only twenty-four hours ago you came to the realization that he’s very likely involved in the underground, in some way or another, and you had to come to terms with the fact that you’d have to choose between your future and a man. But he’s not just a man, he’s a man that you love in spite of everything you’ve put together.

A tear spills over your cheek and Dazai’s gaze becomes alarmed as he instantly wipes it away with his thumb before caressing your cheek gently. 

“What don’t you understand?” he presses quietly. “Talk to me.”

Where do you fucking start?

You want to cry even more but you force yourself not to, you can’t afford to let your makeup get anymore messed up than it already is. Instead you sniffle a bit and try to blink away the tears. 

“This,” you finally say, and your voice cracks again, you take a wet breath. Dazai’s lips part a bit, as if he wants to speak but he’s not sure what to say, brows furrowing. “There’s nothing special about me, Dazai, and I don’t understand why you’ve gone to the lengths that you have for me. Meeting me at that club every Friday as if you’re not always swamped with work, indulging me whenever I want to do things. You gave me a place to stay after only knowing me for a few weeks, gave up your own room, your own bed, so I could be comfortable while you slept at your desk. You’ve made sure people are always with me so I never get bored or lonely. You’ve given me literally everything I could possibly ask for and I’ve just been freeloading off of you for two and a half weeks now. Now, I’m going to go with you to this event and end up embarrassing you because I’m going to stick out like a sore thumb compared to everyone else there. They’ll know I don’t belong there and I just-”

You cut yourself off, and you want to avert your gaze from Dazai’s but you can’t bring yourself to. Instead, you watch as something akin to amusement flashes through his eye. He takes one of your hands into his and brings it up to his lips, eye sliding shut for a moment as he kisses your knuckles. You let out a shaky puff of air as his lips linger for a moment before he looks up at you again through his lashes.

“Let me help you get dressed,” he murmurs, and you look down at the ground now as you nod, letting him help you to your feet and lead you over to where the dress is hanging up on the closet door.

He pulls it off the hanger and guides you into it, pulling it up and adjusting it so that it covers you properly. He steps behind you, and you realize that he also has you standing in front of the floor length mirror set up on his closet door. You sniffle a bit again as you look at yourself in the mirror. 

Your makeup looks a bit smudged beneath your eye from the tears gathering at your lash line, but somehow, you still look beautiful. You think it’s only because of the dress, the way it clings to your body so nicely and brightens all of your features. You take in another shuddered gulp of air when you feel Dazai begin to zip up the back of your dress slowly, each brush of his fingers against your skin lights your nerves on fire, and once he finally has it zipped to the top, he kisses the nape of your neck, hands falling to your hips to caress them gently. Your eyes flutter shut as you lean back against him, his comforting hold settling your turbulent emotions.

“I met you at the club every Friday because you were the only relief I had from reality,” he finally says, resting his forehead on your shoulder as he holds you. “I indulged your requests because I was indulging in you myself. Every moment I spent with you, I allowed myself to be Dazai Osamu, the person, and not the… Not what I’ve had to become to keep this organization running.”

Your breath catches, lips parting at his words but no sound escapes them. He kisses the nape of your neck one last time before he moves to stand in front of you, kneeling down again as he grabs one of your heels and undos the buckle. You watch with bated breath as he lifts your left foot from the ground to kiss your ankle before sliding the heel on, deft fingers fasting the clasp. 

“I gave you a place to stay because I was selfish and I wanted you around more,” he sighs, resting his forehead against your knee now as he lingers there for a moment before moving on to repeat the process with your other foot, kissing your ankle and slipping the heel on. He continues, “Likewise, I have kept you surrounded by people because I have been desperately afraid that you’re going to get bored and want to leave because work leaves me little time to be around. Unfortunately, I’m not the generous person you’re making me out to be, I’m horribly self-serving and greedy, especially when it comes to you.”

He looks up at you now from where he’s kneeling in front of you, gaze searching your face. You want to reach out and cup his cheek, so you do, and immediately, he’s turning his face to kiss your palm just as you’d done to him before letting his eye slide shut as he leans into your touch, as if basking in it.

“I would give you anything you want,” he admits softly, keeping his gaze shut as he holds your palm against his face. “Anything. And if it was something outside of my reach, I would make it in my reach. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you, no lengths I wouldn’t go to and no lines I wouldn’t cross.”

You think your lungs might be burning, you don’t think you can breathe as you stare down at him, heart thudding in your swelling chest, tears building in your eyes again but this time not out of insecurity. Dazai finally rises to his feet after placing one last kiss upon your knuckles, and he doesn’t say anything as he makes his way over to the dresser where he’d placed the blue box. 

You don’t move, watching as he opens it and pulls something out before making his way back over to you, standing behind you. He looks at you through the mirror as he lifts his hands to place a glittering diamond necklace upon your collarbone. You can’t breathe again, you realize, it’s cool against your skin and you think it might be the most expensive thing you’ve ever laid your eyes upon, dozens upon dozens of white diamonds shimmering in the mirror in front of you. Your skin feels like it’s on fire as his fingers brush the nape of your neck as he clasps it onto you. 

“You are beautiful,” he says, voice so raw that you almost shiver at the intensity of it. His fingers brush your hips as if he’s afraid to touch you. “You are beautiful, and intelligent, and everything I have ever wanted. You deserve so much more than me, more than you’ll ever be able to understand, and I’m sorry that I’m not a good enough man to do what’s right and let you go. The last thing you should ever be doubting is this.”

His eye slides shut again as he lets out a soft puff of air, the warmth fans across the back of your neck and you think you could spend forever in this moment with him, wishing that you could freeze time. 

“You said that you thought it was fate that brought us together,” he finally finishes, voice quiet as he references what you told him the first time you met. “Don’t ever doubt your place with me. Wherever I am, you belong, whether it’s a club, or an apartment, or an event.”

“I thought you hate the idea of fate,” you say, voice a bit choked as you try to force the tears back again.

“I do,” he affirms, “but if fate brought us together, then far be it from me to deny the one thing in this world that has ever made me happy.”

You love him.

You feel sick to your stomach—be it from butterflies or the implications of the realization. The words threaten to burst from your lips but you swallow them, instead, another tear trails down your face and he sees it through the mirror, lifting his hand to wipe it away before leaning a bit over your shoulder to press his lips to your jaw.

“I’m ruining my makeup,” you rasp, letting out another shaky breath.

He smiles against your skin.

“You’ll be beautiful still,” he murmurs before pulling back, admiring you for a moment before he asks: “Are you ready to go?”

You nod. “Yeah,” you say, a bit breathless. “I’m ready.”

“Everyone is staring at us.”

You’re not wrong, exactly. As soon as the two of you had entered the room, all attention was sent your way, and though the music was loud enough to drown out most chatter (intentional, of course, so unsavory ears can’t overhear even more unsavory dealings), Dazai couldn’t help but notice the hush that spread through the room at the sight of you. The boss of the Port Mafia with a date on his arm was certainly a sight to behold to all of the rest of the occupants of the event hall,.

“Can you blame them? You look beautiful,” he says, voice laced with a teasing edge that is certainly not matched in his expression. Dazai knew people would be looking at you if he brought you here. Still, he wants to gouge their eyes out. 

His arm tightens around you as he tucks you into his side, cold gaze sweeping across the massive event hall. At least two hundred people are attending Nabokov’s event—an even mixture of pharmaceutical tycoons, technology barons, politicians and mafiosos. 

At first glance, he recognizes four different mafias in attendance. 

Mishima Yukio of the Sun and Steel stands by one of his associates, the president of Mitsubishi Chemical Group; the man’s dark eyes card over Dazai with lazy interest, before his head tilts to the side as he studies you.

Dazai thinks that the Sun and Steel might be the Port Mafia’s only allies in attendance, and even then, allies might be taking it too far. The extent of Dazai’s dealing with Mishima was a general agreement to not encroach the Sun and Steel’s monopoly over the narcotics industry—which Dazai never intended on doing anyway because the industry is far more trouble than it's worth—and an unspoken promise to protect Japan’s underground from foreign mafias. 

Dazai wonders if that unspoken promise still holds or if the Russians have cut a deal with him. 

Nabokov’s Pale Flame, obviously, is in attendance, along with the remnants of Leo Tolstoy’s Three Deaths. Tolstoy himself is sitting at the bar, a glass of whiskey in hand as he leans back on the stool, gaze focused on you. Nabokov is off to the left, making his way across the room to greet Dazai, a curious expression on his face. Dazai recognizes Cao Xueqin of the Red Chamber sitting near Kitazawa Michihiro of Fuji Electric, one of the Port Mafia’s closest associates; and Dazai thinks that might be a bit foreboding, both because of the presence of the Chinese and the company he’s keeping.

Dostoevsky’s House of the Dead is nowhere to be seen, but Dazai knows that they’re here. Somewhere. He just has to find him—and he will.

More eyes are on you than him, and although that was to be expected, Dazai can’t fight the doubt that suddenly swirls in his chest, wondering if he’d made the right decision. If you hadn’t been on people’s radar already, you definitely are now, and the thought makes him a bit sick to his stomach. He tries to console himself with the fact that this was the lesser of two evils—the mere chance of you being on the radar of any of the mafias in this room, no matter how slim it might be, was not something he could gamble with. There was no way he could let you go out alone and unprotected. People like them, people like him, would jump on the chance to take advantage of the weakness and he couldn’t let that happen. 

But is this really any better? 

He’s thrown you into a pit of snakes, and you’re ignorant to all of the threats around you. His gaze drifts back down to you, catching the way your brows are knit together slightly, the way your lips are pressed in a thin line. There’s an indecipherable look in your eyes as your gaze shifts over the room, and Dazai wonders if you know more than you’re letting on. That’s another scary thought, but he can at least find comfort in it for now because it’ll have you keeping your guard up around these people. He’ll just have to deal with the consequences later.

He dips his head down to your ear, speaking quietly before Nabokov finally reaches him: “Just follow my lead, you’ll be fine.”

The look you shoot at him is nothing short of withering, and Dazai can’t help the smile that curves at the corners of his lips as he lifts his head back up to subtly brush his lips against your temple. He catches sight of movement from the corner of his eye and any softness that might’ve been visible in his expression washes away instantly.

“Dazai,” Nabokov greets, beady eyes flickering between you and Dazai, partially curious about you and partially nervous about Dazai. Dazai tilts his head to the side, becoming increasingly more unamused the longer Nabokov’s gaze lingers on you. “I’m glad you came. I wanted to apologize for not being able to attend our planned meeting a few months ago.”

“So I heard.” Dazai’s voice is short and distant, more focused on the feeling of you tucked into his side than the conversation at hand. He has to force himself to keep his gaze steady on Nabokov, wanting to look down at you, but he contents himself with letting his hand slide down to your hip, rubbing absent circles against the silky material of your dress. 

Nabokov fumbles over Dazai’s clipped response, a bead of sweat gathering at the corner of his forehead. He wishes he could peer into your head and see what you’re thinking, about him, about this, about everything. He doesn’t know if he’ll be able to get through the night without you realizing who he is, what he is, and that thought scares him because he thinks that maybe he should have been the one to explain it to you, so he could at least try to paint himself in a better light. Although, he’s not sure what sort of light would make anything about him look better.

“Who is this?” Nabokov finally asks, turning his attention toward you. Dazai doesn’t like the way he looks at you, eyes raking over you like you’re a piece of meat.

“My partner.” To Dazai’s credit, his voice is much smoother than the turbulent emotions in his chest would suggest. “Where is your wife, Nabokov?” 

Nabokov doesn’t even respond to the question, laughing loudly. “Never thought I’d see the day you found yourself a lover, Dazai,” he chuckles and then holds his hand out to you. “Vladimir Nabokov.”

You shift a bit to take his hand, but Dazai is faster, lithe fingers wrapping around Nabokov’s wrist in an agonizingly tight grip. Nabokov winces, Dazai’s face is cold as he stares down at the man.

“Keep your hands to yourself,” he warns, keeping his voice low. 

Vladimir Nabokov. Invitation to a Beheading. An ability that grants its user to draw a target into an interdimensional space through physical touch—Dazai isn’t sure what the space entails because no one has ever left it alive.

Nabokov tries to laugh it off, weaker this time as he takes his hand back and shakes out his wrist. “My, Dazai, possessive, aren’t you?”

