#shes really struggling with her right now

[harunayuuka2060]

Twst Unveil Event Part 5

Leona: Congrats. Ruggie sent me the video of your first match.

Leona: You really beat the shit out of that crocodile.

Yuurin: Thank you, Leona-senpai.

Leona: Was falling off the cliff necessary, though? *in a bit worried tone*

Yuurin: ...

Yuurin: I'll be more careful.

Leona: Tch. Like you would listen.

Leona: Anyway, who's going to be your next opponent?

Yuurin: Floyd Leech.

Leona: Oh really? *clicks his tongue*

Leona: I heard they get to choose the place?

Yuurin: Yes.

Leona: ...

Leona: I'm hanging up now.

Yuurin: Will you be calling Ruggie-senpai and Jack after this?

Leona: ...

Leona: No. *ends the call*

Yuurin: ...

*Meanwhile*

Leona: Oi, Ruggie!

Ruggie: Geez, Leona! What now?!

Leona: You better show Yuurin's fight to me on real-time or I'm gonna turn your ass to sand!

Ruggie: Okay, okay! I just got too excited so I forgot to video call you!

Jack: ...

Jack: I thought you did it on purpose because you didn't want to be bothered?

Ruggie: ...

Leona: Ruggie.

Ruggie: He was just joking!

Ruggie: Back me up here, Jack!

Philomela: Introducing our contenders for the second match: Yuurin and Floyd Leech!

Floyd: Yaaaaay~!

Yuurin: ...

Silver: Everyone seems excited for this second match.

Rook: Oui. That is no surprise.

Rook: After all, Monsieur Malfeasant has considered everything for this. *chuckles*

Floyd: Ne~ Damselfish~.

Yuurin: ?

Floyd: I won't underestimate you like Crocodile did~.

Yuurin: ...

Yuurin: I know that, senpai.

Floyd: Hehe~ I'll enjoy fighting with you~.

Floyd: Please do your best~.

Yuurin: ...

Philomela: I'm sending you now to your designated location!

Philomela: Good luck! *laughs*

*In an underwater cavern*

Epel: Wha— Why?!

Malleus: This is going to be challenging for Yuurin.

Jade: Indeed. *chuckles* Floyd chose the right place.

Jack and Ruggie: ...

Ruggie: Hey, Philomela. Can Yuurin see effectively in the dark?

Philomela: *laughs* Of course not! He's not nocturnal!

Jack and Ruggie: !!!

Jack: Then Yuurin is in a great disadvantage!

Philomela: The greater the challenge, the more excitement we'll get!

Epel: Wow... You don't care about Yuurin's safety, do you?

Sebek: She is his mentor. She knows what she's doing.

Yuurin: ...

Floyd: *who has concealed himself by hiding behind a rock* *smirks while he slowly approaches from behind*

Yuurin: ...

Floyd: Heh~ *kicks Yuurin into the water*

Yuurin: !!!

Yuurin: *finds herself being submerged in it, with Floyd pushing her to the bottom*

Floyd: HEHE~!

Epel, Malleus, Sebek, Jack, and Ruggie: !!!

Epel: He's drowning him!

Jade: *smirks*

Sebek: Dammit, human! Why are you allowing him to push you around?!

Philomela: *amused smile*

Floyd: We're at the rock bottom now, Damselfish~.

Yuurin: *who couldn't read his lips because of the darkness*

Yuurin: *feels the rocky surface underneath her feet*

Yuurin: *grabs his arms, maneuvers herself so that he's positioned over her shoulder, and then forcefully slams him down onto the rock*

Floyd: Oof—

Yuurin: *quickly swims back up to create distance*

Epel: Yes! Go, Yuurin!

Jack: Floyd-senpai is after him!

Floyd: Don't escape from me, Damselfish~. *has caught up to her*

Floyd: *goes behind her and starts to perform a Full Nelson Hold; even coiling his tail around her waist*

Floyd: Damselfish~ How are you feeling now~? *squeezing her tight*

Malleus: Is Leech attempting to deprive him of oxygen?

Jade: Yes. We're fully aware that Yuurin can stay underwater for 30 minutes.

Jade: However, will it be the same if he's being squeezed tight like that? *smirks*

Epel, Jack, Ruggie, and Sebek: ...

Philomela: Impressive tactic, yes. Anyone would have to tap out in that situation.

Philomela: Though, are you seeing Yuurin struggle for air?

Jade: Huh?

Yuurin: ...

Yuurin: *starts blowing bubbles*

Floyd: That's right, Damselfish~. Let all your air out~.

Yuurin: *starts to bend her body upward*

Floyd: Eh?

Yuurin: *while continuously blowing bubbles*

Floyd: Eh? EH?

Floyd: *not realizing that he fails to maintain the hold as he finds her actions amusing*

Jade: Oh no. This is bad.

Floyd: Hehehe~! This if fun, Damselfish—

Yuurin: *has sneaked behind him while he was distracted; wrapping her arms around his torso* *then starts squeezing him "tight"*

Floyd: AHHH!!!!

Jade: ...

Philomela: *loudly laughs* Ah, yes! Return the favor, Yuurin!

Epel: D-Does that really hurt?

Malleus: Lilia mentioned to me once that Yuurin can break a steel in half with his bare hands.

Jack: Huh?

Sebek: ...

Sebek: *remembers the handcuffs*

Sebek: Yes... That's right...

Philomela: Yes! YES!!! SQUEEZE HIM TIGHTER, YUURIN!

Floyd: *ends up fainting underwater and Yuurin has to bring him to the surface with her*

Yuurin: ...

Yuurin: Floyd-senpai.

Philomela: He's out cold, Yuurin! Let him be! *laughs*

Yuurin: I see.

Yuurin: ...

Yuurin: *lightly smacks his face to confirm*

Jade: ...

Jade: Well, that was an entertaining match.

Ruggie: ...

Ruggie: Yeah...

Leona: ...

Leona: I'm going there right now.

Ruggie: Huh? What? *completely forgot about him*

Ruggie: Leona—

*Leona has ended the video call.*

Ruggie: Ah, shit. We're screwed.

Jack: He was watching the whole time?

Ruggie: Yeah. Remember he asked to watch it in real-time?

Ruggie: He was silent the entire time so I thought he dozed off...

Jack: ...

Floyd: *once he regained consciousness*

Floyd: I can't believe you would use my own move against me~ Hehehe~.

Floyd: I should've taken you more seriously~. Sorry about that, damselfish~.

Yuurin: ...

Yuurin: You managed to leave bruises on my body.

Floyd: Where?

Yuurin: *shows him the side of her waist*

Floyd: Eh~ That's the only injury you've got~?

Yuurin: Yes.

Floyd: Hehe~ That's fine~. You'll be treated anyway~.

Yuurin: No. I won't be treated until all of the matches are over.

Floyd: Oh... So you're going to carry that injury then?

Yuurin: *nods*

Floyd: Aww... Okay. Let me give you hug to make you feel better~.

Yuurin: No, thank you.

Floyd: But you hugged me earlier~.

Yuurin: That wasn't to comfort you.

Floyd: Hehe~ Fair enough~.

Silver: Yuurin is really strong.

Rook: Oui! *chuckles* I can't wait for my turn to fight Monsieur Tranquille!

Silver: ...

Silver: It's my turn next.

Silver: I will give my best.

Rook: I know you will, Monsieur Sleepyhead!

#twisted wonderland #twst yuurin #twst floyd #twst silver #twst rook #twst sebek #twst leona #twst ruggie #twst jack #twst epel #twst jade #twst malleus #twst oc philomela #twst unveil event

[ktgoodmorning]

You'll be okay

Alexia Putellas x reader

Part 4 to that awkward smile

You struggle with your concussion recovery but Alexia's there to help you.

A short little one to finish up this series!

I Part 1 I Part 2 I Part 3 I

Masterlist

The morning after your concussion, you were woken up by the intense pounding in your head, just as bad as it was when you first went down on the pitch. The pain meds given to you by the physios had apparently worn off and now it was catching up with you. You instinctively had buried your face in your pillow as if it could make it all better, letting out a whiny sob that you had fought so hard to hold in. Your girlfriend was a light sleeper and was always even worse after a game day, that combined with your injury, had her barely sleeping at all that night, instantly awake as soon as you made a sound. 

You didn’t notice her wake up until you felt her hand gently running up and down your back as you cried into your pillow. Of course the crying only increased your pain but at this point you couldn’t stop. “Amor, I’ve got you, okay? You’ll be alright.” Her voice was rough from sleep, normally something that would leave you instantly distracted from whatever was going on in your mind, but not able to overcome the pain you were currently feeling, causing you to cry even harder. 

Alexia must have realized that your sudden increase in pain was due to your medication wearing off, as she quickly tried to get up to get you another dose, only being stopped by your tight grip on her t-shirt. “Don’t go, I need you.” It broke her heart to hear the way you cried for her, showing a side of you that she hadn’t seen for many years. 

“I’m just going to get you some more pain meds, I’ll be right back, I promise. I really think it’ll help, okay?” You didn’t really respond, just lightening the hold you had on her shirt so that she could get up while you continued to sob hard in complete agony. 

