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7s3ven · 9 months

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NOBODY’S SON, NOBODY’S DAUGHTER. luke (pjo) pt 4

PART 1 > PART 2 > PART 3 > PART 4 (last pt)

( masterlist )

IN WHICH… Y/N is chosen for a quest, one of which Luke knows she might not return from. When she returns a three months later, he vows to never let her go again. After all, the son of Hermes and the daughter of Zeus can never stay apart for long.

“I’m in the wind, you’re in the water. Nobody’s son, nobody’s daughter.”

Warnings : gore, violence, really descriptive words of gore (it’s lowkey grossing me out), complicated relationship, doesn’t follow canon plot, just a little bit of swearing

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TAG LIST : @lostinhisworld @julielightwood @outerbanks-stuff @jennapancake @csifandom @evrybodydies1 @kkrenae @s0ulsniper @annispamz @justanotherkpopstanlol @soraya-09 @simpforeveyone @papichulo120627 @corpsebridenightamare @lilacspider @prettylilsimp @urmomsbananabread @ur-lacol-dsylexic @hottiewifeyyyy @kamiliora @be-bap @finnickodaddy @th0tblckgrl @shoyofroyoyoyo @uniquely-her @imafrkinsimp @syraxesrevenge @ahh-chickens @dracoslovergirl @midnightstar-90 @8812-342 @liv1104 @krkiiz @arialikestea @ch16rles @lizziesliz @maryclx01 @lukecastellandefender @yuminako @coryoskywalker @julielightwood @crybabysbakery @jsbaby @liviessun @p3pperm1nttea @angie-esc @purplerose291 @prettylilsimp @10ava01 @froggiesstalks @happy-jj @czennieszn @gisellesprettylies @loveyava @csifandom @luvvfromme @mashiromochi @kamiliora @yorksyree @mqg125 @jamesmackreideswife

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Three months without Luke. Three terrible, lonely months without him. They were supposed to be on a break but they hadn’t spoken since capture the flag.

Luke stopped talking to Lana and Allen finally stopped annoying Y/N after she accidentally electrocuted him again, but worse. It was safe to say he spent a few weeks with the Apollo kids.

Y/N sat alone at her table, picking at her food. Percy looked as lonely as her. With no siblings to sit beside, they were left in their own company.

Y/N almost jumped when someone sat beside her. Part of her wished it was Luke and she felt disappointed when it was only Mai. “Hey.” She softly said, leaning forward. “You’ve always wanted to go on a quest, right?”

In all her ten years at camp, Y/N had never been on a quest. It’s not like she wasn’t a top candidate because she was. But nobody really wanted an unclaimed demigod on their team, even if she was more than qualified.

“I guess.” Y/N shrugged. Her occupied mind wasn’t really focused on quests right now. Mai’s beautiful brown eyes shined even brighter as she grinned, her eyes crinkling.

“I’m not supposed to tell anyone until Chiron announces it… but I’ve been chosen for quest.” She squealed, kicking her legs.

“And?” Y/N raised an eyebrow as she slowly chewed on her food. Why was Mai telling her that? They weren’t exactly close and they had barely spoken since Y/N’s night in the Aphrodite cabin.

“I want you to know that you,” She lightly poked the tip of Y/N’s nose. “Are coming with me.” Mai giggled as she stood up, rushing off before Y/N could even question it. Y/N whipped her head around, speechless. She could hardly focus on training with Luke haunting her mind. How was she supposed to help with a quest?

She slowly sighed, chewing lightly on her bottom lip. When she felt someone burning holes into her with their gaze, she lifted her head. To no one’s surprise, it was Luke. He quickly looked away, resuming his conversation with Chris as if nothing had happened.

Y/N gripped her fork. Maybe a quest would be good for her. She could get away from Camp and focus on lashing out all her anger on the poor monsters.

After breakfast, Chiron gathered up the camp’s best fighters and possible allies for Mai on her quest. Y/N wasn’t surprised to see Luke and Clarisse lined up beside her.

Y/N shifted around awkwardly, uncomfortable with the idea of standing next to Luke. The air was thick with tension and not just because everyone was eager to get chosen. Y/N’s fidgeting caught Luke’s keen eye but he didn’t say a word, simply turning his gaze to look ahead once more.

“The Oracle has confirmed what we expected.” Chiron uttered, his hands clasped behind his back. “The monsters are attempting to enter the mortal realm, which is bad news for both us and them. Their base of operation lies in New York, which is where you will venture to. Time is of the essence. I have selected the best candidates to join you on your journey.”

“Y/N.” Mai suddenly cut Chiron off.

“Usually, one waits to head at least one name.” Chiron retorted.

“I know all their names. I want Y/N. If there’s anyone who can help me succeed, it’s her. I mean, she’d probably push me down a flight of stairs if it was part of the quest. And I need someone like that.” Mai’s eyes scanned over the rest of the demigods, weighing out all her options in her head. “I also want Clarisse. If we run into a monster and we don’t weapons, I can count on her to slay it with a piece of paper.”

Luke parted his lips to say something but no words came out. For the first time in three months, he talked to Y/N. “Hey.” He jogged towards her, staring down at her with so much emotion in his eyes. “Um, I know we haven’t talked in a while but… stay safe. On your quest, I mean.”

Y/N slowly and stiffly smiled. “Thanks… Luke. I’ll try my best.” She nodded.

“Wait, Y/N.” Luke called out, reaching for her again. “Don’t die. Please.” He grabbed her face, kissing her with so much strength and passion that it felt like her were turning to jelly. “This way… you have to come back because we definitely need to talk about that and our break.”

“Y/N, you coming?” Mai asked, turning around just as Luke pulled away.

“Uh…” Her cheeks flushed red. “Yes. Yeah. I’m coming, Mai!” She looked at Luke and poked his chest. “Stop being confusing and learn to communicate more while I’m gone. See you soon, Luke.” She hurried off, faltering when Mai slung an arm around her shoulder.

Luke didn’t really care about the other demigods being sent off on dangerous quests but if Y/N didn’t return, he swore he would set the world on fire. And he always kept his promises.

Camp was lonely without Y/N, even if all he did was stare longingly at her. “Hey, Lana.” Luke uttered as he leaned against the walls of the Aphrodite cabin, arms crossed over his chest. “How do I… improve my communication?”

“Is this about Y/N?” Lana questioned, tilting her head to the side.

Luke lightly scoffed. “Of course it is. She deserves better but I can’t see her with anyone else so I want to become better.” Luke ran a hand through his hair, clenching his jaw. “I thought that since you’re an Aphrodite kid, you can help me.”

Lana stared at him with a pointed look before she lightly huffed in amusement and nodded. “Okay, first of all… we need to fix your communication problem.”

“I do not have a communication issue.”

“Your relationship with Y/N says otherwise.” Lana raised her eyebrows while Luke sighed. “You see what I mean? So first, communication. Second, words of encouragement. Make her feel special. Validate her. You love her, yes? Then show it. Actions speak louder than words. Once Y/N comes back, you’ll be a whole new person. With my help, duh.”

Lana grinned, pulling Luke into the cabin. “You don’t need a physical makeover. You’re the definition of a pretty boy. What you need is a new mindset. Sure, you and Y/N are in a rough patch with all the arguments.”

Lana slightly scrunched up her nose as she chuckled.

“But if Y/N is this special to you, then changing for her should be no problem. I won’t lie, it’s gonna be hard, Luke. For now, I’m going to make you watch To All the Boys I’ve loved Before, all of the movies, because they have terrible communication. And you’re also gonna watch Say Anything because you need to see the boombox scene.”

“I’ve seen the Lloyd boombox scene, Lana… I’m not holding up a boombox.”

“Not even for Y/N?”

Luke groaned, holding his face in his hands. “Okay. I’ll hold the damn boombox.”

“And play Lana Del Rey?”

“Why Lana Del Rey?”

“Because Y/N loves her. And it’s Lana Del Rey. Who else would you play? Besides, I’m sure Y/N is having a great time and I am in dire need of some toxic love songs here.”

Y/N stared at the hypnotising and flashing lights in front of her. “Let me get this straight,” She muttered, turning to Clarisse and Mai, “We need to get in there…” She pointed at the only entrance, “But the only way to do so is…”

“To walk in. As one of the models.” Mai quickly finished Y/N’s sentence, nodding her head.

Y/N sharply clicked her tongue. “Why not cause a distraction? That seems easier. I mean, we could definitely pull off the model look because we’re all pretty hot but it’s risky.”

“Y/N’s right.” Clarisse piped up. “Lucky for her, I’ve come up with the perfect distraction. Get ready to run in.” The Ares girl cunningly grinned while Y/N and Mai hid beneath a table.

“So, what do you think she’s going to do?” Y/N questioned, peeking out from under the white cloth.

“Maybe pull a fire alarm?”

Y/N shook her head. “That’s not her style.” A loud boom suddenly echoed through the hall. Exploded bits of stone and rubble smashed against the tiled floor, a few bits scratching Y/N’s ankles.

She pressed her lips into a line as she looked at Mai again. “Yeah. That’s more of what I was expecting.”

At this very moment, Y/N hated the number three. It seemed to bring bad luck to her. Three months without Luke and three months on a quest. That was practically six months without his energetic company.

Y/N quietly scoffed to herself. She couldn’t believe that after all this time, Luke still plagued her mind like a disease. Except he wasn’t a disease. Once upon a time, he was Y/N’s light in the darkness.

“What are you doing?” Clarisse asked when she found her best friend curled up in a blanket and rolled up into a small ball.

“Uh… Sleeping?” Y/N came up with a lousy excuse. Clarisse rolled her eyes and lightly kicked Y/N in the side.

“Get up. We’ve got to get to camp before any more monsters find us.”

It had been a difficult mission but Clarisse, Y/N, and Mai had managed to pull it off. Y/N slowly stood up but froze when he heard a loud roar echo through the trees. She and Clarisse exchanged a panicked look.

“Wake Mai up!” Y/N exclaimed, shoving as much as she could into her bag. Clarisse violated shook Mai awake, not giving the groggy girl time to adjust to the light.

The trio sprinted through the woods, trying to stay ahead of whatever was hunting them down. Y/N loudly panted as she reached the top of the hill. Her lungs felt like they were on fire. Unfortunately, neither Clarisse and Mai were blessed with her lighting fast running and the two girls were still lagging behind.

The monster burst through the thick foliage and Y/N’s heart fearfully skipped a beat. “Is that…” She trailed off in shock, staring at the beast with wide eyes.

“It’s a fucking manticore!” Clarisse shouted, pulling her sword out of its sheath. Everything was still and nobody dared to move as the Manticore growled at the group and circled around them.

“One of us has to distract it.” Clarisse quietly muttered as to not alarm the monster.

“I’ll do it.” Y/N quickly replied, reaching for new spear.

Mai pulled out a dagger, gripping it tightly in her left hand. “It’s my quest, guys. I’ll distract the manticore and you run.”

“No way.” Y/N shook her head, “I can take it.”

“I promised Luke I’d keep you safe.” Clarisse sneered, adjusting her stance. “So it should be me.”

“Now is not the time to talk about Luke and I’s complicated relationship.” Y/N snapped, flinching slightly when the manticore growled again.

“He kissed you, Y/N. I’d say he still has plenty of feelings left for you.” Mai’s eyes carefully followed the manticore’s moves. It seemed to have enough of their bickering and it lunged at the person closest to it. That person was Mai.

She screamed as the manticore attempted to claw at her face. Clarisse slashed through the monster’s wing and it howled in evident pain. Its scorpion tail reached for Y/N but she jumped back before the stinger could pierce her flesh.

“I could use some help!” Mai shouted as the manticore’s sharp fangs sank into her right shoulder. Y/N knocked the monster off Mai and quickly helped the girl up.

“I’d say the cut wing is plenty of distraction. Now I would prefer to run before it stings us all!” Y/N exclaimed. She was lucky enough to dodge it’s stinger the first time but she couldn’t guarantee her success at doing it again.

Clarisse hacked at the manticore’s eyes, almost slitting its face open. “Let’s go!” She screamed, pushing an injured Mai towards camp. Y/N took off after her friends but the manticore made one more desperate lunge for a target.

Its stinger sank into her leg and she screamed in pain. Y/N stumbled, eventually falling and hitting the hard ground.

“Y/N!” Clarisse turned back, sprinting towards the H/C-nette.

The manticore pulled its stinger out with a loud squelch and it’s claws sliced at Y/N’s leg, creating a gash so bloody that Clarisse had to look away in fear she’d throw up at the gruesome sight.

Y/N desperately stretched out her hand to grab something, anything. When her hand brushed against a decently-sized rock, she grabbed it and whacked the manticore.

She scrambled up, pulling out her spear once more and hurling it in the direction of the monster’s heart. The sharp weapon pierced its chest and the monster exploded into golden fragments.

“Shit, shit, shit. We need to get you back to camp.” Clarisse said, panicking as she watched light grey veins stem from the sting. That was never a good sign.

“What’s taking them so long?” Percy asked as he sat beside Luke, holding a plate of food. It had been ages since Mai, Y/N, and Clarisse had left

“A quest takes time.” Annabeth butted in, “And this sounded like a hard one, even for them.”

“I’m sure the three of them can handle it.” Luke said, mainly to reassure himself that Y/N hadn’t died a painful and untimely death. Percy’s eyes flickered to a trio approaching the top of the hill.

“Hey.” He nudged Luke, “Is… Is that them?”

Luke could recognise Y/N’s H/C hair from a mile away. He stood up, accidentally hitting the table. That was Percy’s unspoken answer. Mai and Clarisse had Y/N’s arms slung around their shoulders as she limped forward. But Y/N suddenly tripped and the three of them stumbled, more like rolled, down the hill.

“Oh. Shit.” Luke was the first to react. He ran over to Y/N, who was lying underneath Mai. She groaned under the weight of the other demigod.

“I told you to be careful with your shoulder.” Clarisse grumbled, pulling Mai off Y/N. Luke hurriedly helped her up.

“Are you okay?” He asked.

“Apart from almost getting my leg torn off and the venom spreading quickly, I’m great.” Y/N awkwardly smiled and winced when she moved her injured limb. “Would you mind helping me to the infirmity?” She asked, but Luke was already one step ahead. He easily picked her up and laid her down on the first free bed he saw.

“What happened?” He asked as he looked at Y/N’s slashed leg.

Y/N was silent for a moment before she shrugged. “Manticore.” She said like it wasn’t a big deal, but it was because half her leg was almost falling off. Luke wanted to puke as he merely stared at it.

“Hey,” He said to a passing Apollo kid, “Do you think you could, I dunno, save her before she dies from manticore venom?”

The Apollo kid looked at Y/N’s leg, his nose scrunching up. “It did a good number on you. Mai got away with only a bite.”

“Yeah, I guess it has something to do with Zeus being my father.” Y/N sighed. “But my leg is really starting to hurt now.”

“The venom hasn’t spread to your torso yet so that’s good news. We may have to knock you unconscious because fixing this wound will take some time… and pain. Probably a lot of pain.” The boy called a few of his siblings over, quickly explaining the situation to them.

Luke stepped back to give them space and he waited until Y/N was unconscious before he left. “She’ll be okay, right?” He asked Genieve, one of the most skilled healers.

“She’s a tough girl, Luke. She’ll be fine.”

Y/N awoke a week later. She groaned as she sat up, stretching her arms and popping her back. She yawned, looking around at her surroundings. Multiple get better cards littered the table next to her and she smiled when she saw Percy’s bad attempt at drawing a whale.

“Oh. You’re awake.” Genieve kindly smiled at Y/N, “I was getting a little scared that you were in a coma.”

Y/N moved her injured leg, surprised to see that nothing was left of the grisly cut except a dark scar.

“We did our best but injuries from monsters don’t fully go away.” Genieve sheepishly piped up.

Y/N knew that. It was the same case with Luke’s scar. She jolted at the thought of Luke. Y/N turned to Genieve, wanting to ask where the boy was. She figured that it was finally time to talk with him.

No arguments, no misunderstandings, no blaming each other for something they couldn’t control.

As if understanding what she wanted, Genieve pointed towards the closed door. “Outside.” Was all she said.

Y/N walked towards the door, slowly pulling it open. A cold gust of air hit her and she shivered. Camp was usually warm all year round, even when it was snowing because the snow couldn’t get past the barrier.

Y/N stepped forward, looking around in shock as she sank into the freezing, knee-height snow. She had always wanted to touch it but Chiron warned her that going outside the barrier, even if it was close to camp, was dangerous.

There was a new sparkle in Y/N’s eye as she crouched down to grab a handful. She heard the lulling sound of music and when she looked up, she burst into laughter at the sight of Luke holding a boombox. He held it up high and with pride, not caring about the questioning looks campers gave him.

“You said you always wanted to see and touch snow… so I brought you some.” Luke uttered, his voice overlapping with the melodic sound of Lana Del Rey.

Tell me I'm your national anthem.

Red, white, blue is in the sky.

Summer's in the air and baby, heaven's in your eyes.