“Very,” Dazai agrees idly. “Be sure to remember that.”

Nabokov gives him another wavering smile, and Dazai can’t help but wonder how Dostoevsky could have possibly thought anyone would believe the man could head the tripartite alliance of the Pale Flame, Three Deaths, and the House of the Dead. Anyone with half of a brain would know that Dostoevsky is behind their union. Maybe that’s what he wanted, Dazai notes absently as he watches Nabokov’s gaze flicker to the upper left corner of the room. Dazai follows it to where a camera is positioned, encompassing most of the event hall. 

The smile on his lips is nearly as chilly as the air-conditioned room around him.

There you are. 

Dazai’s gaze cuts back to Kouyou, who’s standing a few feet behind you and Dazai with Chuuya, Ace and Piano Man. The woman inclines her head in recognition of his silent order as she fans her face lightly, taking a step away to make a call to Hirotsu, who should be stationed around the building with the rest of the Black Lizards by now, prepared to move in at the first sign of danger.

Nabokov looks as if he’s going to speak again, which inclines Dazai to believe that he’s seeking something out in particular for Dostoevsky, and from the way he keeps glancing at you, Dazai assumes it has to do with you. So as the man's lips waver, eyes darting as he tries to formulate another conversation opener, Dazai speaks before he can get the words out.

“If you don’t mind,” he says, voice cold and clipped as he all but dismisses Nabokov, who flushes a bit, nodding and apologizing before stepping away. 

Dazai realizes that he probably has not prepped you enough for this event, but in his defense, he’s been swamped with his own preparations and how is he supposed to prepare you when he can’t even fully explain all of the dangers? But now, it’s making him anxious, because at some point tonight he’s going to have to step away from you to meet with Nabokov in one of the backrooms, likely with Tolstoy, Cao, and Mishima. Dazai’s executives will have to be there with him, and Tachihara is supposed to slip from the shadows to join you while you wait for his return, but there’s likely going to be at least a good two to three minutes where you’ll be alone until Tachihara can get to you. That’s assuming he doesn’t get caught up on the way over.

He needs to talk to you, at least warn you about the ability users attending the event so you don’t accidentally stumble into a potentially lethal situation without him around.

If he goes to the bar, Tolstoy will take advantage to try to sweep you into a conversation, picking up right where Nabokov left off. If he goes off to the left side of the room, Cao will make his way over to interrupt. If he goes off to the right side of the room, Mishima is there. The only place… Dazai inhales as his gaze focuses on the massive dance floor of the event hall, dozens of couples are spinning around already, and it will be loud enough there for the music to drown out his conversation with you from unwelcome listeners. 

He turns his attention to you, holding his palm up and tucking one arm behind his back as he asks lightly, “May I have this dance?” 

Your eyes widen a bit in surprise, seemingly hyper aware of all of the hungry, curious glances of the other attendants directed your way, but he’s only focused on you, and the way your eyes glitter beneath the chandelier’s lights, and the way your dress clings to your body, and the way a soft smile tugs at your lips. He thinks that even if you hadn’t entered the event on his arm, all of the room’s attention would be on you still, because you’re beautiful, and captivating, and Dazai doesn’t think he’ll ever understand how he managed to pull you in one lifetime, much less all of them. 

You place your hand in his and Dazai guides you across the floor, intent on finding the perfect space. It’s hardly obvious the way that the other people on the dance floor would inch away as the two of you passed by, intent on staying out of Dazai’s way and letting him have whatever space he wants, but you pick up on it, he thinks, seeing the curious look in your eyes as your gaze sweeps around the people around you. He bites back a sigh, because he’s sure that you’re tallying everything up in your head trying to put it all together, and once you get that final puzzle piece, everything will be over.

His chest sinks at the thought of losing you, but he forces it away. He has to focus on the situation at hand because even a single slip up could be fatal—not only for him, but for you too. As soon as he reaches a suitable spot on the dance floor, he tugs you a bit closer to him, hands sliding down to your waist. Your own arms instantly come up to loop around his neck as you look up at him through your lashes and Dazai suddenly feels breathless, vision tunneling and heartbeat stuttering at the way you look at him.

God, how is he supposed to focus with you around? He can hardly concentrate on anything but you. He’s flying too close to the sun. Has been since the moment he met you. Drawing you into his life and keeping you there, now bringing you here, so many gambles, too many gambles… the heat is scorching, and it’s only a matter of time before his wings burn. If he was smart, he’d let you go so that you don’t burn with him, but his fingers only bite deeper into your waist at the thought.

The music is slow, and the two of you sway in tune to it. The other couples give a wide berth, some casting wary looks at Dazai, ones that he’s sure you’re catching. He doesn’t know where to start, or how to start; what does he tell you that doesn’t condemn him? Luckily, he doesn’t have to start the conversation because you do, for better or for worse.

“Was that man the rival that Gin mentioned?” you ask curiously, and Dazai can’t help but notice there’s a strange look in your eyes as you ask it, one that he can’t place.

He hesitates, but then says, “No. He wasn’t. I haven’t seen him yet.”

You hum lightly, fingers toying with the hair at the nape of his neck in a way that makes him shiver. But his eyes narrow when he realizes that you don’t look the slightest bit surprised by his answer. 

“You knew that already,” he accuses lightly, and he forces himself to swallow the lump that suddenly forms in his throat because if you figured that out on your own already, what else have you figured out? God, he knew this was risky, you’ve always been ridiculously perceptive—he just needs to get through tonight without you putting everything together, then he’ll be fine.

“I suspected it,” you finally affirm his accusation, gaze searching his face. “He was nervous talking to you. If he was your rival, I’d expect him to be a bit more… assured. And he kept looking up toward a camera, like he knew someone was watching that he’d have to answer to.”

Oh, you did pick up on a lot more than he expected. He doesn’t think that the smile he gives you quite meets his eyes, if the way your brows furrow have anything to say about it, but he distracts you by bringing his hand up from your waist to cup your cheek, thumb brushing over your bottom lip as he murmurs, “That’s my girl, always so smart.”

Your lashes flutter as you avert your gaze, a tell tale sign of you being flustered. His lips quirk up into a more genuine smile, hand dropping back down to your waist. He can do this, he tells himself, he just has to be careful, tell you enough to make sure your guard is up and you know to at least some extent that the people in this room aren’t to be trusted.

“There are a lot of ability users in here,” he finally warns, careful to keep his voice low even with the music covering his words. “Do your best to keep your distance from people. I’ll stay with you as much as I can, but I’m going to get pulled away sooner or later. Chuuya or Piano Man will stay with you when they can, and if they’re pulled away, Tachihara is going to come down to stay with you.”

“... That’s why you didn’t let him shake my hand,” you say, realization flashing through your eyes, another puzzle piece fitting behind your eyes and Dazai has to be careful because it’s only a matter of time before you’re given that final piece and everything comes together. “What’s his ability?” 

“... Nothing good,” he answers after a few moments of silence, but you’re not content with that, brows furrowing. He sighs. “No confirmation on it, we only know it’s lethal. Many are in here.”

Your eyes widen and then you look a bit skeptical. “And you think they would use it here? In public?” you ask slowly.

To Dazai’s horror, it is not skepticism tainting your tone, but rather, you’re fishing for information, trying to put more pieces together, and he doesn’t have much choice but to give you answers because he can’t risk you setting your guard down even for a second.

He chooses his words carefully. “... There is little they wouldn’t do to get ahead in our business.”

“Hm,” is all you say in response, something akin to understanding flashing through your eyes and Dazai dreads to know what his answer has just told you. He feels distinctly like he’s playing chess against an opponent he did not anticipate and he’s at a disadvantage because the opponent is you. He can feel your shoulders slump suddenly, an unfamiliar expression crossing over your face; you look tired, as if you’d aged twenty years in a matter of seconds. “What did you get me involved with, Dazai?” 

You say it so softly that Dazai barely hears it himself, and he knows. He knows that you’ve figured something out, he doesn’t know what and he doesn’t want to know what. He wants to evade it as long as possible, because the moment he has to have this conversation with you, he knows he’ll lose you. He can’t think about that now, it’ll throw him off and this is the last place he can allow himself to be thrown off.

Instead, his grip on your waist tightens again, gaze averting down toward the ground. 

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs. The words weigh heavy on his tongue, not just an apology for tonight but an apology for accepting your offer for a drink two months ago, knowing he wouldn’t be strong enough to let it be a single night of indulgence; an apology for seeking you out again afterward, knowing that he would be sentencing you to death.

He feels sick. 

What is he doing?

Why are you here?

What has he done?

“Dazai.”

You say his name but Dazai hardly hears you. God, he can feel it happening, where his fingers are pressed against your body, the skin suddenly goes cold and stiff, his surroundings are blurring, the people fading into the background. This isn’t the place. Nabokov. Tolstoy. Mishima. Cao. He can’t lose himself, not now, but his grip on reality is starting to waver, the pages pile around him. 

“Dazai.”

What has he done?

Everything he’s planned for, seven years of careful calculations and planning gone down the drain. How does he even fix this? Can he fix this? His mind races, but he’s not even sure he’s thinking coherent thoughts, trying to ground himself to the present because he needs to stay here, he can figure out how to fix it later, when you’re not in danger but-

His vision swims. Not now. He can see it—he can see you. Still on the ground. Sometimes there’s blood, so much that he can hardly recognize you (but he can, of course, he can always recognize you, even when your body is littered with more gaping wounds than not). Sometimes it looks like you’re sleeping, so much so that Dazai kneels next to you, begging you to wake up (he knows in his heart that it’s futile. he can’t stop himself from trying). His head spins, he loses track of where he is and then-

“Osamu.”

His breath catches, gaze zeroing in on you. You. Alive. Your brows are furrowed in concern, searching his face to try to draw him back to reality. He thinks his grip on your waist must be painful but he can’t bring himself to loosen it at all. He stares at you, still desperately trying to keep himself grounded because although you’ve brought him back mostly, the corners of the pages still linger in the edge of his vision, threatening to consume him again.

“You can’t leave me,” you tell him quietly. “You brought me here. I need you here with me. Don’t go off somewhere I can’t follow.”

Oh.

He lets out a breath, slow and maybe a bit more shaky than he would’ve liked, but he tries to focus on the situation at hand. He loosens his grip on your waist, rubbing a gentle circle over your hip in an apology.

His gaze drifts around the room, Nabokov is in deep conversation with Cao, hardly paying attention to anything going on, but Cao’s sharp, dark eyes are pointed over Nabokov’s shoulder, scanning the dance floor. He’s looking for someone—not Dazai, which is a bit worrying, and he becomes all the more attentive to everyone in the vicinity, trying to make sure none of the Red Chamber’s assassins made it through the security. If any organization would be able to pull it off, it would be them. 

Once he’s decided the coast is clear, he turns his gaze back to the bar. Tolstoy is looking at him—blue eyes sharp, blonde hair hanging in them, a curious expression on his face as he sips at his drink and watches as Dazai dances with you. As soon as Tolstoy notices Dazai has caught him, his lips curl up into a smirk and he raises his drink. Dazai’s expression is cold as he looks away, seeking out Mishima only to find the man nowhere to be found.

Hm.

Chuuya and Kouyou are entertaining idle conversation with two executives of the Sun and Steel, both keeping a sharp eye on where you and Dazai sway on the dance floor. Piano Man is entertaining several politicians, doing a good job at ensuring that none of the other foreign executives get any chance to get their ears. Ace, Dazai notes, is in deep conversation in the shadows with one of the executives of the Three Deaths. 

Interesting.

He finally draws his attention back to you, a small smile on his lips as he recalls what you’d said to drag him from his spiral.

Osamu,

“You called me Osamu,” he murmurs, a warm feeling spreading through his chest as he focuses on that instead, trying to ease himself back into reality. Technically, he’s heard you say his given name before. Well. Not technically. It was never you and it was never him, rather it was vague memories of other yous and other hims, but it was nothing in comparison to hearing you actually say it.

You look embarrassed, averting your gaze. “I didn’t know how to get your attention, I’m s-”

“Say it again,” he whispers, lifting his hand back up to your chin to tilt your face back up, forcing you to look at him. His eyes search yours, watching the way you can hardly hold his gaze. You look hesitant, so he continues with, “Please.”