It felt like ages even though it couldn’t have been more than a few minutes until your girlfriend returned to your side, water bottle in one hand, medication bottle in the other. At this point you had only spiraled further, gasping for breath as you continued to make yourself feel worse and worse. Alexia knew you were struggling but had no idea how bad it was until she saw you now, somehow even more worked up than when she left you just a few minutes before. “Hey, hey, it’s me. You’re okay, you’re gonna be just fine.” She pulled you over so your head was laying on her lap, allowing her to run her fingers through your hair and try to calm you down. “See if you can take a deep breath for me, I’ve got you now.” 

“I- I can’t-” You continued to gasp for breath, only freaking yourself out more and causing you to start shaking your head quickly, as if you could almost will it all to go away. 

“Hey, don’t do that you’ll hurt yourself, amor. It’s okay, it’s okay, just look at me.” You finally opened your eyes, the first attempt you had made at calming down. “There you go, you’re doing so good. See if you can breathe with me.” The blonde held eye contact with you, taking exaggerated deep breaths in hopes that you would follow her. Her one hand remained on the side of your face, gently stroking it with her thumb, while her other hand laced her fingers with yours, letting you squeeze it as hard as you wanted to help cope with the pain. 

After a few minutes, your breathing had slowed significantly, returning to quiet cries. The second you had slightly calmed, Alexia helped you sit up so you could take your meds, trying to get them in your system as soon as possible. She had never seen you so broken before, and it had left her unsure of just how to help you, especially as she watched you continue to cry, completely helpless. “How can I help you, amor?” Her voice was much softer than you had heard from her before, filled with uncertainty once again. 

“Can you just hold me please and tell me it’ll be okay?” Your girlfriend immediately opened her arms to allow you to collapse into her chest as you still continued to cry, breaking her heart even further over your reaction. 

“You’ll be okay, mi amor. Your head will start feeling better any minute now when your meds kick in. The doctors said, this is the worst of it, remember? It’ll only get better from here, and I’m not going anywhere, I’ve got you.” She rocked you slightly, just saying anything she could think of to make you feel better. 

“It hurts, Ale.” You whimpered into her shoulder yet again as she held you tightly. 

“I know, amor, I know. But it’ll get better, you’ll be okay. Let’s see if you can fall back asleep for a while, I think it’ll help.” You gave her a slight nod, but started to climb off her lap and back to your side of the bed, causing Alexia to scrunch up her eyebrows in confusion. “What are you-” 

“Ale, I woke you up. I know you’d rather get up and make some breakfast instead of laying in bed all day, you don’t have to stay here with me.” She just shook her head at you, while she pulled you back into her arms. 

“It’s okay baby, I couldn’t sleep anyways. You know I barely sleep after games, so do you really think I could sleep knowing you were concussed next to me?” You remained silent, unsure of if you believed her or if she was just being nice to take care of you, but of course she saw straight through your silence. “Sleep. I’ll keep you safe, I’ll be right here. If I fall asleep you can wake me up whenever you want, even if you don’t have a reason to.”

You finally allowed yourself to get comfortable once again in her arms, knowing there was no way she’d take no for an answer. As you fell back to sleep, you could’ve sworn you heard her mutter a “te amo” just before you drifted off.

Last one of this series! Would love to hear any feedback or requests for what you'd like to see next!

Masterlist

#barcelona femeni #woso imagines #barca femeni #fcb femini #woso one shot #woso #woso x reader #woso imagine #espwnt x reader #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas #alexia putellas imagine #alexia x reader #wosoreading24/7 #wosoreadingalexia #espwnt #woso fanfics

[pedge-page]

Joel and Preggo Wife drabble after Sarah is born --

- - - -

Shes almost 2 now. Walking and fussy as ever, screaming and crying and refusing everything.

Youre trying to get ready for work but Joels really struggling to get her to settle down for a day with Dad.

"Just put on those sensory videos. There's like fruit dancing and stuff," you suggest while slinging your work bag over your shoulder.

"Oh please. There's no way that stuff works."

You turn on a looped video of smiling fruit and vegetables hopping across the screen, and Joel and Sarah stop screaming and tugging each other's hair for a moment to watch the screen with curious eyes.

She's gone quiet, finally, so a win is a win for now.

"I'll be back during lunch, so hold the fort, ok?"

Joel, with a deadpan face still watching the Banana on TV wiggle side to side, just nods. Sarah sits in pretzel in his lap on the floor, also watching with a blank expression.

You shrug and leave.

After a few hours, you manage to get back home for lunch. Joel hadn't texted you the entire time, so either Sarah somehow miraculously behaved herself, or they're both dead.

Instead, you walk in to find Joel still sitting pretzel on the floor, hypnotized by the TV.

There is no 2 year old present in the room.

"Joel!"

"Huh."

"Where's Sarah??"

"Shes right here," he says calmly, eyes are fixed ahead at the blueberries as he pats the curly teddy bear sitting in his lap.

You put your hands on your hips and walk in front of the TV.

"Hey we're watching that!"

You tap your foot and look down to his lap.

Joel follows your gaze down to the plush and absent child, and immediately shouts "WHERES SARAH??" turning around frantically.

You walk behind the couch and to your relief, find Sarah curled up and sleeping softly. She had made a whole nest of blankets and pillows and put herself down for a nap. She clearly also swiped herself for her teddy bear in Joel's lap while he was entranced by the fruit so he wouldn't notice her absence.

"How long did you leave her like this??"

"Um, I dont know-- I swear she didn't make a sound the entire time. I didn't even notice... You only left like 20 mins ago so it couldn't--"

"Joel I left 4 hours ago. You've been watching the damn sensory video the entire time!"

Joel's face expands into shock. "Wow. That shit works."

-

You drop Sarah off at Tommy's place and Joel warns him about watching the videos.

"What? It's supposed to make her brain go blank. Not us, dude are you serious?" He scoffs.

The next morning Tommy is glued to the dancing fruit video and Sarah slept in his lap the entire night.

He has serious bags under his reddened eyes " You guys are early? Im supoosed to have her the whole night?"

"Its MORNING."

Tommy looks back at the TV incredulously. " How long is this loop????"

- - - -

Taglist:

@harriedandharassed @lola8888673 @its-nebuleuse @zliteraturehoe @merz-8 @joeldjarin @pascalscoffin @pedroshotwifey @ghostslillady @innerpersonunknown @missladym1981 @mrsoharaxx @survivingandenduring @milla-frenchy @cockykookiee @fairytale07 @daddy-din @pedropascalsbbg @spookyxsam @somehopeatlast @millercontracting @pedrostories @mishala005 @theoraekenslover @animez96 @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @puduvallee @cassiecasluciluce @loohoop

#joel miller fan fiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #last of us fanfiction #joel miller fic #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller fluff #joel and sarah #the last of us fluff #the last of us fic #last of us fic #tlou fluff #tlou fanfiction #tlou fic #joel dealing with preggo wife

[natailiatulls07]

Lando Norris x Female!reader

Summary - She's a workaholic, he just wants to help but she won't listen

Warning - Reader working herself raw, angst but fluff ending

A/n - I'm trying to answer all your requests, I promise, but I've been struggling alot with my mental health and college recently so please be patient 🫶🏻

-

She was at it again. Every once in a while Y/n would work herself to the bone with her work, her fitness, etc. Every time there was a routine to it - An unhealthy and tiring routine. It was just something she’d do and no one knew how to pull her out of that routine. Well one person did and over time he learnt how to pull her out of it - Her own best friend.

Each time he’d collected her up into his arms, away from her desk and through the hall to her plush and abandoned couch. Lando would wrap himself around her, shielding her from the world and he would help her relax. That man was her safe space. Every single time.

-

“I hate when you do this to yourself” He mumbles. His green eyes flicker down to her, seeing her shoulder so tense pains him really. 

A small and sarcastic chuckle escapes her lips. They had this conversation before and it’s becoming repetitive now - maybe she should listen to him sometime soon. “Mmh I know” Y/n mumbles into his firm chest, she can feel his calloused hand stroking her hair. The formula one driver lets out a heavy sigh, much like the female on his chest he also knows the common conversation between the two. 

A frown tugs on the ends of her lips as Y/n pulls her head away from his chest. “I need to get back to work…” She mumbles, actively avoiding eye contact and moving to stand up from her couch. 

Immediately Lando can see how tense and rigid she is again - It was hard not to notice it. “No no, you need rest” He urges, his British accent is soft and worried. “You’re wearing yourself out, Y/n. Please just listen to me, I don’t want to see you hurt” Although it felt like he was controlling her, the man just really didn’t like seeing like this. 

Shaking her head rapidly, Y/n struggled to tug her hands away from his. Having taken her hands in his, Lando did this to slow her and to calm her. “Lando please, I need to work…” It was getting heated now. 

There was a look of concern behind his eyes. “Y/n, you need to rest.” He wasn’t about to let her walk right back into her death. “You are not going to work. All you’ve done is work yourself to the ground. Y/n do you even hear me right now?”

