#ill queue this a few times later

[hydnelllum]

Hi, I started a side blog for my art and OC content, so if you're interested at all feel free to follow @thelephora 👍

[comet-wire]

Ngl I've been having a gender crisis again on top of all the stuff that's happened with my dad, I think I still identify as male/masculine idk 🗿

Same with my ace/aro spectrum placement ☝️🗿

[good-beans]

Thank you Stellagram, I think I would cry if I had to wait a year+ to hear a new Arthur Lounsbery song ✨️

[osarina]

ᡣ𐭩 I'D MEET THE SEA UNDER THE SUNLIGHT

FEATURING: dazai osamu

SUMMARY: dazai knows. he knows who you are. he knows what you do. and not only does he know, but in typical dazai fashion, he decides to make it fully your problem. now you're stuck between a rock and a hard place trying to figure out what to do with him—the answer should be obvious, you just can't accept it. but time is ticking and you're treading a thin rope, if you make the smallest mistake...

AUTHOR'S NOTES: part four my children. my eye procedure went well! i've been resting all day, i prob won't be active very much until monday/tuesday, so i'lll queue a few reblogs of this ... i say that, but i also don't know if ill be able to stop myself from responding to comments HAHAH i just love talking to u guys about it so much i cant help it. as always, comments and reblogs appreciated!

GENERAL WARNINGS: fem!reader, port mafia executive!reader, civilian!dazai, dazai's struggles w suicide & sh, reader partakes in mafia business, dazai isn't dazai without a bit of obsessiveness and possessiveness (the possessiveness doesn't come til later but the obsessiveness starts from day 0).

CHAPTER SPECIFIC WARNINGS: i didnt get the chance to proofread this one bc of the procedure so don't crucify me if the grammar is awful </3 i have a doctor's pass </3

SEE: WASTELAND, BABY! SERIES MASTERLIST

It takes Dazai Osamu approximately two days, seven hours and fifty-three minutes to get his hands on proof of your affiliation with the Port Mafia. He supposes it was due to luck—the timing of when he got confirmation of his suspicions—but Dazai thinks it’s also due to his ability to think quickly if he does say so himself. 

He stares at the file that Katai emailed him, a lump in his throat that he can’t seem to push away, unsure if he wants to open it and be forced with physical evidence of who you are and what you do. He doesn’t even know why he’s so hesitant, he already knows. He already knows so he shouldn’t be hesitant… but if he already knows, then why does he need to see the proof? What is this going to do for him? What is he going to do with this information? Nothing, the answer is nothing, so then why-

Katai: Can you quit holding that date from four years ago over my head now?

Dazai: no ^.^

Katai: Of course not. Whatever. Dazai, I don’t know what you’re doing but you need to stop digging into this—it’s dangerous. And I don’t want to be involved.

Dazai shuts his phone off immediately. 

He hovers the cursor over the video file on his laptop, chewing the inside of his cheek—the supposed footage from whatever happened behind Tokyo’s City Hall last night. With his heart tight in his chest and the image of your smile burned behind his eyelids, he clicks on the file.

Two days after the event, you and Chuuya are sitting in Mori’s office getting the talk down of a lifetime. Mori has been going on for thirty minutes already and you’re sick of his voice. You don’t know how it’s your fault that the Shimazaki-kai decided to try to take you out while you were in Tokyo but evidently it is.

“I don’t see how this is an issue, boss,” Chuuya finally says, voice strained. “The Sun and Steel are already on top of the situation, Noriko was livid when she realized that they tried to assassinate one of us while we were in Tokyo under the Sun and Steel’s protection.”

“You don’t see how this is an issue,” Mori repeats slowly, voice nothing short of mocking. Usually, he at least tries to mask his annoyance—you and Chuuya share a concerned look with one another. “You don’t see how it’s an issue that we’ve caused this conflict to escalate to the point of the Shimazaki-kai being willing to go to war with the Sun and Steel if it means the mere chance of getting rid of one of us?”

“Okay,” Chuuya mutters. “Well, when you say it like that…”

“And by ‘we’ I mean ‘you’, little hime,” Mori says coolly, leveling his calculating gaze onto you. You don’t flinch beneath it, meeting it head on as you raise your chin. “This all stems from your reckless decision to attack the Inagawa-kai.”

“She didn’t have a choice.” Chuuya jumps to your defense, frowning. “They attacked her at the ports. That was a declaration of war in itself.”

You almost wince at the ridiculing look Mori directs toward Chuuya, voice amused as he speaks. “Is that what she told you?”

Chuuya gives you a questioning look but you don’t give Mori anymore time to stir the pot. You don’t need Chuuya knowing that your decision was driven by Dazai of all people—he’s already angry enough about the situation with the civilian. 

“And here I thought you were going to… what was it you said? ‘Clean up my mess?’” you say snidely, drawing Mori’s attention back to you. “Perhaps the real reason the Yakuza syndicates are so willing to challenge our authority is not because of my decision but rather because of the incapability perceived in our boss.” 

Chuuya’s eyes shoot open and Mori raises his brows, entirely unperturbed by your comment. 

“To think all it would take for you to start biting back…” Mori trails off, unbearably amused and clearly referring to Dazai, making you stiffen. “How fascinating. You’ve kept up this ruse longer than I expected. I think this is the first time you’ve managed to surprise me, little hime.” 

Your expression twists as you look away, ignoring the lost look Chuuya gives you, clearly irritated because he doesn’t know what’s going on. Your phone buzzes in your pocket and you take the welcome distraction eagerly, hoping to find an excuse to get out of this wretched meeting.

Klaus: your civilian boy is at your tower

You: What?

Klaus: *one image attached*

You stare down at your phone in shock, desperately trying to ignore the curious looks Mori and Chuuya are sending your way.

What the fuck?

Dazai tilts his head to the side, giving the three boys standing in front of him a simpering smile. One of them—the emo one with black hair and white tips—bares his teeth at Dazai like a feral dog, the one in the middle—Dazai recognizes him as Klaus, the boy with you that day at the ports—gives him an irritable look, while the one standing in the back—a nervous looking boy with choppy silver hair and a black collar—lets out a pathetic noise in the back of his throat.

“She’s gonna be so fucking mad at you,” Klaus tells him, voice harsh. His Japanese is broken and accented but understandable for the most part. “She’s gonna fucking-”

He shifts into a foreign language mid-sentence—German, maybe—so Dazai doesn’t know what he’s saying but he’s sure it’s nothing good. He keeps up the overly confident facade, even if he does start to doubt himself internally.

Shit, he thinks to himself, smile fraying at the edges, what is he doing?

Dazai definitely did not think this through and it’s way too late for him to back down now. After watching the video and seeing you with the gravity manipulator, seeing the brief battle in the alley behind the Tokyo city hall, Dazai pretty much blackmailed Katai into using the CCTV cameras between both cities to follow you back to Yokohama to see what building you live in. In retrospect, maybe that’s a little creepy, but he just watched you and the gravity manipulator kill a whole crew of people so he thinks stalking you a bit isn’t too bad in comparison.

“Who do you think you are?” the black-haired one says, voice tight and pitched. His jaw is clenched tight and he takes half a step forward but pauses when he sees the sharp look of warning that Klaus gives him.

He thinks maybe he is stupid. Ango used to rattle him around and yell at him for doing stupid things back before Odasaku died but he thinks this might take the cake for the stupidest thing Dazai has ever done. Standing outside a building owned by the Mafia, antagonizing three mafiosos, waiting here to demand a conversation with someone who is likely their boss. Ango might’ve been right when he said that Dazai has no functioning brain cells.

“None of your business,” Dazai replies with a sweet smile, almost giggling at the way the boy bears his teeth again, even more livid than before.

“You-”

“Stop.”

All three boys go rigid at the sound of your voice and even Dazai stiffens at the cold tone. He forces himself to turn his head to the side, eyes falling upon you as you make your way toward the four of them. The suit you’re wearing today is different—usually he’s seen you wear black on black, but today you’re wearing a burgundy button-up under your suit jacket. You look beautiful—always do, Dazai thinks wistfully—but Dazai finds himself swallowing thickly instead, not used to the blank look you cast over him before you turn your attention over to the three boys.

Ouch, Dazai thinks, not really knowing what he expected but it still hurts to be dismissed like that.

“Klaus, go wipe the cameras around headquarters—wherever he might have passed through,” you say. “Akutagawa, Atsushi, if anyone finds out about this…”

The two boys that Dazai doesn’t recognize share a look with one another, odd expressions spreading across their faces before they nod. All three scamper off without another word, the silver-haired boy giving Dazai a short, worried look that puts Dazai on edge before leaving. You don’t look at him. Rather, you stride right past him toward the building.

Dazai swallows thickly before following after you. You don’t say a word as you lead him to the tall, black building and Dazai wants to say something but his words get caught in his throat. He doesn’t know what to say. Dazai always has something to say but he doesn’t right now and that scares him because he needs to figure out what he’s going to say to you when the two of you finally get up to your apartment.

“Hey, I know you’re a mafia executive because I had my hacker friend get me CCTV tapes from the Tokyo City Hall and I saw you and that short ginger with the tacky hat murder a bunch of guys. Plus, I had him stalk you so I could figure out where you live.”

Yeah, right.

Dazai shivers at the rush of cool air that hits him as he enters the building with you, watches the way the doorman gives him a curious look before inclining his head to you. You give the older man a pointed look before nodding your head to one of the corners of the room and the elevator—Dazai doesn’t know what you’re getting at but he obviously does from the way says:

“Of course, hime.”

You don’t say anything still, leading him toward the elevator and holding it open so he can step past and stand inside. You follow after him, clicking the button to the top floor of the building before scanning a keycard.

How awkward.

Dazai almost wants to crawl out of his own skin, toss himself right out of the glass elevator looking over the city. You don’t even look at him—you keep your gaze trained forward, lips curled down, not even sparing Dazai the briefest glance as the elevator starts to move up. 

Maybe this was a mistake, Dazai starts to think, twiddling with his fingers as he keeps sparing short glances in your direction. He still doesn’t even know what he wants to come from this—shouldn’t the proof of your affiliation with the Mafia have been enough to send him running? He should’ve taken it as reason to stop reaching out to you, gone back to life before you but-

But life before you was dark. 

His throat spasms as he swallows. Life before you was dark. Life before you was him dragging himself out of bed every day trying to convince himself that he couldn’t let himself die until he fulfilled Odasaku’s final request. Life before you was him fighting depressive episode after depressive episode with alcohol and sex, preferring pain to the emptiness he seemed to constantly be plagued with because at least that meant he could feel something. 

He doesn’t want to go back to that—you’re the first person who's actually seen him since Odasaku died. The first person to make him feel as if he’s worth something. He doesn’t give a shit about about what you do, he doesn’t want to go back to life without you.

He glances over at you again, catching the eerily blank expression on your face as you stare ahead. Three words spill from his lips before he can stop them.

“Are you mad?” His voice wavers over the question; he feels pathetic. Feels like a kid tugging at his mother’s shirt after he did something wrong.

You finally look at him though, turn your head slowly toward him as if you don’t even want to believe he actually asked that. Dazai doesn’t know if it’s progress or not because the expression on your face is nothing short of livid.

“Okay,” he says quietly, averting his gaze back to the glass of the elevator.

God, how many floors is this building? The ride to the top floor is taking an agonizingly long amount of time. He doesn’t know if it’s because the elevator itself is slow or if it’s because the building is just that tall or if it just seems longer because of Dazai’s own turmoil—either way, it leaves Dazai miserable.

He really needs to figure out what he’s going to say to you. He should have figured it out before coming here but Dazai just got too antsy with the information Katai gave him on hand and he found himself making his way over here before he could double guess himself.

He doesn’t think you’ll appreciate him using Katai to get the evidence of your position in the Mafia—plus, it could put him in danger and Dazai doesn’t want that. He thinks maybe he’ll pin the blame on his professor—you don’t seem to like him anyway, so you might take it at face value. If you don’t, he’ll have to figure something else out to protect Katai but Dazai has always been a quick thinker so he has faith that he’ll think of something. 

 If he’s lucky, you’ll lead the conversation and he’ll be able to reflect off of you after seeing where your head's at. That would be the best case scenario.

After what feels like an eternity, the elevator finally bings, signaling that it has finally reached the top floor of the building. You step out before him, hardly even looking at him as you stride into your apartment. Dazai follows after, a bit more hesitantly.

His breath catches as his gaze twists around the massive space—floor to ceiling windows line the walls looking over the city, black couches set up in front of the TV and expensive decor littering the room, there’s a kitchen off to the right and a staircase leading up to a second level. 

What types of apartments have staircases? Dazai thinks, distressed, finally looking back at you. 

You’ve crossed the room—almost like you’ve wanted to put as much distance as possible between you and him, which is a thought that kind of hurts because he’s been yearning for your presence since you left his apartment the morning you were supposed to leave for abroad. Your expression is entirely unreadable and Dazai doesn’t really know how to feel about that because he can’t figure out how to approach this now. 

“You know, originally I was interested in you because I thought you were a lot smarter than you made yourself out to be,” you say, voice dry. Dazai nearly cheers, realizing that he did, in fact, get the best case scenario—he listens intently, mind racing as he tries to figure out what route he should take with you. “I was clearly wrong.”

Dazai pouts. “My bella thinks I’m stupid,” he sighs dramatically but his lashes flutter as he averts his gaze when you don’t find any amusement in his words, readjusting his plan. His theatrical lilt falls flat when he adds, “Maybe I am.”

“I don’t think there’s a maybe,” you correct, unamused. “What do you know and what do you want?” 

Dazai is almost taken aback by your tone—cold and flat, very transactional. Maybe he should have taken the lead because he doesn’t know what you mean and he doesn’t like your tone. He watches as you fish through your pocket to find a cigarette and lighter, sticking it between your lips to light it. You look up at him, raising your eyebrows.

“What?” he asks, voice a bit weak.