“... Osamu,” you say again, breathless, and god, Dazai wishes the two of you were anywhere but here. He wants to press you back against his bed, run his lips up and down your body, map out all of your curves with his hand. He wants to watch you come undone on his tongue and on his fingers—he wants you, he wants you more than anything else in the world. Every time he’s tried to take the next step with you the past few weeks, he either got interrupted by work or he ended up getting cold feet, nervous about making a mistake. 

Before his thoughts can spiral even more, the music picks up to a faster paced waltz. Your eyes widen, watching as all of the other couples shift into the respective dance. You look up at him, a bit panicked, clearly not sure what to do, and his lips curl up in amusement, beckoning you to lace your fingers with his to take the stance the other couples were taking.

“I don’t know this da-” you begin, voice hushed.

“Just follow my lead,” he repeats the same words he spoke to you when they entered the hall. “You’ll be fine. Trust me.”

You exhale, studying his face for a moment before sighing and mimicking the stance the other women took with their partners. He can feel your fingers wavering against his as he interlocks your fingers and he rubs his thumb over the back of your hand soothingly.

“Keep your eyes on me,” he tells you, just as the music finally picks up for the dance to start. 

He thinks you’re worried for nothing. You moved smoothly in line with him and in tune with the music, gliding across the dance floor as if you’ve danced with him hundreds of times before, your body so in sync with his that the two of you put all of the other couples to shame. Not that any of them matter, of course, you’re all that Dazai can focus on. Your eyes never leave his, not even for the sparest of moments, and Dazai feels like he’s caught in a trance, lost in your eyes and the feeling of your body so close to his, hyper aware of the way your your hand rests on his shoulder and the way your fingers are wrapped tight around his.

God, there’s something so otherworldly about you. Doesn’t know if it’s heavenly or supernatural, if you’re his angel sent to lead him to salvation or his very own siren singing a sweet melody to lead him to ruin. Doesn’t think he cares either way—salvation, damnation, none of it matters as long as he has you.

“Not so bad, hm?” he murmurs, sweeping you out into a spin before pulling you back to him, closer this time. He can feel your chest brush his and he prays you can’t feel the way he’s lost control of his heart, painfully cognizant of the erratic thumping. His hand slides from your hip to the small of your back, holding you close to him. He could stay in this moment forever, surroundings drowning out; all he can see is you, all that matters is you.

“Yeah,” you say softly. “Not so bad.”

His lips part to respond but he’s interrupted when he sees movement from the corner of his eye, freezing.

“Dazai.”

Dazai stiffens as a familiar voice speaks from behind him, shifting to stand partially in front of you as his gaze cuts to the side to see Mishima’s familiar figure standing a few feet away. Turning to face him, he asks, “Do you need something?”

“I’d like to speak to you before we meet with Tolstoy, Nabokov and Cao.”

Mishima’s voice leaves no room for argument, dark eyes absent of any emotion as he waits for Dazai to follow him. Dazai’s jaw tightens, eyes drifting back to you as he tries to figure out what to do. He can’t leave you here, not with Cao’s hawk-like gaze trained on the dancefloor and Tolstoy waiting for the opportunity to make a move. But he does need to talk to Mishima, have some idea of where he stands with the Sun and Steel before facing all of the foreigners. 

“May I have this dance?” 

Dazai hadn’t even heard Chuuya approach, turning to the side to watch as he holds a hand out toward you expectantly, quick to step in to take Dazai’s place so that you’re not alone. You shoot Dazai a concerned glance, brows furrowing a bit, before you place your hand in Chuuya’s.

Chuuya leads you back onto the dance floor, Dazai’s gaze lingers for a few moments, a bitter feeling spreads through his chest because that should be him, and it’s wholly unfair that he has to deal with all of this unsavory business when he should be spending time with you.

He should just kill them all here and be done with it.

The words ring through his head, echoing, tempting. He inhales and forces himself to look away as you loop your arms around Chuuya’s shoulders, swaying in tune to the slow song playing. He turns his attention back to Mishima, voice cool and expression void of emotion:

“Speak.”

Dancing with Nakahara Chuuya is awkward. Awkward is even being generous. It’s not like he’s a bad dancer—in fact, it’s clear that he’s a very good one. He’s smooth on his feet as he spins you around the dance floor, but he’s so stiff. He’s careful to keep space between the two of you, hands never dipping lower than your sides, lips pressed together. He hardly even looks at you, his attention is more on where Dazai had stepped to the side to speak with the dark-haired man who’d interrupted the two of you, but you’re grateful for it, because it’s giving you a chance to gather your thoughts.

You think Dazai might’ve inadvertently confirmed your suspicions from yesterday. You don’t know who these people are, but there’s no way any ordinary business event would be dangerous enough for Dazai to genuinely worry that someone might kill you in a room crowded with two hundred people. A part of you wonders if it’s just different for ability users, that they’re not scared of committing crimes in public because they have an ability that prevents them from getting caught, but you know you’re just trying to make excuses at this point.

Your gaze drifts back over to the older, light-haired man with dark eyes who’d approached you and Dazai when you walked in. He’s off to the side talking with a Chinese man dressed in a red suit—your gaze lingers, trying to piece together the puzzle in your head desperately, but all of the edges are jagged and confusing, you can’t seem to figure out where they each fit with each other. 

You’d thought maybe that Dazai and his business was somehow affiliated with the mafia, because no one with the amount of money and success that he has gets it cleanly, but now you can’t help but hesitate, reconsidering your original theory. Vladimir Nabokov had been scared of Dazai. And it’s not like you haven’t noticed the effect that Dazai has on people. Whenever you’re around people with him, they get tense and on edge, but it’s different seeing the effect he has on someone who doesn’t even work for him, a foreigner supposed to be one of Dazai’s associates if you understood what he meant about not showing up to a meeting. 

Who are you, Dazai?

You don’t even know if you want to know. You love Dazai. You do. You knew it earlier in the night. You know it now. It’s something you can no longer hide or deny. You remember the concerned look on his face when he saw how upset you were. You can feel the way his lips brushed the nape of your neck as he explained why he kept meeting you at the club, the way he kissed your ankles as he knelt in front of you and told you how he was selfish for keeping you around, how he kissed your palm and leaned into your touch as he promised you anything you want. God, you love him, you don’t think anyone has ever looked at you the way he does; no one has ever spoken to you the way he does. 

You love him, and it scares you because you’re realizing you still don’t know anything about him, not really, and you’re also realizing that there’s a high chance he’s been lying to you about what he does. It scares you even more that your first instinct isn’t to run. Because you should run. This should make you run. He brought you to an event with people so dangerous that he’s afraid they might try to hurt you, or worse, but you don’t want to run, because you’d be running from him and you don’t want to run from him. 

Could you sacrifice everything for him though?

Fuck your morals—everything you’ve worked for, all of the years slaving away to put yourself on the path to success. You’ve told yourself your entire life that it would be all you would focus on, that it would all be worth it in the end. You convinced yourself that maybe if you proved yourself enough, your brother would return to your life; he’d be proud of you and he’d come back to you. You know he’s still out there somewhere, you get letters with no return address every month—the only thing in the envelope is a check with a dubious amount of money, but it’s in his hand writing, so you know it’s him. 

A part of you wants to cry, frustration clawing at your chest: the future you’ve worked so hard for, or love? The question you’ve dreaded since your epiphany yesterday is finally thrown right in front of your face, and you need an answer. The two are mutually exclusive—you will not be able to pursue the career you want with Dazai Osamu, not in the way you want at least. And you don’t want to do all of this work to just end up being another shady politician.

“Penny for your thoughts?” 

Your gaze snaps up to Chuuya, who’s suddenly looking at you, and you don’t really know how to respond. 

I’m pretty sure you guys are part of the fucking Mafia and you’re all hiding it from me, but also I don’t want to know if you are because that’s going to force me to make a decision that I don’t want to make so I’d rather live in ignorance. 

“My thoughts are only worth a penny?” You deflect with a grin instead, hoping it meets your eyes.

It doesn’t, evidently, because Chuuya’s eyes narrow a bit, and then he tilts his head to the side and hits you with a more direct: “What’s wrong?”

“I’m just worried,” you finally say, not entirely lying but also not telling the truth. 

“About?” Chuuya presses and you sigh, exhaling a bit.

“He mentioned that there were dangerous people here,” you tell him quietly. “I’m just nervous for when you guys go to your meeting… I’m guessing it’s going to be soon.”

Chuuya’s brows furrow and you can see the thoughts racing behind his eyes before he speaks again. “You’ll be fine,” he tells you. “We have people all over the event hall, and Tachihara is going to sit with you until you Dazai can get back. Dazai shouldn’t have worried you with all of this. He shouldn’t have even-”

He cuts himself off, jaw tightening, but you know what he’s going to say: he shouldn’t have even brought you here.

“I don’t know what he’s thinking,” Chuuya says quietly, and you think he might be talking more to himself than anything else now, but you listen anyway. “He’s always been hard to read but this is…”

He stops speaking out loud, as if he’s realized that you’re there again, and instead he shakes his head. “You’ll be fine. Back at the headquarters before you know it.”

You aren’t so sure.

Your gaze drifts to the side as you watch Nabokov and the Chinese man make their way over to Dazai and the man he’s talking to. The blonde at the bar that Dazai kept looking at also stands up, drink in his hand as walks in the same direction. 

Chuuya spits out a curse under his breath and gives you an apologetic look. Your heart sinks and your throat feels a bit tight—he doesn’t abandon you right away though, pressing his hand to the middle of your back as he guides you across the dancefloor to the bar, all the while keeping a keen eye on what’s happening on the other side of the room.

He pulls the barstool out for you, eyes still trained on where Dazai is standing with Kouyou, two men that work for him you haven’t met yet, and the four men you assume are business associates of his. Dazai is looking at you, an indecipherable expression on his face. You’re looking at him, suddenly anxious at the thought of being left alone, a bad feeling sweeping over you. 

“Tachihara will be over here soon,” Chuuya finally says to you, tearing his gaze from his coworkers to look back down at you. He flags down the bartender to order a drink for you. “You’ll be fine. Knowing Dazai, the meeting won’t last long anyway.”

Your shoulders only slump a bit as you nod, thanking the bartender quietly for your drink as he hurries to bring it back to you, taking a sip of it. Chuuya doesn’t say much else—once you’re settled in your seat and have your drink, he squeezes your shoulder before making his way back over to the intimidating group of people standing on the opposite side of the room.

Your gaze meets Dazai’s conflicted one one last time before he’s forced to turn away and disappears down a side hall deeper into the building. You sigh as you twirl your drink around, the clear liquid sloshing dangerously close to the brim of your glass as your eyes twist around the event hall, seeking out Tachihara, or Atsushi, or anyone that works with Dazai because you’re feeling distinctly vulnerable alone. You find none of them. You can feel eyes on you—most you’re sure are harmless curiosity, wanting to know who exactly came in on the arm of Dazai Osamu, but you know some aren’t nearly as harmless, you can feel the hungry stares of vicious opportunists directed at your back and you don’t feel comfortable sitting alone.

You don’t even get five minutes to yourself.

“Is this seat taken?” 

You’re startled by the unfamiliar voice, head snapping to the side. Your gaze focuses on a pretty man with soft features, shoulder-length black hair and gentle purple eyes. Your lips part to speak, but no words leave them, caught off-guard by his sudden appearance. He looks harmless enough, but there’s something about him that has you on edge—something simmering beneath the surface of his deceptive eyes that you can’t quite place but you know you don’t like.

“I mean no harm,” he says smoothly, lips curving up into an amiable smile. “I’m an old friend of Dazai’s. I only want to talk.”

An old friend. You don’t buy it, but you don’t want to risk antagonizing him, Dazai’s warning about the many lethal ability users prowling the event ringing through your head. You just hope that Tachihara shows up sooner rather than later as you finally shake your head.

“It’s not taken,” you say quietly, motioning to the stool as you take another generous sip of your drink.

The dark-haired man smiles at you as he takes a seat at the bar next to you, teeth glimmering like knives beneath the lighting of the chandelier. Instantly, you feel like you’ve made a mistake, a chill running down your spine as your eyes meet purple ones that are not quite so gentle anymore. Sharp and shrewd instead. Calculating. Dangerous. 