“No! It’s okay Lando…” She’s pleading with him now - not understanding the damage she was doing to herself.

Lando continues to grip onto her wrists, he was determined to get his best friend to take a deserved break. “Y/n, it’s far from okay!” His voice held conviction. “A break is what you need, this cycle you’ve put your body through will eventually lead you to breaking down and we both know that it’s unhealthy!” Unknowingly tears began to form in the white of his eyes the more she resisted. 

“Get out.” Silence followed the two words. Never did they fight nor did Y/n ever raise her voice. “You need to get out of my apartment. Now.” There’s no room for discussion.

His jaw falls and he’s in total shock. “What?” The driver breathes out. The grip on Y/n’s wrists loosens and falls. Having been nothing but supportive and kind, he felt betrayed. And then he shook his head - completely refusing to leave even when practically ordered to.

“You need to get out of my apartment. Get out now!” There’s venom behind her voice as she shouts.

“No!” The two are in a shouting match by now. Lando could feel his frustration boiling and his temper becoming untethered. “I’m not leaving you like this. You need to see that rest is needed. You’re going to hurt yourself if you don’t” His fists clenched. All the formula one driver wanted to do was to help - not hurt her. 

Y/n sighs, realising that he won’t listen to her. “Fine. You can stay but don’t think you can stop me from working…” She narrows her eyes, pointing a finger towards the British man opposite her. “Unlike you, Lando Norris, some of us have to work our ass’ off every single day to just live!” 

Maybe she was right, maybe he was being selfish. But Y/n was killing herself with every coming day, anyone could see it. All Lando could do was sigh and nod his head. At least she was allowing him to stay, this way he could help. 

“Thank you…”

-

It had been two hours since Lando had seen Y/n. She had left him to settle herself in her office, back to the non stop typing. He was getting anxious and worried now.

Pausing the film he was watching, the driver moved from the couch and down the bright hall to her office. Listening from outside, he hadn’t heard anything. And when he slowly opened the door, there she was asleep. 

She looked so peaceful and relaxed. The corners of Landos lips curved into a smile. He really did love her and to see her finally at ease made him happy.

“Come on, let’s get you to bed…” He whispered, wrapping his arms around her before picking her up and carrying her to bed. Lando made his way out of the office and down the hall again to her bedroom.

As he was trying to open the door, Y/n started to stir. “Lando…?” Her voice filled with confusion and tiredness. Opening her eyes, the woman looked up at him to see his growing goatee and loveable smile. 

“Shh…go back to sleep sweetheart…” His voice was soft and gentle. Y/n felt like a princess right now as she slowly closed her eyes and fell back into a delicate slumber. “I love you so much…” Lando whispered as he lowered her down onto the plush bed - she didn’t hear him, he could only wish she did.

-

#formula one #formula one x reader #f1 x reader #f1 #formula 1 #formula 1 x reader #lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris x y/n #lando norris x you #mclaren formula 1 #mclaren #formula one x y/n #f1 x y/n

[slayfics]

heyyy i love you’re writing!! i’ve been listening to so much nessa barrett lately and her one song “lie” made me really want to read like a bakugou x reader story line of the song i feel like you’re writing would work well with it 🥹🥹

You see Katsuki on tv. Warnings: angst 600 words

You watched as bubbles crackled in your now almost empty drink, the ice collapsing into itself. Lime soaked and slowly disintegrated in the liquid.

"Another one sweetheart?" The bartender asks, bringing you out of your daydream.

You nod with a faint smile, it's the biggest smile you can gather up. The bartender gets working on your drink, feeling obligated to make small talk he looks up at you again, "You here alone?" he asks, pouring a shot into a new glass.

It's a simple question. It shouldn't send you spiraling, but it does.

"Yeah," you reply shortly.

He tops the drink off with soda water and lime and slides it over to your side of the bar, "Well I'm sure that's by choice," he says giving you a courteous wink and nod.

You can't help but scoff. Of course, it's not by choice. There is someone you want to be here with.

Then as if your thoughts willed it so, breaking news broadcasts on the screen interrupting the mundane sitcom. "Pro hero Dynamite at work to subdue a villain," the live feed reads.

You can't stop the way your pupils dilate, and your fingers tighten around your glass.

The helicopter filming the scene struggles to keep up with his movements, but there he is exploding through the city effortlessly giving the villain the fight of their life.

Cops attempt to keep pedestrians at bay, but the crowd is excited to see Dynamite working in action. The group of onlookers only grows as more pull out their phones to record.

He's so famous now.

It happened overnight.

One moment it was just you and Katsuki, and now, he's a pro hero known all over.

He's not Katsuki or Kacchan anymore, he's Dynamite, and everywhere you turned people wanted to take him away from you.

And it worked?

You hadn't heard from Katsuki in over a month. Texts left on read, memes left without even an emoji.

He's busy, you told yourself. Being a pro hero was taking a lot out of him. You couldn't expect much, you had to be supportive. Yet, you couldn't shake the lingering thoughts that grew as more time passed with dead air between you two.

Had he met someone else?

Bringing the glass up to your lips to take a sip, you realized your hands had begun to shake.

As famous as he was now, he had come across many new faces. Fancy galas and expensive dinner parties. Who were you to complete anymore? A small-town friend left long in the shadowed past of his new bright and shiny life.

No. Surely, he respects you enough to have let you know, right?

He's just busy.

Katsuki lets out an explosion bringing the villain down. The scene erupts into cheers. You watch eyes glued to the screen; Katsuki shoves his mask up to his forehead wiping the sweat off his face. Reporters rush to try and get lucky enough to speak to him.

Then it happens.

The universe-altering moment.

It happens fast but you see it in slow motion, every second more painful than the next.

The epitome of a beautiful woman breaks through the crowd, to run and wrap her arms around his neck. Pushing up to her tip toes to press a passionate kiss to his cheek, and he doesn't pull away. He smiles.

A guttural scream that you don't recognize as your own escapes you. Glass flies out of your hand shattering the bar TV.

Whoever she is please, let it be a lie.

Oh man- this song did a number on me. It’s so painfully beautiful. I hope this fic was somewhat what you had in mind. It’s what came out when I sat down to type so I hope you enjoy! Thank you for this request, I missed writing some angst.

sinners: @queenpiranhadon @unofficialmuilover @maddietries @fiannee @i-heart-carlisle @derangedmango @matchat3a @bakugouswaif @renwei @zanarkandskylines @pastelbakugou @abadbitchblogs @deluluforcarlos55 @b134ch-m4h-ey3z @that-one-fangirl69 @pinkpurpledreams

#slay writes #bakugo katsuki #bakugo x gender neutral reader #mha bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugo x self insert #bakugo x you #bakugo x y/n #bakugo x reader #katsuki x reader #katsuki x y/n #katsuki x you #bnha katsuki #katsuki angst #bakugo angst #mha angst #bnha angst #mha x y/n #mha x gender neutral reader #mha x you #mha x reader #bnha x self insert #bnha x y/n #bnha x gender neutral reader #bnha x you #bnha x reader #katsuki bakugo #bakugou x reader #bakugo katuski #bnha bakugou

[triassictriserratops]

I think if peeta even got a sniffle Katniss would go fucking feral, drop everything and take care of him (and get sick herself)

ABSOLUTELY SHE WOULD. She'd call her mom like, "he's dying, what do I do?" Peeta's in the background like, "Hi Mrs. Everdeen, I just have seasonal allergies, I took some Zyrtec, everything is fine! "YOU'RE DYING, SHUT UP AND GO TO BED BEFORE I KILL YOU." BUT NOW Now, Anon? Now i get to talk about what I think happens when KATNISS gets sick. And spoiler alert, it's GREAT. The first time Katniss gets sick after the war, she doesn't tell anyone. She just locks herself in her house, puts a note on the door saying that she's fine and to come back tomorrow hoping that Sae sees it and doesn't bother with cooking anything for her. She grabs some remedies, a box of plain crackers, a blanket, some water, and trudges her way upstairs back to bed. A few hours later she hears a loud crash in the kitchen. She waddles and sniffles her way downstairs to the sight of a cursing Peeta, sprawled on the kitchen floor, while his prosthetic is dangling from the open window above the sink. "What are you doing?" she says in a congested voice, "I left a note on the door." She moves over to the window to unlatch his prosthesis from where it got snagged on the windowsill. "This," he says, brandishing the crumpled paper in the air, "is NOT enough of an explanation. People were worried. Haymitch was worried..." He glances away at that. "Haymitch? Bullshit." she snorts as she bends down to reattach his leg. She stays down when she's done realizing that she's feeling a little unsteady on her feet. "Fine. FINE! I was worried. What's going on? Did I do something wrong?" "No! Of course not. It-it's fine. I'm fine. I'm just sick. Thanks for stopping by. I'll see you tomorr-." She's struggling to get back up when she feels the air whoosh around her and realizes that Peeta has picked her up to carry her over to the couch. "Sick? What's wrong? Have you taken anything? Let me make you some tea, or do you want soup? I can make soup." he's rambling as he presses the back of his hand to her clammy forehead. "I really am okay. I got this. I'll be fine, Peeta." she says, pushing his hand away from her face and regretting it immediately at the loss of contact. "Katniss. Please let me do this, okay? This is what you and I do, right? That's what you said. Now, tell me where you keep your bouillon. I'm making some chicken stock and a good soup for you." That's when it hits Katniss. She hasn't really been taken care of like this in years. Maybe since she was 11. For years now, her mother would do her best to take care of her during the occassional cold, of course. But for the most part Katniss struggled to accept any softness or warmth from her mother. Feeling caught between that desire to be held and comforted and the anger she still felt towards her - they instead both settled for the distant, clinical detachment her mother had with her other patients. But, really, the last nearly 7 years of her life have been dedicated to the care of her family and her loved ones. She learned to stop asking for things and began instead to meet all of her own needs, without relying on others. After the games she'd begun the process of extending that branch and allowing herself to lean on her mother a little more. But now? Now her mother isn't here. And here she was right back to what she knew. Taking care of herself. Looking up at Peeta, blue eyes shining in earnest. Ready to do and be anything that is needed of him. Anything that SHE needs of him. She wipes her nose on her sleeve and smiles. "Pantry. Top shelf. On the right. Thank you, Peeta."