“What do you know and what do you want? I think they’re pretty simple questions,” you say sardonically. “I have a general idea of what you know already—if you’re here, you have more than whatever that cunt Ui has on me—and I promise you that no amount of money the Ivory Eagle will offer you can compare to what I’ll give you. Plus, I’ll have to kill you if you go to it with them so I think that’s pretty convincing in itself. I want to know exactly what you know so I can figure out how much they’d pay you for the information. I figure you want money, that’s why you’re here.”

“I don’t…” Dazai trails off, a bit lost. He’s still not sure why he came here but he knows it’s not for money and honestly, he thinks he’s a little hurt that you assumed that, can feel the sting in his chest and the lump in his throat.

The smile you give him is cool, you tilt your head to the side and look at him. “Come on, Dazai, you don’t have to keep up with the act. You got close to me to get evidence for Ui, that’s obvious; probably realized it would be more worthwhile trying to get money from me to keep you quiet because they’ve barely got enough money to keep their shitty journalism house running. Honestly, I should probably just-”

“No,” Dazai forces out, interrupting you, lips parted and throat swollen—this is not going well. “That’s not-that’s not true. I didn’t get close to you to get evidence, I didn’t even know until the other day.”

“Do you think I’m stupid, Dazai?” you ask, expression tight. “Because I’m not. As soon as you slipped up and said his name at the event, I realized. You think we don’t know everything that goes on in this city? About that shitty journalist group trying to expose us?” 

“I didn’t slip up,” Dazai says, voice more shrill than he intended it to be. His mind falls flat at every corner as he tries to figure out how to salvage this. “I didn’t slip up because I didn’t know. I didn’t know. It wasn’t-this wasn’t some grand scheme, I like you-” (he didn’t mean to say that) “I mean-it’s just-I don’t-”

Dazai feels flustered. He feels flustered and he’s stumbling over words in a way that he hasn’t in years, unable to get out a single coherent sentence because his mind is all over the place. Shit, he thought he was going to have to defend himself from having Katai stalk you so he could figure this out and find you; he didn’t think he’d have to defend himself because you thought everything from day one was some grand scheme to expose you as a mafioso.

You clearly don’t believe him from the way you roll your eyes and it makes Dazai’s distress spike exponentially. 

“Then pray tell, Dazai, why are you here? You’re here for something, obviously, otherwise you wouldn’t have been stupid enough to show up here of all places to dangle over my head that you know who I am.”

The words slip from his lips before he can stop them.

“I wanted you to stop ignoring me,” he says, arms instinctively curling around his body as he stares at you, feeling more than a bit vulnerable at the blank look you give him in response to his words.

“You… want to make me stop ignoring you by… blackmailing me?”

“... Yes?”

The sigh you let out is long. Instead of responding, you take a drag of your cigarette, tilting your head back against the wall you’re leaning on to look up at the ceiling. Dazai stares at you, chewing the inside of his cheek as he waits for your response.

“What do you have on me?” you finally ask, taking a few steps forward to put the cigarette out on an ashtray before raising your eyebrows and tilting your head to the side. “Well? I know you must have more than the location of this building.”

Dazai hesitates before he says, “Footage from behind the Tokyo City Hall.”

Your expression doesn’t betray you as you press, “Footage of what?”

“You and the ginger with the ugly hat,” Dazai answers, trying not to smile at the way you clearly have to hide your amusement at his snide comment. 

“What are we doing in the footage?” you ask. “What makes it condemning?”

“… He splattered six guys against the wall.” 

You sigh, pressing your fingers to the bridge of your nose. “Jesus fucking Christ, Dazai. You saw that and still came here? What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Dazai gives you a weak smile “You’ll have to be a bit more specific, there are a lot of things wrong with me,” he tells you, echoing the words from your second meeting with him, hoping they make you lighten up.

They do.

He watches as you let out another breath, tense shoulders relaxing, suddenly looking a lot more tired as you look away from him.

“I missed you,” he adds quietly, fingers running along the hem of his sweater. “It’s cruel and unusual punishment to kiss a guy like you did and then ghost him.”

“It was to keep you out of this life, Dazai,” you say tiredly. “I mean-shit, Dazai. I don’t know what you want me to do, I don’t even trust you right now, you could have a fucking wire on you for all I know and-”

“I could strip for you,” Dazai offers, lips curling up in a flirtatious smile as he flutters his lashes at you. “I’ll give you a show.”

You’re not amused.

“This isn’t a fucking joke, Dazai. This is your life.”

“Well, my life has been one giant joke up until I met you so forgive me if I don’t care,” Dazai says, voice unintentionally rising in response to your words because who are you to decide on his behalf to cut him off because his life is in danger. That’s a decision for him to make. “You can’t just make those decisions for me.”

Dazai thinks he prefers the anger that crosses over your face to the tiredness and emptiness. His breath catches when he sees the way your jaw tightens and the way your eyes get fired up.

“It doesn’t just affect you, Dazai,” you hiss. “If you get pulled into this and something happens to you, that’s on me.”

Dazai’s heart jumps at the implications of your words, nails digging into his palms.

“And how does that affect you?” Dazai presses, the desperation that hangs off of his words so glaring that Dazai almost wants to curl in on himself. He wants to hear you say it, wants you to alleviate all of the thoughts threatening to consume him since you left his apartment that morning—wants to hear you say that you care, that he does mean something to you.

Your expression becomes closed off again as you realize what he wants you to say and Dazai swallows thickly, gaze searching your face for answers.

“You know how it affects me,” you finally respond as you look away. “You know, Dazai.”

It has nothing to do with what I want, you said at the event when he asked why you didn’t tell him why you didn’t want to be with him. The conflict on your face when you said things were too complicated to explain. The anger when you realized Professor Ui had purposely put him in danger trying to get evidence to condemn the Sun and Steel.

“I want you to say it,” he says hoarsely.

You don’t reply for a moment, watching him with an expression that’s impossible for him to decipher. Your brows are furrowed and your lips are pressed together tight, but the look in your eyes—there’s so much emotion in them that Dazai thinks he could get lost in them, it nearly leaves him breathless.

“You are actually the bane of my existence, Dazai Osamu,” you finally say, shoulders slumping as you look away again. Not exactly what he wanted to hear but he thinks that’s as good of an admission that he’s going to get right now.

“And the object of all of your desires?” Dazai prods with a teasing smile.

Your gaze cuts back toward him. “Did you just quote Bridgerton at me?” you ask, voice riddled with disbelief.

Embarrassed, Dazai flushes and then he hits you back with: “You watched Bridgerton?”

Instead of responding, seemingly equally embarrassed by the callout as Dazai is, you scowl at him and shake your head but your voice is lighter now when you speak—if only barely. “Honestly, Dazai, what did you think you were going to get out of this by coming here? I could have killed you. I should kill you. Coming to the headquarters of the Port Mafia to blackmail one of its executives with evidence threatening to expose them-”

“I didn’t threaten to expose you,” Dazai protests, prancing a bit more into your apartment. Now that he’s not as stressed, he can actually admire your apartment—apartment, is this even an apartment? He runs his fingers along the pristine black marble of the bar separating your kitchen from the living room, ignoring the way your eyes follow him. “I just…”

“You threatened to expose me,” you interrupt dryly. “You implied it.”

“I did not,” Dazai complains. “It’s not my fault you took it that way.”

You roll your eyes. “What were you thinking, Dazai?” you ask again.

Dazai gives you a sweet smile. “I’m thinking that you’re going to take me out on a date.”

You don’t know why you’re even entertaining him.

Three days later, you’re outside Dazai’s apartment complex waiting for him to get back from his classes. You’d have gone to the campus itself but you don’t feel like having to beg Albatross or Iceman to get into the campus cameras to wipe the footage of you being there, especially knowing that it’ll get right back to Chuuya who is still under the belief that you’re no longer talking to Dazai.

You scowl as you look down at your phone, checking the time again. He should’ve been back ten minutes ago—you told him you were here waiting. Your reservation is in thirty minutes and he still has to change, you glance over your shoulder as a group of college students make their way toward the complex. You hardly stop yourself from rolling your eyes, you’d figured that the complex would be popular with the kids attending YNU—that’s why you ended up buying it—but you really don’t want to interact with any of them. 

You can feel them looking at you too—fuck, you should have just stayed in your car. From the corner of your eye, you can see them exchange curious looks with one another. One of the boys nudges another, clearly beckoning him to go try to talk to you and you will strength from the gods-

You hear your name fall from familiar lips, quiet and unsure, and the unpleasant expression that you know must be on your face melts away. You let your head fall to the side over your shoulder, gaze focusing on Dazai—he’s dressed casually in a brown sweater and cream pants, school books tucked to his chest and backpack hanging off of his shoulders. He looks surprised at the sight of you so you raise your eyebrows.

“You’re late, I texted you,” you say simply as he approaches you, glancing at the car and then to you curiously.

“My phone died,” he replies sheepishly, a bit of light returning to his eyes as he comes closer to you. Warmth starts to spread through your chest when you see how the corners of his lips twitch up, fingers absently thrumming against his books. “Where are we going?” 

“You’re getting changed,” you reply, nodding to the suit hanging in the passenger seat of he car, “and then-”

“Yo, Dazai-kun!”

Your eye twitches at the interruption, gaze twisting to the side to fall on one of the boys from that group you’d been dreading walking over before Dazai arrived. You notice him stiffen, an uncomfortable expression crossing his face when he hears his name being called. So, you sigh, motion for him to go into the car and grab the suit as you turn your attention to the group of approaching college students.

“We’re busy,” you say with a tight smile, tone short and perfunctory but trying to be polite. 

Your eyes sweep over the one who spoke up—he’s dressed nice, slacks and a button up, tailored neatly to his body, but there’s something so distasteful about him that you can’t help the way your lip curls up in disgust. Maybe it’s because of the way Dazai looks so uncomfortable.

The man looks entirely unperturbed by your blatant dismissal, giving you a charming smile. “I’m Yoshimura Hiro—me and Daz-”

Irritated, you glance one last time at Dazai, seeing that he got the suit out of the car and shut the door. You lock the car and without another word, press your hand against Dazai’s lower back to urge him forward, walking away from the small group without another word.

Dazai can hardly muffle the snort that escapes his lips as soon as the two of you make it into the building. His eyes have regained that brightness that they’d lost when his classmates approached you, a smile curving at his lips.

“That was so rude,” he says with a grin.

“We have a reservation to make,” you tell him dryly. “I said we were busy.”

“Still, you didn’t even wait for him to finish introducing himself.”

“Would you have preferred I had?” you ask, glancing at him as he unlocks his apartment, watching as his smile falters as he shakes his head. “Why don’t you get along with them?”

Dazai shrugs but he seems a bit more awkward now as you step into his apartment. He tosses his books onto the coffee table and shrugs his backpack off onto the couch. You lean against the wall as you wait for him to respond, noting that his apartment is much cleaner than the last time you were here.

“They don’t like me,” he corrects absently, fiddling with a mug on his coffee table before bringing it over to the kitchen. “Most people don’t.”

There’s a silent question lingering at the end of the sentence—you know it, even if you couldn’t tell from the way the words hang, you can see it in the way his eyes draw over to you. Maybe he wants reassurance of some kind that you do like him, that you’re not just doing this because of the blackmail, but the words die on the tip of your tongue.

Instead, you say, “Go get changed. We’re running late already.”

Dazai looks disappointed by your words—you can see it in the way his shoulders slump and his lashes lower, the corner of his lips tightening—but he lets out a dramatic sigh, muttering something under his breath before going into his bathroom to change.

Luckily, it only takes him a few minutes to get changed into the suit. He comes out as he’s still buttoning up the waistcoat—jacket slung over his shoulder. Your eyes drop down to his slim waist, eyes lingering at how neatly the vest clings to it.

Kido really did a good job, you think, having to drag your eyes back up to his face as he finally shrugs the jacket on and looks back up at you.

“You look nice,” you compliment, watching as his cheeks flush just a shade darker. “I didn’t have time to change after my meeting. If I’d known you were going to be ten minutes late, I would’ve.” 

Dazai promptly scowls at you. “Well, maybe you shouldn’t have waited until the last second to tell me. What if I already had plans?” he complains, but then adds, “… I think you look beautiful.”

“I wear this outfit everyday,” you dismiss, ignoring the way your chest flutters.

“I know,” he admits quietly. “You look beautiful everyday.”

Oh.

“We should go!” Dazai says suddenly, a bit too loudly to be casual. “We’re running late, aren’t we?” 

You clear your throat. “Yeah,” you say. “Come on, let’s go.” 

The walk back to your car is quiet—the students you’d left there are gone, thank god. You can feel Dazai looking at you every few seconds as if he wants to say something but can’t bring himself to say it. You have half a mind to just tell him to spit it out but you still find yourself a bit flustered so you just let it be until you’re in the car.

“Where are we going anyway?” Dazai finally asks as you pull out of the complex, twisting in the passenger seat to look at you. His eyes look almost golden beneath the rays of the sun, soft and excited, you can’t help the way your gaze lingers before you force yourself to focus on the road.

“You said you wanted to go to that restaurant by your campus, didn’t you?” you ask, tilting your head to the side to raise your eyebrows before looking forward again. “Taking you there.”

“The rooftop restaurant looking over the park?” Dazai splutters, eyes widening. “You remembered that? It’s so expensive, I-”

You don’t even acknowledge the last thing he was saying. Instead, you give him a squinty look before asking, “Why wouldn’t I remember?”

Dazai’s lips part as he stares at you like he’s trying to say something but can’t bring himself to. You don’t like the way he’s looking at you, it makes your heart twist in on itself. It’s too intense, too close to lo-

You don’t even let yourself finish that sentence, focusing back on the road as you change the subject. “They import crabs from the Beagle Channel in southern Argentina—best quality in the world, much better than that canned shit you eat every day.”