“I don’t care what you do, Sparky.” Luke said as he walked until he was standing in front of her. He placed the boombox down. “Break my heart. Break my heart into a thousand pieces and bury them. Do whatever you want… because I love you.”

Y/N cupped his cold face in her hands, lightly sniffing. She cracked a small smile. “You’re the only one for me, Luke. I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry too, Sparky. From now on, I’ll communicate with you better. I’ll do anything for you. I’d kill for you, I’d set the world on fire for you. Just as long as I can hug and kiss you and call you mine.”

END.

#luke castellan pjo #luke castellan x you #luke castellan x reader #grover pjo #grover underwood #luke castellan #annabeth chase #annabeth pjo #hermes pjo #zeus pjo #pjo tv show #pjo series #percy jackson fanfiction #percy jackson series #greek mythology #the lightning thief

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amuyyi · 4 months

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y/n + her plants .

synopsis; just 3 little drabbles of y/n being the only extrovert and obsessed with plants.

trope; le sserafim x 6th member!reader, platonic , just silly poorly written stuff

wc; 2.0k

cw; none

a/n; im ngl this is just a self indulgent self insert of the author. i love female friendships! also i was half asleep writing this, but i really like the 2nd clip idk it makes me giggle a little :3 i had planned to write more, but i got tired soooo... also did not spellcheck at the end zzz please read my other works if u actually want decently written stuff

Clip 1:

It was your turn to turn in a vlog for the week, and you decided to utilize this time to do a room tour. You grin into the camera as you make your way to you and Yunjin’s shared bedroom, opening the door and showing the interior to the camera. It was a spacious room, with posters and photographs plastered all along the walls alongside other decor such as string lights, unique shaped mirrors, and endless figurines and trinkets lined on the shelves. One of the most prominent features of the room though was the amount of pure green all throughout. There were plants quite literally everywhere. On the windowsill, hanging off the ceiling, held up on the wall, on the floor, the tables, the shelves. It felt like just about any free space was touched by mother nature herself.

You grin sheepishly as you explain, “Not many people know this– well I guess now many people will know this, but I am a super big plant person!”

The camera slowly pans over all of the plants as well as some of Yunjin’s belongings, including her guitar, glasses, and some smiski’s you two co-parent. “Thankfully Yunjin doesn’t mind me hogging up some space for my babies, and I pay her back in smiski figurines!!” Grabbing hold of a little green man on the table that was struggling to put on a sweater, you shove its face into the camera as you giggle, “I think this one's my favorite, me and Yunjin are still trying to come up with a name for him.”

You look around, trying to figure out which plant to showcase first before you catch sight of one particular plant you enjoy. “Oh! I want to show you guys my favorite pot…” The camera pans to a comically large and rather beat up leather boot, which humbly held home to a mini monstera within its space.

“It was a random shoe I found near a river during filming one time. Viney here seems to enjoy it,” You grin, accidentally letting it slip that you name every single one of your plants as well as touch random garbage you find outside before you showcase another “pot,” being a mug that had the words “Live Laugh Love” plastered boldly on the side as you snicker, “this one just makes me laugh. Jen hates it, but I don’t think she can recognize the beauty in irony.”

You let out a sigh as you make your way towards your bed, plopping down onto it as you speak. “Y’know, I personally believe I’m a great candidate to collaborate on a show with Chuu, Tsuki, and Yuqi sunbaenim,” the ramble starts, completely derailing from the original topic of plants as you speak. Your tone is lighthearted and playful, but you’re being completely serious as you continue, “I want to do a bunch of random jobs and harass random people on the street!! I’m perfectly capable of doing that! I’d do that even if I wasn’t getting paid!”

You start to laugh, realizing how ridiculous you started to sound, but you didn’t care, you pressed the topic on. “If I weren't an idol I’d make a great farmer! Why haven’t I gotten invited to be a farmer with Chuu sunbaenim??” An endless string of various other jobs as well as explanations behind why you would qualify for every one of them begins to spew out of your mouth. You were always a major talker, and quite literally had no filter nor shame when it came to what you had to say. More often than not, you were leading conversations at social events if Chaewon hadn’t already beat you to it– and having alone time with your own thoughts and a camera to record it all was a recipe for disaster.

At the end of your rant, you find yourself slightly winded before making direct eye contact with the camera, pointing your finger directly into it as you announce, “If any TV company is out there watching this right now, this is my application to be a guest on one of your shows! Any job will do, I’ll do it! But just know I’ll leave you farmers in the dust if you put me out in the fields. Watch your back.”

As a last “threat” to broadcasters all around the world, you threateningly do a “I’m watching you” gesture with your hand before placing your hand over the camera, ending the vlog.

Clip 2:

Eunchae spins around the dorm building, giving the viewers on the livestream a living room tour as she looks around, coming up with random things to showcase on the spot. So far, she’s shown off the inside of the fridge, their oven, and underneath the couch. The young girl’s eyebrows furrow as she contemplates what to show fearnots next, her eyes landing on your precious arrangement of houseplants that you lovingly arranged in front of the balcony door. Eunchae clears her throat dramatically as she turns the camera towards your plants, squatting down next to them as she makes sure the audience can see both her and them within the frame.

“As you guys can see here, we have y/n’s plants… She's COVERED the apartment full of them, Chaewon unnie has to scold her every time she brings one home.” She giggles into the camera before shaking her head, “I’m convinced she loves those things more than us…”

Faint rustling could be heard within the background, and Eunchae turns her head, opening her mouth as if to call out to whoever was home, but she pauses.An imaginary light bulb goes off in her head as Eunchae gasps, looking straight into the camera as she grins mischievously. “I have an idea… Watch this!” She scrambles onto the floor, laying flat on her stomach on top of the floor tile as she props her phone up against the wall hidden behind a stool. The camera perfectly showcases the plants, the living room, and the curtains covering the screen door.

[ynniez] – oh no… [huhjin001] – this is going to be good [2ningz] - 🥸🥸🥸

The giggles can't seem to stop as Eunchae hops onto her feet and immediately dashes behind the curtains, pressing her finger up to her lips towards the camera in a “shh…!” motion before she disappears.

“Eunchae?” your voice rings out as you return to your living quarters, grocery bags in hand as the camera perfectly captures your entrance. You don’t think much of the silence that follows as you place the bags down, making your way over to your plants with a grin.

“Hello my lovelies~” You say to your plants, squatting down to examine them individually before grabbing hold of the watering can nearby. As you lift up the can, Eunchae suddenly bursts through the curtains, exclaiming “BOO!” as loud as possible, resulting in you screaming at a decibel twice as high.

Unfortunately for the maknae, she had failed to foresee the possibility of you watering your plants at this exact moment– resulting in you blindly chucking 90% of the water inside the can towards the culprit in a panic. Eunchae stands there frozen, oversized sweatshirt and hair absolutely soaked with her mouth agape as she stares at you in complete shock.

“What THE FU– EUNCHAE??” You yell out, watching the younger girl simply freeze in front of you like a wet cat. You switch to English for just one moment, simply saying, “Girl…” as you clutch your hand over your heart, trying to steady the rapid beating.

Eunchae’s shocked expression shifts into one of glee as her mouth still remains open, now smiling as her body rotates to where the phone hid, silently pointing in the general direction of the camera as she tries not to burst out into laughter on the spot.

You stare at her in complete confusion before following her finger, eyes finally landing on the livestream as your eyes widen, suddenly feeling very exposed in her own home. “No way you just got all of that on camera…”

Eunchae finally allows the laughter to flow, as she suddenly spreads her arms out, inching her way towards you. “You did this to me, unnie!!!” She roars, making attempts to trap you in a hug as you scream, running offscreen as the live abruptly ends.

Clip 3:

You’re seen with your face comically close to the camera, a habit that soon became a signature of your livestreams as you watch the viewers and comments roll in. You glaze over them before flipping the camera around, showing Sakura within the kitchen, wearing a pink apron and plastic gloves as she cuts up some vegetables. “Hi everyone!! Today, Kkura unnie and I are making omelets for the girls with microgreens I’ve grown MYSELF in OUR apartment!!” You loudly exclaim, shoving the camera close to the cutting board as Sakura rolls her eyes, chuckling at the sight as you eventually point the camera elsewhere.

“You did a very good job growing these y/n-nnie. They look great.” The comment from the older girl made you shy, and you flip the camera back to your face as you place a hand on your cheek, “hehe, thank you Kkura-unnie~” you coo, shifting your gaze back to the viewers before sighing.

“I grew all kinds of stuff in here, like basil, arugula, cilantro, kale…” You trail off, counting the number of edible plants you’ve grown on your finger before continuing, “but I could make so much more if I had a full blown garden!!” You whine, and Sakura could be seen in the background rolling her eyes, playfully commenting, “not this again…”

You dramatically lean on Sakura’s back with your own despite her already being hunched over while chopping as you sigh even louder this time, “I’m serious unnie!! The stuff I could grow for you guys.. You would have a whole salad in one place!!”

Leaving the older member to her task, you place the camera down before grabbing some eggs and cracking them into a bowl, impressively doing so with only one hand each as the comments complimented your skill.

[makna33] – master chef y/n?? [nay00n1] – girl what cant u do…

A laugh escapes your lips as you beat the eggs, “guys, its not that impressive. Besides, I don’t cook nearly as often or as well as Kkura-unnie.” The compliment garners a small smile from the other girl seen in the corner of the screen as you continue on, “anyways, if I had my own garden in the building, I would graft the best tomatoes ever… I’d be real life Frankenstien creating the perfect tomato!” You start, knowing that most likely nobody would actually care for your facts, but you shared anyways, this was YOUR live after all.

“Oh! We’re also using my basil today in one of the omelets. Guys, if you’re ever growing your own basil at home, make sure to pinch off the flowers! It makes it tastier!!” You point the chopsticks you used to whisk the egg at your phone camera, and some of the yolk is thrown onto the screen as your eyes widen, looking back at Sakura to make sure she didn't see what you just did.

You quickly wipe off the gunk before returning to your kitchen duties as if nothing happened, “These eggs are gonna be so good… Though, I did have a pretty bad mealybug problem with the greens at some point… Do you guys know what those are? They’re like these little white dusty bugs that suck the sap out of your plants if you don’t do anything about them. I had SO MANY. But I refused to give up on em and now they're critter free!”

“Yah! Y/n! Don’t talk about the bugs in your plants!! The girls won’t want to eat it then!” Sakura scolds, playfully kicking your side with her leg as she focuses on frying the eggs.

You giggle as you look into the camera, “oops– don’t tell them that there used to be bugs in their food.”

“WHAT?!”

The sound of Kazuha and Chaewon’s shrill voice rings out in the live, and you immediately slam your phone down, giving the viewers a black screen before the live ends.

#kpop x fem reader #kpop fanfic #gg fanfic #kpop #kpop x female reader #le sserafim x reader #kpop x reader #lesserafim x reader #le sserafim imagines #lesserafim imagines #sakura x reader #chaewon x reader #yunjin x reader #nakamura kazhuha x reader #eunchae x reader #le sserafim scenarios #miyawaki sakura x reader

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damagdsnow · 7 months

Text

Fix my reputation

Pairing: young!Coriolanus Snow x fem!reader

Summary: You and Coryo are together for mutual benefits, he needs a well known woman by his side to look vulnerable and loving during the presidential elections and you need your reputation to be fixed after your unforgivable scandal.

Tag: fake dating, slow burn, enemies to lovers, arranged marriage, manipulative/soft Snow, strong and independent reader (as she should), fluff, angst, power play, smut, fingering, thigh riding, switching sub/dom, degradation, denied orgasm, piv, dirty talk, overstimulation, oral (fem/male receiving), praise

Chapter 1, chapter 2;

aesthetic chapter one, aesthetic chapter two;

Tw: Snow being Snow, mention of alcohol, panic/anxiety attack, mention of blood, mention of parent death, physical aggression (not detailed and not from Snow)

Word count: 11.3k

note: before reading this I recommend you to read the first chapter here. Also, thank you so much for all the love and support on chapter one I didn’t expect all of this, I love you guys ❤️

He is the forbidden fruit, I shall not fall in temptation.

The first time you had met Coriolanus was when Dr. Gaul had announced he was going to be her apprentice Gamemaker during the next Hunger Games.

At that time, you got a job as a health advisor, essentially you monitored tributes' vital signs and whether they were injured, you formulated unique medicine so mentors and sponsors could help their favorites heal faster and be a step ahead of the others. You were used to stitch wounds, examining patients, making prescriptions. This was a whole new thing to you. Dr. Gaul said to you that you were one of the most qualified doctors in that department, this is the reason why she pressured you to ‘amaze’ her.

”When I read your qualifications I was shocked to learn you were looking for employment,” was the first thing Dr. Gaul said to you when she requested to meet you.

You were in her laboratory, a bright room filled with gruesome creatures, dead and alive. She was standing in front of you, with her voluminous curly hair and her reddish long tunic, while she was feeding some sorta of genetically modified fish.

“I was looking for some thrilling experience,” you started fidgeting your fingers, “making me useful for the good of Panem.”

You practiced saying these words many times before meeting her, what were you supposed to say? That you desperately needed a job? That as soon as you found another position you would quit immediately?

”Your idea to formulate a drug that would help tributes in the arena?” With a long tweezer she dropped a pink cube in the small pool, ”so original,” she smiled while feeding the fishes with more cubes.

“You know what it means right? The games will last longer, people spending money on their helpless and injured tributes, mentors fighting to get the best sponsor,” she continued, her icy eyes were staring at you, “this is going to revolutionise the games.”

“I’m glad you liked my proposal,” you looked down, wondering if it was better to make eye contact with her or watch those horrific creatures with long fangs and thorny tails.

“Liked? I absolutely adore your way of thinking,” she put the tweezer back on a metal tray. “No one was able to surprise me since–” she paused and you looked back at her, ”do you know Coriolanus Snow? You two would get along well.”

At that time you wondered who he could be. Coriolanus Snow? His name sounded familiar to you. Only when Dr. Gaul introduced him to the department as an apprentice, you recognised his face.

You both graduated from the Academy, he was just a year older than you, and during the tenth annual Hunger Games his name was popular amongst students. Even though you went to the same school, you had never talked to him. Until a couple of months before the reaping, Dr. Gaul let you and other members work in her lab to do research. Of course he was there too, and chance had it that you were paired up with Coriolanus, sharing the same desk in the library section.

You could see him sitting opposite to you, his side was impressively tidy, just a black leather notepad and a book. Your half was full of microbiology volumes, agar plates and creased post-it. Coriolanus was too focused on his writing that he never gazed over you, on the other hand you were distracted by his presence. You remembered him differently in the Academy, his hair was slightly longer than before, his facial features were more defined, but the same cold aura surrounded him.

You felt kinda intimidated by him.

You’ve heard colleagues saying how brilliant he was: he won the Plinth prize in his senior year, he graduated with honors at advanced military strategies and he now had a high position as the right hand man of the pretentious Head Gamemaker.

He intrigued you.

You thought you were not the smartest person in the room. There was something in him, probably his confident behaviour while he was writing on his notebook, as if he was superior to you. You couldn’t take your eyes off of him, you thought of ways to start a conversation, not a small talk, but something smart to impress him.

Your heart was beating fast and you finally figured what to say, “Mr. Snow I found a better technique for–“

“What makes you think you can talk to me?” He cut you off while still writing in his notebook.

His words stunned you. The conversation you imagined in your head was now gone, what could you say at this point? “I just wanted–” you stuttered

“Don’t bother, I don’t want to know.”

Your admiration for him slowly faded each day. The way he corrected you every time you had a proposal, pointing out your mistakes in front of everyone, or when he made you work till night in the laboratory to perfectionate your research. You tolerated that, you were used to hard work and mean teachers in your university years, but sometimes he didn’t even show the slightest remorse on things he would say about the districts. About you, indirectly.

Every year on reaping day you thought that it could have been you. Your name in that little piece of paper, read out loud changing your destiny. If it wasn’t for your father’s role in the Dark Days, you could have been in that arena yourself, instead of having the privilege to control tributes’ lives in a cozy chair.

Your dad was an engineer, more a genius mastermind who designed and built high tech weapons. Specifically incendiary bombs, which were crucial to stop the rebels from invading the Capitol during the last year of the war. The project was so successful that he obtained an honorary medal from President Ravenstill himself. He was able to buy a place in the Capitol, for the only purpose to give you and your sister a better future, and you actually lived in luxury compared to your old life back in the districts. However, your father did not side with the president’s political view, still he had to conform to it or he would probably be considered a rebel.

He played the game, to stay alive. Until he was not part of that show anymore.

“I only did it for you and Darla, I don’t care about heavens or hell. As long as my family is safe, I regret nothing of the atrocities I’ve done,” were the words your father wrote to you in a letter, before being killed.

They had never been clear about the dynamics of his homicide, but you were sure it was not an incident as someone would say. The Capitol killed him, they took your dad away from you, the only person you admired, that never let you down.