#katniss everdeen #peeta mellark #everlark #hunger games headcanon #thg headcanons #thg #thg series #the hunger games #thg fic #thg fanfiction #love is a verb #hunger games sick day

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

WIBTA (idk if asshole is the right word or more creep idk) for keeping younger friends after high school?

Ok so I (F16) am autistic + struggle socially and my high school has like a unit to support people who are disabled or neurodivergent in some way, I spend most of my breaks and lunchtimes in the classrooms here and have been since I started here, and over that time I’ve made a lot of friends there but the issue is some of them are a few years younger than me

I’ve been friends with most of them for like 3 years now and I don’t think I specifically approached them or anything we just ended up meeting via spending time in the same place at lunch and made friends because we have similar interests/personalities, I didn’t see anything wrong with it but I’m starting to doubt that/I’ve seen people calling it weird (age gap friendships in general, not me specifically)

I have other friends outside of this group who are my age,both in school and who go to different schools, but then the group I mainly spend my lunches with is mostly people younger than me except my best friend S (f15, same year group in school though we just have like a few months apart) - started by me meeting my friend (m15, again same year just a few months) little sister let’s call her P (f14 + in the year group below me) and making pretty good friends with her and her best friend

It’s a British school so you start in y7 (age 11) and leave in y11 (age 16) so I’m leaving in a few months, friend group is me, S, P + her friend who are also in the year below me, 2 who are in year 9 and one who’s in year 8 (she’s 2010 I think and I’m 2008), let’s call her L

I know that sounds really weird and makes me sound like a creep but pretty much all of these I met when I myself was like 13 and they were 11/12, apart from L who started hanging out with P last year and sitting with us which caused me to make friends with her. For most of my time in school I haven’t seen a problem with this because they’re my friends and nothing more (I’ve been in love with someone for like 2 years now and she’s the same age as me soo) but I keep seeing like TikToks of people saying it makes you a pedo for having younger friends and i know it isn’t true but also I’m worried it’s creepy for me to have these friends even if it’s strictly platonic because idk I miss social cues a lot and I don’t know maybe having friends in a younger school year is weird

For the rest of school I’m just treating it as normal because I only have 3 months left, I’ve been friends with most of these mfs since 2021 and I’m not going to start being really distant to them now because that would be mean and they’re my friends who I care about but I feel like when I graduate it’s different and it’ll be weird for me to be friends with them as a college student when some of them will only be like year 9, we have a group chat and stuff but I feel like keeping touch with them would make me come off wrong but also cutting contact with them would be really mean

I’ve been bullied since I was in primary school I’m talking like year 3 and a lot of the people in my year group don’t like me even if I’ve basically never spoken to them (again this makes me come off wrong but it’s bc I’m “emo” aka im not emo I’m just quiet and somewhat alt and because I masked a lot less when we started hs so I was like. Harmless but weird/cringy 11 year old and even though I’ve changed a lot since then people still have that impression of me, i was also outed as bi in year 7 in a school full of homophobic people so there’s that) and so idk I feel like if people already don’t like me they’ll jump at anything to make me seem like I’m a bad person

Tl:dr I’m a 16 year old and my youngest friend is 13 but I feel like once I leave high school it’s no longer socially acceptable to have younger friends and that I’d be a creep to keep in contact, am I right That id be a creep for having young friends or am I just paranoid ?

#aita #am i the asshole

[diorsluv]

casual , part 8

“ so now when we kiss ”

series m. list previous chapter

( socialmedia!au )

yourusername

liked by _quinnhughes, luca.fantilli, and 123,748 others

yourusername who’s gonna be the chandler to my monica (i need someone to marry me when i’m still single at 40) 🤗

view all comments

vivianliu don’t worry bae i’ll hook you up with the hottest 40 year old man when we get there

→ yourusername you’re too sweet 😞😞

→ lhughes_06 no you won’t

→ vivianliu yes i will 😒 lhughes_06

rutgermcgroarty i can’t be chandler but i can be the ullmark to your swayman

→ yourusername STOP YOU KNOW ME SO WELL

→ jswayman1 there’s only room for one pair 🙄

→ rutgermcgroarty …have you just been lurking??? jswayman1

→ yourusername oh my god sway it’s you i love you so much you’re like one of my favorite goalies ‼️

→ yourusername DID YOU JSUT FOLLOW ME IH MY FUCKUGB GODDDDD jswayman1

→ jswayman1 yes i did 🫡

→ jackhughes WHAT this isn’t fair???

username25 THE jeremy swayman just followed you babe how do you feel 🎤

→ yourusername AMAZING

username37 FRIENDS AHHH

trevorzegras i can be the chandler to your monica

→ yourusername yeah.. i’m good 😬

→ trevorzegras HEY THATS MEAN

→ yourusername i’m just kidding z (not really)

→ yourusername i’m sure there’s a ton of girls out there that want you!! it’s just not me 🫶🫶

→ _alexturcotte the public rejection is insane

→ trevorzegras 💔

→ yourusername i still love u tho!

→ trevorzegras ❤️‍🩹

edwards.73 me

→ yourusername we’ll see

→ edwards.73 whats that supposed to mean 🤨

→ yourusername one night in my bed isnt gonna make me forget about everything

→ edwards.73 IM SORRY FOR IGNORING U

→ yourusername prove it

luca.fantilli i’ll be the rachel to your ross!

→ yourusername you wanna be the woman in an on-and-off relationship??? 😭😭

→ luca.fantilli yeah i wanna see what it’s like to be you for once 🤗

→ yourusername hold up

→ lhughes_06 LMAO

→ dylanduke25 THAT WAS SO UNCALLED FOR

→ luca.fantilli oops

→ yourusername 😟😟

username34 the way he looks at her 🥲

username88 I LOVE THEM

markestapa hypothetically what would you do if someone asked you out and asked you to be the monica to their chandler

→ yourusername i would marry them on the spot

→ markestapa moving a little fast there aren’t we?

→ dylanduke25 AHEM edwards.73 AHEM

lhughes_06 ustjay osay ouyay owknay ehay eallyray oesday ikelay ouyay (just so you know he really likes you)

→ yourusername we haven’t used pig latin since like middle school 😭😭

→ _quinnhughes your nerd phases

→ lhughes_06 utshay upyay (shut up)

→ jackhughes IGPAY ATINLAY (PIG LATIN)

→ luca.fantilli oh my god i remember speaking pig latin

→ adamfantilli igpay atinlay asway oatedgay (pig latin was goated)

→ vivianliu is this just a sibling thing 😭

→ dylanduke25 no tyler never learned it for me 😐😐

→ tyler___duke5 no i just never used it with you dylanduke25

→ trevorzegras ancay onfirmcay ityay asway ayay iblingsay ingthay (can confirm it was a sibling thing)

→ griffinzegras please don’t bring it back i was struggling enough back then

→ edwards.73 iyay opehay ouyay owknay iyay understandyay igpay atinlay ootay (i hope you know i understand pig latin too)

username84 who’s gonna translate all that pig latin 🥰🥰

username97 oh my god this is gonna send me back into my friends phase

→ username6 RIGHT

_alexturcotte remember the friends marathons we would have every summer

→ yourusername barely 🙄

→ _alexturcotte WHY ARE U ROLLING UR EYES

→ yourusername YOU WOULD ALWAYS “FORGET” TO TELL ME YOU WERE WATCHING IT

→ trevorzegras he was watching it with me that’s why 😉

→ yourusername ieday trevorzegras (die)

→ trevorzegras you’re no fun rosie

adamfantilli i love gale weathers

→ yourusername completely different franchise but yes she’s toooooo iconic 😈😈

→ vivianliu sidney’s hotter

→ adamfantilli that’s a hot fucking take vivianliu

→ luca.fantilli sidney prescott or sidney crosby??