“What do you have against canned crab?” Dazai complains, leaning his head against the window. “You hate me. How did you even get a reservation at this place? They’re booked out like ten months in advance, we talked three days ago.”

You give Dazai a heavy side eye that he understands instantly from how he rolls his eyes, muttering something under his breath that you don’t quite catch.

“What was that?” you ask, giving him a pointed smile.

“Nothing,” he scowls.

You smile to yourself, focusing on driving again. The restaurant isn’t far from his complex so you get there pretty quickly. Dazai is quiet for most of the rest of the ride aside from the occasional comment about his classes. He bitches about his engineering class and all of the irritating freshman boys that he’s taking it with because it’s a 101 class, tells you vaguely about how he’s on a roll for one of his projects for his poetry workshop, explains the plot of the book he’s reading for his creative writing class, and he notably does not mention anything about his journalism class—you don’t know if it’s because he’s too awkward to bring it up or what, but you’re grateful for it because the last thing you want to do is think about him working with Ui Koutarou to expose you as a mafia executive. You still don’t even entirely believe this isn’t some whole big scheme they concocted together.

You let the car roll to a stop in front of the tower the restaurant is in, leaving it running as you put it in park and nod for Dazai to get out. You get out yourself, grabbing the keys and tossing them over to the valet with a quick thanks before leading Dazai into the building.

He looks almost wonderstruck as he steps into the tower, brown eyes wide and glittering as he looks at all of the expensive decor in the lobby of the tower. You have to physically guide him forward, arm slipping around his waist to get him moving in the direction of the elevator, but as soon as you come in contact with him, he goes rigid. Your brows furrow, about to pull your arm back but before you can, he presses his palm against the back of your hand, holding your arm in place for a quick second. You can’t help the smile that twitches to your lips when his arm drops back to his side and you catch the pretty flush staining his cheeks as he pointedly looks away.

You lead him into the elevator, catching the pout that pushes at his lips when your arm leaves his waist and you’re going to tease him for it but then you catch the oddly intense look in his eyes as he gazes down at you.

“What is it?” you ask.

“Nothing,” he replies, throat bobbing as if considering what to say. “It’s just… no one has ever done this for me before.”

“It’s just dinner, Dazai,” you tell him, voice quiet as you look away, missing the way his expression drops at your words.

“Yeah,” he agrees, though he sounds strained now so you give him a concerned look that he tries to play off with a smile that’s too frayed at the edges for comfort. You’re about to call him out on it but you don’t get the chance because the elevator doors slide open to the restaurant on the top floor before you can.

A familiar face stands on the other side of the elevator, delighted at the sight of you. “Hime,” the owner of the restaurant greets as you step out of the elevator with Dazai, reaching out to clasp one of your hands with both of his. “I almost didn’t believe it when they said you called to see if we could get you a table tonight. It’s been so long.”

“Ah, Yoshida-san, you’ll have to forgive me,” you say with an easy smile. “You know how busy work can get.”

“Of course, of course,” Yoshida replies, glancing at Dazai and inclining his head to him. “This must be your date. Come, I’ll seat the two of you.”

Dazai looks a bit out of his depth, the smile on his face strained and an unsure look in his eyes so you reach out to hook your arm into his, leading him through the restaurant as you make idle talk with Yoshida. You’re pleased when he brings you to a table near the window with a view over the whole park and the distant bay. 

Yoshida bows his head down to the two of you and lets you get settled, you take a seat but then give Dazai an odd look when he just stands there with a contemplative expression. You’re about to ask him what he’s doing when he suddenly moves to grab the chair opposite you.

He drags the chair from his side of the table all the way to yours. The legs scrape the floor so loudly that it draws the attention of all of the other patrons of the restaurant. You stare at him, lips parted in disbelief, but Dazai only gives you a sweet smile in return. He’s entirely unperturbed, plopping the chair down right next to yours and taking a seat in it. He rests his elbow on the table, propping his chin on his hand and watching you with an indescribable look in his eyes.

“You’re the worst,” you tell him but there’s no heat to your words as the corners of your lips tug up.

“You love me anyway,” Dazai coos, gaze flickering down to your lips briefly before settling back on your eyes.

When a soft, pleased smile spreads across Dazai’s face as he leans in to nudge his shoulder against yours, you have to actively remind yourself that you’re only doing this because of the blackmail. 

Dazai is already lounging on your couch when you get up to your apartment. You don’t seem to notice him—you’re clearly unhappy about something, lips twisted down and brows furrowed as you talk to someone on your phone. It’s not until Dazai peeks his head up above the back of the couch to look at you do you finally catch sight of the movement, eyes flickering to the side to focus on him.

“Thanks, Tolstoy, I’ll let you know if I need him. I appreciate it,” you say before letting the phone drop from your ear and ending the call. 

For a horrifying second, your expression doesn’t change and all of those insecurities that he can’t push away—that you really are only doing this because of the video, that he’s forcing himself on you instead of giving you an excuse to actually be with him that goes above the fears that are haunting you. But then, you sigh and your shoulders slump. You toss your jacket onto the other couch before sitting with him on the one he’s sitting on, knees knocking against his.

“Hi,” Dazai says with a small smile, itching to shift closer to you but hardly refraining. “You’re late today.”

“You’re early,” you reply dryly but there’s a fond curl to the corners of your lips that makes Dazai feel nice and warm. “You know, I think you’ve been at my apartment more than yours the past week.”

Dazai’s smile becomes simpering. “Why would I stay in my small, dirty apartment when I could stay in your nice one?” he asks, watching as you roll yours. “Anyway, you love it when I’m here. Your apartment would be so lonely and boring without me.”

“It would be something alright,” you agree half-heartedly, leaning your head against the back of the couch and letting your eyes slide shut.

Dazai’s smile falters as soon as your gaze leaves him, an uncomfortable and unwelcome feeling spreading through his chest. Is he being too much? He has been spending a lot of time at your apartment but it’s because whenever he’s alone, his own thoughts threaten to consume him. They whisper too loudly about how you’d never be doing this without the blackmail, about how he’s so desperate to not be alone that he’d stoop to forcing you to hang out with him. They’re quieter when he’s here, even when you’re not, so he’s been spending as much time as possible in your apartment, doing his schoolwork and watching TV while he waits for you to come back.

“Long day?” Dazai finally asks to draw himself out of his own thoughts, watching as you look back over at him.

“Mhm,” you agree, leaning your head against the back of the couch. “Lots of meetings. All with people I don’t like.”

You’ve become a bit more open over the past week—you still don’t tell him anything of importance, of course, but you’re at least not avoiding just about every topic that edges somewhat close to your ‘business’. He still feels like he doesn’t know you as well as he should and he hasn’t tried to push that anymore since the night you showed up at his apartment. He wants to try to push again but he’s just worried that he’s going to take it too far and he’ll mess it up.

He supposes he should at least try to feel it out though.

“Can I ask something?” he asks after a moment, almost wincing when you immediately cast him a suspicious look.

“The last time you asked me that, you were trying to figure out if I was in the Mafia,” you say doubtfully and Dazai’s throat goes dry as you lean back against the arm of the couch and extend your legs outward onto his lap. Hesitantly, he drops his hand onto your ankle, grip becoming more firm when you don’t instantly pull away.

“Well, we’ve already figured that out,” Dazai says with a sweet smile but then lets the smile drop as he adds more seriously, “I just want to get to know you better.”

You sigh, watching him carefully for a moment before nodding. “Go ahead,” you say. “Ask.”

“What’s your ability?”

Instantly, you sigh and look away. Dazai’s heart drops and his lips part to say something else but he doesn’t know what.

“I can’t, Dazai,” you finally tell him and Dazai tries not to be disappointed but he can’t help the way his lashes lower. “It’s not-you shouldn’t even know I have an ability. Only a handful of people know. It’s literally the most confidential secret in the-I can’t.”

“But I already know you have one,” Dazai presses, his tone coming across as far too close to a whine considering the look you give him. “What’s the harm in telling me what it is?” 

“Dazai,” you say, voice becoming more edged. “You don’t understand what people would do to get intel on my ability—I’m not going to-”

“I just want to know you,” Dazai interrupts, words drawn out and throat tight. “I just-I want to know you.”

You stare at him for a moment and Dazai’s grip on your ankle tightens, expression dropping. Just as he’s about to drawback and give up, you sigh and look away from him.

“I can mess around with people’s minds,” you finally tell him, voice quiet. Dazai’s eyes widen, head snapping toward you as he waits for you to continue. “I can… induce different types of mental and physical states in the brain and mind.”

“Like… Emma Frost?” Dazai asks, squinting. You give him an odd look so he amends, “Like mind control?” 

“No,” you answer. “I can’t… control minds. I can like… induce short term changes in emotions and sensations. I’m not directly manipulating them but putting them into a state and letting them work with it. They can either snap themselves out of it or make it stronger.”

“... I see,” Dazai says slowly. “So, you can make someone happy but if something makes them sad after, it’ll snap them out of it?”

“Pretty much,” you hum but there’s a weird look on your face that tells Dazai that maybe you’re not saying everything. “Some emotions are easier than others. Happiness is more… fragile, harder to sustain in a target. Fear is much more… a lot like a parasite—once you put it in someone’s head, almost everyone will start to spiral. It’s much harder to break out of.”

“The mindkiller,” Dazai notes, quoting one of his favorite books, a bit of morbid curiosity spiking, wanting to know how he would fare.

You give him an amused look. “Now, you’re quoting Dune? Quite the broad taste in media.”

“You’ve read Dune, too?” Dazai gapes. “You must be my soulmate.”

“You’re ridiculous,” you say, rolling your eyes.

“Ridiculously cute,” Dazai counters immediately, smile twitching at his lips when he sees the fond expression on your face.

Then, naturally, he makes a mistake. 

“Can you use it on me?” Dazai asks, leaning forward a bit. When you give him a sharp, alarmed look, he quickly fumbles out, “Not like anything big. I just want to see what it’s like. Just something sma-”

“No.”

“But-”

“No,” you say loudly, making Dazai draw back, hand falling from your ankle to rest on the couch next to him. You pull your legs off of his lap and sit up straight, turning your body away from him. “Just no, Dazai. Don’t ask me that again.”

“I didn’t mean-” Dazai starts to apologize but he’s flustered, not having expected a response like that from you. He fucked up. Again. Just as he was making progress. Again. “I don’t-”

“I can’t turn off my ability,” you tell him quietly after a moment. “It’s… always going to some extent. Making people around me more at ease so they feel more comfortable talking to me. I don’t like using it to its full extent if I don’t have to, not on people I consider friends at least. I never know if people… I don’t know who wants to be around me for me and who’s just influenced by my ability.”

Oh.

Dazai shifts closer to you, there’s an unreadable expression on your face as you stare ahead. He hesitates for a second before reaching out and grabbing your hand, forcing you to look at him.

“I want you for you,” Dazai stresses. When you start to shake your head and look away, he repeats, “I do. I-”

“You wouldn’t know, Dazai,” you say, voice tight. “That’s the issue, you wouldn’t know.”

“I would know,” Dazai tells you, squeezing your hand. “I would know, I want you. I do.”

You don’t respond to him this time, staring ahead and Dazai doesn’t know what to do because you look sad. You look lost in your own thoughts, consumed by whatever is running through your head. It’s familiar—the same way he probably looks whenever he lets the parasites in his brain start eating away, sending him down a dangerous spiral.

He wants to draw you out of it. 

More than that, he wants to kiss you again. Desperately. 

He’s yearned for it since that night in his apartment, spent long nights alone and aching for your company when he thought you were abroad. For days, he could feel his lips tingling with the ghost of yours still brushing against them, could feel the weight of your body on his hips, grounding him when he thought he would finally be consumed by the emptiness that perpetually plagues him. He thinks maybe he can draw you out in the same way you always do for him. 

He wants to kiss you, and he’s about to lean in to do just that, breath catching in the back of his throat as his body becomes prickly with nerves.

You turn your head away before he can, rising to your feet and making your way to your bedroom, leaving him damningly alone in the living room of your apartment. 

He lets out a shaky breath, staring down at his lap, a cold and unsure feeling taking root in his chest.

Dazai has become a constant presence in your life. 

At first, it caused you nothing but stress—you constantly feared that him showing up to your apartment would lead to unwelcome eyes learning of his existence but he’s been very careful entering and leaving the building, and Klaus has been on top of the cameras. You think it’s been around a week and a half, maybe two weeks since Dazai first confronted you about everything and in that week and a half (maybe two weeks), you don’t think a single day has gone by without you coming home to find Dazai curled up on your couch or hunched over your kitchen table.

Today is no different.

Your head is pounding when you make it up to your apartment, you’d spent two hours arguing with Chuuya over how to approach the issue with Shimazaki-kai. The Sun and Steel are struggling against them in Tokyo and Mishima Michiko had come to Yokohama personally to request assistance from the Port Mafia in routing them from Shibuya-ku. You don’t want to send Chuuya there—it’s only a matter of time before the Guild shows up in Yokohama to try to take the weretiger and you’ll need Chuuya here when they do. You can’t risk sending him off now.

But Chuuya wants to go there now—says that it’s a bad look that the Port Mafia started this conflict and is now leaving the Sun and Steel to suffer the consequences. And he’s right, but the Guild is more pressing than the Shimazaki-kai.

 It’s not often that the two of you disagree on tactical decisions, but when you do, the disagreements are stressful and explosive. Both of you are bullheaded and both of you are convinced that your decision is the correct one—and Lippmann wasn’t here to force you guys to settle down so it just became more and more heated until you finally stormed off.

You pause when you enter your apartment and hear a choppy tune being played on the piano in your living room—something you vaguely recognize as the beginning of Chopin’s Raindrop Prelude even with the many mistakes being made. Your stress and frustration slips away as you catch sight of Dazai sitting at the piano bench, so focused on the sheet music in front of him that he doesn’t even notice your arrival.