Your blood was from the districts, even if you’ve lived all your life in the Capitol, you couldn’t change your origins. Coriolanus reminded you of that, with his despicable comments about how ‘horrible and disgusting’ the people from the districts were. As if you didn’t exist to him, you were not a person from his perspective. But he did not know that, no one knew you were not from the Capitol, it was only written on your official documents.

“The games are meant to remind us all who we truly are,” was something Coriolanus often said, bullshit you thought, for you the Games were an insult to humanity and civilisation, cruel entertainment for empty people.

Coriolanus Snow, such a brilliant mind but wicked thoughts.

At the same time, you were not better than him. You worked for the Head Gamemaker and indirectly supported the unnatural destiny of those children. It was easier blaming the government, the bad guys, than admitting to be part of the corrupted system you truly despised. Your excuse was that you had no choice, and partially it was true, but can money win over your beliefs? Were you so desperate to bend your morality just not to be jobless and not respectable? You were acting as your father: were you a fighter or survivor?

Little did you know that your worst nightmares were going to haunt you soon. After the incident you were unemployed, with a bad reputation and with a man you hated.

Check, check, check.

You woke up at lunch time for the third day in a row, it was like being a child again. But there wasn’t your mom taking care of you, your dad making your favorite dish or your big sister spoiling you with presents. You couldn’t ignore your responsibilities and let the adults do the big things for you. You were the adult now, but if you kept self destroying your life this way, it was like everything you’ve done vanished away. Giving up was not an option, or to put things clear, it was the easier possibility amongst the other challenging beginnings.

One of these included him.

Coriolanus was not a beginning, he was more like someone you bump into when you are in a rush, someone who wasn’t supposed to be there but that let you miss the train, made you change your destination. However, the end of the journey was a mystery, with him nothing was clear from the start.

The gala was proof that you couldn’t handle that world, it felt like everything you did made your situation in a much worse position. If it wasn’t for Coriolanus, you would’ve busted into tears on live tv, he was used to that world, lying so naturally that he convinced them.

Cameras, flashes, interviews. Not exactly what you have been preparing for all your life.

You didn’t want to remember what happened that night. Your mind replayed memories as if it was a film, but you were trying to stop it. The dancing? The photographers?

No, the kiss.

The thought of his hands on your skin, his hair on your hands, his lips against yours. The more you pushed that image away, the less it faded from your mind. How could you let him do something like that? You knew that letting him in again would only bring more chaos into your life, but at the same time, you needed to fix your mess and he was your solution.

Also, you didn’t want to acknowledge that all the attention was something you needed. Not the bad press, the misleading articles and intrusive photographers. It was the care for you, the way he defended you, the warmth you didn’t feel in a long time. You knew it was fake, just a facade, but that pretending was healing an empty spot you have been hiding for ages.

When you checked your mail, you recognised the reddish envelope. It was from Snow manor.

"Be ready at 7 pm, someone is going to pick you up.’ signed by Iris Davebonn.

Of course it was not over.

He had a plan, and he didn’t give up easily. You also had a plan, he was not the only one with something to prove, but was he the only way out to your hell? Or was he another villain in your tragedy? You had nothing to lose but everything to gain.

Coriolanus is the forbidden apple, the fruit I shall never be tempted to desire.

You opened the fridge, still sleepy but hungry. For your breakfast you had a couple of options: water and rotten eggs or rotten eggs and water. So as always you decided to steal from your neighbor’s tangerines tree, you could easily pick the fruits from your window, the advantages of living on the first floor. You knew that the old lady next door noticed your thefts, but she hated you either way so at least you gave her a reason to. Since you didn’t have a monthly paycheck anymore, you had to live with your remaining savings, but soon you were left with nothing with bills and rent to pay.

Actually, Dr. Gaul never fired you, she wasn’t as upset as Capitol people, she even congratulated you because this way The Hunger Games were discussed more on tv and newspapers. For her, the incident was a perfect strategy to make the Games popular. She even thought you did that intentionally, because in her distorted view,”it was funny seeing their faces when for the first time, a 12 years old boy from district eleven won”. Against all odds, the unknown tribute without sponsors and hope to make it alive, won the games because “I killed everybody else.”

Not as funny as she thought.

Eventually, you couldn't handle the pressure anymore and you quit. The last time you saw her she persuaded you to be by her side the next year, “if you did that by accident, I wonder what you could do purposely.” You never considered that offer, you didn’t have to work there in the first place. If only you could go back, maybe… Maybe, everything would’ve gone differently.

The world fell apart when you heard the sound of cannon in that room. Everybody was cheering for that girl from district two, the favorite, the one that won Capitol’s heart during the interviews. The lovely Rea, the brave tribute that was bit by an horrific dog. That creature cannot be defined as a ‘dog’, more like a venomous lion with a crocodile mouth. Your role was to make a medicine that could heal her wound. Sponsors asked it, her mentor was willing to pay whatever price to save her, the Capitol was betting every penny on her.

The pressure was such that you mistakenly switched two drugs and gave her the other for the boy from District three. Fatal mistake.

You were their only hope but you became the death of them.

Relying on somebody else was the last thing you wanted, especially if it was Coriolanus Snow. You didn’t want to need him. But there you go, on your way to his house. Again.

An avox opened the door for you and silently you followed her to the living room. Iris and Coriolanus were both standing near a star shaped glass table surrounded by small couches, you wondered what their conversation was about because they stopped talking the moment you walked in.

“Speaking of the devil,” Coriolanus said looking at you, he was wearing a white shirt and black pants, his hair was messy as if he woke up a couple of minutes ago.

”There she is,” Iris stepped towards you, opening her arms, “the new star of Panem,” she hugged you like you were an old friend she hadn’t seen in a while, it didn’t feel as awkward as you thought, it felt sincere.

”I think you meant a fallen star,” you laughed hugging her back.

”Honey, the gala was a success!” She said with a warm smile.

You perceived his blue eyes gazing at you, the same look he gave you when you were walking with him arm by arm at the gala.

Why is he staring? Am I wearing something inappropriate? Or is it just the indecipherable look he always has?

“Did you read the newspaper?” Iris pointed at the glass table in front of you but you were distracted by a bowl full of pastries to even pay attention to her.

You leaned forward to read the page but your sight was too blurry. The tangerines were the only thing you ate since this morning, not really an energetic meal. You sat on the small couch and you put the newspaper close to your face, nose almost touching the page, squinting to have a better view.

“Are you blind?” Coriolanus said with an annoyed tone, he tore away the paper from your hands.

”I don’t have my glasses with me,” you lied, you have never worn glasses in your entire life.

You rubbed your temples trying to see clearly again and you swiftly took what seemed to be a pink cookie from the tray on the table. What flavour was that? You tried to make a straight face while chewing that sugary stuff, at least your body was eating something.

“To make things short— they think we are the couple of the moment,” Coriolanus started while reading the page, “that everybody was shocked— bla bla,” he rapidly said, “oh and they mentioned my name four times!”

“No, Mr. Snow, if you have to do something you have to do it right,” Iris intervened, taking the newspaper from his hands.

She sat down on the couch near yours and started reciting the article, reading word by word.

“Is love in the air? In Capitol City probably is.” She read the first line,“what a great title isn’t it?” Iris commented

“Go on or we are going to stay here all night,” Coriolanus said.

You looked at him, he was standing up making you feel inferior, like a shadow looming over you.

“After the unsettling events happened in the last Hunger Games, there is finally some hope in our community. The aspiring president Coriolanus Snow showed up with someone not-so-new in the latest gala before the presidential campaign.”

“ ‘not so new’ so kind of them—” you said and he shushed you. How dare he?

“She studied medicine and has worked with the Head Gamemaker for the past year. Rumor has it that for some kind of incident, she was the cause of the premature death of two tributes.”

Iris took a breath. “Unexpectedly, last night Coriolanus proudly walked with her for the very first time in public. Both dressed in white, representing the noble Snow name, they conquered the attention of the media and the crowd. Are they the couple of the moment?” She smiled while looking at you, “the best part is about to come.”

“If we are basing the answers on the way they look at each other, they definitely stole our hearts. We are looking forward to seeing how this unexpected love will grow.”

You laughed, that was too corny for you, was it possible that they truly believed that little show you made?

”Will Coriolanus Snow win the election the same way he won her heart? Right now we are in love with both of them.” Iris finished.

“Did they really write an article about our possible love story?” You took another cookie, green this time, “they really are bored people.”

”You should be happy they didn’t talk about what happened in the arena,” Coriolanus said but you couldn’t see him, he was standing behind you.

“Well, they mentioned it anyway,” you said while chewing that lemon pastry, or was it mint? For a moment you thought it was better starving than eating whatever thing it was.

”Thanks to me they probably will give you a chance,” he said.

”The tone they used– it was like they think you are doing charity by being with me.”

“Well it kinda is–”

”Oh shut up,” you stand up, turning to him, “your name has never been this many times in a newspaper.” You were close to him, and even if you were not sitting anymore, you felt small standing there facing him.

His eyes were still examining you, as if you were a book written in a language he couldn’t read.

“You two look like siblings fighting over meaningless things,” Iris said, stepping in, getting in the middle of you.

“See? Even Iris thinks you are being overly dramatic.”

You fought the urge to answer back, did he just call you over-dramatic?

“Honey, look who's talking,” Iris said pointing a finger at him, “you are not really easy to work with,” then she turned over to you, “in just one day people fell for your fairytale, imagine what you can do in a month.”

“Do you really think this can work?” You avoided looking at him behind her shoulder.

“They don’t care about what you did, you are just another distraction from their empty life,” she explained to you, “they need something else to talk about.”

“The world doesn’t revolve around you, there are more important things,” Coriolanus said, “such as the presidential elections.”

”Is there something else you can say instead of politics and fame?”

”What do you want me to tell you? My sad story about when I mixed some drugs in the laboratory?” He stepped closer, ”oh no, that is something you always talk about.”

”I liked you better when you ignored me,” you said remembering the first time you tried to have a conversation with him.

“Stop please,” Iris said, “you two should bond more, this atmosphere is making me wanna retire early,” she touched her hair, orange this time, “maybe you will like each other.” She walked away from your sight.

“It's going to be tiring enough pretending to like him in public,” now there was just the glass table separating you from him.

“So this is a yes, you are going to do this,” his face lightened up.

“It seems this charade it’s working,” you said convincing yourself that was your best chance of getting your reputation back.

Did you just sign a pact with the devil?

He is the forbidden apple. But it doesn’t mean I can’t just play with it.

“Before I forget,” you heard Iris voice coming from the door entrance, “next week dinner with the Holdens and Suncots,” she was putting her yellow coat on, “they gladly accepted the invite here,” then she put her gloves on, “see you tomorrow—oh and try to bond you two,” she pointed a finger at him before closing the door and leaving you alone with Coriolanus.

You looked at the clock above the coat hanger and it was getting late, but you had nowhere else to be at that moment. No one waiting for you at home, no one expecting your call, nothing to do the next day.

“Tigris is going to design another dress for you,” he said referring to the dinner.

“Can’t I just wear something I already have?” The thought of him deciding what color and style your dress had was not something you tolerated.

“Of course not— do you dine here or?” That didn’t sound like an invite, more as if he was suggesting you go home.

“So kind, I’ll pass,” you said with a sarcastic tone.

”I asked because you almost devoured the entire jar of pastries.” He smiled, waiting for your reaction.

”For the record, they are tasteless.”

He rolled his eyes, “the car is waiting for you outside,” he turned his back and walked towards the kitchen.

”I can walk, I don’t need your personal driver,”

Your words stopped him right in his tracks, ”what if you get lost? How could I do without you?” He said jokingly, turning over to see you, “and it’s fifteen minutes away, in the dark— don’t be a child and go by car, you’ll get used to it.”

You didn’t answer, not like you had something to say. Of course you would’ve accepted the ride, your apartment was too far from his house, you just wanted to irritate him. Maybe you were not so different from Coriolanus, you were playing the same game.

Car rides make you recall only good memories. Your dad got a car when you were little, it was gray and smaller than this one, and he used to drive you to school everyday. Until you got into university and you moved to your current house, it was ten minutes from university so you got used to walking.

The engine stopped and you stepped out of the car, it was cold outside and you wished you had heating at home, a luxury you couldn’t afford anymore.

You fumbled with the keys trying to open the door, you were freezing and you rushed because you heard some steps. You didn’t want to have a conversation with your neighbor, she’ll probably just scold you about the stolen tangerines and how loud you shut the door when you go out, the old same story. You finally walked inside but someone blocked you from closing the door. It was a young man, probably in his thirties, he had a tiny recorder on his hand and you immediately clicked.

“Hi, I’m from Capitol’s People Magazine, I wanted to ask you some questions about your relationship with Coriolanus Snow,” he said pointing you to the black device.

”I’m sorry— for interviews, talk to my manager,” you said with a kind tone.

Iris suggested that every time journalists asked you questions you did not want to answer, you had to say those words, and now was the case. You slowly closed the door but the man put his feet in between.

”How could the heir of one of the most influential figures be with a corrupted woman like you?” He looked at you with eyes full of anger.

Corrupted woman, this was new to you. What was the correct answer to that?

“It was a pleasure to meet you,” you smiled while trying to close the door by pushing it against his feet but he was not intending to leave you alone.

He aggressively tried to wedge his foot into the door, forcing it to stay open while he continued to badger you with invasive questions about the gala.

”Are you planning on ruining his image while stealing his money?” He reached your arm and grabbed it.

“What’s wrong with you?” His grip was getting tighter as you tried shoving him.

He was strong enough to smash the door open, stepping inside your house. With his hand on your wrist, he roughly pushed your body against the wall, your back facing him as he stood behind you, your heart pounding outside your chest.

“You are just a crazy bitch,” he whispered, “you think you can fool them but are a disgrace for Panem,” he pushed your head against the wall, one side of your face hitting the coarse plaster making your skin burn.

“Get off me! ” you shouted, struggling against his grip.

In response he hit your head again against the wall. You squinted your eyes in pain as a tear streamed down your face, you felt powerless, everything happened so fast.

“Tell me what you want from me,” you said with a weak voice.

“After all you did, you should shut the fuck up and do what you are asked to do,” he put his hand on your scalp as he pushed you harder against the wall.

You screamed like you never did in your entire life, someone had to hear your cry for help, right? But he was quick to cover your mouth with his palm and that was the perfect occasion for you to bite his skin. He kept his hand on your mouth while he choked on his own screams.

Your muffled howl echoed in the room but no one seemed to hear you. Or so you thought. Someone grabbed the man from his collar and pushed him away from you. It was the driver, his tall figure was now beant down to beat that man. You were paralyzed, now your back was against the wall and your lungs finally breathing, but your body was unable to answer your brain’s orders.

”Run!” The driver screamed at you while punching the man one more time, “go in the car! Run!”

You ran towards the car but your legs felt weak and your head too heavy. You opened the car door and you laid down in the back seats. What the hell just happened?

What if he came back? What if next time there is not someone to save you? Your anxiety grew inside your chest and you kept yourself from crying.

“Are you okay, Miss?” The driver asked breathlessly as he violently closed the front car door with a rush, “should I take you to the hospital?” He was looking at you, he had an old scar on his cheek that you didn’t notice before.

You shook your head, “I just need water” you mouthed, trying to maintain a regular breathing.

“Thank you for saving me,” you whispered.

You looked at him through the rearview mirror, his eyes reflecting the street lights while he was driving as if nothing happened, as if his bloody knuckles on the steering wheel were not hurting.

After minutes that seemed hours he talked, “It is my duty,” he said, “Mr. Snow wouldn’t have forgiven me.”

Coriolanus was in his study preparing a speech for the next interview, he had to be careful to pick the perfect words, to speak with the right tone, and to make the adequate facial expressions. Nothing was left to case. Every single action had to be meticulously studied and calculated.

It was his specialty. Playing with words and making people fall in love with his charm. He did it naturally, molding people the shape he wanted. Because he had to have everything under his control, his power, his eyes.

For the first time he was struggling. He was stuck on the opening line and he didn’t know how to continue. Sleepless nights and alcohol were the usual in the past week. This was one of the nights. Locked in his study until he wrote something of that speech, depriving himself from sleep.

Coriolanus was walking around the room, fidgeting with a pen on his long fingers. Until his mind-wandering was stopped by a firm knock on the door, annoyed it could be an Avox, he ignored it. But the knocking didn’t stop.

He let out a sigh as he unlocked the doorknob, “how many times do I have to tell–” to his surprise, the driver showed up at his door, “Virma, what are you doing here?”

Coriolanus soon found the answer to his question by looking over the driver’ shoulder. You were hidden behind his back, like a hurt animal scared of its fate. You didn’t want to come here, like a lost child brought back home. But where were you supposed to be? What place instead of his?

Your ruffled hair, your smeared makeup and your empty look. It didn’t take long for him to understand something happened. A sense of anger grew inside of him. This was not written in a script, it was not meant to happen and when things did not go according to plan, Coriolanus lost his composure, he could have been unpredictable.

His face darkened. He grabbed your arm and he dragged you in his study, along with Virma. You felt his hand on your wrist, his touch was something familiar to you, maybe gentle, as if he was actually worried about you. He pushed Virma to the side and closed the door behind him, casting you both in the dim light of his opulent study.