→ vivianliu both

→ markestapa you’re all forgetting about billy

→ yourusername BILLY

→ lhughes_06 billy 😒

username18 i just finished friends!!

username75 I WILL

mackie.samo I VOLUNTEER AS TRIBUTE

→ yourusername i love maddy more

→ mackie.samo YOU MET HER ONCE

→ yourusername i stand by my statement

username71 istg this is directed at ethan

username8 STOP I MISS THEM

username31 i need someone to look at me like that

colecaufield ‘90s shows were my childhood 🙏🙏

→ yourusername ur literally an ‘01 baby???

→ colecaufield BARELY

username66 THEM >>>>

yourusername

liked by edwards.73, trevorzegras, and 111,629 others

yourusername i was fuckin superstars when i was nineteen 🥴

view all comments

jackhughes woah there

→ yourusername it’s just a song ! 😰

→ jackhughes i’m sure that’s all it is 🤨🤨

_quinnhughes YOU’RE STILL A CHILD

→ yourusername IM ALMOST 20??

→ _quinnhughes UR STILL 19

→ yourusername then my caption’s pretty fitting

→ _quinnhughes 😐

username27 IS IT BECAUSE OF WHAT I THINK IT IS

→ yourusername do tell

→ username27 ur 19, u and ethan, ethan’s like an underground superstar

→ yourusername 🙊

edwards.73 the shit we did you won’t believe me

→ dylanduke25 NOW IM AT THE TURN UP

→ mackie.samo LOOKING LONELYYY

→ trevorzegras AND THEY WONDER WHY IM QUIET AT THEM HOUSE PARTIESSSS

→ jackhughes CUZ EVERYBODY SEE ME

→ colecaufield ROLL SOME BLUNTS

→ adamfantilli AND HIT HER ONCE

→ rutgermcgroarty AND NOW SHE NEED ME

→ yourusername brent faiyaz 🙇‍♀️

→ edwards.73 did u put everyone on this song 😕 yourusername

→ yourusername yeah..

→ edwards.73 thought it was just me

→ dylanduke25 dont act all jealous 🙄🙄

username55 you’re. so. pretty.

dylanduke25 creds creds creds creds creds

→ yourusername creds!

→ edwards.73 why’d you take the pics

→ dylanduke25 bc we were hanging out?? 😭

→ edwards.73 oh

username89 omg babe where’s your top from

→ yourusername im gonna be honest i have no idea vivi got it for me as a gift 😔🙏

→ vivianliu i custom made it 🤭

mackie.samo this is so #cottagecore and #aesthetic

→ yourusername who the hell is teaching you this

→ mackie.samo my sisters 😕😕

→ lhughes_06 stop using hashtags good fucking lord

→ markestapa that intervention wasn’t for nothing mack 😒

trevorzegras brent faiyaz our lord and savior

→ yourusername 🛐

rutgermcgroarty HEY why didn’t you post our photos 😞

→ yourusername tis for another time my dear boy

→ rutgermcgroarty shakespeare lookin ass

→ yourusername 🖕

→ adamfantilli guys remember when we were nice to each other

→ yourusername no

→ rutgermcgroarty no

username99 CLOUDED

luca.fantilli is he gonna ask you out or what

→ yourusername luca 😭😭

→ luca.fantilli what?? i’m jus being curious 😔

username35 HELLO????? the fit ate down

vivianliu fuck her on the floor like i don’t give a fuck bout it 🎶🎶🎶🎶

→ yourusername your judgement get clouded when you clouted

→ vivianliu your judgement is clouded as hell

→ yourusername HOW???

→ vivianliu you know 😐😐

→ edwards.73 stop hating lil bro

→ vivianliu i hope you drown

username76 that second pic got me kicking my feet n shit

username21 skincare routine when???

username3 how are you not a model

adamfantilli let me tie your shoes bc i don’t want you falling for anyone else

→ yourusername no

→ adamfantilli did your license get suspended for driving all those guys crazy?

→ yourusername adam babe we talked about this

→ adamfantilli do you play soccer? bc you look like a keeper

_alexturcotte i got you new sneakers 🥰

→ yourusername REALLY??

→ _alexturcotte i figured you’d need them after running through my mind all day

→ yourusername oh god please don’t make this into a habit

→ colecaufield stop harassing her with pickup lines turcs

username69 we all know ethan’s going feral over this one

→ username14 fr i can sense it from here

username5 the hughes genes are godly asf

notes ) this is my way of coping through the pain of being a stars fan anyways should ethan n rosie finally get together 🫢

tags: @dancerbailey3 @hughesfein @loveforaugust @alwaysclassyeagle @love4ldr @inhoodmood @bunting58 @crazycat-ladys-blog @smoooore @bunbunbl0gs @lilasianmeat

#ethan edwards #ethan edwards x y/n #ethan edwards x reader #ethan edwards fanfic #ethan edwards fic #quinn hughes #jack hughes #cole caufield #alex turcotte #trevor zegras #luke hughes #dylan duke #mark estapa #mackie samoskevich #rutger mcgroarty #adam fantilli #luca fantilli

[kardemuum]

Roller rink

Reader (fem) finds Eddie very interesting at the roller rink! (slight sexual tension)

The roller rink buzzed with energy, pulsing with the beat of the music and the whizzing of skates. Among the colorful crowd, a girl breezed around the rink with skill and confidence, her eyes darting around, taking in the scene.

In a booth, a group of guys huddled together, chatting and laughing. Her attention zeroed in on one of them – a laid-back guy with a friendly grin and long curly hair. 

As she breezed by, she couldn't resist stealing glances at him, her heart quickening with each playful exchange. She grooved to the music, shooting him flirty looks as she passed by with a smooth sway. Her roller skating was so effortless, it seemed like she was floating above the ground.

As he watched her, a shock of surprise flashed across his face. He nudged his friend, his eyes widening in disbelief, silently asking, "Are you seeing this?". 

She circled the rink another time, observing his puzzled expression. With a mischievous grin, she locked eyes with him once more. He widened his eyes in disbelief and mouthed, "Me?". Slowing down as she approached the booth where the curly-haired boy sat, she couldn't help but bite her lip, a playful smile dancing on her lips. With a nod, she confirmed his unspoken question, sending a rush of excitement through the curly boy. 

As she swayed to the music and glided around the rink, preparing to steal another glance at the boy, she realized he had vanished. Frantically looking around, she spotted him leaning against the rink fence, his presence unmistakable even in the dimly lit surroundings. Now, he was totally focused on her, his eyes glued to her every move. She saw her chance to get closer, away from the crowd of his friends. She skated towards him, sliding her hands next to his on the fence. As they locked eyes, they found themselves face to face, their proximity sparking a rush of excitement between them.

The boy's throat tightened, and he met her gaze. "Hey," he said nervously, "I feel like I've been watched, you know? Sounds weird, right?" He chuckled, a shy grin spreading across his face.

“Oh, really?” She leaned in closer, a smirk playing on her lips as she caught his bashful expression. He couldn't help but find her captivating, from her looks to her scent. Now that he heard her voice, he was completely hooked, wanting more with every passing moment. 

“I guess I have a secret admirer huh?” The boy flashes a mischievous grin at her, his eyes sparkling with playful intent.

“I don’t know if I’ve been very secretive,” She gives him a coy smile, her tone laced with teasing. “Should I come over the fence, Romeo?” She challenges, her lips quirking up in amusement. He chuckles, his grin widening into a theatrical smirk. "Well, Juliet, the balcony is all yours. But be warned, it's not as glamorous as it seems from down here." His voice drips with melodramatic flair. 

She skates slowly towards the gate of the rink, the boy following eagerly on the other side, anticipation written all over his face. As she reaches the gate, she struggles to take off her roller skates. With a mischievous glint in his eye, the boy bends down and offers his assistance.

“Why aren’t you the gentleman? Thank you, Romeo,” she remarks with a playful wink.

“Name’s Eddie, Sweetheart. Wanna get out of here?” He asked, a mischievous glint in his eye. 

You smirked, mirroring his playful energy. "Sure thing, Eddie," you replied, your tone teasing.

With a shared grin, you and Eddie slipped out of the roller rink, ready to continue the fun elsewhere.

#eddie munson #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #perv!eddie #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x reader smut #eddie munson x y/n #eddie x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie x you #eddie smut #eddie stranger things #eddie munson fics #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson blurb #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic

[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

[remia-art]

I'm in love with 911. Been watching it when first season wasn't fully out. Amazing show. I ship buddie, and will continue to ship them to the end of my life.

I just feel like a lot of shippers, who are mostly women, have a lot of internalised misogyny. Shannon was a great character, she is the mother of my favourite boy, Chris; She loved Eddie, wanted him safe, wanted to have him in her life, and most importantly, in Chris's life. She cared about them, she shouldn't have been killed off.

Ana was a beautiful character. Maybe my pansexuality speaks right now, but Eddie, as much as I love him, didn't deserve her.