A small smile tugs at your lips as you quietly make your way over to him, watching as he pauses in the song and sighs, clearly frustrated by his mistakes. You take the opportunity to slide your hand across his shoulder blades; he jumps beneath your touch, eyes widening as he twists his neck to look up at you, cheeks flushing. 

“I didn’t know you played,” you say absently. “If you want, I can have the spare room on this floor made into a music room for you.”

You don’t know why you offer it, but you enjoy the look in his eyes as his gaze focuses on you: big and imploring, full of emotion. It’s a welcome change from the livid expression Chuuya had been casting your way for the past few hours.

“I don’t really,” Dazai says awkwardly. “I was just trying it out.”

“Well, do you like it?” you ask him, taking a seat on the bench next to him, fingers lingering on his lower back.

“I think so,” he tells you after a few moments, lashes fluttering as he looks down at the keys and then back up at you. “I think my mother used to play… I don’t really remember her, but I can vaguely remember a song she used to play.”

There’s an odd look in his eyes as he averts his gaze and you squeeze his side gently before saying, “Maybe the more you play, the more it’ll come back to you.

“Yeah, maybe,” he agrees half-heartedly, looking at you again, more carefully this time. “Are you okay?” 

You pause, not having expected him to catch onto your bad mood so quickly when you were doing your best to hide it, but you finally sigh and shake your head.

“Yeah,” you tell him, motioning for him to get up so the two of you can move over to the much more comfortable couch. “Stressful day. I thought you had class on Wednesdays.”

“It was online today,” Dazai says, propping his arms up on the back of the couch as he sits up. “I thought you said you wouldn’t be back until super late tonight.”

You scoff. “Yeah, until I got into a fight with Chuuya,” you mutter, making your way over to him to sit on the couch with him, looking at the puzzle he has spread out on your coffee table. “Where’d you get this?” 

Dazai gives you a sweet smile. “You left your computer open yesterday, I ordered some things.”

Dazai inches closer to you, there’s an indecipherable expression on his face, lips parted and eyes a bit wide. You can feel his knee nudging yours and you know what he wants. He’s been trying to make subtle moves on you for days but you just… You don’t know. You’re scared.

You’re scared.

You don’t think you’ve felt this way since you were a kid, trapped in that room in the military base on Tokoyami Island desperately trying to understand what your ability was so you wouldn’t be thrown back out into a warzone. Except now, it’s not just your fate on the line—every decision you make, Dazai’s life hinges on it and you’ve been making stupid ones for weeks. Even now, letting him stay at your apartment… Even if you do own all of the cameras, even if Klaus is on top of it, even if Dazai is being careful, it’s only a matter of time before a mistake is made.

You don’t know what you’re still holding out for. Maybe a chance to make him understand what exactly is at stake, break things off with you on his own… Maybe you’re waiting for something else. Your conversation with Tolstoy echoes through your head, his offer of sending Ilya Repin to you for you to utilize as you please.

Ilya Repin. A Crucession in Oakwood. 

Someone who can wipe Dazai’s memories of you so you can send him back off to live a normal life, make him forget he ever met you. It’s not something you want to do, fiddling with people’s minds… you know better than anyone that it’s not something to take lightly. But would it be worth it to ensure he lives? That he doesn’t get drawn any further into your shitshow life? The thought makes your chest ache painfully but if it means he would be safe.

You let out a shaky breath, looking away, and you can feel the disappointment emanating off of him, you can feel his fingers brushing your arm, but before you can say anything to him, you hear your elevator bing.

Someone arriving at your floor.

Your eyes widen as you rise to your feet, you cast Dazai a panicked look. He follows after you, unsure of what he should do. Klaus is across the city—he’s the only one that can come up to your apartment without permission besides-

Besides Chuuya.

Oh shit.

“Go to the kitchen,” you say, voice tight and stressed, you push Dazai forward to get him moving. You cannot let Chuuya know that Dazai is here. “Get to the-”

“Yo.” You hear Chuuya say, voice low and distracted as he steps into your apartment. He’s looking down at a bottle of wine, so you wave your hand at Dazai frantically, shooing him into the kitchen. He shoots you a panicked look before rushing into the kitchen. “I didn’t mean to let shit get so heated before.”

“You’re good,” you tell him, careful to keep the strain from your voice as Chuuya finally looks up from the bottle and makes his way over to you. “Takes two, I shouldn’t have been so quick to snap at you.”

“Nah.” Chuuya shakes his head, plopping down on the couch next to you. “You’ve been going through shit. The Boss constantly on your ass, having to drop that kid you liked-” shit “-I should’ve let it go instead of pressing. Brought you this.”

Oh, you’re in a bad spot. Your mind is a whirlwind of thoughts as you race to figure out what to do. You have to get Chuuya out of your apartment, but the man knows you so well that it’ll be impossible to do that without raising suspicion. If this were any other day and Dazai Osamu wasn’t hiding in your kitchen, you would be trying to worm more than just a bottle of wine out of Chuuya—probably dinner and a night out to go along with it—but he’ll want to crack open the bottle before going out and your wine glasses are in your kitchen.

Shit.

“An ‘82 Rothschild,” you drawl. “You’re really trying to butter me up.”

Chuuya gives you a smile that makes you feel guilty. “‘Cause I feel like shit,” he mutters and you hardly refrain from wincing because you know he wouldn’t if he knew the truth.

You think you might be the worst person alive. 

“How about we put it in the wine fridge and head out for the night?” you hum, nudging his shoulder. “Didn’t you want to try that new bar by the ports in Naka? The one Lippmann went to with his coworkers? We’ll save the wine for us to celebrate after we wipe out the Shimazaki-kai.” 

A good move. You almost pat yourself on the back for it—Chuuya’s been talking about this bar for weeks, but hasn’t gotten a break from work to actually go check it out. He was livid the other day when he found out Albatross and Iceman went without him. Plus, you implied that you’d give in a little on the argument you were having with him earlier; maybe you won’t send him to Tokyo to help the Sun and Steel but you could probably send Klaus or Akutagawa to ease Chuuya’s stress over the situation.

Please, please, please, please-

“Nah,” Chuuya says, shaking his head. “Maybe another night. I’ll go grab some glasses, find a movie?” 

Oh, fuck me.

“I’ll get them,” you say instead, too quickly from the way Chuuya is instantly casting a suspicious look in your direction so you pivot with: “I picked the last movie. It’s your turn.”

“You hate when I pick movies,” Chuuya says with a frown, studying you carefully before letting his eyes trail over to the kitchen. He’s thinking too hard, you realize, stressed, you need to make him stop before he figures out you don’t want him to go in there because once he realizes that, there’s no shot he won’t be rushing over there. “What’s really going on?” 

“Nothing,” you say easily. “I’m in the mood to trash one of your low budget horror movies.”

Chuuya instantly gives you an offended look and you think, for a moment, that you’ve succeeded. “Well, I’m not in the mood to hear you bitch halfway through the movie, so pick a damn movie.”

Chuuya rises to his feet, putting the bottle of wine down on the coffee table and you want to rip your hair out—why is he so fucking stubborn? You reach out to grab his wrist to stop him, teeth grinding together, and when Chuuya looks back at you, you know that he knows.

“What’s in the kitchen?” Chuuya asks, voice low.

“None of your business,” you reply, jaw tight. “Sit down and let me get the glasses.”’

“I don’t fuckin’ believe you,” Chuuya snaps and rips his wrist from your grasp and storms over to the kitchen. 

You race behind him, only able to watch as everything starts to crumble. You try to grab his wrist again but he slips out from your hold. For a scary second, you genuinely debate using your ability on him just to convince him to stop, to make him leave, but you disregard the thought as soon as it passes through your head, horrified with yourself.

“Chuuya, stop,” you say desperately, a last ditch attempt to make him stop, hoping that maybe when he hears how serious you are about this that he might reconsider, but it’s Chuuya, so of course he doesn’t.

You know it’s over when he freezes in the doorframe of your kitchen, staring into the room like he’s seen a ghost. Dreadfully, you come to stand at his side, looking over his shoulder to see what exactly he’s looking at, wanting nothing more than to crawl into a hole and die.

Dazai sits on the floor, half hiding behind your counter but unable to fully because of his height; his legs are too long to fit behind the counter and his head is peeking above the marble, brown eyes wide as he looks between the two of you. He focuses his attention on Chuuya, who stares at him mutely in disbelief.

Dazai finally says, “Your hat is tackier in person.”

Oh my god.

Chuuya doesn’t even react to the snide comment which you think is testimony to how angry he really is. He drags his gaze from Dazai over to you and you can see the rage swimming in his eyes. You don’t know how to approach this—Chuuya is always unpredictable when he’s angry—so you think maybe you should wait for him to say something first, but that’s also risky because once he’s set off, he’s set off. 

“You lied to me,” Chuuya says, voice low. “I was sitting here feeling guilty and-”

“I didn’t lie to you,” you interrupt, shaking your head, but that only pisses Chuuya off more from the way he shoots a pointed look at Dazai. “I didn’t. I did cut him off, Chuuya. I-”

“He’s sitting on your kitchen floor,” Chuuya’s spits, voice raising as he works himself up. “You let me sit here feeling guilty about this when-”

Chuuya suddenly cuts himself off, eyes widening as he stares at you, and a pit forms in your stomach, realizing he must have just come to another conclusion. Distress begins to pile in your chest because you can’t figure out what to do, frustration because this wasn’t supposed to happen. You want to look over to Dazai but you know it will only serve to piss Chuuya off even more.

“‘Is that what she told you?’” Chuuya whispers Mori’s words from a few weeks ago. “Don’t even tell me that the war with the Inagawa-kai began because of him. You told me they attacked you.”

You grimace, turning your face away and Chuuya lets out a high and reedy laugh, eyes wild with disbelief. You can feel Dazai’s curious eyes on you and you just want to curl in on yourself.

“We went to war with two Yakuza syndicates because of him-”

“We went to war because of what happened with your-” you begin to say, angry at the hypocrisy.

“And she died anyway,” Chuuya shouts, a familiar, eerie red glow beginning to emanate from his hands as he starts to lose control of his ability in his anger. “You couldn’t save her then, what makes you think you can save him now?”

You draw back as if you’d been slapped—you think you might’ve been better off getting slapped than hearing Chuuya say that. You stare at him blankly, watching as he looks over at Dazai, but you can’t bring yourself to follow his gaze.

“It would be more merciful if I just killed him now,” Chuuya says coolly. “Spare him from-”

You only move when he takes a step forward, grabbing his wrist and pressing your forearm hard against his upper chest to shove him into your fridge. Chuuya doesn’t expect you to get physical so his eyes widen as his back hits the fridge, gaze darting back to focus on you. The familiar feeling of the Tainted Sorrow sweeps over your body, coating you in that destructive red glow. 

For a moment, neither of you move.

“We both know you won’t use your ability on me,” you finally say, keeping your voice low. “I’ll fuck up your brain so badly that you won’t be able to look at yourself in the mirror for weeks if you take another step toward him.”

Chuuya doesn’t budge for a second, the tension in the room rising with each passing second. After a few minutes, he finally turns off his ability, taking in a deep breath as he shakes his head and looks away. You step back and Chuuya sighs as he leans against the fridge, forcing himself to look back at you.

“I did cut him off after we talked… ish,” you tell him and Chuuya gives you a flat look. “I did. I ran into him at the ports. One of the kyodai of the Inagawa-kai showed up, saw me with him. Klaus killed him. We had to act before they found out we drew first blood.”

“Oh my god,” Chuuya complains, pressing his hands to his eyes. “You-I had to use Corruption. The entire northern ward-”

“I know, Chuuya,” you say tightly. “I didn’t mean for any of it to happen. I-”

You let out a breath, glancing once at Dazai who’s watching you with an indecipherable expression and then ask Chuuya, “Can we go into the other room?”

Dazai’s head snaps toward you, an offended expression on his face, but you ignore him. “You’re talking about me-” he starts to protest but Chuuya gives him a sharp look that makes Dazai blanch even more, looking to you for support but you look away, missing the way his expression crumbles.

As soon as the two of you are in the other room, Chuuya gives you a hard look, waiting for you to continue.

“I cut him off after what happened at the port and I ran into him again at the event a few weeks ago,” you say quietly. “His professor for one of his classes is a journalist working for the Ivory Eagle, he has three kids—including Dazai—doing his dirty work trying to find proof of the Mori Corporation being a front for the Port Mafia.”

Chuuya stares at you. “What?” he asks blankly.

“Yeah, I know,” you grimace. “Dazai found the proof. He has a video of us from behind the Tokyo City Hall.”

“You’re letting yourself be blackmailed by a college student?” Chuuya demands loudly. You give him a sharp look, but it’s too late, Dazai is already looking into the room with an indecipherable expression on his face, lashes lowering as his gaze falls to the ground. “You’re a fucking mafia executive, are you fucking with me right now?” 

Your eye twitches in frustration, casting one last look in Dazai’s direction, watching the way his brows furrow as he thinks up a storm in that head of his—nothing good, you’re sure, but you can’t do anything about it right now.

“I’m not going to kill him, Chuuya,” you hiss under your breath. “Would you have killed her if she found out?”

Chuuya lets out a heavy breath and looks away, not answering your question but that’s an answer in itself.

“Look,” you continue, glancing at where Dazai had been standing only to realize that he’d walked away. You sigh and lower your voice. “I’m working on something. I just… I need time to figure out how to go about it. I don’t want him in this life either, Chuuya. I’m not that selfish.”

Yes, you are, a distant part of you whispers. Otherwise, you would have handled this as soon as he came to your apartment that first day.

Chuuya shakes his head. “You need to be careful. You have him in our headquarters, in your apartment. Do you know how thin of a line you’re treading? The slightest slip up-”

“I know, Chuuya,” you say, strained. “I know.”

“Figure it out quickly,” Chuuya murmurs. “I’ll do what I can in the meantime to keep the heat off of you. Just… quit fucking around.”