“Fyodor Dostoevsky. A pleasure, truly.”

#dazai x reader #dazai x you #dazai osamu x reader #dazai osamu x you #bsd x reader #bsd x you #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs x you

[wondersinwaynemanor]

some petty scenarios between the Wayne kids just to annoy the other (or more like get some attention, even though they won't admit it).

Tim: You know I hate your paintings, Dami. They're too colorful and too bright. They're too... Ugh.. Good. And... And... Maybe find another hobby? It's getting annoying.

Damian: You know what's a nuisance, Drake? You.

Tim: Not as annoying as your -

Damian: Keep talking nonsense, Drake, and I'll be asking for the portrait I did of you and Kent.

Tim, wraps an arm on Damian's shoulder: Heyyyy, I was kidding. All good, Dami.

---

Jason: Remember when you had the long hair, Goldie?

Dick: And I want to have that hair again.

Steph: I wish I was there to see it in person. You slayed, Dick!

Dick, flutters his lashes: Oh, you didn't need to say that, Steph.

Jason, scoffs: Ha? That long hair slayed? It was too shiny, it stung my eyes. No, no--it blinded some rogues. You don't want that to happen to you, right, Steph?

Dick, pouts: What are you talking about, Little Wing???? You even said you wanted a hair like mine!!!

Jason: I was young and made bad decisions. Of course, you all know that by now.

Steph: Jason doesn't know what he's talking about. Have the long hair again, Dick!

Dick, huffs: I'm glad I got a supporter.

---

Steph, groans: I can't focus!!!

Steph can't see Cass' face with her cowl on but she knows Cass is giving her a questioning look.

Steph: You're too distracting, okay?

Cass continues to stare at Steph.

Steph, whispers: You're wearing the perfume I really like.

Cass, tilts her head: Okay. I won't use-

Steph, gasps: Who told you to do that???

---

Jason, tries to enjoy his toast and tea in peace: Maybe try to open the drawer harder, Timbo? I'm sure it will be broken then.

Tim, opening the refrigerator doors this time with extra force, raises his voice: What was that, Jay???

Jason: Are you serious? It's too early.

Tim, gets a cup of coffee: Not my fault you're in the kitchen. Go and eat in your room. You're not the only person in this house.

Jason, raises his brows at him: What's your fucking problem??

Tim: Nothing.

proceeds to steal the fruit that's on Jason's plate.

Jason: Seriously?????

proceeds to grab Tim's cup of coffee on his hand and chugs on it.

Tim: You're an animal!!!

Jason: So are you!!!

Alfred, by the kitchen door, pinches the bridge of his nose: Oh, should the young masters must really be shouting this early?

---

Duke: Do you need anything else, Dick?

Dick, grins: Nope, nope. Carry on, Second Little D.

Duke: I can't really help you with your bike if you're singing loudly right in my ear.

Dick, blushes: Oops, sorry. I'll keep quiet.

Duke, chuckles: No, it's okay. Just don't do it right in my ear. I need my hearing.

meanwhile, Damian plays a video in the Batcomputer in a high volume.

Dick, shouts from across the cave: Dami, maybe lower the volume?

Damian, shouts back: Tt. It's a tactic to cover up your singing, Grayson. And Thomas, I need your help with-

Dick: I still need him with my bike, Dami!

Damian: You've had him for the past three hours, Grayson!

Dick: And so???

Damian: And so, I need his assistance with something.

Duke, scratches the back of his neck: Maybe I can help you both later. It's time for me to call Izzy anyways-

Dick and Damian at the same time: Wait, no!

#just a very normal day in the wayne household #let the kids be petty #and clingy #incorrect batfamily quotes #incorrect dc quotes #incorrect batfam #incorrect dc #batfamily #batman #batkids #tim drake #damian wayne #jason todd #dick grayson #stephanie brown #cassandra cain #duke thomas #alfred pennyworth #dc comics #yel chronicles

[portagas-chan]

Yours Forever and Ever : Part 1

Yandere Katakuri x Isekai Reader

Summary: [Y/n] is part of the Strawhat Crew. She followed Luffy and the others to retrieve Sanji. However, she was separated from her friends and was kidnapped by Big Mom's children. Luckily, she wasn't going to be killed but held as a hostage by none other than 'Charlotte Katakuri' who is considered to be the strongest sweet commander in the Big Mom Pirates.

Part 2: https://www.tumblr.com/portagas-chan/748738024063516672/yours-forever-and-ever-part-2?source=share

Nobody knew she was from another world, not even the straw hats. She never told anyone and when she first arrived here, she came up with a lie and they all believed her, even Zoro which was surprising. The straw hats accepted her and welcomed her to their crew. She felt joyful.

Anyways, that's not important. [Y/n] was in trouble. She got separated from Luffy and the others in the Seducing Forest. She would be doing okay if she encountered an opponent who was not a sweet commander. However, she would stand no chance against them if they were a sweet commander. She hoped Lady Luck would be on her side today.

[Y/n] walked and walked, she didn't know where she was going but it didn't matter. It wasn't like she could fly. There was nothing she could do. Suspicious enough, the trees shifted to form a path where she found herself outside the Seducing Forest. All the thinking was giving her a headache and she decided to be meh.

[Y/n] looked around in awe at her surroundings. The whole island was literally made up of sweets. It was even crazier seeing this in person. Suddenly, she felt her leg go numb and fell onto her knees. The last thing she saw was the triplets -Smoothie, Citron, and Cinnamon- staring down with Flampe laughing at her.

She widened her eyes in realization, 'I knew it was too good to be true. This was a trap made by Brulee.'

A harsh splash of water stung her face as she scrunched her nose and slowly opened her eyes. She looked at Flampe who had a now empty bucket of water, glaring at her, "Was that necessary?"

"You were sleeping so soundly. I thought you weren't going to wake up," Flampe retorted to which she rolled her eyes. She was tied up in a chair.

[Y/n] analyzed her surroundings. Sitting in front of her was Big Mom who stared at her with that creepy grin on her face. It was frightening to see her in person.

Then there was Katakuri and his triplets -Oven and Daifuku- looking intimidating as ever. There was Perospero licking his lollipop and Smoothie with her triplets and of course, Flampe. All attention was on her and it was not in a good way.

"[Y/n] from the StrawHats. I will admit, your captain is a brave one but to survive in the New World, bravery is not enough. Mamamama!" Big Mom laughed.

[Y/n] stayed silent. She would be lying if she said she wasn't scared at all. In fact, she was terrified. Terrified of what would happen to her. But she had faith in Luffy. Even if she was kidnapped, she knew Luffy would eventually come and save her. He would never abandon his crew member. That's just how he is.

"So, what do you think we should do with her, my children?" Big Mom asked.

"I say we kill her!" Flampe demanded.

'Bitch,' [Y/n] cursed in her mind.

"Now, now, don't be hasty. Taking her hostage can give us so much advantages in many ways," Perospero suggested.

Big Mom's expression seemed to brighten a little. It seems she likes Perospero's suggestion. "Taking her hostage? I like that! Which one of you would like to take on the job?"

Katakuri stepped up, "Mama, please allow me to deal with her. There's no way she can escape me."

"Katakuri?" Big Mom looked at him, studying his face. When she saw that he was dead serious, she laughed, "You're right! Then it's settled!"

[Y/n] didn't expect Katakuri to voluntarily choose to deal with her. She thought he wouldn't bother with this stuff. Either way, Lady Luck seems to hate her. She knew Katakuri had a soft side behind that mask of his perfect demeanor but it wasn't like she could suddenly bring out his soft side to her. If she ever saw what was under that scarf, he would be blinded by anger and accidentally kill her before he could even hear her out.

Big Mom placed cuffs on her wrists that explode if she disobeyed Katakuri. Crazy, right? She didn't even know you could give certain commands to the cuffs.

One thing she noticed about Katakuri was that he never let her out of his sight. She must always be with him but of course, she was left alone when he had something important to do but he always made sure it ended quickly. But she paid no attention to it, shooking it off as him doing his job and that it was due to the loyalty he had for his mother.

Sitting across him, she could feel the hard stare Katakuri was giving her. He always had that kind of stare whether he was doing it intentionally or unintentionally. Nevertheless, it made her feel nervous as she uncomfortably shifted in her seat.

"Why did you join the Strawhat pirates?" Katakuri started.

She looked up at him, "Are you using your observation haki thing again?"

Katakuri closed his eyes before opening it again, "I asked you a question."

"I will take that as a no," She muttered. "There's no deep meaning behind it, actually. They seemed fun and interesting, that's all."

Katakuri raised his brow, "That's all?" She nodded her head.

"Then will you join our crew under my wing if I promise to make it fun and interesting? I will make sure you stay happy too," Katakuri said.

[Y/n] was puzzled. Why would Katakuri want her to join the Big Mom pirates and be under his wing at that? She tried to think of a good reason but there simply was none. Sure, she could fight but she wasn't all that strong. She wasn't special at all. So, why?

"Why would you want me on your crew? I'm not strong," [Y/n] said.

"You don't have to be strong because I will protect you," Katakuri said and he meant it. He was not joking around. He was being serious.

To [Y/n], this was weird to see Katakuri acting like that. It was out of his character. It has just been a two days since they first met and he's acting like they have known each other for years.

[Y/n] remembered something important. "Why are you asking me that when you already know the answer?" She raised her hands to show the cuffs.

Katakuri smirked behind his scarf and [Y/n] could tell because his eyes changed a bit.

Katakuri stood up from his chair and walked towards [Y/n]. She tensed up when she saw him approached her. He sat on an empty chair beside her and dragged it closer to her.

He suddenly picked her up and placed her on his lap. His hand on her thigh slowly rubbing it while the other hugged her in place.

Don't get her wrong. She loves Katakuri but being this close to him like this and having no choice but to obey him in real life was scary. He was so huge too and it didn't make it any better.

"Katakuri?" She called out nervously.

"Are you scared?" Katakuri touched her hair, twirling a strand of her hair around his finger.

If she were to answer him honestly, it would be a yes and a no. He looks intimidating and scary, but she knows he's actually a cutie inside. He was getting touchy with her and she honestly doesn't know how to feel about it.

In the end, [Y/n] is unable to answer at all.

"It's okay. I won't hurt you," Katakuri reassured her. "And I promise you, no one will lay a finger on you."

#yandere katakuri #yandere one piece #yandere x reader #one piece #charlotte katakuri x reader #katakuri x reader #op katakuri #katakuri x yn #charlotte katakuri #katakuri one piece

[cheeseceli]

When you're rejected by your crush

Pairing: BTS ot7 × Gn!Reader (individually)

Genre: fluff, headcanons, just a bit of angst because you were rejected

Request: Hello! Can you please write headcanons for BTS (they have a crush on the reader) reacting to the reader being sad after finding out that her crush (a coworker or a friend) is in a relationship with someone else?

Warnings: none?

A/n: this was inspired by the "secret crush" series by @7ndipity a bit. If you do not allow this, please let me know and I'll delete this post right away!

Jin

Your friend

That's all Jin wants to be for you right now

Of course, he'd be lying if he said he didn't feel at least an ounce of hope when you said that your friend, your crush, was now dating someone else

But at the same time, he'd hate to show interest in you when you're so vulnerable

So he settles in being only what you need right now: a shoulder to cry on

I believe he'd be the one to wait the longest to tell you how he feels, scared you're not on the same page just yet

Suga

His mind is a mess right now

Nothing breaks him more than seeing your eyes without its usual shine

But he had been praying for the day where you fall out of love with your co-worker

So he really doesn't know how to react right now

He chooses to listen to you talk about how you found out everything and about how you're feeling

Will try to forget his feelings and focus on being the best friend you could ask for now

But as soon as you feel better and your feelings for your past crush start to fade, he might try to make subtle moves on you, scared someone else could catch your attention again

J-hope

I see this going on a slightly different way

He found out about your crush's relationship before you

He just knew you'd be heartbroken

So he tries to let you down gently, saying that maybe the guy wasn't this big of a deal

But when the time comes and you're inevitably sad after finding out, he tries to comfort you as much as possible

Is very hesitant on being flirty right now though

Besides being sad, he'd hate for you to be confused because of him

Namjoon

Honestly, for a second he even forgot he liked you

His mind went blank the moment you texted him about how you were in need of comfort right now

Will fulfill his role as your friend and, before you even notice, you were already laughing through your tears at something he said

Just later that day that he realises what this can mean for your relationship

He finally had a chance now!