You were now facing him, his expression was different from an hour ago. His hand traveled to your face, his fingers lifting your chin as he leaned to have a better view of you. The left side of your face was scraped, fresh cuts burned on your temple as droplets of blood trailed your skin. Coriolanus traced his fingertips on your bruised skin and you flinched, instantly regretting the movement as a flash of pain shot through your head, but he was not rough like that man. He loosened his grip on your arm, his eyes softening as he took in the sight of your injuries. He was delicate, as if he was touching something fragile.

You were too focused on his expression to even pay attention to your sore skin. His knitted brows, his parted lips and his concerned look.

“Who did this to you?” His voice barely above a whisper, he glared down at you as he inspected your figure, as if he was looking for other scratches he missed.

You could almost feel the tension radiating from him.

His hand was now on your neck, fingers touching the back of your head, “a journalist, I don’t–” you looked down, “he was asking questions but I–"

“Mr. Snow, I think I know who he is ,” the driver said and for a moment you forgot he was in that room, “he is Lucius Cliffhard' son.”

"Cliffhard' son? The father is running for president why would he–” Coriolanus didn’t finish his sentence and he looked back at you, “thank you for your service Virma,” his hand left your neck leaving a warm spot, “we will talk about it later.”

You heard the door closing and now you were left alone with him. You could barely stand up, your adrenaline was leaving your body and your anxiety was taking its place.

“Tell me exactly what happened,” he walked towards the opposite side of the room, looking for something in the small bathroom of his study.

You were standing in the shiny black floor, your heart was pounding so loud you could not hear your weak voice, “he probably was waiting for me to come home because the moment I opened the door he uhm—“ you stuttered, "started asking questions but I didn't answer, so he pushed me against the wall and his hand was on my mouth—“ you paused, ”he hit my head and—“ you felt a lump on your throat and you hoped he didn’t hear you.

His steps were again echoing the room, his figure walking closer to you. He had a piece of cotton wool in his hands and without a notice he held it against your scratches by cupping your face with his other hand. It was burning your skin, his fingertips were slightly brushing your neck while he dabbed gently the cotton to clean the wounds on your temple.

”Continue talking,” he said nonchalantly as he tilted your head to have a better view of tour left side of the face.

You stopped breathing in that moment, maybe because of the nauseating smell of the disinfectant or maybe it was because he was inches away from you, his focused look on the bleeding cut, “I think he just wanted to scare me,” you managed to say in a steady tone.

The blonde snapped his head at you, his blue eyes now on yours, “he is a psychopath,” his scent reminded you of that night at the gala, “he hit you because you didn't want to be interviewed, he could've killed you."

You reached his hand where he was pressing the cotton wool and for a moment your fingers brushed before he removed his hands from your skin. “you are exaggerating– he just needs help, ” you said.

Coriolanus closed his eyes, he clenched his fists and the knuckles turned white. He walked towards the desk and he poured himself a drink, taking a long burning sip. You watched him in silence as you inspected the reddish cotton on your hands.

“Do you trust him so much you want to come back to your house?” He was behind his desk, arms resting above the chair, “I told you, here you could have been safer from the media,” he raised his voice, “but you are stubborn, you risked your life and– if it wasn’t for Virma who knows what could have happened,” he said nervously while pouring himself a drink.

“So now it’s my fault?” You bawled at him.

“You don’t understand that now whatever happens to you affects me,” he said, “what are they going to say when they see your bruises and god forbid— he writes an article saying who knows what lies of what happened.”

“See? You don’t care about my safety, you only care about what they think,” you stepped closer to him because he wasn’t even looking at you, “you want me as your puppet, so you can have me under your control— your house, your peacekeepers, your scripts— it’s all part of your plan,” you said.

”You are free to go back to your pathetic life if that’s what you want," he took a sip of his drink, still looking down, “I can’t save you from yourself, after all– you were miserable before and now too,” it was like venom coming from his lips.

A tear streamed down your face, “this is what I hate about you,” you scoffed, “you are a selfish and heartless man, I was right from the start.”

You have called him only good names: uncaring, unaffectionate, disrespectful, selfish and heartless. The list was getting longer.

“What did you expect? I thought it was going to be easier with you but you are getting on my nerves,” he stood up walking towards you, “you should be grateful— but no, you like acting so superior to me,” his chest was getting closer to you.

You scoffed, “why? Who are you?” You looked up at him through your lashes, “just a rich spoiled kid who is playing at being the next president of Panem.”

“And you fucking need me,” he said against your cheek, “this is why you didn’t leave, you don’t want to admit that without this ‘heartless man’ standing in front of you who knows where you could be right now,” his eyes were consuming you.

”Look who's talking,” you pointed a finger at him, “the Capitol's favorite toy who needs a ‘miserable girl’ to make him popular.”

Coriolanus placed his free hand on your wrist, squeezing it lightly, “you like this am I right?” He licked his lips, “talking back at me, uh?”

His nose was touching yours, his grip was burning your skin and you could feel his hot breath mixing with yours. The blonde was dangerously close to you, but you missed that feeling. Have you already erased what he has said to you? Was he so powerful to make you fall for his spell?

He is the forbidden fruit, I shall not fall in temptation.

His lips brushed yours, memories flooding back to you. You didn’t know if he was about to bite you or kiss you. It would have hurt you either way.

“Tell an Avox to prepare your room,” he said, “or freeze in the streets, I don’t care— your choice.” Coriolanus let your arm go and he walked away from your sight.

It started to be just for show but the backstage was even worse than the real life. At the same time you could not give up on this play, you had to change your rules, your morals, to keep being with him.

So you were alone in the dark in the hallway, thinking about running away or staying.

Coriolanus could not win this way, you hated to admit you still needed his presence to fix your reputation. The darkness seemed to swallow you as you hesitated, torn between your principles and the pull of his influence. He had too much power right now, but you were willing to wait, by making things your own terms.

As you stood there, unwilling to give in to his manipulations, the lingering memory of his touch warred with the sharpness of his words. You slammed the door shut for him to hear you, he would have to do better to get you away from him.

Coriolanus could have touched your face as if you were the rarest creature on earth but the same lips once brushed yours, could tell the most hurtful things to you.

But you did that too. You were both craving the same sin. But too proud to admit on your faces.

“Is everything okay now?” You were in Tigris room, a colorful space barely illuminated by the outside light. It was in the basement, not really a cozy place to work.

You were talking about the aggression that happened a couple of days ago, nothing you wanted to recall actually, especially your conversation with Coriolanus, but you didn’t tell her that.

”Yes, the bruises are healing over,” you answered, touching your temple.

Tigris smiled at you while taking your measurements. She didn’t look like her cousin, apart from the blonde hair, she was pure and kind hearted. Why was an angel like her on earth with people like you? Like him?

“Why are we doing this again?” You asked “Didn’t you already have my measurements?”

You were standing on a stool, only wearing your undergarments while Tigris was putting the tape measure around your chest.

”Coryo sent me a note telling me that last time the dress was a little loose,” that was the last thing you could ever expect to hear from her, because it was in fact true, he noticed that.

“He did what?”

“I know, I was surprised too,” she smiled, “anyway, I read the newspaper.”

Oh no, you didn’t want to talk about that too.

“You two look great in the picture,” she handed you a wrinkled page where you could see a black and white photo of you and Coriolanus at the gala, he was looking at you while holding your waist.

You didn’t know about the existence of that picture until now. That night you were too starved to even pay attention to the newspaper, how could you miss that?

“It was so strange seeing him with a woman,” she commented while looking for some fabric.

“What do you mean? Has he ever had a girlfriend?” You knew the answer to that question but you wanted to hear from her.

“More like ‘girls’ than ‘girlfriends’, ” she laughed, “I’ve never met one of them,” Tigris wrapped a red cloth around your waist.

“Well, not that I’m special,” you looked at the mirror in front of you, “it’s just a stupid show.”

“What a shame,” she folded the excess fabric on your side and put a needle, “I liked you,” Tigris whispered.

You wished you could do something for her, she deserved more than a molded little room and a cousin like Coriolanus.

“So we are seeing each other more often, am I right?” she broke the awkward silence.

“Yes, Iris forced me to stay in this house,” Iris was really in apprehension when she saw your bruises, she lectured you on how people are vicious and in your ‘situation’ it was better not risking more.

“How lucky, aren’t I?” You added.

“I know my cousin can be– difficult to understand but,” she walked behind you, “there are some things that brought him to be this way,” her fingers tighten the fabric on your back, “and of course he’s not a saint, he just needs something– someone perhaps, to make him remember who he really is.”

“I can’t fix him,” you glanced at her reflection in the mirror, “I’m broken as much as he is and– we are incompatible.”

“As the sun and the moon?”

“Maybe.”

The comparison did fit well.

One is the star planets gravitate around, the only source of light at the center of the solar system. The moon is a small satellite whose only purpose is to spin around the earth, showing only one face and depending only on the planet's gravitational field.

Coriolanus wanted to appear like the sun, bright and powerful but he only displayed one face like the moon. You felt small, needing for something to orbit around as the moon did, but you didn’t know how radiant and capable you actually were, exactly like the sun.

Since you moved in his house, nights were longer than the others. It was getting harder to fall asleep because of your intrusive thoughts keeping you awake.

Is the door locked? Am I safe here?

The positive side was that your new room was probably bigger than your whole apartment. Then, you were not freezing anymore and you were finally eating food, not stolen fruit and smelly milk.

Even though you were living in his house, you tried avoiding his presence: by not having lunch the same hour as him, by going out your room only when you heard his door locking or having your usual meetings with Iris before him. That was your way of saying that he could not control your life, especially when he treated you the way he did.

However, that was still his house.

Red silky bed sheets, roses scent, his gold engraved initials on objects.

Coriolanus was not easy to forget. It was as if he had poisoned the air you were breathing, everything reminding you of him. The good and the bad. You promised yourself to not be tempted anymore, he was mercilessly manipulating you into believing he was the person he wanted to appear at the Capitol. But other than his mesmerizing eyes, his golden curls and delicate hands, there was another man hiding in his shadow. You had to picture that side of him every time he teased you, or you could be a sinner.

You were laying on the bed, leafing through the pages of the brand new script it was sent to your room. This was even worse than the other. Not only you had to remember some political matters regarding the current campaign, but you had to pretend again how good of a man Coriolanus was. How he supported and cared for you and how bright your plans as a couple were.

“I was extremely lucky to meet him, he is the sun to my dark days,” what an irony, “I am looking forward to living this exquisite love fully by his side.”

So cheesy for what?

“You can’t avoid me forever.”

You heard a muffled voice coming from the hallway, you walked towards the door but you didn’t answer. It was him of course, after the bad there was the good. He surprisingly tried talking with you on other occasions, but you had walked away before he could even finish his sentence, running away was easier, or god knows what you could’ve done.

“I can hear your heavy breathing,” he said close to the door, “open the door or I will,” he was waiting for your response, thinking about what he could say to get your attention. “Please?” Good manners are always the right answer, right? Right?

You let out a sight as you unlocked the door. Coriolanus was standing close to the room’s entrance, his arm was leaning against the wooden jamb and you noticed he was wearing his coat, as if he was about to go out.

“Oh so you’re alive,” he said, “I was worried about you.”

You couldn’t tell if he was being sarcastic or not, but it didn’t matter either way. Right?

“What do you want?” You were still holding the doorknob, not letting him step inside the room.

“Come with me, we have to go somewhere,” he said with a rush in his tone.

“I kindly refuse your invitation,” you were about to close the door but he put his hand in between. I could squash his fingers, you thought, nothing he could not recover from.

Coriolanus rolled his eyes, “sooner or later you will have to pretend to like me,” his face was partially illuminated by your room light, making his eyes brighter.

You looked at his long fingers keeping the door open, he had his usual shiny ring on his index finger and for a moment you thought you could really squash his hand, “I think it’s better we have less interactions possible apart from the social events.”

“It’s been days since people saw us together, yesterday they asked about you at the debate,” he hissed, “see? Instead of asking about my political project they were– nevermind, just come with me.” His eyes were begging you, such a satisfying image.

“I’m not dressed up, what a pity,” you said mockingly.

He peeked at your figure, “you’re fine.”

You did not feel fine. You weren’t even wearing your clothes, you did not had the chance to pack up your things from your apartment and you had to ask Tigris for some piece of clothing that could fit you. She gave you some of her designs, a green matcha wool skirt matched with a cotton white top. At least you were about to wear pretty clothings, not your old unironed shirts.

“Just for show,” you said while grabbing a jacket.

“Just for show,” he echoed.

You realised that in this game of power and appearances, keeping your distance wasn't an option anymore. You knew that you were now entwined in a dangerous dance with Coriolanus, one that could lead to momentous success or catastrophic ruin. The stakes were high and your mixed feelings towards him could not interfere with your plan, he was not the only manipulator anymore.

“Where is he bringing me?” you asked Virma after fifteen minutes of silence in the car. It was better not talking directly to Coriolanus when possible.

“Miss, isn’t this a date? Enjoy the ride,” the driver said with a smile.

You and Coriolanus laughed. Date? The only date you were looking for was the date this show would end. The car stopped and from the window you immediately recognised the place. It was not a fancy restaurant, a loud club or someone’s wealthy mansion.

First date with Coriolanus Snow at… the Citadel?

That was not what the script said.

You heard the car speeding away as he walked towards the huge grey entry, he unlocked the door and he stepped inside. You stood on the sidewalk, not sure if you wanted to follow him, it was too late to change your mind and too dark to be alone outside.

At least ten peacekeepers were guarding the entrance but Coriolanus walked towards the grey corridor unbothered. The first time you were there, you were searched as if you were a prisoner, as if you could hide a bomb inside your small pockets. This time they did not even consider you, because you both spent months working day and night in that cold laboratory.

The elevator plunged down at least twenty floors, the dark walls were so thick you could strain your vocal chords for hours but no one would hear you. You were standing beside him, waiting for the door to open as soon as possible. The only sound echoing in that place was the loud machinery that was slowly moving down.

“Did you miss this place so much you wanted a guided tour by me?” You asked, breaking the silence, “or is it a surprise party for me?” Five floors left, “tell me now so I put my best smile for the cameras,” you said mockingly, but he didn’t even look at you.

Couldn’t this man laugh for once? So boring.

The elevator doors parted and you finally stepped inside the laboratory. It was an open space divided into three areas. The center was where Dr. Gaul did experiments with animals, occasionally it was also where she did her lectures and exams; one side was the sterile area where the researchers did surgical operations and medical trials where they often experimented with new drugs on genetically modified animals; on the other side, there was the library and research tables, where you mostly spent most of your time studying advanced biotechnology methods.

“How romantic– I guess what people are going to say when I tell them for our first date you took me to see these sweet and lovely creatures,” you said as you looked at the wall glass with dead beasts inside clear yellowish cases.

“You should keep the bar low with me— and I just need to find some documents, you know this laboratory better than me,” he removed his coat and stepped towards the library on the other side of the room.

“You tricked me– you just wanted a favor from me,” your voice echoed and you were not sure he heard you. You walked through the library looking for him.

“I’m in the archives section,” his voice was not far away.

The library was arranged in a circular pattern, as if the bookshelves were layers and in the very core there was a large space with study desks, the ones you had slept on many nights back when you worked there. Soon you found the blonde leaning over a desk while reading some pages in an orange envelope.

“Did you find it?” You asked in an annoyed tone.

“Here there is– this is your file,” he said while standing up.

“My what now?” You walked over him, intended to grab the envelope with the 'confidential' print on the cover.

Coriolanus stepped back, leaning his back on the bookshelf behind him, “given your precedents, I thought it was better to check your past before they did,” he had already read your file a long time ago, but he didn’t tell you that.

He started reading the first page, “you uhm graduated with honors in medicine– bla bla bla first student in your class, —okay here, you specialized in general surg— oh no you did not” he paused, “yet?” Coriolanus looked at you with a puzzled face, suggesting you to say something.

“I will this year,” you looked at your fingers, fidgeting with the ends of your jacket.

“Lie number one, here it says you didn’t pay the tuition,” he pointed at the paper.

Fuck. You couldn’t afford paying for electricity, imagine the university fees, in the most expensive city in Panem. You stuttered something but he continued talking.

“Anyway, you got a place in the Ranvistill Clinic —impressive— and then you mysteriously asked for a transfer after two years, and this is how you got here,” he looked at you, “what happened?”

Was that a tricky question? This conversation was making you uncomfortable. You felt under trial, as if you were accused of crimes, Coriolanus was the judge and you were the only one defending yourself.

“Is this an interview? I didn’t know that apart from being interested in writing scripts you also were a human resource guy,” you tried switching the topic, the conversation was getting too personal.

“Do you have something to hide? I must be prepared for anything they can ask me,” he frowned.

You had many secrets you hoped he didn’t already know, “I changed jobs, that’s it.”

“You failed my test,” he chuckled, “you lied straight to my face in a serious matter –this is lie number two.”