Chuuya gives you a steady look and you know that he knows that you’re using this as an excuse to indulge in Dazai when you shouldn’t be. You can hardly hold his gaze, lashes fluttering as you look down. He reaches out to squeeze your forearm and you turn your head away, trying to figure out what the fuck you’re going to say to Dazai.

“Yeah, I will.”

Dazai pretends like everything is fine.

He’s still sitting cross-legged on your bed when you finally come looking for him, hands in his lap and back straight. You lean against the doorframe, an uncharacteristically soft expression on your face as you look at him—Dazai hates it, because he knows that he’s not going to like whatever you’re about to bring up to him so he decides he needs to evade the conversation in whatever manner possible.

“Did that pipsqueak leave?” Dazai huffs, only finding a bit of consolation in the way your lips curl up into a smile at his insult.

“He did,” you agree, pushing off the doorframe to make your way over to him. Dazai swallows thickly when you take a seat in front of him on the bed. You lean back on your hands, head falling to the side as you observe him. “I didn’t think he was coming over today. We’d just gotten into an argument so things were already tense. I’m sorry that it blew up on you like that.”

Dazai doesn’t want to talk about this, so instead, he smiles and says, “It’s fine. Do you want to watch a movie?” 

Your brow furrows at the way he dismisses your comment—god, he doesn’t want to talk about this. He knows where it’s going to lead, he knows you’re only doing this because of the blackmail and he knew from day one that it wasn’t going to work forever but he’d hoped maybe he’d be able to woo you before then, make you want him for him, want him enough to decide he’s worth the risk. He should’ve known better—he really should have—but he’s not ready to let go just yet.

So, before you can bring it back up again, Dazai forces the smile on his face to come across a little more genuine as he tilts his head and hums, “I found a good horror movie. I’m stealing your pillow to hide behind while we watch.”

Please.

He knows you can see through the sweet smile and honeyed words but he begs you to just pretend you don’t one last time. After what feels like an eternity, you finally sigh, gaze dropping to your lap for a second before you look back up at him and say, “You’re not taking my pillow.”

Dazai doesn’t have to force a smile now, lighting up as he waves your pillow in the air and sings, “Too late!” before darting off the bed and into the other room.

“Dazai!” you call after him loudly and he tosses a smile over his shoulder before disappearing into the other room. He can hear you chasing after him and though his chest does feel a bit lighter, he can’t push away the cold, empty feeling that’s slowly starting to consume him.

[benedictscanvas]

pretty boy, pretty girl - jamie tartt x reader

pairing: jamie tartt x fem!reader

word count: 2.1k

a/n: okay yes. it has been six months. which is actually mad to me, but there we are - whoops! i've been off following my dream and wrote this while procrastinating an assignment, so this is by no means a return!! honestly i was just itching to write it, but i don't know how much time i have for more - enjoy nevertheless <3

warnings: just a little bit of suggestion towards the end, reader is referred to as 'pretty girl' as the title implies amongst other pet names, quite a lot of swearing (some things don't change)

---

“Hi love.”

Jamie barely murmurs it as he walks past you, can’t help himself but to drag a palm along your back, one shoulder blade to the other, as he goes. 

He knows he’s bold sometimes, but he swears it’s instinct. He glances back to see whether your expression holds any discomfort, but all he finds is your grin, a tiny wave. He continues on his path towards the canteen, knowing that your corridor conversation with Rebecca is probably important.

Somewhere between here and there, he decides to get your lunch, your usual, and sits alone on a table until you appear.

You do, three and a half minutes later. As soon as he sees you, the irrepressible urge to make you grin again is back with a vengeance. He waves you over to his table with a gesture to the food he’s got for you and- there it is again.

If he was a slightly smarter man, maybe he’d consider why all it took was the sight of him to draw your lips upwards, set your eyes alight.

“Thought I’d save y’ from the queue,” he speaks, still soft, in a tone he feels he only uses with you. You match his unnecessary low volume.

“Thanks, angel,” you say easily, and you must not see his stomach doing flips, “Too good to me, you are.”

“Shut up,” he deflects, wonders if you can see him fluster at your nickname for him, “Are you still coming tonight?”

You groan. He frowns, and you quickly correct.

“Sorry. It’ll be fun.”

“Yeah, you sound proper convinced, an’ all.”

You chuckle, taking a bite out of your sandwich and taking a pause to chew. Jamie eats too, content to let you think before you speak. It was slowly teaching him to do the same.

“I’m just boring, Jamie. My favourite people are all under this roof, but usually they’re sober, you know?”

He often forgets you don’t really drink. Your friendship (however sour that word feels in relation to you) usually confined to these halls, to the pitch, to various football stadiums up and down the country. When they all get a chance to let loose, you’re very quick with the excuses, but he’s believed them blindly until this moment.

“Shit, y’ don’t drink, right? I can’t imagine that’s much fun in a club. I won’t tell anyone if you happen to come down with an illness or somethin’ this afternoon.”

You’re grinning at him again, all bright and sunny. It’s downright infectious, so Jamie nudges your foot with his on purpose and then apologises like it’s an accident.

“You’re alright,” you reassure, “I will join tonight. Even if it just proves to myself I’m not missing out on anything. Maybe Colin’s not as bad a drunk as I’ve been led to believe.”

Jamie winces.

“No, he is pretty bad,” he admits and then finally comes up with something to make you more comfortable, “Hey, what about this? I won’t drink either and we can spend the evening laughin’ at everyone else.”

You poke his hand and he tries not to drop his crisp packet.

“It’s everyone’s ‘relax and recharge’ night, Ted said. We both know you relax much easier with a few drinks in you. And I’d never judge anyone for that, I really hope it doesn’t come across like I’m judging any-“

“It doesn’t, sweetness,” he cuts in, “But actually, I’ll relax better if I’m one hundred percent positive that you’re relaxing too. What better way than judgin’ everyone else, together like?”

You purse your lips thoughtfully, mid-chew. He feels like he’s holding his breath, like he’s underwater and you’re in charge of the oxygen tank.

“Well, see how you feel when we’re there. It sounds lovely but only if you’re still up for it when we’re right next to a bar,” you say, still unconvinced. He wants to convince you fully, but he can’t decide if he should argue with you or kiss you silly before you speak again, “Hey, if not, I’ll buy you a drink?”

“Pretty sure that’s my line, love.”

“I said it, I meant it. Girls can buy drinks for pretty boys, you know.”

He thinks you might have removed his oxygen tank now. There’s some cruelty in that sentence but you don’t know you’re wielding it. He wills himself to flirt back even though it’ll only make him feel sick.

“Okay, pretty girl. One passionfruit J2O, please.”

Another grin. He’s so fucking fucked.

---

He’s been waiting for you for around forty minutes. He doesn’t know if that’s the normal amount of time you take to get ready, even if he wishes he knew, so he just waits, leaning against his car.

After fifty, he decides there’s no harm in just checking you’re alright and haven’t slipped on a sparkly floor that an evening cleaner has done a number on.

You mentioned going to the kit room to get changed, and he meets Will on his way there.

“Hey mate, you seen Y/N?”

Will looks paler than he’s ever been. Guilty. Jamie narrows his eyes and waits.

“Kit room.”

It’s all that Will says. When Jamie doesn’t walk off immediately, still waiting for an explanation for Will’s strange demeanour, Will turns around and legs it all the way down the corridor, turns left at the end and never returns.

Jamie shakes his head and continues in the direction of the kit room. The closer he gets, the more he hears. Muffled banging, shouting. He picks up the pace.

“Y/N? Love?”

“Jamie! Jamie, in here!”

Your voice floats out from the kit room and he hurries over. Still very confused, Jamie turns the door handle and finds the door won’t budge, however hard he shoves his shoulder against it.

“It’s locked, babe. Did you lock it?”

He hears your exasperated sigh and feels a little embarrassed.

“No I didn’t bleeding lock it! Well, I did, when I was getting changed, but then when I unlocked it my side it had been locked from the outside.”

Jamie struggled to put the dots together. Had Will locked you in? Judging by the running, he had… and he’d done it on purpose. A spark of anger shot down Jamie’s spine but he tried to convince himself there must be a reason.

Before he could, there was a hand on his on the door, pulling him away. It was being unlocked by another hand and then he was being shoved inside, hard enough to stumble against one of the benches. A piece of paper was thrown at his face and Jamie groaned as he heard the lock click back in place.

“What the fuck?” he muttered as he stood up fully, more dazed than angry now as he stared at the locked door.

“Jesus, Jamie, are you alright? Who the fuck was that?”

“I dunno,” he says, staring at the door as if it might have answers. Your hand on his face wakes him up, his eyes shifting to yours where you look him over with concern.

“You’re alright, though?”

You ask it like you need the answer, and Jamie needs you to stop trailing a finger along his hairline either way.

“Fine, love,” he assures you, patting the juncture between your shoulder and neck gently until your hands drop to your sides. Then he raises his voice, and he’s not really talking to you anymore, “Whoever’s locked us in here as some kind of joke won’t be fuckin’ alright though!”

No answer. He picks up the small piece of paper from the floor and reads it in his head.

Tell her, you prick.

He’s actually going to hit Roy with his car. Lightly, definitely not enough to damage him, but enough to really, really piss him off.

This was all some ridiculous attempt to make him tell you how he felt about you? Absolutely not. Never. He wouldn���t be coerced into something so delicate, so important.

“What’s it say?”

You’re peering over the top of the paper, but he folds it in two before you can read anything. His chuckle comes out strained.

“It says: Get fucking pranked. Must be Roy, he’s probably scared Will into helpin’ him, the fucker. I’m afraid it’s payback for putting all his socks on the ceiling last week, babe, an’ you’ve been caught in the middle.”

You pause, staring at your shoes. For some reason, you look far more forlorn than the situation calls for, but it’s gone before he can think about it further.

“On the ceiling?”

He nods and you giggle. It’s only as you step away from him in your laughter that he realises how close you had been. He should’ve savoured it.

It’s also only as you step away that Jamie finally gets a glimpse of your outfit and nearly reaches out to the nearby bench for strength. He’s never seen you in a v-neck anything before, let alone a dress, and he thinks it might do him in.

“You look good,” he says lamely, then tries again, “Great. Fan-fuckin’-tastic, I mean.”

“I like that last one,” you smile, ducking your head. He thinks, or rather hopes, you’re a little flustered, “Fan-fuckin’-tastic happens to be what I was going for.”

“Yeah,” he breathes, words gone as soon as he’d found them. And now he was staring. Shit.

“I like your suit,” you say, maybe breathless yourself. It must be his ears. You reach up as if you might fiddle with his lapel but just point towards it before your hand drops again. You practically fall down onto the bench you’re both stood beside and he follows, ever obedient, “Shame no one else will ever see it. How long do you think we’ll be stuck here?”

The suit isn’t for anyone except you. That’s what he’d say if he had any stupid bravery. He’s an awful coward, he thinks.

“Until Roy gets bored or Keeley finds out I reckon,” Jamie guesses, “Y’ wanna play I-spy?”

You sigh, but when he peeks at you out of the corner of his eye, you’re grinning your silly, lovely grin again.

“I spy with my little eye…”

---

It is around 11pm, when Jamie has not long fallen asleep against the jacket he had scrunched behind his head, that he feels your hand on his ankle. He can tell, as he wakes without opening his eyes, that you’re not trying to rouse him. The touch is light, feathery. Maybe an accident.

No, not an accident. It wouldn’t have lasted this long, and your thumb is drawing absentminded circles into his ankle bone. You think he’s asleep and you’ve reached out to hold him anyway.

He opens his eyes but doesn’t move. His legs are stretched out on the bench in front of him and you sit upright next his sock-clad feet, one hand on his bare ankle. You’re staring at a piece of paper so intently he wonders what could possibly be so interesting.

“This doesn’t say get fucking pranked, Jamie,” you murmur, and his hand flies to his jacket pocket. It must have fallen out when he slumped into a slumber. He’s sat up in a blink, watching the hand that had been so soothing, fall back at your side suddenly.

“I’m sorry. Shit. I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

“No, don’t,” you insist, still staring at the piece of paper. Instead of whirling on him for answers, you reach calmly into one of the boot cubbies beside your head and pull out a piece of paper from one of the boots. You chuck it at him without looking.

He unfolds it with careful, if shaky, hands.

Tell him, you silly shit.

It takes him an absurdly long time to understand what the hell this second piece of paper means. Later, when the two of you look back on this moment (and you do so often), you’ll wonder how he could have been so dense and he’ll spin you a line about how too good to be true it all felt. But in the moment, he has no lines and no words, until your hand lands heavy on his knee this time.

“Jamie,” you say softly, through a grin that is so different from your usual that he could pass out. It’s so beautiful and so strikingly lovesick that he thinks he might actually be sick, “What do you have to tell me?”

“What?”

He feels dumber than he’s ever felt. But your hand is still on his knee and now you’re shuffling closer to him on the bench.

“What do you have to tell me?” you repeat, then you poke his chest playfully as you add, “You prick.”

He still looks confused, so you clearly decide the best way to catch him up is to kiss him.

You pull away after a moment, a moment of pure heaven, because clearly you don't want to kiss him fully until he's all clued in.

"Come on, pretty boy," you say, teasing, "Figure it out. I was going to buy you a passionfruit J2O. It's the sign of all signs."

He should be laughing at your joke, but all he really wants to do is kiss you again. And again.

Maybe again.

"Oh pretty girl," he says, and he feels the rumble of his low tone in his chest. He places a hand on your face, fingers itching at your hairline, "I'll tell you anything ya wanna hear, I swear. Anythin'."

He hears your breath hitch, but he feels it too, where the meat of his palm is covering your neck.

"Anything?" you answer back, "I could have a lot of fun with this."

You scrunch up your brow like you're thinking and he's so stupidly in love with you that he just tells you. Too-soon be damned.

"Smooth talker," you laugh, giddy, and you kiss him again. And it's so good that he doesn't even remember you didn't say it back until hours later.