Waits for a while though, planning exactly what he wants to do

Jimin

He feels so bloody guilty and selfish right now

Because he's your friend! And you're sad right now!

He should be only focusing on how to make you happy again

But knowing that this means you'll have to eventually move on from your current crush just gives him so much hope

Obviously, he will try to hype you up

But as soon as he can, he will try to make you see him in a different light

Taehyung

Relief floods over him the moment you tell him the news

He was so scared of what could've happened if your crush were to reciprocate your feelings

He had to hold back his smile

Hangs out with you immediately to try to make you forget things for a while

Is already making a plan on how to confess

But for now he's focused on making you feel better

Even thanks your crush with literally no context at all

Jungkook

Deadass smiled when you told him about the situation 💀

Don't get him wrong, he's not happy because you're hurt!

He's happy because he might have a chance now

But he at least was able to hide (part of) his happiness in front of you lmao

And now he's 100% dedicated to make you smile again

He wasn't even that cool, you could find someone better than him anyways

Either way, he makes it his personal mission to distract you from that other guy and make you realise that maybe you're better off without him

And if he ends up being extra boyfriend material throughout it, it was purely a coincidence

Masterlist | you'll probably like: secret crush (by the author I mentioned in the a/n)

Thank you for reading <3

Taglist (open!): @yuyubeans

Credits for images 1 , 2 and 3

Dividers by @cafekitsune

#next post will be for the 1k event #celi headcanon #bts fluff #bts imagines #bts fanfic #bts scenario #bts headcanons #bts angst #bangtan #jin #jin fluff #jin angst #namjoon #namjoon angst #namjoon fluff #jhope fluff #jhope angst #hobi #suga #suga fluff #suga angst #jimin #jimin fluff #jimin angst #taehyung fluff #taehyung angst #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #bts x reader

[lightlycareless]

omgggg, that Toji x reader (*plus* Naoya) was incredibleee, ignore me if you want, I know you made Toji chosing to keep distance from reader and Megumi permanently BUT what if one day he ends up finally seeing Megumi, either personally or by pictures/videos 🥺 We know Megumi it's the spitted image of him, I mean, Gojo's face when he saw him for the first time said it all 😅 And also knowing his baby has the Ten Shadows technique (I cant stop thinking about how proud he was in the canon manga/anime 🥺 he always KNEW from the start Megumi was blessed/gifted, since his first breath, the fact Toji named him is not random) making the entire Zenin clan eat their shit

Heya anon!!

I'm so glad you liked it heheheheheheh a oneshot that I didn't intend to write but it just happened!! aren't we glad it did? lol

I didn't mean to ignore you, I was only focusing on other things first 😅 oof, I still have lots of request to go through, which I plan to do it slowly but surely...

Anyways, I might've not gone down that route, however... why not something angsty? I mean 😏I've had this in my mind so... yeah 😏😏😏😏😏😏😏

Warnings: mentions of infidelity. Pregnancy. Naoya is, unfortunately, a prick. this is the oneshot anon is talking about. 100% read that first hehe. this is an AU from that, so the second part doesn't count??? I guess. excuse the proofreading. also I haven't written toji that much so please excuse my oocness as well ahahahahha :')

Happy reading!

As much as the three hoped to ignore the bases of your pregnancy, behave as it didn’t rise from an adulterous act, a direct transgression to the principles of the Zen’in, and keep it a secret, it wouldn’t take long before the guilt in each other’s mind began to weight heavy on their mind, ultimately betraying them and revealing the truth to the light, excusing the angered elders to finally get rid of two birds with one stone.

“Where—Where does this accusation even come from?!” You gasp, blood turning cold at the implication—at the notion of the truth. “Do you know the gravity of such words?!”

“Better than you of the act, it seems.” Another accuses. “We were quite aware of the rumors surrounding your ill-fitting behavior, but we never believed it would actually extend to this point!”

“I—I won’t tolerate neither of you disrespecting me!” you cry. “Nor will Naoya for that matter!”

But calling for his aid would no longer prove sufficient, for Naoya, too deep in his own insecurities by that point, had come to the disheartening conclusion that this situation had gotten way out of hand for a simple diversion.

A supposed act of mercy.

He shouldn’t have let this happen in the first place, should’ve respected what you and your marriage represented, what meant to him, and discard his pity for Toji—the man has been alone most of his life, what difference would that make that now?

But he didn’t, he allowed you to go to Toji—no, he handed you over to him, thinking he was doing something right for his cousin, or perhaps something deep inside him was allured by the sick idea of you being with another man and now, he was suffering the consequences.

Consequences he did not like, not one bit—because it got too real for him: you were now pregnant, with Toji’s child, and not his.

And this only highlighted what he considered the pitfalls of this relationship, a strike against his ego and the supposed inability to beget children, a rumor that grew bigger and bigger by each passing day, spreading like wildfire to the point where even outsiders became aware of it.

Which, for a prideful man like Naoya, was only a nightmare.

He loved you, he really did—Naoya never envisioned spending the rest of his life with anyone else…

But he loved his pride more, and when his clan began to actively confront him about it, he couldn’t take it anymore.

And thus….

“…Naoya?”

“This marriage was broken before it even started.” Your husband would say, unexpected words that pierced straight to your heart. “My family advised me well in avoiding you, but I falsely believed I could achieve differently.”

“What—what are you even saying?” you breathe. “What do you mean by—by differently?”

And… where does everything you lived with him stand?

The time you spent with him, the sweet nothings he’d whisper into your ear, to love you both swore to one another, reminding each other that there was no one else that compares…

And that you were the only woman who has ever made him feel this way—loved— and would do everything in the world to make happy…

Was it… all … a lie?

All for… nothing?

Or were you the only one that actually believed the other’s words?

“I cannot look past these transgressions.” Naoya continues. “You’ve left me no choice.”

“But you—you made me do this!” you gasp. “I never—I never wanted to be with anyone else! All this time, my heart only belonged to you!  How could you—how could you abandon me after all we’ve gone through together?!”

Naoya doesn’t say anything else anymore, instead, he simply turns around, exiting the room to leave you in the hands of the vengeful elders who did not hesitate to do what they had long desired—banish you from the estate.

Swiftly yet cruelly, you wouldn’t be able to take anything with you, not even a change of clothes or even money (you didn’t even ask for much, just enough to survive the week) as you were forced to face a new life of your own—alone, pregnant.

Going back to your family was also out of the question; the shame that you’d bring upon their name was one the Zen’in didn’t not waste time to remind them of—at the end, there was only so much your father and siblings could do against the invasive ways of the elders, and perhaps, a part of them deep inside, were also disappointed that you’ve succumbed to such foul thing.

And so, you were tossed onto the street, with nothing more than the clothes you were wearing, whatever you had for savings throughout the years, managed to take it out before either clan could close your account—but most importantly, with a broken heart you believe will never heal, not after the grave wound your husband’s indifference inflicted on it.

The pain you couldn’t even mourn properly due to all the things you had to worry about now.

The first thing you did was search for a place to stay, though getting one was proving to be an almost impossible task.

Thankfully, you were allowed to keep one other thing, maybe it eluded their minds when all this was happening, but you’re not going to question why when it was going to help you pay for a roof.

Naoya’s ring, your wedding ring, was something many would consider expensive, the kind of flashiness expected from a prestigious family like the Zen’in.

You remember a time when any kind of ring would’ve been enough for you to marry him. You didn’t need anything extraordinary to commit your life and heart to him.

That’s nothing but a far cry from what you felt now.

It still hurt to pawn it, but it was the only way you could accommodate yourself and the unborn child inside you, in the only area you could afford with what you got, for even then many suspected that your ring… well, had dubious origins.

When was the last time you even had to worry about the costs of living? Food, clothes, water…?

Many years—it had to; ever since you got together with Naoya, he’s been the one that took care of you.

You just had to say the word and he’d disappear all of your worries—even from the simplest of wants, Naoya indulgingly obliged.

It was a happy life you eventually considered for your child—imagining how happy they’d grow to be without a single worry, solely focusing on what they’ll have to play that day, or how to escape their over doting parents.

A long-gone dream, tossed to the side as a nightmare quickly took its place.

…

Did Naoya ever mean the words I love you?

Or was he doing all this just to keep you there, complying, just in case someone better came along, just like his clan wished would happen?

There mere thought of his devotion being nothing but an act tightens your heart with sorrow once more, gifting you the tragic notion that perhaps, all this time, you never knew your husband…

Maybe ex-husband, by this point.

All that was left from those moments, the slightest semblance of that marriage was this baby, created from what you thought your unconditional devotion to him, turning out to be your very own downfall.

The only one that would know of these struggles would be your baby, the one to accompany you through the darkest point of your life, hopefully to a brigther dawn.

And yet… you’ve never felt so alone.

Time surprisingly, went quicker than you anticipated, though not as easy as you would’ve wanted.

Life in your new home was still very difficult to get used to, even when it’s been months since… that.

But with the job you managed to get (whatever place hired pregnant women—they’re supposed to be at home, some would say, you didn’t care.) and some extra jujutsu work you did on the side, you managed, enough to give you a, not exactly comfortable, but just enough lifestyle.

As long as you sacrificed all the things you once considered granted and turned them into luxuries: such as warm showers, take out, and the sweets you liked to indulge once in a while; your pregnancy has been horrible because of that, and that’s without considering the medical bills you’re struggling to pay as well.

But if that wasn’t enough, your noisy neighbors presented issues of their own as well.

You’re not going to deny that your presence there was like moths to a flame, starting from your somewhat suspicious acquisition—all cash—of the small house you were living in.

From there, your loneliness, alongside your pregnancy; single mothers were unheard of, or rather, highly criticized, thus, all eyes were on you, down to your smallest movement.

Yet, even then, as annoying as they were, you were ok as long as it meant you never get to see those that hurt you ever again.

However, what you want isn’t necessarily what’s going to happen, and that would be reminded of one fateful night with an unsuspecting knock, just after you were getting ready to go to bed.

It wouldn’t be the first time someone came to bother you, but it would be the first time someone did so at this hour, and with such insistence that far from worrying you, it made you angrily storm at the entrance, ready to demand who’d be so inconsiderate enough to visit you so late at night!

And you’d get your answer soon enough, in the most shocking, horrifying, if not sorrowful manner you could’ve possibly anticipated, prompting you to close the door as soon as you saw his face, or attempted to, his reflexes much faster than yours.

“Get—get away from me!” you shrieked, hands trembling as you did your best to hold the door shut against his overwhelming strength— but even your husband has admitted that in terms of power, he excels like no one else.

“Y/N—” he breathes, somewhat amused that you’d been able to hold him off as much as you could, though eventually he was able to break free from your grasp and enter your home, you step away from him soon after.

“What are you even doing here?!” you gasp. “No—that doesn’t matter! I don’t want to see you! I’m not going back!”

“I’m not here to take you back” He quickly responds, eyes falling down to your stomach, making his face soften at the subtle bump evident through your clothes—with this sight, he knows he can’t take you back.

“Then—then why are you here, Toji?”

Perhaps Toji needed to see through his own eyes, what the whispers went on about at the estate regarding your absence.

He wasn’t there when it happened, promised himself to be far away from you as soon as your pregnancy was announced to the estate.

Toji would’ve normally taken this opportunity to act on retribution against his family, rub it on their face that the future of the clan came from him, a low life.

But he couldn’t bring himself to do so when you cheerfully paraded around the halls, happy to finally be forming a family with your beloved husband, even though it wasn’t of his making.

For the first time in his life, he thought himself to be too cruel for having planned such atrocities against the only person that has never been rude with him, always welcoming him with a smile on your face, or at least whatever you permitted when not following Naoya around like a lost puppy.

And the baby… well, he won’t deny that he was glad that his child would have a vastly different life from his—with you as his mother, it couldn’t be any other way.

Or so he believed.

Even when promising to keep away, he still attempted to check in on you, especially now that you were pregnant, whenever he had to go to the estate that is. That day was no be no exception, begrudgingly coming back to see what else he could scam out of his family to ensure his living outside.