“A test? What the hell Coriolanus.” You sighed as you walked over a desk, sitting on it.

“See? This is why you don’t have my trust.”

The man that cannot be trusted was really talking about trust?

“If you already know every detail of my life, why are you talking with me?”

“Oh, I knew it was going to bother you —anyway no, there’s just something that does not add up.” His eyes went again on that file, hands leafing through pages.

“Which is,” you said with a passive tone.

“Clodius South, head of the surgery department —or I should say, your umh— ex boyfriend?” He closed the folder and put it carelessly on the shelf behind him.

Your heart skipped a bit, “I’m done,” you stood up but he came closer to you.

“Answer just one question, I'm curious– why did he fire you? I mean, officially you transferred but I know it wasn’t voluntary,” he didn’t seem to give up, his look was pleading for answers, “so strange, you had been together for a year.”

“Why are you so interested in my sentimental life? You don’t have a chance with me, you know that right?” You laugh, feeling the tension in the air.

“There is no such risk, I’m not attracted to you,” his figure blocked you from walking away, “I just need your popularity, so I can fix it to something good.”

“You were the one kissing me in the car,” you bit your tongue, that kiss was something you didn’t want to bring up, it was better to forget about it. However, the other option was talking about your past, not something you were proud of.

“Oh please as if you didn’t want to,” he tilted his head, eyes locked on yours.

You laughed at his words, “you wish,” your back leaned against the desk.

“Then why did you kiss me back? I remember you didn’t let me breathe for a moment.”

“That was part of the show, Coriolanus Snow.”

“Now you use my full name? Last time I checked you called me differently,” he rested his arm on the desk you were lying on, making his height the same as yours.

You damned the only time it slipped from your lips calling him Coryo, a nickname you promised yourself to not say ever again.

“Why? Did it turn you on?”

His other hand was near your leg, slowly moving closer to your exposed skin.

“You can’t even imagine,” he swiftly looked down to your lips then back to your eyes.

The room did not feel cold anymore. Your breathing was getting slower, his parted lips warming your skin, his arm grazing your leg.

“So tell me, what happened with him?” Coriolanus insisted, but you had other plans in mind.

He was in power right now, he brought you here just to humiliate you with your deepest secrets. Weren't you just a miserable girl? It was your turn to make him feel miserable.

“You say you’re not attracted to me but you always find an excuse to touch me,” you whispered to his ear, his curls brushing your nose and his hand slightly brushing your leg.

This would have made him back off, telling you how stupid you are to think something like that, gaslighting you about the fact he never did such things like touching you.

“If it bothers you so much why you never push me away,” his hand traveled up to your leg, “go on, I’m waiting,” his fingers were now brushing your thigh and you felt his cold ring against your skin.

Fuck. That was not your plan.

You can always get back to it.

“I know your limits— I bet you barely touched a woman in your life,” you knew it was not true, you only said it as a provocation, to hurt his fragile ego as you planned.

I won.

”I don’t have limits, and we both know you would lose your bet,” his hand went under the hem of your skirt, making you shiver in surprise.

His index finger traced the outline of your panties, slightly playing with the waistband. Coriolanus didn’t break eye contact with you, his pupils were wide, you couldn’t see the blue that usually painted his iris, he was breathing slowly with parted lips, as if he wanted to control his heartbeat. And his hand felt so warm and familiar, so close to your core.

You knew that look, the one that he gave you when he let his guard down. The same look Coriolanus had when you came in his study a couple of days ago, his other side that he rarely showed to anyone.

His palm rested on your bare naked thigh.

“You don’t talk now?” His voice soothed your face, “tell me to stop and I will.”

That was the perfect occasion to slap that smug from his face, but you couldn’t even make up a coherent sentence. His voice was a gentle whisper cutting through the tension, but all you could manage was to stare at his eyes, trying to calculate his next move.

You knew what it was. It was a dangerous game you were playing, one that could shatter your plan. Did you have something to lose? You have already bent your morals, risked your life and crossed lines you never thought you would. Coriolanus would have been another crime to add to your list.

He is the forbidden fruit, I shall not fall in temptation.

But what if I took just a bite? A taste of mortal sin.

“Why did you bring me here?” You managed to say trying to control your breathing.

“You once asked me why did I chose you,” Coriolanus whispered to your ear, “and I told you that it was for the presidential campaign,” his hand moved up again, “publicity, press and interviews— I only care about that,” his fingers were covering your clothed cunt.

You took a deep breath and swallowed, your back was still leaning against the desk edge, his other arm on your side. His words were not making things easier for you, not because you were listening to what he actually was saying, but because his tone of voice was something you could only hear in these moments. When he acted good, for the cameras, for the show. But there was no one in that room.

Coriolanus kept talking, “but my point is, why didn't you leave?” His index finger circled around your covered core, “I mean— I could list a few reasons why, considering also how wet you are right now,” he pulled your panties to the side, exposing your wetness. “But you always say you hate me, that you despise me, why are you here then? Are you so desperate?”

Your eyes were closed, your mind wandered prohibited thoughts while his hand was painfully too far away from what your body needed. What could you say to him? That he was right about being so desperate to pretend to be with him, so you could clean your image? That despite his selfish behavior he was tempting you into falling in his game?

Coriolanus brushed your soaked entrance with his fingertips as he massaged your clit with your own wetness. You shamefully spread your legs giving him more access to your folds, his digits that once touched your face were gently rubbing your needy center.

Your silent whimpers were enough as an answer for him to slide one finger inside you.

Your hand was now on his biecep, grabbing his arm so tightly or you could fall. There was something in you that was holding you back from punching him to his face. Was this the charm everyone talked about? Was this the version of him everyone adored?

“Given that you prefer remaining silent— I can tell you why,” his hand moved inside you, “you like the attention,” your cheek was against his, while your other hand rested on the nape of his neck.

Your reaction to his movements made him close his eyes in bliss, but you were too focused on not making sounds that you didn’t notice his expression. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction that he was making you feel good.

“I bet you’ve barely been touched by a man,” Coriolanus echoed.

It’s just one bite of the apple.

You looked at him this time, and you wished you did it before. The blue in his eyes, his plump lips, the glistening on his forehead covered by his falling blonde curls. An angel.

No, no, he is the devil, not an angel.

“Wrong,” you breathed and his pace fastened, “actually they were better than you,” you whispered and his eyes widened.

“Lie number three,” he slid another finger, “I can tell when you’re pretending and when you’re not,” he brushed your clit with his thumb.

Oh.

You bucked your hips to make some friction, Coriolanus was painfully slow as if he was taking all the time in the world. He leaned his head to your left temple, where small reddish bruises were fading away from your skin, and he planted feather kisses on it. Coriolanus slowly traced a trail of wet kisses alongside your face. His soft lips were healing your bruises, his hand was igniting your core.

His fingers moved faster, pumping in and out your hole and slightly curled to hit exactly your sweet spot. Your little moans echoed in the room along with the sloppy sound of his hand never leaving your cunt. Coriolanus stroked your bundle of nerves once more, his lips sucked a spot behind your hear, slowly moving down your neck, marking your delicate skin with his warm kisses.

That was it. You were sure your high was coming in a matter of seconds, your mouth curved as pleasure began flowing through your body.

“But wasn’t I an uncaring, disrespectful —and what was that—oh, selfish and heartless man?” His hand stopped moving, “well I guess you were right,” his fingers were slowly pulling out your unfulfilled hole.

What was he doing?

“Did you really think you could do whatever you wanted? Having meetings without me, eating locked in your room, ignoring me for days— I have the control here.” Coriolanus looked down at you with a satisfied expression, believing that he finally asserted his dominance over you.

Your mind raced for a response, but before you could gather yourself, his words hung heavy in the air.

That was his revenge.

You thought you could teach him a lesson but he was a step ahead of you. Coriolanus humiliated you, exactly as he planned. His intent was to make you feel ashamed of your past but you gave him a better opportunity: he made you feel needy for him.

Self sabotaging.

“They are here,” he said in a calm tone, as if you were not almost buckling in that very moment.

Five seconds ago you were close to your orgasm and now you were feeling the emptiness growing inside you. You looked around confused, adjusting your body so now you were standing up, your weak knees begging for rest.

Who?

“They?” You stuttered as you watched him stepping back.

“Yes, I called them before,” he smirked, ”put your best smile for the cameras.”

Coriolanus acted like he did not just had his fingers inside you, but his body was telling another story, his bulge was visible from his pants and you noticed that as he swiftly covered his erection with his hand.

He walked towards the elevator where two peacekeepers were waiting for him. You fixed your skirt, probably too ruined and sticky to ever wear it again.

Fuck him.

You followed him, making sure to walk properly or he would’ve noticed how flustered you were. The thick doors closed, it was you, two peacekeepers and the blonde. You were sure he could smell your arousal, you still had traces of his saliva on your neck and a little bruise on your skin. A new one.

Coriolanus took a handkerchief from his pocket and he carefully cleaned his hand from your wetness, like he was cleaning his hands after a crime. Yours. The cloth wrapped around his fingers, as your walls clenched around him moments ago.

Then he caught you staring at his hand, “are you okay? You look flushed.”

You sick bastard.

Your cheeks were painted in a crimson color, of course he could see that, he was the cause of that. The same cause that made you cream your panties and shake your legs. If it wasn’t for the peacekeepers, you would have probably strangled him. But that was his lucky day.

He won.

After an infinite amount of time where your mind couldn’t stop picturing the sloppy sound from before, the elevator’s door parted. Coriolanus grabbed your shoulder as he was directed toward the exit. The silence in that room was now replaced by loud voices coming from the outside.

“Who did you call?” You tried pulling away from his grip but he kept you close.

“I told you, they haven’t seen us in a while.”

He opened the entrance and you heard someone shouting, “they are here!” A group of unknown faces were pointing microphones towards you, asking questions you didn’t bother to listen to.

You walked through the crowd side by side to him, his arm around your waist as you covered your face from the blinding flashes. The car was waiting for you in the exact spot it left you, Coriolanus let you enter in the car first as he followed by closing the door, blocking the loudness outside.

You sat on the back seat, heart racing outside your chest, forcing yourself to completely ignore his presence.

Coriolanus was again back in your thoughts as your wetness slid down your legs.

He is the forbidden fruit.

I am tempted by thee.

A/N: finally it’s out!! It has been so hard writing this chapter, I had so many ideas that I couldn’t mold them together into a coherent text lol. Anyway, as always tell me if there are grammatical mistakes because another difficulty was my limited vocabulary (a special thanks to wordreference.com or I wouldn’t be here today.) Every day I’m trying my best to improve my English so have mercy on me! Let me know if you want to be tagged next time!! 💌

Thank you so much for all the love and support!! Your comments mean a lot to me ❤️❤️ I love you all

ask me questions here 💌

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#coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tom blyth #coryo x reader #the hunger games #coryo smut #lucy gray baird #coriolanus smut #billy the kid x reader #young coriolanus snow #politician coriolanus snow

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peachesofteal · 1 year

Note

Medieval/and or fantasy ghoap x reader AU? Ghost and Soap are Knights under the 141 legion and happen to walk into a town where everyone is accusing reader of being some demon/ practicing witchcraft (she has anxiety).

🏰🗡️🔮 okay, okay. With a few changes. A lot of changes, sorry! 18+ MDNI / rescue, comfort, etc no smut

“You cannot p-p-possibly-“ the magistrate stutters, hands out in front of his body as if he even has a sliver of a chance of fending them off.

Simon stalks forward, bloodied sword gleaming in the candle light, silver stained with ruby ichor, the remnants of the hired protection outside, all slain, all dying.

The hired protection that he paid for, with the coin he made off of you.

“Ye cannae possibly believe,” Johnny snarls, steps vibrating with rage. “That ye’ll be talkin’ yer way out o’ this one.”

“She’s possessed, she-“

“Do not bother to lie. You do not believe it. We know you’ve been using her.” Simon barks. “We’ve heard the tales. The tongues wag far and wide over the rumors about your seer.”

“She needs healing, and my healers are uniquely qualified, experienced with witchcraft.” The magistrate whines, still stepping backwards on his heels, eyes wide, sweat dripping from his temple.

“Ye stole her!” Johnny roars, shouldering past Simon. “Ye waited until we were called away and then ye broke into our home and took her.” The magistrate shakes his head.

“She needs-“

“She needs nothing from you. Except to be free.” Simon cracks his neck. “And for you to be dead.”

“No. No, you can’t. I’m a- a noble. You cannot just-“

“Aye. We can.”

“Tell us where she is, and perhaps, we’ll let you live.” Simon counters, and the magistrate relaxes, body going languid like a fool.

“She’s in the room. At the end of the hall.” He grabs at a key around his neck, and Johnny rips it away, worn leather string breaking free without much effort.

“Johnny.” It’s a hum, an order, and he grins with his answer, whistling his way down the hall.

The last thing the magistrate sees is the swing of Simon’s sword, cleaving through the air, headed straight for his neck.

“Darling?” The room is dark. It smells, reeks of blood and bile, and his stomach turns. This is where he’s been hiding you? After all the coin that heathen made from your visions, this is the best he could give you? “Darling? Are ye in here?” There’s nothing, no response, no whisper of your sweet voice. Just the sound of shaky breathing, whimpering. “It’s me. It’s Johnny.”

He can just barely see the outline of your shoulder under the window, and he crouches, reaching towards your knee, brushing his fingertips over your skin.

“N-no.” You whisper, and he frowns.

“It’s Johnny. Simon’s here too. We’re here now, darling, ye’re safe.” The doors swings, banging into the stone wall, you startle, flinching against the window.

“Johnny?” Simon murmurs, coming to stand behind him, hand on his shoulder.

“Ah dinnae- she-“

“Those who walk in the woods will see their feet stained with blood.” You croak, shivering.

“Wot?” Simon questions, but you don’t respond.

They can just barely make out the sight of your dress, more of a sack, torn and tattered, encrusted with dirt and blood and goddess knows what else.

“We need tae get her out o’ here.” Johnny’s voice stays low, cautious. Worried.

“Darling, can you hear me?” Simon tries, but you still say nothing, little noises coming from your mouth every other moment.

He rocks forward to take you into his arms, hoping the familiarity will calm you, bring you back to yourself.

But you let out a bloodcurdling scream instead, the terror in your voice so rich, so real, he nearly loses his grip on your struggling body.

You fight them. Clawing and ripping and tearing, hands wild, tugging at Johnny’s hair, Simon’s clothes, until they’ve got your arms pinned down, Johnny cooing to you softly.

“It’s alright, it’s alright. Breathe for me, darling. Jus’ breathe.” You’re still struggling, still trying wrench yourself free, and when you thrash, you face catches the moonlight.

That’s when they see it.

Johnny chokes on his gasp, and Simon cups your chin, tilting your eyes back towards the light, back towards the window to reveal the horrifying truth.

Your eyes are completely white. Pupils, irises, blood vessels, all fogged out, covered with creamy, milky white that looks more like the moon than your beautiful eyes that they’ve known, loved, so dearly.

“No.” Johnny whispers. You whimper, head swinging, eyebrows creased, chest heaving.

Their worst fears, realized. They always knew this was a possibility but… for it to happen when you were being held captive. When they couldn’t be here. When they weren’t able to help you, comfort you.

The terror you must have felt.

“She only sees with the Sight now.” Simon says. “It’s why she doesn’t recognize us. She’s lost herself to it, to the Goddess.”

You blink rapidly, like you’re hearing them, head cocking slightly toward their voices, and Simon strokes a thumb down your cheek.

“Shhh.” Johnny hums, and you settle, a bit dejected, but quieting in their arms as they hold you. “Just breathe. Good girl, nice an’ slow for us.” After you get two lungfuls, they shift, Simon’s arms curling around your body and holding you close as Johnny opens the door.

“Let’s go home, darling.”

#I could write this for real but I don’t have the bandwidth so #have this instead #peaches asks #peaches writes #ghoap x reader #soap x reader x ghost #female reader

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kouyou-arc-when · 8 months

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ON DAZAI AND EMPATHY: A character study Before you read: Obviously diagnosing any character in fiction seriously is a fool’s errand, but I am a fool, so let’s just do this for amusement. The main thing I desire is to discuss is the extent to which Dazai is capable of various types of empathy, as well as how that influences the way he sees and interacts with others. It will be chaotic and all over the place because I just sat down and wrote this in a fit. Let me explain some factors in analyzing Osamu: The author's intention is clearly to make Dazai's internal world a mystery. Since we don't have enough information, all we can do is hypothesize based on external elements. Generally, across all novels, the only time we’ve seen anything of Dazai’s perspective is in “The Day I picked up Dazai” (Beast continuity) – where he “saves” Oda and tortures that random dude. We don’t hear his thoughts narrated from first-person perspective, unlike many of the other novels.