(at which point, you say it back so many times and in so many ways, Jamie is certain that he's the luckiest man in the world. he might not hit Roy with his car after all)

[sopiloveshobi]

Loved you from afar

Yoongi fluff that was in my head for a good few weeks. Inspired by my friend Taeyi. Shy Yoongi, non idol style. 4k words. No warnings. I hope it will make you feel warm and fluffy and head over heels for this Yoon. (didn't read it or spell checked sowwi)

‘I’m here!’ – you waived at the man walking down the mall along the shops towards you. He was holding two cups of coffee to go and a small bag which looked like the kind you would get from a pastry shop. He walked past few other people on the way and made his way to you. He was wearing a pair of shorts and long dark oversized t-shirt, high top converse with white socks sticking out. He smiled widely when he saw you waive. ‘The queue was crazy, I’m really sorry it took so long’ he muttered and handed you the drink. ‘It’s okay Yoongi, I told you it’s mental around this time of the day’ you smiled grateful he went to get lunch for the two of you. ‘Let me just let my boss know I’m going on a break’ you pointed at the inside of the clothing shop you were both standing in front and you disappeared inside for few moments, still holding your coffee. Yoongi nervously looked around, trying to find something to look at whilst waiting for you and he decided to just stare at his own shoes. You came back not long after, poked your head around the corner to see your friend just staring down. It wasn’t anything new to you, as he tends to be a little bit awkward in public. ‘All sorted, ready?’ you surprised him and he glanced at you, smiled and nodded.

Right outside of the mall on the left hand side was small park-ish area. Few swings for kids and benches for the parents. But it was all empty because it looked like everyone disappeared for lunch. The both of you moved towards the area, picked the cleanest bench and sat on it. It was getting colder as the autumn was approaching soon. The sun was still quite high, it just wasn’t giving the same warmth as two weeks ago. You have taken a sip of your drink and closed your eyes, listening to the silence surrounding the two of you.

‘Taehyung wanted to go to the movies later today’ Yoongi muttered kind of towards you but kind of just into the universe.

‘Oh really? What are you going see?’ you got interested right away. You knew Yoongi for years now. It’s been at least 8, maybe coming to be 9 soon? You became friends at school, then you graduated and still were hanging out, both got few part time jobs in the past few years. You also managed to hold a serious adult office job for about three months before you decided to get a degree - part time, which you also decided to abandon few weeks in. It was too stressful and all you wanted to do was to draw. You were really good at it, so you opened a small business on the side selling your digital prints and art you drew on your tablet. But it wasn’t enough to keep you going, hence the part-time job at the mall.

Yoongi always wanted to make music and he was doing it on the side. He was definitely making enough now to not work part time but for some reason when he found out you will be working in the same mall as him (before he decided to quit) he changed his mind and decided to stay. You never really questioned his decisions. During your summer breaks you spent hours together locked in one of your rooms, him making music at the desk and you drawing on your tablet. The perfect combination. Both the artsy types, both quite shy and timid. Not all the time tough, there were multiple crazy stories you could tell your friends. One of the more memorable ones was when the two of you got really drunk after work and you sat in a shopping trolley which he was pushing, while riding his skateboard. Both laughing like two crazy teenagers until the security got rid of you. Yoongi was shy. Very shy. But he was also so warm. He would always cover your with a blanket when you fell asleep and he continued working on his stuff. He would always bring you hot soup when you were ill. Lunch at work was always a must. He really cared. He was also the type to never admit if he ever had feelings for you. If he did, he treasured your friendship more. He could always be around you and catch you when you fall, without ever risking and jeopardising your current relationship. He could love you from afar. Of course he spent nights thinking if your lips would be soft on his, or what would it be like to hold your hand for real, not just for a second when you were wrestling on the bed. What would it be like for you to fall asleep on his shoulder, when you actually intended to put your head there, not just by accident when he was near by and you were too tired to sit straight. His stomach flipped every time you mentioned a date with someone. He was terrified of someone else having you, at the same time he would never stop you. And he was always there when you were broken up with by another guy who didn’t know what he could have. He watched all the silly films with you and devoured half of the tub of ice cream you always liked. He was always the one to peel a tangerine for you, or an orange when they were around. Without asking if you fancy one, he would just do it and hand it over to you.

‘I’m not sure but he wanted me to bring you with. He said he invited the new girl he was seeing and he wanted it to be little bit less official than a date’ Yoongi answered, slightly worried you might get the wrong idea about the entire thing. But it wasn’t the first time you would go to the movies as his +1. Anytime one of his friends needed a double date you two were the go to. Even though you obviously weren’t dating. Obviously to you, not so obviously to Yoongi. Well it was obvious enough but it started getting to him the more he thought on how long you two have been hanging out for. Nearly 9 years. He was a loyal friend, he was a loyal friend to his other friends too it was just the way he was. He brushed through his long dark hair, overgrown from the summer. He looked at you, nervous as always even though he asked you the same question multiple times before.

‘So WE are going? I didn’t really want to go out tonight but..’ you started, desperately trying to get your pastry out of the paper bag that was laying between you and him on the bench.

‘If you don’t want to I will tell him you had other plans’ he quickly jumped to conclusion. He would never want you to do anything that you weren’t comfortable doing.

‘No, no it’s fine. We can go’ you smiled seeing him getting flustered. He held the bag steady for you and you finally managed to get your piece out of the bag. You grabbed the pastry and bit into it right away. Sweet cream and jam inside filled your mouth and you felt better. Less dizzy and shaky. You didn’t have anything else this morning and Yoongi knew it. Because when you asked for lunch you asked for coffee only and he brought food. He knew you too well and he was sure you didn’t have anything else that day.

‘Are you sure? I can go on my own..’ he asked looking at your pretty face devouring the pastry he picked for you. He admired every second of every time spent with you. Your eyes wondering around the sky, which he dreamed of staring for hours at the time.

‘Yes it’s fine, let’s do it. What film?’ you looked at him again, in between bites.

‘I didn’t really ask, let me text him’ he got a little bit nervous, of course he forgot to ask Taehyung about the film, at the end of the day he didn’t really care. He knew he would have a good time because it was with you. ‘Anyway, I will pick you up at 7? I will take my mums car’.

‘Sounds good! And don’t worry we haven’t seen any of the new films anyway, so whatever Tae picked will be fine’. He loved how unproblematic you were. How easy it was for you to just go with the flow. It was easy for you because you knew that it was always a good time with Yoongi. You knew nothing bad will ever happen to you around him. He would always protect you and take care of you. And you loved it about him so much, but you could never admit it. How could you ruin a friendship like this? He was older so in your head he was always treating you like a younger sister. The age gap wasn’t that big, you met at school at the end of the day.

You picked a really flowy dress, the evenings weren’t super cold. Short green platted dress with a cream cardigan because it was an evening and the dress was on thin straps so you were bound to get cold and you promised yourself you won’t get Yoongi to give up his hoodie yet another time for you. You put few bits in your bag: lip balm, pack of tissues, your wallet and your keys and you run out seeing Yoongi approaching in his mums car. You got in and he got immediately flashed with your scent. Sweet but light floral perfume that you have been using for as long as he remembers. Your hair half-up, with the rest flowing down your shoulders. He got stunned. He couldn’t say anything, there was no thoughts in his brain apart from just how beautiful you looked that night.

‘Yoongi? Hello?’ you waved your hands in front of his eyes and he finally shook his head and came back to his senses.

‘Pull yourself together’ he whispered to himself and you heard him say something but you couldn’t make up any of the words.

‘What? Are you okay?’ you asked, but then he looked back at you, smiled and nodded.

‘Ready? You look great’ he complimented. He always said it. No matter what were you wearing and it was true. He loved you in every outfit. No. He was miserable about you in every outfit. Including his hoodie and joggers when you both got soaked that one night running home from the shop. You were perfect to him in everything you wore. Oh how miserable he was about you. And recently it has been becoming more and more impossible to hide it. He would stutter when you would approach him without a notice or he would get stunned just like just did in the car.

‘Let’s go!’ you said enthusiastically and put your hand into a fist and made a really awkward ‘lets’ gesture. He didn’t say a word the entire time to the cinema. Not a word. The music was playing in the background, nothing too crazy, nothing too loud. He was always quiet but he was acting really strange this time. Almost too strange. And when you started thinking about it, he did become different recently. He was more distant, quieter. He wouldn’t come around as much after work anymore. Is he dating someone? That was your first thought but then you declined that idea since he invited you to go and pretend to be double dating with Tae tonight. Surely he would of invited his real date if he had one.

Anyways you made it to the car park behind the cinema, walked inside and stood there for a while trying to localise Taehyung. But he wasn’t anywhere to be seen. Not yet anyway.

‘Is he late? Are they late? I mean it’s nothing new for him, but isn’t the film about to start?’ you asked and looked at Yoongi as he was taking his phone out. You watched him text Tae for the 5th time in the span of 20 minutes as you were waiting for him. You turned around and looked at the popcorn machine and went towards it to get some for you and Yoongi. In that time Taehyung sent a message back to Yoongi ‘We are not coming. I will explain later’ is what the messaged said. You came back to him with a giant bucket of popcorn with a smile on your face excited to devour it during the film.

‘Well they are not coming apparently. Do you still want to go and see the film?’ Yoongi locked his phone and put it into his pocket. You looked at the popcorn in your hands and pouted at first because the idea to miss out on all of that crunchy deliciousness made you a little sad.

‘Do you?’ you asked quickly, still staring at the food.

‘Sure why not, we are already here and we got the tickets’ he nodded and took the bucket away from you. It was always like that with him around. You never had to carry anything, you never even have to ask. You never had to ask about the hoodie when you were shivering either. He just knew. He was a little bit excited for the idea of just the two of you in the cinema. All on your own. Last time you both went was few years ago and he was really nervous to just be alone in a dark room like that with you. Even though you spent hours overnight in each others houses. But the cinema was always a strange place that just gave him this one particular feeling. A feeling of a date.

You found the screening room and went inside. The ads have already started as you were waiting for Tae and his date for a while. Yoongi found your seats and lead you to it. There wasn’t a lot of people around anyway, not many people chose to come in on a weekday after all.

The film started uneventful, it was supposed to be a thriller but it doesn’t seem very thrilling at first anyway. You were slowly going through your bucket of popcorn when a huge yawn came out of you. You hid your face in your hands quickly with an apologetic look on your face, staring at Yoongi. He giggled as it made him laugh. The film wasn’t very good and he clearly could tell that you were getting bored too. But you both decided to give it another try and started paying attention again. The film did get better. The story moved at a faster pace and when a random guy popped out of a rubbish bin with a knife you jumped on your seat and your hand intuitively landed on Yoongis. He looked at your hand and froze for a second. You were now holding his hand. Well he was holding your hand. You two were holding hands. He gasped without you noticing but he didn’t pull away. He promised himself to distance himself from you. Give you space to breathe because even he could notice the way he was behaving around you recently. But today, the smell of you in his car, the green dress and the fact that Tae stood you two up made a potion of courage for him. He decided to just go with the flow. It wasn’t like him at all. But he kept wondering what would it be like to hold your hand, and how would your lips fit in his.

You noticed he was looking at your hands but you didn’t pull away either. You didn’t let him see that you saw him looking. What a huge game is being played here. Pretending to not see each other movements or delicate stares. You smirked to yourself and decided to pretend this is not a big deal. It’s just a hand, right? And then another strange thing happened in the film and you squeezed his hand. And all of a sudden he just let go of your hand and wrapped his arm around you. You froze. Yoongi? What the hell is this? He wasn’t looking at you, he just did this and went back to watching the film. But you couldn’t focus anymore, his fresh scent surrounded you. Just like every time you wore his hoodie. It felt so homey and fresh. His warm arm around you. You not moving an inch. You gulped. What is going on? You thought to yourself. He was never like this. He was never this brave, nor forward. But it felt so nice. You didn’t know what to do next. You were so conflicted already overthinking scenarios in your head. What if we won’t like each other like that for very long? What if he will get bored of me? What if…

He saw you having an internal conversation with yourself. He knew you too well and seen it too many times. He wasn’t sure what it was about but he could tell you stopped focusing on the film. Did I fuck up? He thought to himself but he didn’t move an inch. He looked at you again and he saw two round eyes staring right at him. There was nothing else around for him just the pair of your eyes looking at him. He exhaled loudly and looked away for a second. Brushed his hand through his overgrown long dark hair and looked back at you.

And there you were, still staring at him trying to read what was going on in his head. Trying to understand what was going on between the two of you just then and there.

‘Fuck it’ he said very loudly and leaned forward. Where did Yoongi found all of his courage to do all of this neither of you will ever know nor question. Because his nose was touching yours now, his eyes closed and his lips touching yours. And the both of you froze for a second. You didn’t back out but you didn’t kiss him back right away. You were trying to understand the motive behind his arm wrapped around you not beg for a kiss but he clearly read you wrong. Well wrong wasn’t the correct word. He understood you differently. And now his lips were at yours. Your stomach flipped and it felt like 10 thousand butterflies just hatched inside you and try to escape. You could tell he was nervous because his arm that was still wrapped around you was getting a little shaky and heavy. Without thinking too much anymore you started kissing him back and a slow and soft kiss turned into a slightly deeper one and he started grabbing you closer with the wrapped around you arm. You cupped his face with your hand and reciprocated every inch of his kiss. It felt like the both of you were floating above the seats now and nothing else really mattered anymore. The semi good film, the popcorn you had your eyes on for most of the duration of the film.

He finally had the guts to go for it. He didn’t know when was the next time will be, that it will be just the two of you in the cinema which for some reason he had really strong feelings about. It couldn’t be in the car. It also couldn’t be anywhere else. You kept making out until the film finished, without noticing and the lights turned on. Only then Yoongi realised that the film has finished and he let go of you and sat back in his seat. He didn’t say anything, he just smirked and then smiled with one of his gummy smiles to himself.