Toji’s slyly scanned the hallways for your figure, the briefest indication of such, either through your giggle, staff, or even his cousin’s annoying voice—there were moments where he imagined how delightful it must’ve been to have you by his side, instead of Naoya’s; to be receiver of your laughter instead of that man who clearly didn’t deserve you.

But even if it was with him, he still found comfort in the fact that you were around, there.

Not like now, gone from Naoya’s side.

In fact, you were nowhere to be seen! Not with your staff, not eating by the gardens, or even indulging in one of your husband’s idiocies.

Nothing.

And no one had seen you either.

Or more like didn’t want to say, that much became evident when he stomped his way towards a nearby staff member, demanding your whereabouts, only to be responded with a fret falsely feigning ignorance, or foolish diplomacy.

At the prospect of your disappearance, Toji felt his blood run cold, almost like the estate lost whatever little warmth it had, worsening each time he asked another servant, and he’d get the same answer.

The implications behind your absence were growing heavier in his mind, to the point it sunk his heart to his stomach…

And propelled him to the one person who would undoubtedly know where you were.

“Naoya—Where is Y/N?!” Toji commands the moment he sees the heir, the young man instinctively flinched at the sight of his angered cousin, almost as if he knew what was running through his mind and attempted to make a run for it, only to be stopped by the collar, dead on his tracks. “Do not run away, coward! Answer me!”

“She’s—she’s not here anymore.” Is what Naoya manages to squeak, but Toji doesn’t need to be reminded the obvious.

“Where. Is. She.” He hisses, the worst of his assumptions slowly becoming a reality. “What have you done to her?!”

“What—what needed to be done!” Naoya gasps. “I—I couldn’t allow it!”

Toji doesn’t remember much after Naoya told him that the clan decided she was better off on her own—only that the heir was on the floor, bloodied and whimpering while attempting to cover his face, either trying to control the throbbing of his skin, the blood from spilling anywhere else, or perhaps even shame.

No. It couldn’t be the last. To have done something like what he did required a shameless man to do so.

Nonetheless Toji didn’t bother to find out nor to be reprimanded, quick to assert what needed to be done and heading out the estate; he couldn’t even bother cursing those that had done nothing but the worst after the worst, each time a new low, for his mind solely pertained in finding you.

It took him a while to do so, as expected, but he knew it was only a matter of asking around for a woman that simply didn’t fit to do the job—and such, here he is now.

“I want—needed to see you.” Toji takes a step closer.

“Get—get away from me.”

“No, I’m afraid I can’t do that.”

“You were fine doing that before—what’s so different from now?” You spat.

“This is different, Y/N. You’re alone—and you need me.”

“I’m not alone—I don’t need you.” You gasp. “Get away from me or I’ll—I’ll call the police!.”

“If you don’t need me, then the baby does.”

It’s like he struck a nerve with his words, because soon after tears would begin to fall down your cheeks, revealing that the sight you attempted to portray, the strength you so fiercely put up against him, was nothing but a façade, a way to hide the fact that indeed, you needed help.

Exhausted from facing all these uncertainties on your own, afraid.

But not anymore, not when Toji was here, more than willing to step in, as seen in the way he swiftly holds you in his arms when he sees you almost faint from distress, attempting to comfort you as you continued to cry.

“Get— get away from me…!” you’d say again, still fighting against his hold. However, he doesn’t fight it, he simply allows you to vent, taking in all the pain and hatred your heart harbored from the moment you were kicked out of the estate. “Don’t touch me!”

“I’m not leaving” Toji insists, he feels you trying to squirm your way out from him, but his strength doesn’t allow it. “You can struggle all you want, but I’m not leaving you on your own—”

“What difference does it make to you? Your family abandoned me to my luck! And even forced my family to do the same!” you breathe, Toji’s eyes widen—he did not know that; his fury for the Zen’in grows, but this is not the time to deal with that. “They don’t care if I die on the street!”

“I know.” He murmurs, holding you tighter against him.

“And I—And I tried my best to—to move on, but I can’t! I can’t do it!” you sob. “I’m so alone, and scared, and—and ashamed! I don’t want to live like this anymore!! I don’t want to die!”

“…I know.”

“Why—why is this happening to me?! All I ever wanted was for—was for Naoya to love me. I never wanted anything else! I never wanted money, I never wanted to hurt anyone either! I just—I just wanted to live a happy life with him, to make him happy!

But then he—he tossed me away, at one thing he didn’t like, he acted like I didn’t even matter! He didn’t even put up a fight to defend me! he just—he just let them hurt me, like what we had was—a lie!

 Did he never—did he even love me?”

Speechless, all Toji could do is continue holding you as you kept on pouring out your feelings, hearing the heart wrenching sound of your sobs that just kept reflecting how wounded you were by Naoya’s betrayal, the transgressions of his family, and the disappointment of yours.

And all because of something you didn’t even suggest in the first place. It was him who made his way into Naoya’s mind, and eventually, it was Naoya who pushed you into it, regardless of what happened later.

He wanted to do it; you know?

He wanted to go back there and murder them for all they’d done against you.

But when he left that place one last time, he promised he would stop thinking about himself, and start doing what is right—what was needed.

If Naoya wasn’t to step up and be a man, then he would.

Toji would gladly throw away his own pride, his own anger and thirst for vengeance, just to see you safe and happy once more.

Things your husband, could simply not—but he… he’d do it in a heartbeat.

“I promise you.” Toji would reassure you once carefully placing you down to the bed after tiring yourself from crying, followed by a gentle kiss on the top of your head.

 “I swear, Y/N— I will not let my family do the same things they’ve done to me to our child. Even if it costs me my life, I will do everything in my power to keep the two of you safe.”

And unlike your husband, he means it.

Yes, a second part is coming :) just gotta put this one out first hehe.

Anyways, it's not exactly what you asked but I think it's going there??? I mean Toji STEPPED UP and was like OK imma take care of my baby mama. also, here Naoya .I. put it where it fits. ugh, can't say we're done with him...

agihajkgksa I'm excited for what's to come, I haven't written this level of angst in a while!! oof!!!

Thank you so much for your patience and for sending this ask :> I'm super happy you've like my oneshot so much!! I hope you'll be able to like this too!!

Take care, and see you soon! ❤️❤️

#ask #toji x reader #jjk toji #naoya x reader #naoya zen'in #toji fic #toji fushiguro x reader #toji x you #jjk angst #toji zenin #naoya zenin x reader #naoya zenin x you #toji x y/n #prompt series: jujutsu kaisen

[daycourtofficial]

Personal update below

Tw: pregnancy loss, miscarriage, blood

Here it is, the words I’ve been unable to type, much less say out loud. Late in the night a few nights ago, I woke up to some abdominal cramping and went to the bathroom. I had been bleeding vaginally all day, but not enough to be super concerned.

I woke up and went to the bathroom, and knew something was wrong. To spare the details, I was bleeding a lot, cramping severely, and I knew my baby was gone. I felt empty inside, despite only being about 7 or 8 weeks pregnant. Intuition, I suppose. I just felt so lonely, as if I wasn’t supposed to be the only occupant in my body.

My husband took me to the hospital and after hours of invasive poking, prodding, and testing, a nurse practitioner I will likely never see again, who will likely never think of me again, told me that my baby was gone. He was straight forward, which I like in medical personnel. He told me my pregnancy was unviable and that it’s common. That we shouldn’t worry. These things happen. It’s normal, common. The three or so minutes felt like an eternity, waiting for him to leave so I could fall apart in the privacy of my husband’s arms, despite the lack of privacy an emergency department offers.

The hospital was so sterile, the bright lights and lack of windows made it impossible for you to track the passage of time. The winding hallways a maze of monotony, making it impossible to know how to return to your room without a guide. The walls were devoid of any real color, save for tv screens and workplace posters. And yet, the room I was placed in was the only room with decorative curtains. All the other curtains were just a shade of navy.

Mine had flowers on it, as if the world or God or the hospital wanted to offer me some reprieve, some reminder that for the hospital, this was routine, but that it wasn’t routine for me. That I deserved something for my eyes to find comfort in.

So here it is, the new reality I find myself in. My baby is gone. The rare statement that, once it becomes true, will never change.

I’m reeling a bit from this loss, as you can imagine. I’m gutted. I got married right at the beginning of the year, falling pregnant not long after. I joked with my husband that I started the year off becoming a wife and was ending the year becoming a mom. I suppose it really was just a joke in the end, but I’m not sure if the punchline was me or my continued optimism, in spite all that I’ve endured.

Anyway, everyone was extraordinarily kind to me when I had posted that I was pregnant. I know that technically I don’t owe anyone details of my personal life, especially not this personal, but I wanted to share it because I don’t want to be sad and alone. And perhaps this will find its way to someone else who has felt some loss recently, whether it be the loss of someone or something, or a loss of self or identity, or a loss of the future you had planned out. Maybe they will feel some connection to this. Or maybe one day someone will think of this as they reel with their own loss.

I don’t regret sharing the news so early, despite the circumstances that have now led me to making this post. Any joy we can find is worth sharing, even if it’s fleeting, especially if it’s fleeting, and even if it’s for some stranger on the internet.

Anyway, I have my dogs and my husband, who are very loving. I’m not sure when I’ll post this, I’ll likely stick it in my queue somewhere so it feels less like I’m hitting the ‘post’ button and more like softly whispering all of this in the wind.

I will be okay, I always am. Grief is a black hole I am trying navigate and figure out where it ends and I begin, trying to remember what my new life will be like and how to grieve yet another version of myself lost to time and trauma and sadness.

There is no narrative device here, nothing I did could’ve changed the outcome. Sometimes the world is just needlessly cruel.

This doesn’t really affect anything on here or what I choose to interact with. I’m still okay discussing/reading/writing about babies and kids and everything in that realm. I just didn’t want anyone asking after the baby and making someone feel bad for wanting to know how I was doing.

Anyway, I don’t want to end this on a despairing note, even though that is the tune of my life at the moment. I want to remember that my now is not my forever, and I hope anyone reading this that is experiencing any manner of suffering takes as much out of that sentiment as I do.

Yours,

V ❤️

#personal note

[robogart]

Finances/student loan vent?

Tried to reach out about my student loans to the private loan company they’re through to see if I could lower the monthly payments at all since I’m having trouble with the $375 lately and they were basically like “you can go on forbearance (they call it extension and seem to lump it as just general deferment) but it will accrue interest and you might have to pay more after anyways 😝 and I’m just like…bike accident pose wtf ; w ;

I know so many people have student loan debt in the country but in my immediate circles I’m the only person I know who has it and I just feel like a big idiot? Like I signed the “Want To Be An Indebted Fool” contract at 17. Like everyone I know has parents who paid for everything and it’s just like.. damn… I know it’s no one’s fault but the systems but I can’t help but feel like I’m constantly doing everything wrong 😔

I’ll figure it out somehow and I know a lot of it is a combination of many things happening in my life right now but yeesh! I tried to watch that Financial Diet YouTube a couple friends have told me about but like..it’s not really relatable to my financial circumstances so it feels hard to take notes? And I end up feeling stupid again lmao - this vicious capitalist cycle! 😤

If I had nicer feet I’d sell pictures but damn even that market is hard to break into unless you do something niche! Saucy pictures are such a tough thing to navigate too 😮‍💨

Aghhh anyways! Just grumbling and trying to figure things out!! I’m just feeling a bit lost and stressed over it all 🤧 trying to figure out so many work/career things too woof it’s been a pretty stressful new year @ w @

If anyone has financial advice/youtubers/blogs/etc for low income people with debt that you find helpful, I’d love to hear about it 🙏💖 or like a super rich family member who wants to give like 38k away bc they’re bored? Let me know! 👀✨

#vent post #delete later? #long ramble sorry babes! just stressy spaghetti

[stayinlimbo]

We Become We

pairing: husband!lee minho x reader genre/warnings: friends to lovers, marriage of convenience, fluff, poor attempts at my trying to be funny, mc's gender is not specified word count: 1.02k note:  i am not dead yay. i tried my best since i haven't had time to write for almost a month so please take this as a peace offering ♡

Marriage. It’s an interesting concept, isn’t it? 