She is cute and beautiful, she is understanding, she is empathetic, she loves Chris and doesn't view him as a problem/project. She was very patient with Eddie, his struggles and all. She gave him space when he needed it, and she was right there to ease his struggles. We haven't seen Christopher much at that time, because she took care of him.

And then Buck. I loved him with Abby, even though she turned out to be one of the most hurtful love interests in his life. She was pretty much the one who helped Buck transphorm, discover a new side of him.

Taylor was very interesting. They had some great chemistry, their jobs intertwined in interesting ways. She cared about Buck, tried to make him feel better after some calls, supported him, shared information, gave hugs when he needed it.

I guess I'm just sad that people got one male interest and practically made Tommy a revelation, Buck's biggest step, his most interesting love interest.

Even though both Eddie and Buck had a lot of important women in their lives. Everyone is so happy to celebrate Buck's bisexuality only in regards to his interest in a man, Tommy (and hopefully later on Eddie).

I love 911 women. They are unjustifiably forgotten. They were there, they tried, they cared and hoped.

And our boys liked them, cared about them in return. Don't erase that.

I guess I just want my fandom to respect these women, because right now it really feels like mlm fetishism.

#911 #911 abc #buddie #evan buckley #eddie diaz #tommy kinard

[polyamorouscultureis]

Don't know if this is for advice but I need to confess this to SOMEONE outside the 4 of us. For many reasons, no one outside the 4 people mentioned here know anything about this

I'm a happily married man with a wonderful wife of 10 years. She's my best friend, my lover, and every bit the partner I need.

We're both well aware of our poly natures and have even tried (unsuccessfully) to open up to a third. It wasn't the right person or fit but we at least tried. Outside of that we've both had some FwB and it's never had any negative impact on our relationship.

But now I actually fell in love.

I fell in love with a streamer and what started as parasocial became just plain social to becoming very intimate and real. The kicker, this streamer girl is also happily married to her own man (4 years now) and they are also open to poly.

After a few weeks of this buildup, we had our first "date" over Discord video and all partners involved were nothing but supportive. It's long distance but the opportunity to visit each other is very real. The opportunity for sex is very real and very much discussed. The possibility of group sex in many configurations is on the table.

And through all this, we've firmly established our commitments and love to our spouses first and foremost, while still talking every day and very much falling in love with each other more and more.

I know all the important parts of navigating a poly relationship, and with how open all communication has been across all parties involved, I'd say we're doing okay.

I'm just feeling a little overwhelmed with how much I feel the euphoria of new love. Falling in love wasn't something I ever expected to happen to me again. I honesty didn't think I was capable of it. This wasn't me choosing someone, I had not say in the matter. My heart just said "this one" and took the rest of me along for the ride.

I don't know if what I need is advice but this is such an "out there" situation for me. Outside of the 4 of us, there's no one to talk to about what's going on. Partially because none of our close friends/family are poly and wouldn't really understand the dynamics, especially when they've gone through problems of cheating. And we also can't let it get out that a streamer fell in love with a viewer, for reasons I hope are obvious.

So this is my anonymous confession. Any whatever words you have for me, I'll take them.

This is so exciting! I'm so happy you're getting this opportunity with so much support from your respective partners behind you! It absolutely makes sense to be overwhelmed and probably pretty nervous about meeting in person for the first time, but just enjoy the moment as much as you can. Falling in love, especially for the second time, is intimidating, and comes with complicated feelings, but it's also so much fun. I hope things go well for you all and that you'll keep me updated on how things go! We all struggle a bit with lack of community to share these things with I think, so I adore being the void to shout into. <3

#polyam asks #polycule #polyamorous #polyamory

[jelzorz]

176.

Soren has a dragon that he's had since he was three.

It's one of the few genuinely happy memories he has from his childhood. Most days he struggles to remember any at all—so much of it was posturing and conflict and useless efforts to win his father's pride. It was not the simplest childhood, certainly not the happiest, but Rexy is still in his quarters, and when Soren looks at him, he thinks of games and laughter and the warmth of his mother's arms against the winter cold.

He's still pretty fond of him, even now. He's dusty and old and beat to shit, his left eye loose, his dye faded, and Soren's not going to pretend he doesn't pull him down sometimes to defend him from invisible armies (a perfectly normal twenty-eight year old thing to do, thank you), but Rexy's definitely seen better days too, and Soren thinks of the twins that are supposed to be arriving any day now and thinks it might be time for a little bit of a makeover before Rexy goes back into the fray.

"That's so sweet," chuckles Callum, as he examines the loose stitching at Rexy's ear. "But I gotta be honest, Soren, I dunno that he's gonna make it even if I do fix him. Kids can be really rough."

Soren doesn't doubt it. Callum and Rayla's little girl is barely eighteen months old and she's a terror to anything in the castle smaller than her. "I still think it's worth trying," he says. "If he goes down, he'll go down in battle, and there's no nobler end for a toy."

"True," snorts Callum. He fiddles Rexy's loose eye and tugs it free. Soren tries not to wince. "You've had him forever though. I know he means a lot to you. Are you sure you wanna let your soon-to-be kids tear him up?"

"Mm." Soren shrugs, a little sentimental, a little heartbroken, but resolute all the same. "I don't really have anything else to pass on," he says quietly. "I've been thinking about it for ages, and I—" He huffs. "I just think that Rexy'll watch over them the same way he watched over me. Does that make sense?"

Callum laughs good naturedly and nudges his arm. "Yeah," he says. "I get it." He glances at Soren from the corner of his eye then, and Soren can feel the way Callum studies him, his mentality, his readiness to be a dad. "Are you okay?"

"Mm," says Soren again. This time he shifts uncomfortably, because the thought is terrifying almost more than it is exciting. "I just want to be a better dad than mine was."

Callum smiles and pats his arm. "You've got nothing to worry about there, bud. You're going to be just fine."

"Big assumption," snorts Soren.

"Call it more of an observation," says Callum. "You've done the work. You're always doing the work. That's half the job right there. The rest is just love. Isn't that right, Rexy?"

He raises Rexy then and pitches his voice up an octave. "Don't worry, Soren, I'll keep you in line."

"Good gods."

"Get used to it, man, funny voices are like ten percent of the job."

Soren swats at him, and Callum dodges it only to almost fall out of his chair. "So you'll fix him?"

"I'll do my best," says Callum with a chuckle. Then, more genuinely, he adds, "You're nothing like your dad, Soren. You're going to be fine. Rexy will make sure of it."

Soren barks out a laugh. "I'm sure he will."

(And he does).

#inspired by that one post of Soren and his toy dragon <3 #i also know that callum stitches an antimagic blanky so i imagine he can also fix a plush dragon #also also i specifically did not name the mother of sorens children but if you know you know #(the twins belong to raayllum) #rayllum #(tangentially) #in anticipation

[eggyrocks]

bruised part five -> my person

m.list

♪ now playing: remember by alex g ♪

Iwaizumi's certain he's being punished. Some kind of penance for a transgression in a past life.

Her arms are wrapped loosely around his neck, and his arms are hooked under her knees as he carries her towards their apartment on his back. And he can feel too much of her: her cheek resting against his shoulder, her fingers absentmindedly tapping against his chest, and the warmth of her breath on the skin of his neck.

It makes it harder to focus. It makes him want to forget about how it was Bokuto's shoulder she was resting on when he arrived to bring her home. And that's something he won't let himself forget.

And as if she can hear this thoughts and decides she wants to torment him, she squirms, nuzzling in closer to him, and whispering softly, "Haji," in his ear.

He swallows before he answers. She's the only one who calls him that. "What's up?" he asks, trying not to let his rising heartbeat or twisting nerves seep into his voice.

"This is like," she starts, and then pauses, blowing out a hot stream of air that lands right on Iwaizumi's neck and goes straight down to his gut, "fucking, the millionth time you've picked me up drunk."

"Yeah," he agrees with a chuckle. "Well, you're a sloppy drunk."

She offers up a hum in agreement. "You must really fucking love me to put up with me this much."

Iwaizumi thinks that his heart leaps up into his throat, for just a second. "Of course I do," he confirms. "You're my best friend, dumbass."

There's nothing she has to say in response. She turns her head to bury her face in the fabric of his shirt. The rest of their walk back is silent.

It's only a few more minutes before they arrive home. Iwaizumi doesn't let her down once they cross through their front door and he kicks off his shoes. He ignores the smug sort of look that (the somehow still awake) Kyotani tosses in his direction and brings her directly to her room.

He thinks that she's asleep by the time he deposits her on the edge of her bed, and he's ready to throw a blanket over her and slink back into his own room. But the second he places her down, a hand goes tight around his shirt, and she yanks Iwaizumi down to lie beside her. "Stay with me tonight," she says, not once opening her eyes as she lays her head down on his chest and wraps an arm around his middle. "Like when we were kids."

It's not anything like when they were kids. When they had sleepovers and she managed to convince them both that there were ghosts and demons lurking, and they needed to stay together for protection. Or when her parents would fight and she would sneak through his window, staying the night with him just so she wouldn't be alone.

It's not anything like that, Iwaizumi thinks, as he hesitantly settles back against her pillows, and places his arm over her shoulders. "At least take your shoes off," he mumbles.