Now, the crux of the issue. For years, it’s been discussed whether Dazai is a “sociopath”. If we disregard that sociopathy is a very loaded term that can mean a lot of things depending on which specialist you consult, at the very least, Dazai does strike me as someone with a unique expression of empathy, who could qualify for Anti-social personality disorder or a related condition. I will abandon the idea that Dazai is a sociopath, and use actual concepts that have legitimacy within this post. Whether Dazai could qualify for ASPD or any other disorder is something I've seen discussed for many years within the fandom. I'll try to analyze how these concepts could apply to him. In regards to mental health and Kafka (since it is a contentious matter) and the validity of any of this: I understand that a lot of people are resistant to the idea that any of the characters could have conditions more complex than depression, anxiety, and PTSD. This is my counterpoint. I have noticed that Asagiri emulates a lot of characteristics commonly attributed to “geniuses”, without confirming or potentially even intending to write these characters as having a specific condition.

A great example is Ranpo – who will read as autistic to any decent mental health professional (Untold Origins). Did Asagiri intentionally sit down and say “I am going to write an autistic character”? Maybe not. However, the “genius” stereotype is profoundly connected to visions of autism, even if people aren’t aware of it. Take people like Sherlock, House and L from Death Note – they’re commonly believed to be autistic by fans. All of these characters borrow from the same group of traits, that just happens to correspond with a certain condition - savants have always been popular in fiction. It's been known that the favorite type of character for Asagiri is the “prodigy” type, and he has used geniuses across fiction for inspiration of most notable intelligent characters within BSD. For Ranpo it was Sherlock, for Fyodor it was Joker from the Dark Knight (a classic sociopath), for Dazai it was Patrick from The Mentalist.

What I’m trying to say is, you can see various personality disorders connected to the portrayal of these geniuses, and even without confirming their state, it is clear they are either intentionally or unintentionally coded to be that way. Extremely intelligent characters not being able to read social cues, lacking empathy, disregarding rules etc. is something we commonly see in fiction. Basically, a lot of people don’t even know that these stereotypes are based on certain personality types, disorders, and illnesses. It’s sort of like drawing a character and dyeing their hair a certain shade of blue that you don’t know the particular name of: it doesn’t change the fact that you used that color, and the fact it has a name. Most authors are not mental health experts anyways, so they may not be entirely aware of every detail of the psychological framework they write the character to possess. They also may not write it consistently, as they're mostly emulating stereotypes. I mention Ranpo and autism because a character can embody traits of a stereotype without the author even necessarily having the intention to do so, however, to anyone who knows a thing or two, it is clear Ranpo is on the spectrum. If Ranpo were to express a few traits that go against this, it would not necessarily take away from the large-scale portrayal he is meant to exude: an autistic coded genius.

Why am I saying this? It is entirely possible for the author to write Dazai as a person with anti-social personality disorder, to “code” him in that way, but to not be entirely aware of how an individual with ASPD realistically tends to act. Because he may be emulating a certain "stereotype" of a genius, he may also end up emulating specific psychological states, without making them entirely consistent in a realistic way. Writing the way individuals with ASPD tend to deal with empathy can be extremely difficult for anyone. It's easy to emulate a sociopath on a superficial level, but beyond that, it gets more challenging. How would a person with limited empathy act when they're hurting someone? That is an easier idea to handle. But how will they act in a friendly relationship? This is where it gets tricky. That is likely why someone like Dazai can never be consistently compatible with a very specific disorder: but, he can come very close. Besides, concepts such as anxiety and depression are pretty well-known, but more niche mental health conditions are not as well understood. So, BSD Osamu was written with specific attention to mental health issues because the author himself was someone who spoke heavily on the topic. I’ve read a lot of real-life Dazai Osamu, with special attention to No Longer Human (the main inspiration for BSD Dazai was Yozo) – and neither RL Dazai nor Yozo gave me the impression they could qualify for ASPD at all.

I know BSD Dazai is the opposite of the RL author in so many ways, but I guess it’s relevant to mention this because we know so little of BSD Dazai’s internal working processes, and Asagiri's main inspiration can tell us a lot about the intentions behind Dazai's portrayal. Generally, an intention or idea behind a character can give a lot of clues to us - more than anything, I am under the impression some of the main ideas behind Dazai's creation was that: 1) He doesn't feel like he belongs among humans 2) He has mental health issues However, we have difficulty defining the exact source of why all of this is in more realistic terms.

Naturally, since Dazai, an extremely socially intelligent person, sees himself as "othered", it is logical to assume he is not capable of fulfilling some emotional function most people can in a successful enough way. If he were just mentally ill in more typical ways (only depression), I theorize he wouldn't feel that "othered". He specifically is not meant to feel human. Obviously, his extreme intelligence is one of the things that isolates him, but the question is what else?

We are led to believe Dazai "sees" something the rest of us don't, and that is one of the reasons he wants to die. However, there is something more to it, as I believe it to be. We have two characters who are as intelligent as Dazai: Fyodor and Ranpo, and neither of them is suicidal, as far as we know. I believe Dazai "feels" a certain way, and then finds a way to logically justify it. Due to his intelligence, he likely falls into a complex loop which leads him to existential nihilism: but you usually don't end up in a place like that if you tend to feel alright in the first place, regardless of how smart you may be. While Dazai is certainly isolated due to his extreme intelligence, most of the people who made an impact on him are nowhere near him in that respect. In fact, I'd argue Dazai isn't even looking for someone equally intelligent to him, unlike Fyodor (this would take another post to explain).

The man who means the world to him, Oda, is more emotionally intelligent and full of common sense, but definitely not his cognitive equal. You can tell a lot about a person depending on what they value: and due to this I believe that Dazai's main issues relate to emotional matters. He primarily feels isolated due to his emotional state, and his intelligence pushes the problem further. Otherwise, he would treasure people like Ranpo and Fyodor over guys like Oda and Atsushi: he's looking for something to ease his emotional pain. Dazai doesn't seek out raw intellectual stimulation as much as comfort/excitement. This post will be an analysis of how Dazai compares to the "average" psychologically and some of the reasons he may feel so othered. Basically, my theory is that the feeling of being "othered" comes from his emotional profile, as much as it comes from his intellectual capacity. Those two take equal parts in his psyche.

Why would Dazai feel so emotionally "othered"? I believe it may have to deal with a specific personality disorder or condition, and mainly how he experiences empathy. One of the possibilities is ASPD. Anyways, let’s look into common ASPD symptoms, and then we'll look into common behavioral patterns the character shows. Dazai is equal amounts portrayed seriously and in a “jokey” way, but his worst traits and moments are usually described without humor. To preface: Keep in mind that you can have any or all of these traits without it qualifying you for a certain disorder. It is the extent to which you show it that makes a person, like Dazai, out of the norm.

1. Repeatedly breaking the law: This one goes without saying, he was in the Mob as Young as 15, and seemingly a violent criminal even before that age. To differentiate him from other members of the Mafia, it is stated by tons of people throughout the story that Dazai was practically born for this job.

Oda in Dark Era:

He was openly murderous before the age of 15, according to both The Day I picked up Dazai and Fifteen:

Dazai and Oda interacting in TDIPUD When talking to Kyouka, it seems that he has an “interesting relationship” with murder as a whole:

One thing is for sure, Dazai is much calmer, calculated, and more Machiavellian than most criminals in BSD, and this all started at an extremely young age. Many people kill when they're young, but they're not this casual about it. The age at which he was this cold about would be of diagnostic significance.

2. Lack of remorse: Everything mentioned above, it is clear that Dazai has an even more complicated relationship with guilt and empathy. I’m pretty sure anyone in real life would consider him out of the norm, as it’s explicitly stated Dazai doesn’t feel remorse for all sorts of things he does, but there are some hints he is either ashamed of the way he is, or regrets his nature, but accepts it. What is particularly significant here is how young Dazai is when he shows a marked level of these traits. A key event that stuck with me is from the Dragon Head event in Mayoi (from my understanding it was written by Asagiri), where Shibusawa mentions Dazai will regret something (to me it sounded like he meant that killing Shibusawa will end poorly for Osamu). However, Dazai’s reaction was interesting – it was like he was almost amused that anyone would believe Dazai “could” feel regret for anything.

Mayoi Later down the timeline it’s quite questionable whether Dazai feels regret for some of his actions because he hides his feelings like a snake hides its legs, but there are implications he is somewhat remorseful if you read between the lines. More on that later. Dazai has changed compared to his past self, but to talk about that, and the extent to which he has changed would take a whole other post.

More on his lack of remorse, In “The Heartless Cur” Dazai is very young when he gets some randos from the Mafia killed in front of Akutagawa, yet his main emotions are amusement and boredom. This is not the “typical” emotional range of most people, even practiced criminals. For example, Chuuya kills people just like Dazai, but his reactions to it are entirely different.

from The Heartless Cur Murder tends to not be the preferred or first solution Chuuya goes for: there is an expected amount of hesitance if you read into Chuuya. He put a bomb below Chuuya’s and sabotaged Ango’s car without much bother. I’d say even if you do see It as a “means to an end”, the way he did it was really cold. Usually, when people of all kinds do bad things, they have remorse and empathy they need to suppress, but with Dazai we don't see much of that. It's like he can just "do it'. He’s also really great at torture, in Side B at age 15-16, he already describes himself as a “specialist”. This is also touched upon when he speaks to Kouyou:

No matter how "grey" a character is, torture is a very specific process that takes a particular psychological profile to pull off. To be a "specialist" at it, you definitely need to possess dented empathy. Lack of remorse and empathy does not mean a person is going to be a criminal at all - it simply opens the opportunity that they may get lost in those waters more easily compared to the average person.

3. Repeatedly being deceitful I’m pretty sure we don’t have to cover this one. Yozo, the character he was loosely based on, is a big liar, and commonly uses “clowning” to distract from his real personality. Even the real Dazai Osamu wrote extensively about the concept of “lying”. There is a lot to talk about Dazai and “masking”, and I’ll get to that in the second half of the post. Generally, Dazai lies a lot, one can’t even be sure what his personality really is. He lies by omission, manipulates, and intentionally deceives people without any issues. There are so many quotes about this that I’d probably reach the image limit right there if I wanted to reference them all. 4. Being impulsive or incapable of planning ahead Does not apply

5. Has difficulty sustaining long-term relationships: Dazai is famously a hoe. From “All women are his type” (and it seems he has zero issues getting together with any woman, young, old or even taken) to being known as “the enemy of all women” (said by Chuuya), it’s clear he is very promiscuous. Wan is in the gray area of canon, but in one of the earlier chapters he has so many love letters by different women that Atsushi burns them all. Kunikida said he hits on any woman he sees in the Entrance exam novel, which is further supported by random Wan! Chapters, silly crossovers, and everything else (literally anything female).

Not only that, but Dazai sounds like a consistently manipulative and toxic romantic partner. In an Otomedia interview, written by Asagiri, Dazai’s real type was basically something like: “Any woman is fine, because he is confident he can shape her to suit his tastes” which shows a remarkable lack of care for the personhood and individuality of his partner.

When answered what he’d do if his partner cheated or betrayed him, his answer was even more concerning. Depending on the translation, it goes something like: “He has not been cheated on, but he has cheated on others” or “he set up women to cheat on him/betray him” where both are a lot, just in different ways.

Either he is compulsively unfaithful, putting all above together, or he plays mindgames with his partners. He’s also told Kunikida that: “And from my experience, it takes only a smile and some kindness to get a woman swooning over you when she's fallen on hard times” painting an image of someone who takes advantage of people’s weaknesses to get what he wants.

Regardless, it’s clear he is very manipulative and likely emotionally abusive. I won’t even touch upon his obsession with double suicide. There’s also the fact that he seems to use sex to get what he wants – insert scene where he fucks the nurse to get his phone back.

Other than that, Dazai appears to be rather solitary. Ango and Oda are said to be “the only ones close to him” because they respected said loneliness. Even in ADA, Dazai seems to be professionally close to people, but very few people seem to know him on a personal level. I’d say he keeps people at a distance intentionally – before it was violently, later it is by being avoidant. For as much of a womanizer he is, there was that early comic where he spent Valentine’s Day drinking at Lupin “with Oda”, instead of going out with any particular person. I think this demonstrates how emotionally distant he is from all the people he interacts with

6. Being irritable and aggressive:

Dazai is not particularly aggressive, nor irritable, but he has moments where he slips. Tbh, reading back, it says a lot about Dazai’s character who he gets angry at and why. It’s important to say that when Higuchi calls him out on “Hollowing out the hearts of his opponents” in incredibly brutal ways, Dazai replies that he thinks “Sadism is just a method, and how it’s boring”.

Akutagawa is the receiver of a lot of his violence to a disproportionate degree. He beats up Akutagawa beyond what could ever be “just training”. There’s something that ticks him off about Akutagawa, which is interesting, since Dazai tends to not react this way to anyone who doesn’t touch him “intimately” in some way. A lot of people justify Dazai’s physical abuse by saying it is “training”, but it stood out to me how he kicks Akutagawa in the stomach even the first time he meets him in “Beast”, when Akutagawa is just an extremely traumatized and deprived kid he refuses to recruit. There is not much utility to that kick, to me. It felt personal.

Another example of him expressing anger is when people “called him foolish for wanting to die” – clearly he did not take it well since all of those people ended up dead. This is from “The Day I picked up Dazai” when Oda tells him he is a fool for wanting to die.

Other times Dazai expressed rage was in relation to Ango and Oda, particularly anything that related to Oda’s wellbeing.

He snaps at his subordinates when they tell him he shouldn’t be friends with someone “of such low status”, and the only time we really hear Dazai say he hates someone is when he’s torturing one of the guys who put Oda in trouble in the Beast timeline of “The day I picked up Dazai”. Obviously, he is resentful towards Ango and incapable of forgiving him. “Dead Apple” guidebook touches on it.

“Though they were once good buddies who used to drink together, to Dazai, Ango is one of the persons who caused the death of Odasaku. He still holds that resentment up to now, and is unable to forgive. Ango also seems to feel Dazai’s silent wrath towards him.”

Harukawa has said to pay attention to how cloudy the eyes of a character are to accurately interpret their psychological state. I don't think there are many times Dazai's eyes are drawn in such an extreme way - there is no "light" she talks about here. His eyes are pure black when he talks to Mori during the Guild arc.

He also agrees with Fyodor on “Malice being the best fruit that God Bestowed upon Mankind”

There is also this with Jouno:

Basically, Dazai rarely gets angry, insults don’t work on him (as he tells Chuuya), nor does beating him up, but when he does get irritated he flies off the handle and has no issue crossing any normal boundaries.

That detail is what stands out to me – usually, people have a line they won’t cross when getting mad, but for Dazai it’s like most moral lines disappear. Imo, his anger is for social standards over disproportionate in how far he’ll go and how he'll act on it– he usually has a clear intention to harm the individual he's mad about. In comparison, Chuuya is someone who gets angry more than Dazai, but Chuuya clearly has a line he won’t cross. There is also no pointed sadism in his reactions. Dazai will likely do almost anything.

Basically, it's not how much Dazai gets angry, but the way he gets mad that sticks out to me. Most importantly, Dazai only ever gets enraged if it concerns something very personal and intimate: Oda and his death, his suicide attempts etc. At this point, for me, It’s safe to say that if Dazai gets extremely angry, it means the topic affects him on a deep level (a hint to whatever Is happening between him and Akutagawa, I could talk a lot about that).

More on Dazai’s unpredictable and violent nature:

Stormbringer I think there is a valid argument in seeing Dazai’s aggression as just a tool he uses to keep others at bay, something to hold over people and control them – but even then, it shows a marked disinterest in social norms people usually respect.

7.Having a reckless disregard for their safety or the safety of others This one builds upon all the others. However, it’s always been interesting to me how it’s clear something flies over Dazai’s head when it comes to regularly empathizing with others.

This is often seen with Chuuya. In my opinion, most of the bullying Dazai gives Chuuya is not motivated out of rage, but rather some form of spite. He goes at length to Rimbaud about planning Chuuya’s murder in “15”, then he also lets Chuuya be tortured in “Stormbringer”.

I am under the impression he sees these moments as “amusing” and doesn’t fully emotionally understand why this is something bad, even if he does on a rational level. I’ll say that Dazai did seem to show some rage whenever anyone hurt him physically in the past (seems likely to be a hint to a traumatic past), which Chuuya did when they met, but I don’t get the impression he is generally angry with Chuuya, it’s more like he just enjoys fucking with him. Ironically, for how rarely Dazai gets angry, it seems he reserves his rage/irritation exclusively for people and things he cares about, so Dazai being specifically irritated at Chuuya is just a sign of how much the guy gets to him.

If Dazai were angry at Chuuya, it is in character that he would try to hurt him a lot more than he does. However, I'd say Dazai has a blurry space for what's ok between "keeping someone purely safe" and "deeply hurting them". There is some lack of emotional empathy there - to him, it is more amusing than anything to see someone he finds interesting struggle.

Dazai sees boundaries differently. He’ll put people into danger or through discomfort without worrying much, especially if he’s sure they’re going to walk and live after it, but sometimes not even that. (there’s so many examples of it). I’d say it’s not that Dazai doesn’t care, he just cares about people differently compared to what we’re used to socially.