You’ve always thought so, at least. Two people agreeing to sign a legal document and tethering their lives to each other for whatever reason, be it love, societal expectations, familial pressure, financial security, etc. 

Yours happens to be a man named Lee Minho. The same man you’ve been friends with for as long as you can remember. The same man who asked you to marry him for a reason you didn’t get to learn until he was already down on one knee. 

(“I’m sorry, you want me to WHAT?” “Marry me. Please, I need health insurance.”

“Okay, yes, sure, whatever; now please get off the floor. People are staring.”)

Lee Minho, who, after dragging you to the courthouse and legally becoming your husband, finally elaborated on how his job would pay him more and cover both of your health insurances if he was married. So really, in his words, he was “doing you a huge favor” by marrying you. 

And, in all honesty, he really was. No, you didn’t have a ring to show off your new husband’s weird skill at finding loopholes in company policy, and you’re like thirty-five percent sure the two of you are committing some kind of marriage fraud, but does it really matter when you can finally start using the hot water in your dingy apartment without worrying if you’ll have enough money to fund your crippling caffeine addiction? The government will have to drag you kicking and screaming before you resort back to mankind’s cruelest form of torture: cold showers. 

Not to mention that marriage didn’t even change your relationship with Minho. And why would it? You’re still you, and he’s still him. He gets on your nerves just the same, maybe even a little bit more after he decided to frame your marriage certificate in his living room and send a photo to all your mutual friends. You’ll never forgive Minho for laughing at your helplessly panicked state when the group chat wouldn’t stop exploding with messages and incessant calls. 

You’re still his best friend that resides in his apartment four out of seven days of the week while he inhabits yours for the other three. Maybe that’s why, two weeks after your “wedding,” when it was time to renew your lease, Minho suggested with a simple shrug of his shoulders that you move in with him since “you’re here all the time anyway.” 

You’ve really got to learn how to say no to him because now you wake up next to your best friend/roommate/husband in his one bedroom, one bathroom apartment at the crack of dawn with a light pressure on your chest and fur in your face when his cats decide you need to wake up right now to feed them. 

Not to say you don’t like the new arrangement! No, that would be the furthest from the truth. 

Sure, you didn’t appreciate your skin care routine being interrupted by the unexpectedly high-pitched scream Minho let out when he saw you in a face mask for the first time, and what kind of person still has their phone’s brightness turned up all the way before bed? But who else would willingly tolerate your deliriousness before your morning coffee or indulge in your pleas to cook your favorite food three days in a row? 

Living with Minho has only made the purely platonic feelings you harbor for him grow stronger.

That’s what the fluttering in your chest means every time you see him, right? The reason for the smile that grows on your face when you hear the distinct jingling of keys at the front door?

Yeah, that must be why heat spread across your cheeks when he handed you his phone to text one of his friends back, because since when did the heart emoji make an appearance next to your pinned contact name?

You just care about each other, that’s all. It’s normal to want to make sure he arrived at work safely and ask how his day is going during your lunch breaks. It’s normal to start receiving back hugs before bed—a comforting weight as Minho’s chin rests on your shoulder while you apply the rest of the products to your face. 

It’s natural to have doubts about the nature of your relationship during an evening walk, acutely aware of his fingers lightly brushing against yours as you silently study his features illuminated by the soft glow of the scattered streetlights. What if he meets someone else and falls in love with them and wants a divorce and– oh. 

Has he always looked at you like that? With his gaze softening as it locks with yours? With the corners of lips lifting into the gentlest smile you’ve ever seen? With all the stars shining above you finding a second home in his eyes? A look so loving that it takes your breath away and you can’t tell if you’re about to laugh or cry in relief. 

And when you return home to get ready for bed, the familiar feeling of hands wrapping around your waist and a careful pressure resting by the crook of your neck quells the remnants of your worries.

It’s you and Minho. Minho and you, just as it always has been. Just as it’s always meant to be.

The distance between your bodies on the bed becomes nonexistent when you curl yourself into his side, laying your head on his shoulder and intertwining your legs with his as he immediately, unhesitantly, adjusts his arm, his fingertips finding purchase on exposed skin and roaming across the span of your back. A kiss to the top of your head is the last thing you feel before the gentle lull of breathing and the rise and fall of his chest begin to soothe you to sleep. 

…

Ah, marriage—what an interesting concept. Two people agreeing to sign a legal document and tethering their lives to each other for whatever reason, be it love, societal expectations, familial pressure, financial security, etc. 

You love your husband, and you’re beginning to think he loves you too. 

liked this work? want to let me know how i did? please like, comment, and/or reblog; they are greatly appreciated my asks are always open ♡

taglist: @linospuddin @linocz @spicyhyunn

#lee know x reader #lee minho x reader #lee know #lee minho #skz x reader #lee know fluff #lee know scenarios #lee know imagines #lee minho imagines #stray kids x reader #stray kids lee minho #stray kids lee know #stray kids scenarios #stray kids imagines #stray kids #stray kids fluff #stray kids fic #skz #kpop imagines #skz scenarios #skz fluff #lee minho x y/n #lee minho x you #stray kids x you #lee know x you #lee know x y/n #stayinlimbo

[bellewintersroe]

Band of Brothers hc request where nurse!reader can’t sleep because of all the injuries piling up/feeling guilty about not doing more?

Thank you for the request anon! <3 mentions of grief, wounds, reader is overworked and ur man takes care of you, mainly fluff.

Easy Company x Nurse!Reader Headcanons

Eugene Roe:

I can imagine Gene’s on duty and he see’s you again, still working late into the night, despite him knowing you were on shift before 7am.

The long days were brutal, Eugene knew that. The urge to help out in anyway possible and feel guilt for resting was something he combatted heavily, especially throughout Bastogne.

But nobody can work effectively when they’re running off four hours sleep.

You and Eugene are close, you’re not in a relationship but there’s feelings there that probably go unspoken until the end of the war. So he feels comfortable enough to approach you.

When you accidentally knock into a tray of surgical and medical items and your breathing deeply, hands running over your forehead - he knows you’re too overworked.

“Y/n.” He steps closer. “Get off duty and go to bed.” Gene would borderline sass.

“I’m fine, Gene.” You’d shake him off, snapping from the irritability of exhaustion.

Gene would cover your hand before you had chance to tidy the tray of equipment you’d just messed up. Finally, you’d look at him now.

“Seriously, you ain’t gonna be anymore help running off no sleep.”

You’d feel a little guilty, knowing your tiredness was potentially messing things up, but you couldn’t give up.

“I can’t sleep, Gene, I feel too bad that I’ve got a warm bed and half these men are sleeping on the floor.” You’d finally admit.

“You gotta try, hm?” Ugh his voice would be so low gentle, he’s so careful not to alarm or engage anybody else in the conversation, and the way he’s holding your hand is distracting.

Anyway, he’s too convincing and soon he’s walking you back with a hand in yours, a little saddened by how clearly overworked you are.

“If anything happens you’ll come get me, right?” You’d worry and Gene would offer you a small smile. “Nothin’s gonna happen.”

But anyway he practically forces you to go to bed and by no surprise you’re passed out within minutes of hitting the pillow.

Gene probably comes back to check up on you a few hours later and he’s soo relieved that you’re fast asleep 🥹.

Ron Speirs:

This mf does not mess around, especially when it comes to you.

You and Ron are already in a relationship by the time you’re at Germany, you’re an amazing comfort to one another and Ron’s already thinking about popping the question by the time they get somewhere nicer.

Anyway, when you’re working tirelessly to take care of the poor victims of the camp, you don’t get back until early hours of the morning, eyes circled with dark bags, legs barely functioning.

The next morning Ron see’s you up early asf, so he asks around to see what time you were back last night. When you don’t return from the infirmary until super late the next day, he’s kinda annoyed.

Not annoyed at you really, he just worries for you.

“What time did you get back last night?” He calls you into his office and for a minute you’re actually intimidated by him, skskskksksle.

You’d attempt to lie that it wasn’t that bad but Speirs would just nod with a knowing expression on his face.

“You’re off duty tomorrow.” He’d simply say and your heart would plummet.

“Ron, no!” You’d immediately plead, the guilt building up.

“I can’t have an exhausted nurse running around, that’s no help to anybody.”

“Then do it for me, personally. I can’t sleep knowing all those people are still in there.”

Ron would inhale, feeling a little worried knowing why you’re feeling that way. He’d secretly inform you that you’re moving out tomorrow anyway, speaking so quietly.

Also secretly brings you up to his private room, the fact you have a night off together is overwhelmingly nice and if you can’t sleep Ron’s doing anything possible to help you.

Talking would be the first thing, you’d discuss everything. He’d 100% be cuddly asf after not being able to relax around you for a while, he’d offer you a massage and then if that didn’t work he’s tiring you out even more using other methods… do with that as you please.

Joe Liebgott:

I can deffo imagine him being a little wise ass about it at first. The two of you are close friends, wanting to be something more, and the way Joe expresses it is through teasing you.

Like you’re sitting on the edge of the nurses foxhole, just staring into blank space.

“Jesus, are ya even alive?” Waves in front of your face, half expecting you to crack a smile like you always do.

You’d probably mutter something back to him, snapping and blinking back down to your gloved hands. You’re just waiting for another cry out for help.

“God, you are cranky when you’re tired, huh?!” He watches you stand up with a sigh, glancing around the area to go check up on everyone.

“Where ya going?” He’s a little disappointed and confused, he saw you patrolling around only moments prior.

Anyway when you think of some excuse he’s pulling you back down into the foxhole, climbing in with you.

Kinda confronts you about how you haven’t been sleeping and practically wraps two of the spare blankets around you.

“Stay warm, okay? Talk to me, y/n/n, why can’t ya sleep?” He knows why you can’t sleep, but he’s so caring, even when he doesn’t mean to, Joe naturally falls into the role of sometimes nurturing other people. The perks of having younger siblings, huh?

When you’d explain that there’s too many wounded men back in town to even know where to start, and that you feel too guilty to sleep when all the others need checking up on out here he’s tutting and wrapping an arm around you.

“C’mere. How ya gonna treat anybody when you’re running off no sleep? You’ll get all jumpy and pass out- that’s the last we need, isn’t it, doll?”

“Yeah…”

“Try get some sleep, huh? I’ll stay, as long as nobody finds me here.” Technically being in a foxhole together wasn’t allowed, but the mutual comfort you gained from one another was unexplainable. Plus, Joe didn’t want you creeping up and sneaking away when you had to rest.

When you are asleep and he has to go, he presses the most gentle kiss to your temple, hesitantly climbing back out and telling all the men nearby to shut the hell up.

Bill Guarnere:

“Now when I heard about a lady out here refusin’ to get some shut eye, I didn’t realise it wa’ you.” Bill would smooth a hand up your back as you’d sigh, melting into his touch as he climbed onto the single bunk with you.

“They had to kick you outta’ the infirmary?” Bill doesn’t know if he’s impressed or concerned by your determination out here. Ever since landing you’ve been overwhelmingly busy, he’s glad to see you in bed. He’s not glad to see you awake, however.

“Pretty much.” You’d mutter, turning around to wrap an arm over his lap as he rested with his back against the headboard.

Bill would let you sink completely into his hold, hoping if anything the comfort of having one another would let you sleep.

Bill knows exactly why you can’t sleep, he knows you better than anybody, the guilt, the desperation to make sure everybody is okay. It doesn’t really need to be spoken about.

“Try get some sleep, yeah? I’ll stay as long as I can until those others get back, ok?”

Shifty Powers:

When he rolls over to you in the middle of the night and see’s you awake again he’s reaching over for you instantly.

“What’ya thinkin’ about, hm?” He’d mutter, gazing over your frustrated complexion.

“I should be down there.”

“Where?”

“At the infirmary.”

Now in Germany, it was more civilian injuries you were treating, especially when a building collapses and you’re absolutely swamped with causalities. After hours upon hours of being run off your feet you’re sent off duty, but your brain won’t shut off.

“Last I checked they had it under control.” Shifty would mutter, running a thumb over your creased brow until you relaxed. “If ya running around any longer you ain’t gonna be able to tomorrow.”

Ugh he’d be so soft and reassuring, there’s not a chance you’re leaving the bed however- he makes sure of that.