You got off your chair and looked at him for a second, really shy with flushed face. You were blushing, now that it wasn’t dark around the two of you. He followed, grabbed the rest of the popcorn bucket and took it with him to leave at the bin downstairs. Both of you silent, just moved towards the exit and then towards the exit of the building and straight to Yoongis mums car. No word, not a look not a sight was heard. The silence was deafening and it almost felt like either of you regretted what just happened. Yoongi couldn’t stop overthinking it. He was sure he fucked up. For once he had the guts to act the way he really felt and it all ruined your really long friendship. He just wanted to get you safe home and disappear for few days, give you time to breathe.

‘So…’ you finally opened your mouth as the both of you were standing in front of the car.

‘So..’ he answered looking away from you. Both of his hands in his pockets, playing with his shoe shyly. ‘Listen I know this wasn’t planned..’ he started again. He didn’t have a plan. Again. He didn’t know what he wanted to say. All he wanted to do is to lean you over the car and kiss you again and again. But you were still blushing and looking away from him just now.

‘It’s okay if you regret it’ you interrupted him right away. If? That sounded like you weren’t regretting it. He looked at you for the first time since you left the cinema. You were standing in front of him, pink nose from the wind outside, red cheeks and glary round eyes drilling into him.

‘I don’t..’ he braved it out of himself. He took a step towards you and you froze again. You turned your head to the side almost like asking a question and he took one of his hands out of the pockets of his hoodie and leaned forward towards you. ‘Come here’ he whispered and you took his hand. He pulled you closer and leaned you on the car door. Took few steps towards you, the tip of his nose touching yours. He bit his lip and then looked into your eyes. You gulped so loudly you could hear it. You closed your eyes before he closed his and he smirked and shook his head. Your insides flipped, the butterflies hatched in the second wave and started flustering inside you. You bit the inside of your mouth and patiently waited. But nothing happened. He was just there looking at you with your eyes closed. So you opened one of it and you saw him smiling. Gummy wide smile, eyes in half moons. Pure happiness and you have never seen him like this. ‘If I kiss you again, that will be it you know it?’ he finally managed to get few words out. ‘You will be mine and I won’t let you go’ he added before you had a chance to respond. And you nodded. That’s all you could do. Just nod. So he came closer and this time the both of you closed your eyes at the same time and his lips met yours again. It felt so right, it felt like this is what you have been waiting for, for years. Tears started rolling down your face as he kept kissing you more and more. And then he felt the tears and stopped.

‘Why.. why are you crying? Do you not want to?’ he got instantly worried and regretted being so confident in himself but you shook your head.

‘I didn’t know this was what I was waiting for, for all these years’ you answered and pulled him back to you. His head was spinning. You were his. He was holding you in his arms. He was kissing your lips. Finally. All the worries he always had stopped him from doing this went away. Maybe tomorrow he will think about it and worry about the future but for now. Now he had you and you were his.

‘I loved you from afar for years’ he didn’t think through what he was about to say. Today was the day he was just saying and doing everything he felt like was right. But you didn’t answer, just pulled him closer to you and hid your face in his arms. He hugged you so tight and wrapped his arms around you. And you felt safe. Like there was nothing else in the world that could hurt you. His pocket buzzed and he pulled out his phone to see a message from Taehyung.

'I hope you enjoyed ;)' . The both of you looked at the message and then saw Taehyung in a car parked opposite of you waving and showing his thumbs up.

[messycunt]

No thoughts, only Leona and Tummy bulges

-🌸

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY FAVORITE GRUMPY LION i never manage to post birthday stuff on time so I'm super proud of being able to queue this in advance even tho I rushed it!

small context that's kinda not needed; reader missed leonas party so he's a lil sour abt that lol

cw: afab reader, creampie, size kink, scratching and biting but no blood, not proof read

it gets so fucking hot in savanaclaw.

now that the sun has set its not that bad though. mostly anyway, the last rays of light casting gorgeous pink and orange hues visible through the wide open aired windows of the dorm. you're much too preoccupied to worry about any of that even though you should be, nrc does have a somewhat enforced curfew afterall. something to consider tomorrow maybe.

for hours its been like this; chest to your back, a hot mouth pressed against your neck leaving a path of wet bites and kisses, sharp freshly manicured nails(a 2 days early birthday gift from vil of all people apparently, how sweet…) digging into the fat of backs of your thighs to keep them pushed up to your chest and spread open. leona did almost all of the work for you, stuffing your cunt and bouncing your body up and back down on his lap.

grunting and panting against your neck he moves a hand from your thigh to push against your lower stomach. he can feel himself filling you and you squeal at the pressure. he mumbles a strained 'fuuuuck' under his breath before lifting you off of him, scoffing teasingly at your whine from the loss of him inside of you. you're pushed down onto the bed on all fours, your lion towers over you from behind.

a pile of gifts sits in the corner of his room. its not even half of what he received today in total since he gave most of it away in the last few hours, whatever ruggie didn't manage to already get his paws on anyways.

you face it now and leona's sliding himself back into you leaning over your much smaller body and nipping at the nape of your neck. a warm careful hand moving to where you both were joined to push and rub at your clit in slow lazy circles timed differently from his thrusts. he could feel your cunt pulsing with your heartbeat.

a few tags have long carefully written notes with long titles signed in gorgeous typography too small and loopy for you to read with your clouded mind and tears of pleasure filled eyes. most are written simply 'to: leona'.

he hums pleased with himself when you cum against him from his fingers(sure to have you finish first how princely!) popping his fingers into his mouth to lick clean and moan and slowing his thrusts.

his sweat drips down on your back to mix with your own. a growl sounds from behind you, weight is shifted to lean atop you more forcefully and nails dig again against your tummy. feeling again how he makes room for himself inside of you, he loves it. skin to skin for a second he stills and you gasp.

he fills your already warmer than warm insides with his own liquid heat and your toes curl. your gift to him and his gift to you.

face still smushed against the mattress and drool pooling in your mouth you mumble "happy 'irthday my prince". he simply grunts in acknowledgement, eyes already closed. he flops to lay on his slide facing you, fast asleep.

even if you went through with the effort to wake him up from his dead sleep you can already hear his tired mumbles of 'jus' clean up later' and 'ill walk you back to ramshackle tomorrow' before falling back asleep. so you leave him, snuggling up next to him silently and falling into a dreamless sleep.

[sweeter-innocence-fics]

Click My Heels But I Am Stuck Here - Epilogue

Pairing: Rolan x Tav

Work Summary:

Rolan is battered, beaten and exhausted. After everything he’s been through to get to Baldur’s Gate, he still has no reprieve from violence and prejudice.

But wouldn’t it just be so sweet to fuck his master’s pretty little wife?

AU where Tav is Lorroakan’s wife.

Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 Epilogue

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 1652

Read on AO3.

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Notes: It's been a wild ride folks. Hope you enjoyed :) I have a whole queue of fics that I've been neglecting to focus on this one, so it might be a little while before I write Rolan x Tav again, but I do have plans for the future, and perhaps I could be persuaded to expedite them <3

---

Two Years Later

Tav’s boots were muddy, but she could see Baldur’s Gate in the distance. She was bone-tired, and on any other day, she would concede to Jaheira’s suggestion that they should make camp for the night and continue their journey tomorrow morning.

But she needed to see Rolan. It had been almost two months since she’d last seen him, and the distance was starting to ache in her chest. More than that, she had something important to tell him.

Lia and Geraldus were both on board, so they left their fellow Harpers in a clearing in the woods and began the five-mile trek home. Jaheira had pursed her lips, but not argued. This last stretch of road was very safe, and the three of them were well-armed in any case.

“Are you sure you’re alright to keep walking?” asked Lia, looking at Tav anxiously. Her eyes darted to Tav’s stomach, which was covered by armour, so she wouldn’t have been able to see anything even if there was anything to see.

She hadn’t actually told Lia anything, but her sister-in-law could be annoyingly perceptive when she wanted to be. These last few days of travel had been slow going, because Tav had been ill.

At the last town they’d passed through, she had gone for a private appointment with a cleric, and emerged with more than just potions for her nausea. She was sure that Lia had probably figured it out then, if she hadn’t already.

“I’m fine,” said Tav. “I just want to sleep in my own bed tonight.”

“Me too,” said Geraldus.

“Cal’s bed, you mean,” said Lia, poking him in the arm.

“Hush, you.” In the early stages of their relationship, Geraldus probably would’ve chuckled and blushed at the gentle ribbing from his boyfriend’s sister, but they’d been together for almost a year and a half now, and he’d also spent almost as much time with Lia as he had with Cal at this point.

When Tav and Lia had initially joined the Harpers, Cal had briefly considered joining too, but decided the adventurer’s life was not for him. He would much rather help Rolan tend Sorcerous Sundries and stay in the relative safety of Baldur’s Gate.

Privately, Tav knew that he was also staying to make sure Rolan wasn’t alone. She was glad. She would never have been able to go on such long missions if she knew that Rolan didn’t have anyone watching over him and making sure he was eating.

“Excited to get home to your husband?” Geraldus asked her.

She gave him a weak smile. Three years ago, the question would’ve made her blanche. But Rolan was not Lorroakan. The plan gold wedding band he’d given her didn’t weigh her down like the gaudy thing that she’d had from Lorroakan.

Still, she hadn’t expected marriage to feel so natural this time around. She hadn’t expected to want it, no matter how much she loved Rolan.

But about six months ago, it had come up in conversation, and she realised that marrying him didn’t terrify her the way she’d thought it would. In fact, the idea of calling him her husband was very appealing.

Within a month, they were married. It was a small ceremony with just their closest friends, and his siblings. Afterwards, they’d all had a very merry evening at the Elfsong Tavern. It was perfect.

“I’m hoping he’ll help me with my hair,” she said, lightly touching her braid. “All these weeks on the road haven’t been good for it. And Rolan gives excellent head-”

“I don’t want to hear about that!” Lia interrupted.

“Head massages! Don’t be crass!”

The three of them descended into laughter. It made the long walk a little easier.

It was past midnight by the time they made it to Ramazith’s tower. All three of them were excluded from the extensive wards that kept the tower safe, so they walked in with little fanfare.

The lights were on in the kitchen. That was where the three of them found Cal and Rolan, playing some kind of intricate card game. Myshka was curled up on Rolan’s lap, but as soon as he saw Tav, he leapt into her arms.

“MERMER!” he cried, nuzzling into her neck immediately. She had cast Speak with Animals in preparation for this very moment.

“Hi there, baby,” she murmured, scratching under his chin. Suddenly, she was being lifted off her feet. Myshka was sandwiched between her chest and Rolan’s as he embraced them both.

“Tav…” Rolan sounded breathlessly exhilarated. “I didn’t know you would be home tonight…”

“But you stayed up anyway,” she said as he set her back on her feet.

“Well, I did hope.”

“He stayed up last night too,” Cal chimed in from where he was entangled in Geraldus’ embrace.

“Shut up, Cal.”

“I suppose neither of my brothers are all that happy to see me. The perils of being a fifth wheel,” said Lia pointedly, walking over to the stove.

There was a pot of soup that was slowly simmering. She grabbed herself a bowl and began to spoon soup into it, but almost spilled it all over herself when Cal hugged her from behind.

“I missed you too, Lia,” he said.

Looking a little chastened, Rolan released Tav to go and embrace his sister as well.

“How was your trip?” Cal asked cheerfully.

“Long,” said Tav. “I really need a bath.” She tugged her braid loose from its tie, letting her tangled hair cascade over her shoulders.

“I’m sure I can manage that,” said Rolan.

“Cal, Geraldus,” said Lia suddenly. “Will you help me with my bags? I left some stuff downstairs that needs bringing up.

“What bags?” asked Geraldus, confused, but she elbowed him in the ribs. “Right, of course, let’s go.”

And then Tav and Rolan were alone. Tav was sure there were no bags to be brought up. Lia was just giving them an excuse to be alone.

Rolan put his hands on her shoulders and held her at arms’ length as he surveyed her.

“You’re looking well,” he said. “Lots of colour in your cheeks. That’s good to see. Being a Harper is good for you, as much as I hate to be away from you.”

She knew that he was downplaying his own feelings. Cal had once told her that her long absences were hard on Rolan. He feared for her safety, and he missed her deeply.

He would never tell her the full extent of his feelings though. He didn’t want to pressure her into putting his needs over her own.

“I never want to be away for that long again,” she said, and it was true.

She loved the thrill of adventure, but the tower was her home. Gone were the traces of Lorroakan that had haunted the place. With a combination of magic and interior design, they had made this place into a home for themselves.

“And I doubt I’ll be leaving Baldur’s Gate again any time soon. I’m going to be taking a little bit of a leave of absence, from fieldwork at least. With the resources we have at our disposal here, I can still make a difference without putting myself on the frontline.”

Rolan swallowed. “Really?” There was a quiet, but obvious spark of hope in his tone. “Tired of adventuring already?”

“Well, it’s more that I think it’s probably too dangerous for me right now, in my condition.”

“Condition?” he asked, drawing his eyebrows together in confusion.

She took his hand and guided it to her belly. In the last leg of the journey, she’d removed some of her armour, leaving her in a loose-fitting tunic. His eyes widened as understanding dawned on his face.

“You’re- We’re-” he stammered, disbelieving.

“Pregnant? Yes.”

“Gods, Tav.” He dropped to his knees and pressed his face into her clothed stomach. She put her arms around him, a laugh bubbling up in her chest.

“Are you…” A hint of nervousness entered her tone. “Happy to hear that?”

“I’m elated,” he said. “Are you?”

“I never thought I would want this,” she said. “I vowed to never give Lorroakan a child, so I thought that was it for me. But I want this with you. I want to have your child.”

“Tav…” Tears were rolling down Rolan’s cheeks. He pressed a kiss to her stomach. “I love you so much.