Regarding personal safety, it’s pretty obvious: he’s a suicide maniac, but even more, he also puts himself in harm’s way all the time without any anxiety present. Examples are when he provokes that sniper in Dark Era (when Oda gets angry at him and wants to punch him), knows he is going to get shot by Fyodor, but lets himself get hurt anyway. When he “dies” in 55 minutes, he seems “lightly” surprised, but there’s no strong reaction to it. To me, it seems that the only physical harm he dislikes is pain he suffers from another person (when he doesn’t plan it). Dazai apparently doesn’t feel much “anxiety” – I remember many different times when he comments on another character’s timidness or meekness, seeing it as something unusual.

8. Behave irresponsibly and show disregard for normal social behaviour He’s extremely eccentric, and even Ranpo says he doesn’t get him. Dazai asks women to commit suicide the moment he meets them, and often attempts suicide around people even if it distresses them (Entrance exam).

While I think he made this excuse in Dark Era to Taneda because he didn’t want to work with Ango, I do believe he believes what he said: “You’d lose your job if I did that.” Dazai wryly smirked. “I don’t like places with lots of rules.” Not being able to accept conventional rules is very often a telltale sign of a personality disorder. Clearly, Dazai fits many of the criteria necessary for having ASPD, so let’s look at some other details that are common for people with ASPD.

Masking: In psychology and sociology, masking is the process in which an individual camouflages their natural personality or behavior to conform to social pressures. Masking is common with many disorders, such as autism, ASPD etc. I am pretty sure it’s canon Dazai masks – on a BSD exhibit, the key element Asagiri wanted to talk about in Dazai’s personality was related to this.

“When I describe Dazai to the staff, there is a phrase that I always use, “an unworldly being with a mental age of two thousand years.” Dazai has far surpassed the mental dimension that human can reach, thus no-one can even tell if the emotions he shows are the real things or not.

There are rare moments when that Dazai shows his very “human” side. That is when he talks to another superhuman who is on the same level with him. The other is when he talks about his old friend who has passed. This is the scene when Kyouka wondered “Maybe I’m, after all, just a murderer at heart.” and refused to be saved. And Dazai’s reaction to that. When he said “Don’t give me any of that!” here, he really meant it. That was an outburst from Dazai, as a 22-year-old boy, in this scene.” Light novels often describe his smile as fake, mask-like, and I could probably find 20 panels where Harukawa clearly drew him to intentionally seem like a fake smiler. From “15” to “Entrance exam”, Dazai often drops his mask, and then goes back to acting silly just to make the other person relax. He does this with everyone, Mori, Kunikida, Atsushi, etc. Chuuya also mentions that Dazai’s “happy-go-lucky” personality in ADA is something new, and he believes it doesn’t fit him.

Kunikida says this in the Entrance Exam: "For someone so full of eccentricities, there is something about his behavior that makes it seem as if he has an unobstructed view of the world. I don’t know exactly why, but all his emotions strike me as an act to some degree. Is he just playing dumb? Could there be more to him than he’s letting on, lurking behind his ambiguous mannerisms?"

More than anything, Dazai himself says that Oda was the person closest to seeing his “real” personality. That pretty much confirms he keeps his real self hidden away. I’d say that there are several possibilities to why this is: He hides it because he dislikes being vulnerable, he doesn’t know how to act “normal”, people are unable to understand him, so masking makes it easier for him to communicate with others…there’s a lot of theorizing I could do here.

Dazai also tends to have interesting thoughts about personalities as a concept.

You’ll commonly see Dazai say something serious, followed by a severe reaction of the other character, ending with Dazai changing his demeanor and saying “just kidding” to lighten the air.

Manipulation: Dazai is extremely Machiavellian – he is prone to manipulating everyone around him, regardless of how much they care about him or not. He manipulated Chuuya into joining the mafia, he does the same with Akutagawa even today: Here we have him preying on Aku's insecurities to sabotage his self-confidence

He seems to be able to cut off his emotions from any situation, seeing people in a raw, factual sense.

There are several moments throughout the novels where Dazai talks about people as if they’re purely resources or pawns. An example of this in Dead Apple (where Chuuya gets angry because he doesn't respect people or show enough sympathy)

The way he speaks of Atsushi, when asked what he thinks of him in a guidebook, is something like “developing as expected”. Especially in the original, it sounds extremely factual, mechanical, and cold. To me, that doesn’t mean he doesn’t care about Atsushi, he’s just the type to compartmentalize his emotions in opposition to his thinking. This is very common for a few personality disorders and mental health conditions: the capacity to totally cut off your emotions from the equation. Obviously, many people are capable of doing this to one extent or another, but the amount to which he does it is what makes it significant.

Lack of traditional empathy: Personally, I think everything comes down to this. Dazai's experiences with empathy are one of the main themes of his character arc. I believe one of the things that makes him feel othered is his lack of emotional empathy.

People with ASPD tend to have issues experiencing what a lot of people consider “typical” empathy – however, ASPD is also on a large spectrum, so experiences certainly vary. Keep in mind that "lack of empathy" is common for all sorts of disorders, but since ASPD seems to be one of the most popular choices for Dazai, I decided to start there.

Before we continue, there are 2 types of empathy: Cognitive empathy is the ability to recognize and understand someone’s feelings and experiences and imagine yourself in those scenarios. Emotional empathy is experiencing shared emotions with someone or feeling emotions as though the experience is your own.

People with ASPD can commonly do the first type easily, and struggle with the second one. It does not mean they cannot experience emotional empathy, it’s just rarer for them to feel it. In my opinion, Dazai heavily relies on Cognitive empathy compared to Emotional empathy.

You can see often that he seems to not entirely understand “why” something is wrong on a personal level, but he can logically see it. This is a running theme, and you can commonly see that Dazai doesn’t fully understand “normal”.

“15” Asagiri seems to be writing Dazai as someone who has gone “beyond the human dimension” in his skills and intelligence, so other people can’t fully understand him, but I think this goes both ways. Dazai has lost touch with what’s the standard human experience.

One of the times Chuuya specifically calls out Dazai for not "acting human-like" is when he's not expressing empathy and respect. It is clear that Dazai's lack of empathy is one of the aspects which make others see him as "inhuman".

There is another situation with Kunikida during the Azure Messenger arc where Dazai seems to apologize for not getting something “is normal”, it slips by you very easily. It is framed as a joke, and it can be read as him making fun of Kuni, but Kunikida asks himself why Dazai apologized. It does read a bit unusually.

To me it seems like Dazai doesn’t fully emotionally understand other people, so when his mask slips you can see that he struggles a ton with getting what’s exactly “typical”.

Because Dazai is extremely intelligent, he masks in order to fit into society, and he does it successfully since he can intellectually understand most social and emotional functions and processes. However, he slips up like everyone does. This is why he got along with Oda well – since Oda just let him act like himself without having ulterior motives. Dazai didn’t have to “mask”. He didn't see Dazai as "just anyone", but he also realized Dazai was human. Basically, to Oda Dazai was a kid that had empathy issues, but he was struggling much like everyone else.

Personally, I feel like Dazai doesn’t feel entirely “human” because he doesn’t feel “emotional empathy” on the same level as other people, and this is one of the key issues of the character (as it's clearly stated in the Dead Apple manga, where Dazai does seem a bit upset by Chuuya's reaction)

. The reason he felt “seen” by Oda is because Oda fully recognized this and still believed Dazai could do “good”. In our society, it is common for people to think that "empathy" and "sympathy" are conditions for being a good person, but it isn't so simple. The possible complexity of Dazai's moral state is why I find the character so interesting - a person without traditional empathy choosing to be good is really fascinating. (more on this later).

Boredom and general emptiness: “Boredom” is an extremely common complaint for people with ASPD – in fact, intense, non-standard boredom, along with other symptoms such as atypical experience with empathy, is one of the easiest ways to recognize ASPD. A “numbed” emotional state is common for people with ASPD, and due to their different emotional range and inability to connect with others in a more typical fashion, they are prone to “boredom” and seeking out extreme experiences.

Alcoholism/Substance abuse is common for people with ASPD, and it’s pretty much canon Dazai drinks a lot (alcohol is even in his likes). Aside from that, Dazai often cites boredom as one of the main reasons he wants to die, and I remember so many instances where he complains about it in bizarre circumstances. This is common for people with ASPD: depression/suicidality is comorbid, and I have heard people with ASPD mention they wanted their life to end once they no longer have enough stimulation. Dazai is often stated to be “bored”, or look bored even when extremely horrifying things are happening (people dying around him/telling their life stories..). An example with Mori where he talks about wishing to die (from 15):

Another really funny thing, a lot of people with ASPD I have seen tend to dislike “dogs”. Obviously, this hatred comes from the real life Dazai being scared of them and thinking they can attack at any moment, but it’s a funny coincidence. They tend to dislike dogs for an entirely different reason than Dazai does, to be fair.

How Dazai seems to see himself and morals in general

Generally, to me it seems like Dazai is not entirely happy with his nature. He admires Oda and doesn’t understand why he wouldn’t use his talents to rise up in ranks within the Mafia, simply because that is logical to Dazai – perhaps it is that difference between them that he enjoys so much. He is frequently attracted to displays of empathy:

Examples: 1. Ango documenting the deaths of people within the mafia even if it’s “just a waste of money” 2. Almost everything Atsushi and Oda do

He often describes altruism as “interesting”. I am also under the impression that Dazai has a tendency to project his nature onto others, which we can gather from his “Evil expects evil from others” quote to Mori. Furthermore, he sadly remarks in Dark Era that he is “a man despised by righteousness”. so I feel like there is something up here, some sort of guilt, distaste or shame.

This tells me:

a)Dazai sees himself as “evil”

b)He is constantly assuming the worst in others or is prepared for the worst

Another thing this tells me is that Dazai is someone who is likely extremely wary of people’s intentions. This is a ubiquitous theme all across BSD, especially when we see him as a kid. Osamu tends to be skeptical of everyone and everything, as if he’s waiting for people to betray or fuck him over at any corner. In TDIPUD, he keeps getting upset that he can't figure out Oda, since it makes no sense for him to be so charitable for absolutely no reason. Oda said “good and evil are the same to you” – personally I interpret this as Dazai being largely amoral rather than immoral. Whether Dazai can be described as “good”, “evil” or “neutral” largely depends on your view of ethics. Just because someone lacks traditional empathy, it doesn't mean they are necessarily sadistic or bad at all. Immoral and Amoral are two words that sound similar but have different meanings. Immoral is an adjective that describes “something against pre-established morals, ethics, or standard societal practices.” Amoral, on the other hand, is an adjective that describes “something or someone completely lacking morals.” In common society, if you’re not “good”, you are often automatically “evil”. Basically, a person who has "no morals" is just as bad as a person who has cruel beliefs, but those two fundamentally differ. However, in a technical, utilitarian fashion – this is often seen to be true. More or less, “good” is the neutral state, and the more you step away from it, the more “evil” you are perceived to be. The more moral conventions you break, the more "evil" you are, regardless of your intentions. The results of the actions matter more than the source and motivations. In the end, a person is dead, regardless of why you killed them or how you felt about it. The reasons why people do conventionally moral things can be all over the place too - people aren't always kind because they have sympathy. When I hear “evil and good are the same to you”, it sounds like Dazai has no need for either, meaning, yes, he has no inherent need to do good, but no need for bad, he is simply not opposed to either of them. Regardless of what he's doing, he feels the same way. They're both tools to satisfy particular needs. Many people read this and say "aha, so if he sees no difference between the two, that means he is evil", but I think the truth is in the middle. I always say that to estimate Dazai's moral framework, you need to judge him outside of normal conventions. Basically, his starting point in making decisions is different. He begins his process likely by thinking "what will this bring me?" Most of his “evil” is not out of pure sadism, it’s just that he feels no need to stop himself due to moral conventions, he mostly cares about practical results. This is opposed to Kunikida who cares about ideals and morals in a vacuum and pursues them in their most idealized version (and it's well known Asagiri writes duos as opposites). Entrance exam as a novel was about how idealism can lead people to ruin when it's unrealistic.

He’s naturally immune to socialized pressure that forms the moral frameworks of most people on an emotional level. All of this is very common for ASPD, and a few other conditions. The more I see Dazai talk about how he sees the concept of personality, murder, morality – the more I am convinced his ethical framework is focused on results rather than the inherent morality of said actions. Example: He's going to lie to you to make you happy, even though "lying is bad". There is no inherent value in staying honest if it makes an individual miserable in the long run, even though society sees frankness as a virtue. That way, most actions are “open” for Dazai to undertake, he has no qualms most people have against them, since he doesn’t have socialized morals. A lot of the time, we only see certain things as "unconditionally bad" because we've been socialized to see them that way, even if it's not necessarily logical. He simply lacks socialized morals, leading to a tendency to be amoral. Everything is a means to an end, every action is alright if it's a tool that has more pros than cons. Oda's death was a useful character arc, since it led Dazai to taking Oda's moral framework as his own. He doesn't believe he is better than others, nor does he enjoy hurting random people, he doesn't kill or rob randos to get something and believes he is justified in it. Things of that type would make him “immoral”. Most of Dazai’s evil actions seem utilitarian, rather than committed for the pure act of pleasure or cruelty. When I say “amoral”, I mean this from Dazai’s point of view. Since he has no “moral boundaries”, all actions are open for him to undertake. He can go as far as he wants to any extreme largely depending on his subjective worldview and feelings (as seen in Beast, where he breaks all sorts of ethical codes of being "a good man" so Oda could get a decent life). However, since he is aware that there is a fight between good and bad in every person, and that evil tends to win out compared to the good, under enough pressure, he admires people who selflessly continue to be kind. That is why Oda, a highly moral person even beyond what is logical (his insistence to not kill even if it harms him) is the opposite that pushed him to change. Ulterior motives tend to be something Dazai is worried about in people, perhaps because he is possibly projecting all he is, or can be, on others. He describes Oda specifically as:

"a man who has no ulterior motive". Oda is obviously being a good person partially out of self-interest ("people live to save themselves"), but this self-interest is not destructive. I think for Dazai, it was difficult to find people who didn't have an ulterior motive that was ultimately hurtful, and he projected that onto everyone. Oda acting in his self-interest was ultimately beneficial to everyone. All in all, while Dazai does admire Oda's morals - I think a lot of this appreciation comes from an intimate and subjective place, where he feels comforted someone like Oda even existed. Continuing Oda's work is likely an extension of this as well. Keep in mind, any person has the right to see Dazai's actions as bad, as they often are. I am more speaking of Dazai's internal mental framework. Conclusion: Dazai has no inherent need to do good or bad, for the most part. He just goes as far as he needs to to satisfy his emotional needs.

Oda saved Dazai’s life in the day I picked up Dazai, and listened to him, but expected nothing in return. I feel that Oda saw this struggle within Dazai, and the way “good and evil don’t mean much to him” due to his disorder, but recognized that Dazai perhaps didn’t want to be this way.

Since Oda saw Dazai’s “irregular” nature, and still believed he could be a good person, Dazai was touched and decided to change his life. I believe Dazai had some distaste for himself, regardless of his lack of empathy, he could recognize what he was doing was not entirely right. As Asagiri mentioned, Oda told him exactly what he needed to hear, and the fact that these words were so life-changing to Dazai tells us a lot about what he had on his mind. In my opinion, to see who Dazai is, you need to follow exactly which words got to him.

In my opinion, it likely meant a lot that a person he actually admired wanted to be in his life, especially a person he considered so kind like Oda. He often says that Oda is “the most interesting person he knows”. Imo, this is because “empathy” is one of the things Dazai doesn’t fully understand. He had to learn it. Since he understands human nature so well, cognitive empathy comes easy to him, but he still fucks up sometimes.

Here, I also feel like he is talking about himself – he sees himself in Kyouka. It doesn’t come naturally to Dazai to be “good”, but he is trying his best, that is his ideal now. (Asagiri said this was one of Dazai's rare human moments). For that reason, I think Dazai admires empathetic people and tends to dislike those who are naturally violent, or even choose to be violent out of sadism.

On the BSD exhibit, Asagiri said Atsushi was "an empathy user", and how that is the key to his character. During one interview, the author mentioned that Dazai keeps testing Kunikida's ideals, but Osamu secretly hopes that Doppo will prove to be right, and Dazai wrong. This to me paints a picture of someone who hopes that "good" is worth it, at least from an intellectual point of view. When talking with Fyodor, he seems to admire people who live emotionally, thinking god doesn't prefer perfection, logic and harmony.

"The ones who actually make the world run Are those who scream in the storm of uncertainty and run with flowing blood"

Dazai seems to reject the idea that him and Fyodor and better because they are more calculating and cold - like I mentioned earlier in this god-forsaken post, this to me says Dazai believes empathetic and emotional people are better than him.

"I've come to see it many times, his gimmicks are the accidental and illogical that's a weakness two of us have in common" He suffers because he is not like them, and that contributes to him feeling "othered".