Dick Winters:

“Y/n, where are you going?” Dick has one eye open in his foxhole when he see’s you creeping past, arms huddled around your chest and scarf wrapped around your head.

Dammit, you thought he’d be asleep.

“Uh, just going to help out, Di- sir.” Although you had both been seeing one another, nothing had occurred out at war so it was extremely professional to maintain professionalism with one another.

“You’ve been there all day.” He’d sit up straighter, both your teeth chattering practically back to one another.

“I-I can’t sleep, sir. There’s so much to do.”

“If you don’t sleep you’ll be no help at all.” He’d remind, a very nice way of saying ‘get the hell back into your foxhole’.

“I know but. I can’t sleep. I feel too guilty.”

“Well we need a nurse out on these lines. Anybody needs you I’ll come get you, alright?” Dick is so understanding and makes you feel less guilty & more important at the same time. He’s so emotionally intelligent.

He walks you back to your foxhole, with a gentle squeeze of your hand he leaves you with a reminder that he’s still there.

He sure as hell isn’t waking you up however.

Babe Heffron:

“Hey get back into bed, would ya?” Babe would be on patrol and see you sneaking back to the aid station, walking alone through Haguenau.

He’d catch you red handed, sneaking over through the concealment of the darkness.

“And what’a’ya doin out here alone, huh?” He wouldn’t be happy, he practically had to force you to go to bed initially, and now you were sneaking out a mere 2 hours later.

“They need my help, Babe.”

“Did they tell ya that personally?” He gets kinda sassy ok, he’s a little annoyed cos he only wants the best for you, but the second he see’s you starting to get upset or blubbering he softens.

“Aw no, c’mere, I didn’t mean to upset ya!” Fuck patrolling, he’s pulling you aside and giving you a cuddle.

When you tell him what’s up he’s reminding you of every single accomplishment, big or small you’ve completed- and just how helpful you are and how everybody loves& appreciates you.

I think Babe is accidentally good with his words in certain situations, even if he’s a little flustered and worried for you, it’s his kindness and reassurance that has you eventually knocked out in bed again.

#band of brothers headcannons #band of brothers x reader #band of brothers #eugene roe x reader smut #ron speirs headcannons #ron speirs x reader #liebgott x reader #joe liebgott x reader #bill guarnere x reader #shifty powers x reader #dick winters x reader #babe heffron x reader

[marvelfanfics1]

Pairing: daddy!john b x little!reader x papa!jj

Warnings: age regression, some cursing

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ♡ ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

You were standing before the entrance of the country club, hands shaking and tears forming in your eyes while you call John B, anxiously waiting for him to pick up.

Just seconds later you hear him on the other line. "Hey baby..." He trails off, waving JJ over to him as he hears you starting to sob instantly. He puts you on speaker, trying to calm you down. "Baby, breathe. Are you hurt?"

"N-No..." You sniffle and both boys sigh in relief.

"Okay, can you tell me what's going on?" He asks, JJ pulling his hat off while pacing back and forth, desperate to know what or who made his girl upset.

"I-I was servin' one of the guests and-and he was bein' weird and tw- tried to touch me! I was bein' nice and told him not to...b-but later my boss came to me and fired me bee! Didn't do anythin' wrong-" You sob, hoping nobody hears you right now and he could hear your speech slurring a little and knows you're fighting to not slip in public.

"Mother-" JJ starts and John B gives him a warning glare, sending him off to get the keys for the Twinkie.

"It's okay, bun. Where are you right now?" He sounds calm but also he was boiling with anger, knowing that creep probably told your boss some shit, threatened or bribed him to fire you just because you told him no.

"M'outside before the entrance..."

"Alright, stay there. Me and papa are on our way, 'kay?" You didn't answer but John B knows you were nodding your head.

As soon as JJ was sure you weren't on the phone he started cursing and ranting while getting in the drivers side of the van. "I swear- imma beat the shit outta that asshole. How dare he? Fucking kooks-"

John B tunes him out, more focused on texting you to make sure you're alright and keeps you updated on how far away they are.

Soon enough they spot you standing before the country club, hugging yourself sadly. John B quickly goes to the back and slides the door open, jumping out to embrace you.

He scoops you up, getting back in the Twinkie he slides the door close before sitting down and cradles you in his arms. He brushes the strains of hair that stuck to your wet cheeks to the side, looking down at you with a comforting smile.

"M'sorry-" your bottom lip quivers and you went to hide your face in his chest.

"Hey, you don't have to be sorry at all. It's not your fault, okay? Neither of us are mad at you." He assures you, wiping the one tear from your cheek that slipped. "Right, JJ?"

"Huh- oh hell yea! We're proud of you for standin' up for yourself, cupcake. If something like that ever happens again you have my full permission to slap that person." JJ says catching you smiling a little through the rearview mirror, giving you a wink.

John B just rolls his eyes but doesn't say anything as your giggling at JJ's antics was better than seeing you cry. As much as he's the more responsible one he can't deny that he wishes you spat in that creeps face. Anyway, it was a shit job either way.

Maybe he can talk to Mr. Heyward about giving you a mini job.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ♡ ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

Taglist

For everything:

@my-river-lilly @pauntedblacknails @fanfictioniseverything @devilslilbabysblog @buckymydarlingangel @hallecarey1 @daybreakwinter @loveshineslikethesky @wandaslittlewhore @vase-of-lilies @white-wolf1940 @simpingbutch @mischiefsemimanaged @alina02 @teddybearsgrr @doozywoozy @angelbabydoll28 @glxwingrxse @lilymurphy03 @veryvaughnny @lokigirlszendaya @youngstarfishdinosaur @little--baby--bear @minideathgoddess @rach2602 @aagn360 @gh0stgurl @flourishandblotts-inc @fluffyblanketgecko @lovelyy-moonlight @yoruse @kissforvoid

For JJ:

@chiaraanatra

#little!reader #daddy!john b thoughts #papa!jj thoughts

[bibibbon]

MHA CH 421 rambles

Ok so this was a chapter ok. Iam personally not a fan of what happend here but you do you.

I hated AFO's little monologue. introspection thingy and to be honest sukuna does it better. Look Iam critical of both jjk and MHA as they fail in their own aspects on certain things but dam I couldn't care less for AFO and his monologue I seriously couldn't. Yoichi as already dead and if AFO's goal was to be a supervillain from a comic and to reunite with yoichi then why not just idk get the doctor to do it for him or just die to reunite with AFO 🤷‍♀️. His whole thing about tragedy making people stronger or him not feeling anything didn't even hit well because his development sucks and him coming back feels repetitive anyway

Sero getting to respond to the things about tragedy felt so underwhelming I didn't like it. Sero throughout the whole and entire series lacked any screentime and development for him to be getting a big moment that should be given to another character feels like a horrible move. We seriously don't know of anything that has affected sero aka hurt him directly in the manga (aka something just him) so it all feels underwhelming and disappointing. Unironically, I feel like sero should of been one of those characters who left the story or just stayed as a minor character because hori is trying to develop and give him importance way too late into the story.

Where is inko?!?!?! So we see everyone heck we see the civilians, gran Torino, Kota and Eri all comment and hope for izuku to do something but inko his own mother isn't present. Now this probably means something bad is happening or will happen to inko but if nothing happens and she isn't present then dam classic neglectful inko strikes again ig or if they make it a gag that she fainted out of stress i will just hate it even more

I hate that this is something out of the endgame and if hori was trying to be like gege by making everyone join it felt rubbish. Iam not a fan and I mean it I HATE the whole everyone joining in to fight AFO together type thing and I just do. To me it's Izuku's time to shine and people take down villains and do their jobs in other areas at this point everyone is doing more damage to AFO than Izuku who hasn't even landed a hit on izuku. Also why is it that character like Todorokis who have had their big moments here?!?!? It seems like this is a fight where hori is trying to make everyone have a moment before Izuku lands the final hit which doesn't sit right with me. Like there are characters here who have already had their moments like jirou, camie, yuuga, asui, mina and way more but they're here to ... Assist in the fight have another big moment and make AFO more of a potato character then a proper scary villain

present mic is back which I love. One of the good things is that present mic is alive, it's good to have confirmation of that

Even though I think erasers writing is heavily flawed at least someone is holding Izuku. At least izuku is getting something , some comfort out here at least someone is holding him but dam this seems like a disservice all of this seems like a disservice to izuku. Like I wonder do the civilians feel guilty does anyone feel sad or guilty for having this 16 year old child fight something way bigger than him in the name of peace and other peoples safety?

I think the whole thing with Izuku getting that guy's shirt is rubbish and underwhelming. It just doesn't sit right with me, that guy's shirt would of probably been dirty as hell considering it's the only thing we have seen him wearing. Like @mikeellee told me it would of been more impactful if the shirt was given to izuku and that guy had a healing quirk or helped izuku more directly. Now I get that this is supposed to make the guy more likable and show that he ahs developed which we can see and dam hori can actually give some decent development when he wants to but it all falls flat and doesn't do much for me. Also I have seen someone say that izuku wearing this shirt and it covering his upper half is showing how he is losing his ability to be a hero and dam that breaks me.

I can't with the Izuku running to the battlefield and the parallels kill me (we haven't really developed/moved on from chapter one considering the story just loops around itself). Izuku running towards danger quirkless thinking that it's his job because people who were supposed to help and protect him failed. Izuku now quirkless with only the tiny and fading embers of OFA thinning trying to defeat OFA with the damage of kudos quirk still effecting him. All of this to protect others to help them something he never got during the past. This fight will probably parallel all might but all of this happening and I feel nothing all of it falls flat and I feel bad for izuku that's it.

It was a chapter and considering how I hated previous writing decisions I was also gonna hate on the developed/expanded writing decisions either way

#mha critical #bnha critical #mha #hori is a bad writer #horikoshi critical #izuku deserves better #bhna critical #bnha #mha 421 #bnha 421

[absolutelybifurious]

no one follows me from the 911 fandom so i feel mostly safe in whining to the abyss about this, so like i feel bad for not caring as much about buck's bi rep at face value... i can appreciate that buck - as a stereotypically masculine guy, who is for all intents and purposes the main character of a procedural prime time show - coming out as bi is a big deal, and i appreciated the set up with tommy. it was fun/fine. as a bi person, as someone who wants the world to get better - it makes me happy in an intellectual sense.

but for me, as a viewer of 911 the show - i don't really care. emotionally, in the context of the story it didn't do anything for me. tommy is (mostly) a random guy who showed up and buck realizes he's bi and now they're dating, but there's nothing to draw on earlier - and if it's a stepping stone, then i'll love it wholeheartedly in hindsight but if buddie doesn't happen - i just don't quite know how to feel other than like, detachedly glad we got a queer relationship for someone like buck.

and full disclosure, i wholeheartedly admit to being an eddie girlie, but even if eddie had gotten the storyline with tommy - i don't think i would've had a super strong reaction?

like yeah, i appreciate rep and of course it matters, but what would feel revolutionary for me is to take this relationship thats been implicitly on screen - to basically look at all these queer fans and be like, okay, yeah, you were right. all this subtext you've seen in a dozen other mlm ships over the years is valid. you aren't crazy and it's not gross or weird to make it REAL. you aren't rabid. (not counting the people who send weird hate to women actors just trying to do their jobs) and god - more than that, i'm just here for the fuckin STORY of it. tommy is fine. lou is lovely and i'm plenty interested to see where the buck and tommy train goes, but i don't have investment in it, not significant investment anyway, and i don't think i will? i mean, we're 7 seasons in. i can't get all in with tommy and buck at this point, i've been frothing at the mouth for another ship. and you brought me THIS close just to swerve at the last second.

so while i get that canonizing buck as bi is a big deal - it is always going to feel hollow for me personally because the story is what i'm here for. the relationship. the depth of it. and tbh i just want to see something beautiful and unintentional building in the background and have it fuckin happen for onceeee.

just sometimes i feel like i'm missing something, because i see the like... level of reaction some people have just to the bi-ness of it, and for me - if there's not a satisfying story, then, i don't have many emotions about it. i've gotten plenty of bi characters over the years, and very few of them felt fully actualized in the story being told around them.

#buddie #911 #i don't wanna tag this as too many things bc i feel like ppl would hate it and #i'm not out here trying to ruin anyones good time #but also its kinda something i wonder if other people feel #or if i'm just weird #911 abc