Through the darkness of her room, he can almost see the way her legs shuffle and struggle to kick off her still tied shoes. But she does so without ever lifting her head away from his chest, flicking her ankles so her shoes soar across the room, landing in a spot they're almost certainly not supposed to be.

She sighs, content, and wiggles in place, like she's trying to settle in deeper to him. "Did you know," she starts, voice heavy with sleep and intoxication, "that you've always been my person?"

Iwaizumi looks up at the ceiling. Shadows from the light outside her window shift and reshape. "Whaddya mean?" he asks, barely a whisper. He wonders if she can hear his heart beat.

"I dunno," she mumbles. "You're just my person. Like, our lives are so intertwined. I dunno who I'd be without you. Like, if you disappeared from my life tomorrow, I dunno how much of me would be left. I'd be like, a new person, y'know?"

And there's no one she'd pick over you.

Iwaizumi breathes evenly and deliberately. There would've been a time in his life, and maybe it was pretty recently, that those words would've made his chest swell up with pride. Because of course he's her person. She's always been his. That's how it's always been. It's always been them.

But now, the words twist in his chest like a knife.

I don't think she'd have room for a romantic partner that's not you.

"Don't worry about that kind of thing," he says, turning on his side, facing her and pulling her into a tighter embrace. "I got you."

Her voice is muffled, so he almost doesn't hear it when she says, "I know."

Tonight, he can be selfish. Tonight, it can be just them. He can hold her in his arms and he can't pretend that things don't have to change. Tomorrow, he will make room. But tonight, it's just them.

an: enjoy this written part :) i loved to write it. also im still working on the 500 follower requests dont worry

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[friendship-ditch]

Something Stupid

(Katniss Everdeen x Fem Reader) ❀

Summary: Katniss comes to your rescue after your mission into the woods doesn't go as planned.

Warnings/Notes: No warnings really, self-loathing reader. Sorry for being MIA for a bit, still struggling w/ writers block. Also sorry for letting this request marinate in my inbox for a long time

Word Count: 2521

  “There…!  I saw a rabbit.”  

  A roughened hand clasped gently around your wrist, stopping you from walking right into the ditch that laid in the forest floor in front of you.

  “Good sight, but not one worth breaking an arm for.”  Katniss muses teasingly as she helps you steady once more on the solid ground.  She wipes some dirt off your back and then points down a path of dirt and brush.  “Follow me.”

  With a curt nod, you trailed her down the side of the hill and to a small opening in the woods, where the rabbit now munched on some foliage.

  Katniss bent down and you instinctively bent behind her, arms flitting to her strong arms as she aimed her arrow at the small creature.  Just before release, she turned to you.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to try?”  She asked in a small whisper.  She asked you this every time you came hunting and you always denied, but appreciated the offer.

  “I’d just miss it.  You do it.”  You whispered back.

  Without trying to convince you further, Katniss simply nodded.  She adjusted her arrow with precision and then let it fly, taking out the rabbit on impact.  

  You two collected the game and placed it in the bag you were carrying, and then glanced down at the haul.

  “I think this is more than enough.”  You said, peering through the bag.

  Spring had sprung in District 12 and animals were everywhere.  Food was unusually plentiful and the two of you were not going to miss out on this opportunity.  There was enough to feed both of your families for quite a few days, and enough to sell a few bits and pieces and earn some extra cash.

  Katniss closed the bag up and nodded proudly.  “I agree.  I’ll skin some for dinner when we get home and you can run the extras by the Hob.��

  This was a usual routine you two had picked up.  Although Katniss was practically drowning in riches after winning the Games, she still liked to hunt for her family, and you didn’t like to take money from her, though the coins she slipped into your back pockets were kept with silent gratitude.  She stayed and skinned the food out back while you sold some at the hob, usually buying a dessert or two from the bakery. 

  You took your normal back path through the Hob, stopping at the stands you frequented and grabbing some cookies from the bakery to share tonight.

  Most evenings, the Hob was dying down by now, save for the bustling lines of people waiting for food.  You did your duties and were on the way out of the bakery when somebody off to the side called your name.

  “Y/n, back again?”  It was some of the people you’d gone to school with, standing outside of the bakery, looking a little worse for the wear.  “You come here quite a lot.  Is Katniss’s money treating you well?”

  You frowned, wrinkling your nose as you stuffed the cookies into your pocket.  “What are you talking about?”

  One of the guys stepped up and eyed you suspiciously.  His mouth formed a thin line, and then broke out into a smirk.  “You know exactly what I mean.”

  “Yeah.”  Joined in one of the smaller girls.  She crossed her arms and glared at you.  “You ‘nd her, I don’t know why she keeps you around.  You’re jus’ her lapdog, she gives you everything you want.  You’d think she’d want someone who's not a worthless scum around.”

  Your frown deepened into a look of anger and you shook your head.  “I’m not taking her money..  We split this money, we both earn it.”

  “And what do you do, sit around and look pretty while she does the work?”  The first guy laughed again.  “Tell me, what do you do?”

  “I-...”  You stammered, brain coming to a halt as your mouth hung wordlessly open.  What did you do for Katniss?  You… kept her company while hunting, but anybody could do that.  You helped her spot prey… she probably was just letting you point it out after she saw it.  “I…”

  This sent the group into a fit of laughter, and an aching feeling into your heart.

  “Go on, get out of here, lapdog.”  The short girl said again, waving you off.

  You took the hint and left quickly before they could say anything else.  By the time you were almost at Katniss’s house again, your tears had long dried, but that feeling in your chest hadn’t.

  Katniss met you at the door, eyes brightening when she saw the chocolate cookies in your hand.  “Oh, these are my favorites.”  She murmured while she gave you a tight hug.  She seemed to pick up on your stiffness and let go with a frown.

  “Y/n?  Are you okay?”

  You nodded, handing her the cookies with a forced smile.  “Yeah, yeah…  I’ve just got to get back home.  I’ll see you tomorrow though, right?”

  “Right.  Bright and early, I want to empty those snares before the rain comes.”

  “Got it.”

  You each exchanged another goodbye hug and then you left quietly.  

  As hard as you tried to fight it, those harsh words wouldn’t leave your head.  You weren’t worthless, you weren’t.  Katniss liked you and kept you around for a reason… you were useful, right?

  What happened the next day didn’t exactly cure those feelings ringing in your ears.

  Katniss opened the door to your knock, without her hunting jacket or boots.  She smiled half heartedly at you and wiped a little bit of rain off your face as you stepped inside.

  “We’re not going hunting today.”  Katniss broke the news to you.  Her hair was fluffy and a bit frizzled from the rain and she helped you slide your jacket off.

  “What?  Why not?”  You frowned at her, confused. 

  “It’s dangerous out there, it’s raining pretty hard.”  Katniss replied.  “The woods get slippery in the rain, especially near the snares and the good clearings.”

  Normally, you’d accept this news as an invitation to kick off your boots and maybe relax on the couch with her for a bit, cuddling in the warmth of her big house, but today, things were different.

  You were saddened, if not hurt by the news.  This was supposed to be your chance to prove yourself.

  “But you’ve hunted in worse conditions.”

  “Yes, but you haven’t.”

  “So?”

  “So…  I don’t want to risk it.  I don’t want you to get hurt.”

  You tried to hide the mist clouding your eyes as her words sank in.  It was nice that she was worried about you, but it hurt that she didn’t believe you were capable of this.

  “It’s nothing, Y/n, we’ll go tomorrow.”  Katniss tried to assure you with a sweet smile.  “Okay?  Same time as always, maybe a little earlier if you want.”

  “Alright…”  You sighed, nodding.  Suddenly, you didn’t feel like spending the rest of your day here relaxing.  You reached for your coat and slid it back on, much to Katniss’s dismay.

  “Y/n?  Where are you going?”  Katniss asked, following you back to the porch.

  You looked out into the rain, and then back at her.  “I just remembered, I uh… I have a few errands to run.”  You lied.  “But I’ll be back later, in a few hours.”

  “I can come with–”

  “No, I’ve got this.”  You assured her.  You pressed a quick kiss to her cheek and then stepped out into the rain.  “I’ll see you soon.”

  “Okay…”  Katniss called and waved as she watched you disappear off down the trail.  She was a little taken aback by your sudden departure but she didn’t ask, knowing you’d just get mad.  She watched until you weren’t visible beneath the heavy sheets of rain and then returned back inside.

  Your goal was simple: go into the woods on your own, and make something of yourself.  You were pretty sure hunting was crossed off the list, but you could definitely track down those berry bushes you saw the other day, or at least find some herbs.

  Once you approached the forest line, you tugged your hood up and went in.  

  The woods were oddly gloomy in the rain.  The overhead leaves cast a dark canopy over the forest floor and everything was making some sort of noise, either a pitter from the precipitation or a rustle from the wind.

  It seemed as if you were alone in the forest.  All of the animals had either returned home to wait out the rain, or were too silent for you to notice.  And for a while, things went pretty well.