Negative emotions and Akutagawa

My guess is that one of the reasons Dazai has so many issues with Akutagawa is because he is projecting his own issues with his lack of empathy onto him. This makes him relate to Akutagawa, but also dislike him beyond how he usually treats people. Akutagawa questions why Dazai's acts of violence are justified, while Osamu is judging Akutagawa: to me it sounds that Dazai sees his actions as at least partly justified because they are "logical" and utilitarian. He puts a difference between him and Aku, as if Dazai's natural instinct is not to mindlessly hurt others. However, it's interesting he needs to draw this line.

I believe Dazai sees a lot of the hurt he enacts on others as either "justified" or subconsciously defensive. "If I don't hurt others, they will hurt me", and he uses this against all kinds of people to keep them in control. In the Dark Era novel, Dazai speaks of Akutagawa like this:

“When I first saw him over in the slums, I was horrified. His talents are extraordinary, and his skill is extremely destructive. Plus, he’s stubborn. If I’d left him to his own devices, he would’ve ended up a slave to his own powers until he destroyed himself.” Interestingly, Dazai was "horrified" at what Akutagawa was capable of, where most things don't seem to exactly phase him. I think something about Aku's capacity for violence even scares him, and he "lashes" out in response to control him.

Later on Oda calls out Dazai's thinking indirectly in Beast, saying that hurting Aku is still bad no matter why he did it. (more on this in the next section) However, it’s very clear he cares for Akutagawa in “Chopsticks and a Spoon”, so I do feel like he’s likely aware of it. In fact, that story contains one of the gentlest expressions Dazai has pointed at anyone, so I think he partially sees Akutagawa as "innocent" in nature, and more like a wounded animal. I'll likely write a post about it. Since Dazai has expressed some lament or even shame regarding him being a person "hated by righteousness", I do think he is a bit ashamed of who he is. This part is a theory: When talking about "No Longer Human", Asagiri mentioned that he felt the book was about "embarrassment". Since Dazai is canonically famously based on Yozo to some extent, I feel that we can guess that Osamu likely does feel some shame - the question is about what. The rare times we see BSD Dazai express something similar to shame is when talking about his moral nature (when he beat up Akutagawa in Dark Era), but it's a "blink and you'll miss it" type of thing. Yozo and RL Dazai's relationship with his father was one of the cornerstones of his work (NLH even ends with him mentioning how he would have been alright if he had a better relationship with his father). Within the book, Yozo feels all sorts of things which make him feel "inhuman", but he is terrified about being open about it due to his strict father who sees him as somewhat strange. Since the theme of "fatherhood" was lightly touched upon when Atsushi's orphanage director died, I do think this is potentially a sore spot for BSD Dazai too. My guess is that Dazai likely had a poor relationship with his father figure, who saw him as "strange" or "inhuman" due to the way he acted: leading BSD Dazai to feel shame over his nature. Perhaps one of the things that made his father see Dazai as inhuman was his lack of typical ethics and empathy. Osamu internalized this - and ended up becoming a criminal at a very young age, perhaps in an attempt to confirm what hurt him, seeing himself as someone who could mostly do bad (which could be one of the reasons he wanted to die so young). Perhaps Oda making a way for him to "act good" was life-changing because of that too - it targeted a specific wound. All of this is speculation, but Dazai did mention that "self-pity leads you to living a life that is an endless nightmare". My guess is he was talking about himself there: and his own experiences with shame. To extend this: I think one of the reasons Dazai is so harsh on Akutagawa is because he is possibly projecting his relationship with his father onto Aku. Akutagawa is violent and troubled, and Dazai was shamed for the same thing. (but it would take a lot of time to work through this theory, so moving on..)

Dazai exhibiting empathy However, Dazai does show empathy for Oda, and a lot of it. I’d go as far as to say that he over-empathizes with Oda, while he underempathizes with everyone else. His relationships with the people closest to him tend to be why some people think he may have BPD. Especially due to devaluation and the "favorite person" concept. For someone with this type of BPD relationship, a “favorite person” is someone they rely on for comfort, happiness, and validation. A FP is a person who someone with BPD relies heavily on for emotional support, seeks attention and validation from, and looks up to or idealizes. For Dazai, this is Oda. On the other hand, In the context of BPD, “devaluation” refers to a psychological defense mechanism or coping strategy that individuals with BPD may employ in their interpersonal relationships. Devaluation involves a shift in the person’s perception of others, where they view someone they previously idealized or held in high regard as unworthy, flawed, or worthless. They become unworthy of their affection and praise. The person with BPD may engage in behaviors such as intense criticism, verbal attacks, withdrawal, or even cutting off contact with the person they have devalued. These actions are often driven by the individual’s fear of rejection, abandonment, or a desire to protect themselves from potential hurt or disappointment. For Dazai, the clearest example of this is Ango. However, a person can exhibit the "favorite person" and project the phenomenon of devaluation without having BPD. In my opinion, Dazai does show heightened polarity in his feelings toward others, but I am not sure if BPD would be my choice for him. It's very difficult to say, as many conditions mask as BPD, and Dazai's expression of empathy is unique.

Dazai idealizes Oda, and deeply sees his pain as his own, while he always frames Akutagawa in a negative light, even though he is likely one of the people Dazai cares about the most (next to Oda, Chuuya, Ango, Atsushi, especially according to Beast). Another example of his heightened negative emotions are Ango, and Chuuya to a much lesser extent. My guess is that Dazai doesn’t deal with caring about people well, especially when they are any sort of “threat”: which is why he tries to “bully” them down. The reason he goes easier on Chuuya than Akutagawa is because he feels Chuuya is in his nature more sympathetic.

In my opinion, the moment Dazai warmed up to Chuuya was when he realized that The Sheep were pushing Chuuya around: he was no “King of the sheep”, he was acting out of empathy and care. Since Chuuya is so powerful, it was likely admirable to Dazai that he didn’t abuse his abilities for self-gain. This is when he decided to isolate Chuuya from the Sheep: and I think the reason above is specifically why

I'd say Dazai is likely "spikey" to anyone he cares about but has less confidence they won't hurt him. There are two camps of people: 1. Atsushi, Oda, Kunikida, Sigma (generally upright, meek, moral at the end of the day) 2. Chuuya, Akutagawa, and lastly Ango (people who are aggressive, challenging, and need to be put down in Dazai's eyes).

He cares about both camps (Sigma is debatable, I spoke of the type of personality Dazai seems to deal with easily in his case), but he likely feels "less safe" with the second type. Mori could potentially go into the second camp - there is some respect and resentment there at the same time. He even talks about this with Kunikida in Entrance exam.

"“I guess. But you, Kunikida, I’ve got a good idea of who you are now, so nothing you do will ever surprise me. I mean, compared with me, you’re just a simple man with a simple mind, after all.”

See? You wear your heart on your sleeve. You don’t hide how you’re really feeling. It’s nice. You know what else is nice? Just knowing that you’re going to be worrying later to yourself, ‘Am I really that simple?’”

“Why, you—”

But I refrain from arguing. Whatever my response, he’s just going to end up telling me, “I knew you’d say that.”

I suppose that being around Kunikida comforts him since he is predictable, yet kind. On the other hand, someone like Chuuya excites him, because he is wild and challenging enough, but is still a good person when it comes down to it. Basically, Dazai is hypervigilant of pain.

Akutagawa is “off the chain” in comparison to all of them. I am under the impression that Dazai can care about people without treating them well at all, and 2 of the people who are at the top of his list (Chuuya and Aku) are people he “seems” to dislike (In Chuuya’s case rather openly in his profile).

It appears that the more “intense” and “unpolished” parts of Dazai’s personality are strictly reserved for people he cares about, but he is extremely selective about who he shows emotional empathy to as it’s such a rare experience for him. He may capable of "cutting off" empathy to protect himself emotionally. It is quite clear some aspects of empathy miss him broadly in Beast, when he appears shocked that Oda would react so strongly to endangering Akutagawa since “it’s all supposed to end well if he survives”. That sentence itself is totally tone-deaf, yet Dazai is acting as if Oda is supposed to take that normally. It’s quite clear that Dazai doesn’t treat Atsushi all that well in Beast either, as he exploits his fears for Atsushi to be totally obedient to him.

I really like this moment, because it demonstrates that even if Dazai does have some point regarding Akutagawa and the way he goes about things, the way he has treated him is still too much – and Dazai can’t exactly convince Oda, a decent person, why this is ever justifiable under any circumstances. There is an aspect of regular empathy that misses Dazai – it doesn’t cross his mind why his actions are inherently bad. Perhaps it is possible that Dazai was treated with little to no empathy growing up, so he accepted that as a model for acceptable behavior. A lot of the time, cruel actions don't seem to even register to him as bad, in an almost innocent way. It's like it doesn't cross his mind that stuff is out of the ordinary. When talking to Oda about this, he was described as "childlike".

However, Dazai shows a lot of extreme emotional empathy for Oda, which tends to be rare for people with ASPD (obviously, all traits of it are on a spectrum).

Dazai clearly feels as if he himself is being beaten when Oda suffers. Furthermore, “Beast” shows that he is willing to endanger multiple people he cares about so Oda could live and write his book. In his words “the me from other worlds doesn’t care about the world” – showing that even though he may “care” about people, it’s really hard for him to fully emotionally connect with others.

This leads him to severe feelings of loneliness and isolation, but it’s quite clear Oda is the exception to this.

Dazai has multiple anxiety attacks when meeting with Oda in Beast and TIPUD:

“I see.” Oda says after he gives it a moment of thought. “I’ll do so then. That is very kind of you. You are a good guy.”

Dazai’s expression becomes distorted.

He opens his mouth, and closes it again, as if he can no longer breathe.

If he tells him everything now, maybe things will go back to how they were. The two of them will go to the bar together and have a toast. Just like that night.

“Odasa…”

Just as Dazai is about to say that name, a train passes by. The express train passing through that station cuts through the silence of the night, right next to where Dazai and Oda is."

and obviously the whole showdown at the bar. Earlier, Oda mentions that Dazai looks like he is about to cry:

An interesting part here is that Dazai gets shocked that Oda would even consider that Dazai could hurt him:

It almost sounds absurd that Dazai, who is known for scheming even against people he likes, would be that surprised someone would expect this from him. This, to me, shows that Dazai does have that underdeveloped, childish emotional side to himself, where he doesn’t understand everything he does. It’s quite logical why Oda, or anyone else, would be consistently doubtful of Dazai, yet he is so used to not caring about anyone, that when he does feel things he is remarkably unpolished and just as illogical as anyone else. I’d say his heart is like a knife that went blunt from lack of use. Since he has no experience dealing with people he feels strongly about, it always comes across very messy – and Asagiri himself often describes him as childish at his most vulnerable.

Furthermore, the lyrics of the song for Beast have these words to say: “Loving you to death won’t kill me Because I don’t love this world enough” And in the Beast novel, he mentions all he has to give to the world is love. I think we can certainly see that Dazai is not emotionless.

To me it seems like Dazai is capable of selective emotional empathy. I feel like one of the reasons Oda was “the one” Dazai attached himself to the most, is because Oda was a struggling man who was also depressed (rather clear the more you read), but he was empathetic and accepted Dazai for who he was.

Him and Dazai had difficulties in common (the guy was a killer as a kid too), yet Oda did his best to be a good person – that is one of the reasons, as Asagiri mentions, why he had an “outburst” when Kyouka implied former killers can’t be good people. Oda was a good person in his eyes, and his role model of “empathy”: someone he wished to emulate. I am pretty sure that Oda became the blueprint for the moral compass he strives towards.

Most importantly, Oda didn’t really judge Dazai when he showed his lack of empathy, while he remained firm in what he believed in.

“Odasaku is the type of person who will never lecture anyone. Because he does not consider himself a superior person who can teach and guide others. However, it doesn’t mean that he has nothing he wants to say. The sentiments that he couldn’t convey in these two scenes were finally delivered to Dazai in the last scene through the words “Become a good person.” Very meaningful scenes when read as a set.”

is how Asagiri described Oda during the exhibit. As Asagiri says, one of the reasons he didn’t tell Dazai anything when he provoked the sniper was his modesty. Since Oda didn’t look down on him, yet showed concern and fully understood Dazai wasn’t just a struggling depressed kid, but someone with serious issues who also happened to be a child – Dazai grew to deeply care for him. Oda didn't shame him, likely avoiding Dazai's hypervigilant sensor for pain.

Selective empathy is common for many disorders – and Dazai, after not feeling “seen” his whole life, ended up making a true connection with Oda. I guess, in that sense – Oda was the one who really reached Dazai’s heart, and since he was the only one who came that close, all of Dazai’s emotional empathy is reserved for him.

In my opinion, the reason Dazai was so difficult to “get to” was that even people who had good intentions toward him never truly saw him.

To see Dazai as a depressed woobie who just needs to be saved is to idealize him – which wouldn’t exactly help him. They’re talking about a version of him that doesn’t exist. If the only way he could be seen as worthwhile was someone seeing him as more “traditionally good” than he truly is, it’s not going to work. He needs to be seen for exactly who he is, and still given a chance to be better.

Likewise, it had to be someone who wasn’t helping him in order to get something from him. I would say that one of the main reasons why Dazai got so attached to Oda was because his friend had no reason to save him, he gave him space, and didn’t even force himself into Dazai’s life.

It was purely altruistic, and for Dazai, who expects the worst from others and seems to fear people’s intentions, this was perfect. One of the main aspects of Dazai's character is his anxious-avoidant attachment style, where he is likely so afraid of potential pain, he pushes others away, or punishes anyone he cares about who might hurt him preemptively. A lot of this is not impulsive, but calculated, which is why he feels a natural resistance to Akutagawa (but relates to him and cares all the more because of it). He understands the self-destructive nature of Akutagawa.

"If I’d left him to his own devices, he would’ve ended up a slave to his own powers until he destroyed himself.”" I believe Dazai likely allows himself to fully empathize with Oda because he feels only Oda is "safe" in this world. The fact that Oda is dead and gone perhaps makes caring for him even safer, as his image of Oda will never change.

Conclusion: I'd say Dazai is someone who is probably extremely traumatized, with a specific emotional profile that doesn't allow him to experience empathy like normal people do - and this is one of the defining traits of the character for me. He is able to isolate himself from normal social pressures and boundaries - and because of this and his extreme intellect, he feels like an alien in this world. A lot of his struggle likely deals with the fact that he dislikes the hurtful person he is, but has difficulty seeing why he should be better - all while he has a distaste for sadism, cruelty and senseless violence in others. In my opinion, a lot of his own cruelty is "reactive": he acts "evil" because he expects the same from others ("evil expects evil from others), and decides he wants to beat them to the punch. He is comforted when he is in the presence of altruistic and empathetic people, because he doesn't have to be what he dislikes (as "enemy" evil will always make him react since he is threatened). In the end, he rationally sees that cruelty is negative, but he still feels it is an effective tool. If Dazai weren't this way, he wouldn't consistently choose empathetic people for his company throughout the story, while acting callous himself most of the time.

A lot of things Dazai does to me feel like he is avoiding hurt, or attempting to "control the pain" he gets in his life. Notably, Dazai mostly lets himself get "bullied" by people he sees as innocent and simple like Kunikida, since "Kunikida will never surprise him" - he knows that Doppo won't cross the line. Ironically, he famously says he "dislikes physical pain", but often gets himself into physically dangerous scenarios.

It's like he doesn't mind pain if he's the one in control (when Fyodor let the sniper shoot him, when that dude from Mimic shot him point blank). Avoidance of pain and control are other keys to Dazai's character. In that sense, I think Dazai was possibly traumatized and learned to almost completely disassociate from empathy early in his life. There are so many theories I could think of here that we'd get nowhere.

It is clear that Dazai is capable of extreme emotional empathy due to his relationship with Oda, and it's possible he doesn't allow himself to feel it in most scenarios due to his avoidant nature regarding pain. However, whatever the reason behind it, it is clear he doesn't feel a ton of emotional empathy in his day-to-day life, and this disassociation from empathy has crafted him into a person who doesn't fully understand "normal humans".

That is why he sees them as fascinating after Oda dies - he reaches Dazai's heart and opens him up to the idea that not all people are unempathetic and cruel - meaning Dazai doesn't always have to be on guard. Does Dazai have ASPD, or is his lack of empathy a result of other things: PTSD, CPTSD, is he perhaps autistic? I can't say for sure, as it could be so many things. Personally, anyone could make an argument for any of these in my eyes. Above, I mostly analyzed his displays of empathy and tried to study which emotional patterns he appears to follow. I think Dazai's character arc has a lot of worth specifically because we see someone for whom emotional empathy may not be natural trying to be good. It's a unique ethical dilemma, and that's one of the reasons I feel in love with the series. Since it isn't natural for him, his efforts mean a lot, and the struggle feels real and genuine.

Thank you all for reading if you made it this far <3 I've taken a lot of posts and translations I've gathered over the years, and I am sure I won't be able to thank everyone, but, I'd like to show appreciation for popopretty, aja154ever and many others for sharing info from exhibitions, databooks and so. Have a nice day !

#bsd #bungou stray dogs #bungo stray dogs #dazai #dazai osamu #osamu dazai #osamu #oda sakunosuke #bsd dazai #theory

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