  You managed to find the blackberry bushes you’d been thinking about and harvested the remaining ones, placing them into your bag.

  Once you’d scouted out the remaining bushes and took enough to make some jam, you started to return back, feeling pretty pleased.  You’d accomplished your goal with ease.  You weren’t so worthless after all.

  As you began to walk home, you noticed it was raining heavier than before, and it was a little harder to see.  You’d left a trail of rocks to follow but it was a struggle through the pouring rain.  Thunder crackled in the distance and you soon figured a forest was not the best place to be during a thunderstorm.

  Suddenly, the wind blew harder than before, and something behind you cracked.  You just barely escaped a falling tree, but the fright sent you stumbling to the side and misstepping, taking a tumble down a small hill.

  Shocked, wounded, covered in smushed blackberries, and utterly embarrassed, you scrambled to the nearest cave you could find, deciding to wait the storm out.  Once you got there, you realized your bag was just a soaking rag full of mush, and you’d not only failed that goal, but you’d failed on surviving the woods alone.

  You hadn’t even realized you were crying while in the rain, but now that there was a secure roof above your head, and the drops of water hadn’t stopped dribbling down your face, you figured it out.  You sunk to the ground and curled up in a small corner of the cave, hugging your knees and shivering.  Your only hope now was either the rain stopped soon–which it probably wouldn’t–or Katniss came and found you.  As nice as a warm house and a nice change of clothes sounded, the idea of her coming to your rescue again was crushing your spirit.  

  And like the amazing girlfriend she was, Katniss did find you.  

  It took about an hour before the rain lightened, and you could hear her voice echoing through the trees.

  “Y/n?!  Where are you!?”

  You debated saying nothing, utterly ashamed, but you knew better.

  “Over here..!”

  It was a matter of seconds before Katniss came stampeding over to you.  She ran into the cave like there was no tomorrow and pulled you into her arms.

  “Oh, you’re okay…”  She breathed a sigh of relief, practically lifting you off the ground.  When she squeezed you as tight as you could, she let go, and then gasped.  “What happened to you?  Is this blood?!”

  You looked down as her fingers clenched your shirt, noticing she was looking at the blackberry stains across your chest and arms.

  “No… just berries…”  You mumbled defeatedly.  You leaned against, wanting to hide your face in her neck but she stepped back.

  “I’m glad you’re okay, but Y/n, what the fuck?”  Katniss exclaimed suddenly, her gray eyes unable to conceal their anger and emotion.  “This is exactly why I said we weren’t going to go hunting, it’s unpredictable during storms!   Why would you ever do something so stupid?!”

  As quickly as it came, the anger fled from her eyes when you just began to cry.  Her arms wrapped around you once more and she tucked your face into her chest.

  “Oh, Y/n, I’m sorry..”  Katniss cooed softly, raking her fingers through your damp hair.  “I’m not mad.. I was just scared.  I thought you got hurt…”

  You sobbed softly, clinging onto her like a koala as you cried.  Not only had you proved yourself nothing but worthless once more, dragged Katniss out into the rain to come to your rescue for the 100th time, but you’d also scared her.

  “I’m so sorry…”  You whimpered softly, shaking your head as hot tears dripped down your face.  “I’m so sorry…”

  “Y/n…”

  “I’m worthless.  I feel like I’m worthless to you..”  You blubbered softly, trying to get the truth out between pouring tears.  “I-I just wanted to prove that I’m strong, and worth something, to you especially but… but I’m not..  I’m so sorry…”

  Expecting some sort of retaliation, you closed your eyes and braced, but nothing came.  Instead, two warm hands found their way to your face and gently cupped your cheeks.  You didn’t open your eyes until a soft thumb stroked the side of your face, and then you slowly looked up.

  Katniss was framing your face as if you were an art piece, the most beautiful thing in the world who belonged in a museum.  She smiled sadly at you, wiping the tears away with a soft flick of her thumb every few seconds.

  “You are not worthless.”  Katniss murmured softly.  “You’re not, Y/n.  You’re my whole world, and you don’t have to change because I love you for who and how you are.”

  “Y-you do…?”

  “Of course I do.  I wouldn’t keep you around if I didn’t.”  Katniss teased gently, making you chuckle.  Once she saw the softest light in your eyes, she continued.  “I love you, okay?  I love you, and you’re perfect.  You don’t have to prove yourself to me.  You could never be worthless…”  She stopped for a moment, cheeks flushing a little with how much she’d just poured her heart out.  Then she lowered her voice.  “Alright…?”

  The tears came back to your eyes once more, but no longer were they tears of self loathing and embarrassment.  You just nodded and buried your face into her chest.  “Yeah.. okay…  I love you, Katniss..”

  “I know you do.”  She whispered softly, giving you a tight squeeze and then letting go.  “Now, let’s get home.. Okay?”

   “Okay…”

  You were a little scared to go into the Everdeen's house after all of this, certain they’d know of your mistakes, but nobody commented, so you felt a little better.

  Katniss got you a fresh, dry change of clothes and then led you up to her room where she sat you on the bed, and then sat beside you and pulled her into a warm embrace.

  “What are you doing..?”  You chuckled softly as she began pebbling kisses all over your head and face.

  Katniss chuckled too, kissing your nose.  “Showing you how much I love you.”  She murmured, kissing your forehead this time.  “And making sure you don’t do something stupid again.”

  You giggled and headbutted her gently, which earned you about 10 more kisses on your forehead, and then the tightest hug ever.

#the hunger games #catching fire #the mockingjay #katniss everdeen #katniss everdeen x reader #katniss everdeen x fem!reader #katniss everdeen x you #x reader

[acourtofthought]

Regarding Lucien’s scars. I think it’s basically a headcanon in the fandom that Lucien still has the scars on his back from being whipped, but if those are present in canon too, that could be interesting. Howeverrrr… the facial scar must be kind of a big deal for Lucien. Amarantha attacked him 50ish years ago and then within a few days she organized that masquerade ball “in Lucien’s honor” - the masked theme was a scheme to help him basically hide what she did to his face. Then the masks were plastered to the faces of everyone in Spring Court because Tamlin didn’t accept to sleep with Amarantha. So here’s Lucien, hiding his scars for 50 years no matter how uncomfortable the whole mask situation may have been… but now his facial scar that he cannot hide anywhere (unlike Azriel’s hands) is just in full view for anyone who looks at him. I think there is no question about it. He must be self conscious about it, especially since he thinks Elain is the most beautiful female he has ever seen and she doesn’t reciprocate anything yet. People have been writing about it here on tumblr recently but I really hope SJM explores Lucien’s character from this perspective too. I assume he must feel very inadequate compared to Elain. She has so much (family, friends, connected to the IC, safety and security, beauty, etc.), whereas Lucien refers to himself as a whole lot of nothing. He doesn’t have a home or even a court, he’s basically all alone in the fae world, his closest allies are two humans who so far don’t have much power or influence in Prythian. I assume he is probably also unhappy with his looks after such a traumatic experience. I hope SJM explores this, I think that would be a really cool addition to Elucien’s healing journey. Even though Lucien is quite snarky and cocky outwardly, his inner monologue seems very self conscious. Ahhh SJM give us the angstttttt

I AGREE!!!!!! I think while there are sincere aspects of Lucien's personality that are (hahaha, I just accidentally typed snocky which was my brain getting confused on whether I wanted to type snarky or cocky first) snarky and cocky, I also feel it's a default mechanism too. Lucien is known to take care in his appearance and he is aware of appearances. Even in book once he was a bit of a fashionista, commenting on how Feyre's tunic wasn't as pretty as a dress and being amazed at how positively fae she looked when she did finally put one on. There's also this: Lucien said, "True. But indulge me: you're a human woman, and yet you'd rather eat hot coals than sit here longer than necessary. Ignoring this" - he waved a hand at the metal eye and brutal scar on his face-" surely we're not so miserable to look at. Lucien must be constantly aware of others looking at him and I'm guessing he's never sure if it's about the eye or if his scars are unappealing to them. For someone who does care about appearances, whose job it is to talk to High Lords and make friends to be a successful emissary, there is definitely an inner discomfort he's trying to brush off through his nonchalance and jokes about his appearance. I think you're right. Elain is beautiful to the point that people talk. Eris somehow heard across courts that Lucien's mate is a real beauty. She had heiresses jealous of her at barely thirteen. Her mother commented that if her beauty held, she'd be able to secure them a decent match on the marriage market (Elain was 11). So Lucien comes along and not only is he given this super special, sacred bond with her but she turns out to be the most beautiful female he'd ever seen all while knowing that she's in love with someone else. And there he is, with no home, no family name, a scar running down his face and one eye. I would take Lucien in a second and we know that many in the ACOTAR world reference his good looks but you can see how he would struggle with his appearance. You can see how Elain literally took his breath away and she did not seem effected by him (I imagine we'll find out that wasn't the truth in her POV but it's how he perceived it at the time). He thinks she doesn't want him or need him and I definitely think we're going to find that he's been feeling very insecure about her perception of his physical appearance.

#lucien vanserra #pro elucien #pro lucien vanserra #elucien