“I love you too.” She smoothed her fingers into his hair, loosening it from the hair tie that was holding it in place. He didn’t protest, still pressing his face against her.

That was how Cal, Lia and Geraldus found them a few minutes later, with him still on his knees, holding her. Lia let out an excited yelp as she took in the scene.

Rolan got to his feet quickly, embarrassed. “Should we tell them?” he whispered to Tav.

“I think Lia already knows. So I think it’s only fair.”

“Alright.” He nodded.

“We’re having a baby,” she said, and Cal almost knocked her off her feet as he pulled her into a hug.  

“I knew it,” she hear Lia shriek, and chuckled into the material of Cal’s shirt. Rolan was hovering behind her, a protective hand on her lower back. As soon as Cal moved out of the way, Lia took his place, throwing her arms around Tav’s neck. “I’m so happy for you two.” She pulled back and held Tav’s face in her hands. “You’re brilliant, you know that? Your kid is going to be a superstar.”

“Our kid is going to have the best aunt and uncles in the world,” said Tav.

Lia turned to Rolan. “You’d better get to work, the mother of your unborn child wants a bath.”

“With rose petals,” Tav supplied.

“She wants rose petals,” said Lia, helpfully.

“I suppose I better get on that,” said Rolan, kissing Tav’s temple. “Anything for you.”

---

Notes:

fic title is from Black Ink Revenge by Automatic Loveletter

"Don't you let 'em know you're dying, dying Dying to break out Dying to get, get, get out Through the window of the upstairs Click my heels but I am stuck here"

[vriskaserketdaily]

Announcement; CW for graphic descriptions of medical emergencies & discussions of death/mortality

so, yesterday i briefly mentioned that i had been hospitalized. i unknowingly consumed edibles, became anxious and hyperactive, had a full-blown panic attack, and believing myself to be in the mother of all caffeine overdoses (2 cups of black tea) or having a heart attack or both, called emergency services, and was hospitalized with severe tachycardia.

i genuinely thought i was dying, sitting outside in my pajamas with my back to the mailbox post waiting for the EMTs to arrive. i still thought i was dying two hours later, struggling to breathe in the hospital room with my parents beside me.

i thought about a lot of things in the time between calling the emergency number and being lifted into the ambulance. i didn't want this blog to be my only legacy when i have so much more to do and be and make. i have other hobbies---knitting, crochet, playing guitar & composing music, and especially writing. i haven't drawn or written about my ocs in years, even during the recent hiatus, and i would like to change that.

to that end, i will not be drawing vriskas on a daily basis or consistently updating the fan art queue for the forseeable future. i will still draw vriska, especially if there are requests in the inbox, but i won't be going out of my way to squeeze out fan art when i'm ill, busy in other areas of my life, or generally not feeling it.

i will be keeping this blog up. i will not be changing the url because i fought too hard for a hypen-free daily vriska url and i'm not giving it up that easily. perhaps, after a year or two, i may even resume daily vriskas and normal blog operations.

COMMON QUESTIONS:

are you like, okay? i think i'm fine, physically? i was discharged after about four hours in the hospital and was able to move and eat and stuff today. i still feel some soreness/tightness in the chest, but i think that's to be expected given the circumstances.

can we still send requests? YES please omg. the interactions i have had through requests have been so positive and rewarding that it'd be difficult for me to fully give this blog up. even something as simple as "draw vriska" will function as a request. one thing that's been going through my head a lot lately is the thought that i could die and no one here would notice or care, so having tangible assurance that there is at least one person in the world who wants to see my vriska art would be very meaningful in that regard. i may not respond immediately, but i will respond to all requests that conform to the blog rules and mission (no nsfw, no pedophilic/incestuous ships, must involve vriska in some way)

will you consider opening mod applications? no, both because i don't think there would be too many takers for the position and because i know from experience that the fastest way to kill a daily blog is to load it up with a bunch of mods. (i am not the original owner of this blog and have moderated a few other multi-mod blogs before---i am currently the sole mod of the two i stuck with, this being one of them). i'd rather keep this blog half-active with just me than have it be completely inactive with me and 3-6 other people. again, there's a chance that after a year or so of taking things slow, i may come back to it.

can we tag you in art/fics/vriska posts? yes, actually, that would be very helpful. i don't expect anyone to do this, but again, i will no longer be actively perusing the character tag. feel free to @ me in vriska-related posts you think could use a little love.

if i have a daily vriska blog, will you promote me? sure! genuinely, i wish you luck---i've seen a couple of y'all come and go, and it really takes a lot to keep a blog like this running for more than three months. if you can do that you will be certified spiders for real.

where else can we find you? my main blog is @beangods, where i reblog posts that are not about vriska. you can send art requests there, too, but they cannot be related to vriska. that's what this blog is for. i also moderate @theextendedzodiacas, which is mostly fantroll-oriented. i'm on discord, too, but you won't find me on any other social media site.

is the vriskord still up? yes, it is, and you can join it, though the server is not very active. i don't plan on taking the server down or anything like that.

eighth question eighth answer 8ottom text

please feel free to reach out to me, and i'll be happy to answer any questions that i can. thank you for your understanding, and i'll see you . . . in probably a few days when i draw the 1 request currently sitting in the inbox.

thanks for reading all this.

-mod 8

[angsttronaut]

A story about a prion disease apocalypse could be so fucked up fun.

Perhaps the disease has been spreading for a while, but appeared to not harm humans like CWD, or it's an entirely new one that a cow just developed one day. It can spread through their waste, their spit, their blood. Quite a few animals have already been infected by the time the first few enter the human food chain.

It's another while before the new prion disease is noticed; people aren't getting sick, and it takes a while before infected animals show symptoms. Eventually the weird symptoms are noticed, and the new disease is found, but it's already too late. It's spread so far that it proves very difficult to stamp out no matter how many infected animals get destroyed, and every day it isn't wiped out means more humans coming into contact with the prions. Although right now, no-one knows for sure if it can even jump the species barrier.

A few years later, it starts. A few people with mysterious and deadly neurological issues here and there, who's autospies reveal their brains have been turned to sponge. The numbers slowly climb upwards with each year. It's still spreading in farm animals.

Efforts to resist the disease increase; there isn't any treatment, but there are better tests. Through these it's discovered that not only are carrier animals that can spread the disease everywhere, but an eyewatering percentage of the population harbour the abnormal prions too- spreading not just through tainted food at this point, but also blood transfusions and surgical instruments. Even the water in the worst affected places isn't safe any more. Reassurances that not everyone will develop the prion disease are no comfort for many.

Every year the numbers climb. It goes from a very rare illness, to an unusual one, to one that's so common that you probably know someone who got killed by it. Attempts at a cure all fail, no matter how promising they seem. A suffocating cloak of dread falls over the world, even as many people try to ignore it and go about their daily lives. It isn't uncommon now to see someone with obvious symptoms who is in denial. Not that confronting their death head on would help; healthcare is underfunded and overwhelmed, they would be waiting months for anything that might alleviate their suffering.

The collapse begins a decade into the pandemic. People are dying left, right and centre, even children who weren't born when it first began to spread; it might have spread to them in the womb, but there are so few scientists left and they're so focused on finding a cure that not much research is done. Take a walk in a city and you'll see dozens of empty buildings and massive queues by the hospitals. Walk in the countryside and you'll probably see a half dead animal wracked with spasms. Mammals have become rarer; even dogs and cats are a bit unusual to see. Anything that hasn't reduced in numbers is studied intently to discover its secrets, all to no avail.

Infrastructure begins break down; there aren't many people left to maintain it, and a lot of them aren't well. Medical care is borderline impossible to get because there's so many people and so few living doctors and nurses; more and more people are dying of curable afflictions without ever being seen. Food is scarce because animal products are off the menu and it's nigh impossible to transport and grow food when so many people have died. Costs shoot up, and people protest because no-one can afford the prices- especially when not that many people work any more, being too ill to work or having to care for their ill loved ones. The only thing that gets cheaper is housing.

Protesting does help, and resources are more evenly distributed in the last few years. But there's still nothing that can be done for the illness, and the sick are actually dying faster because some places now have no medical staff. Medicines get scarce as manufacturing plants shut down for want of staff. Whole regions lose their electricity as the final workers are forced to turn off the grid lest the power plant cause a disaster once the prion disease has killed them. Governments can't fill the empty seats in their parliaments, and high voter turnout amounts to thousands of people casting their ballots. Quite a few governments just throw in the towel at that point. In places with newspapers, it isn't uncommon for them to run emotional stories about people from areas so badly hit that they thought they could be the last living people.

Eventually things begin to level out. A couple of people were lucky enough to never be exposed, or to have some resistance. It's the same for other mammals, although they're scarce and many are extinct. Most areas are forced into subsistence farming on poisoned land, without the help of domesticated animals. Most strive to rebuild, but to some it seems like the final, tortured days before the end.

[okifyouinsist]

tagged by @killerandhealerqueen (i just keep forgetting abt this one SIGH but i have free time rn and im committed)

1. why did you choose your url?

growing up, i just wasn't a social media girl purely bc of the fact that my parents were super strict and I assumed they wouldn't allow me to have it and I just never really saw the appeal anyways. Then later a few friends basically forced me to make my first account and because i wasn't very creative and thought i was the funniest bitch ever i made my first user 'ifyouinsist' and it just kinda stuck ig

2. any sideblogs? if you have them name them and why you have them.

nope. i fear if i had a sideblog id end up neglecting it and forget abt it or make it my new main blog and neglect this blog and this blog is literally my baby

3. how long have you been on tumblr?

well i've had an account since like end of 2019, beginning of 2020???? (im pretty sure) i didnt like use my account tho i just had it to look at other ppls blogs not my own, i only acc recently made up my blog up properly and started posting this year when it was like 2 am and i was on holiday to visit my home country and my mum and my aunts were gossiping and i was like whatever who tf cares how late i am to a fandom and the rest was history

4. do you have a queue tag?

nope, my drafts are a terrifying place and if they ever saw light id die

5. why did you start your blog in the first place?

to reblog pretty art and to compliment writers on ao3 AND on tumblr bc they deserve everything and more

6. why did you choose your icon/pfp?

logan sargeant. need i say any more???? hes my bsf in spirit

7. why did you choose your header?

loscar. LOSCAR. loscar. i am very much totally normal abt them i swear (lying through my teeth rn). they're just my everything unfortunately and sometimes i like to say the fist bump is their version of intertwining their fingers together

8. what’s your post with the most notes?

ik this bc it was the first i myself made and it was abt loscar obviously and i thought i was SO funny (im not) and its lowk still such a flop post but its MY flop post so here it is :)

9. how many mutuals do you have?

idk man im shy (scared of rejection) so i dont have a lot, like genuinely let me go see acc, oh ig its me and my 14 moots against the world i love you guys fr

10. how many followers do you have?

BYE my 26 followers are my 4 lifers fr (im such a flop this is hilarious)

11. how many people do you follow?

37 (sigh need to follow more ppl RN)

12. have you ever made a shitpost?

im gonna be so real idk what defines as a shit post but most probably yeah

13. how often do you use tumblr each day?

idk im acc really inconsistent like ill be MIA for 2 whole days and the next week ill be on tumblr like for most of my day when i can its very confusing like today ive not been on it a lot im academically locking in and all that

14. did you have a fight/argument with another blog once?

ummm no. like. if i see someone i follow getting hate ill send them a supportive ask and then at the end of it be like anon ur such a loser get a life but other than that. nope.

15. how do you feel about ‘you need to reblog this’ posts?

im very much neutral abt them, like idc if i need to reblog it yk if i want to i will if i dont then i wont

16. do you like tag games?

YES (said in a very normal voice)

17. do you like ask games

YES. i love getting asks id cry if someone sent an ask (i have one rotting away from a moot rn i WILL answer it i swear)

18. which of your mutuals do you think is tumblr famous?

can i say all my moots. i wanna say all my moots they're all famous in my eyes guys, i start tagging its gonna end with all my moots being tagged but like @killerandhealerqueen and @dwarvenchords were the first 2 ppl to come to my mind theyre both just the coolest fr

19. do you have a crush on a mutual?

nah. i have FRIEND crushes on literally all of them tho. wanna be their friends SO bad

20. what is the last song you listened to?

Mamichula- Bizarrap

21. what are you currently watching?

in my docuseries era rn watching breakpoint (STILL)(i only have time on the weekends rn SIGH)

22. sweet/ savoury/ spicy?

sweet. im such a 'lets skip the dinner and just get dessert' kinda girl

23. what is your current relationship status?

this is SUCH a complicated question to answer but heavily leaning more towards single

24. what is your current obsession?

sports. like just sports in general. like ive always been a casual fan of sports but i never used to take a deep dive into it but this year i decided to dive, and i dived VERY deep, so like motorsports, tennis, football, cricket, trying to get into hocky rn im collecting them atp. also. documentaries. like when i get time ill be binge watching like 5 documentaries i just love them sm

25. what are nine albums/ songs you've been listening to lately?

wish i could tell you fr, i mean, rn im re listening to SOUR by Olivia Rodriguez AGAIN bc thats the way my life is going SIGH, Olivia is my favourite basic artist fr, nothing compares to listening to SOUR for the first time in 2021

ANYWAYS, thanks again for the tag i really appreciate it, im gonna tag @ezisregrettinglifedecisions @fabeong @whatssthepooiintt

[peachpassionfruit]

if it wasn’t for the nights!

🏹 02. wake up, it’s time for school

You sighed, hot tears streaming down your face. With one hand, you were tossing strewn out clothes back into your newly-unpacked suitcase, and with the other, you were dialing the number of an airline to find any available tickets back to Mondstadt for as soon as possible.

The waiting song signaled a long queue, so you huffed, resolving to wait for your friends and the drinks they promised. You could really use a daze to knock you out of this reality. The one where you had transferred to your boyfriend’s college to be with him; the one where he had cheated on you. And not even come after you.

Every hair on your body stood up when you heard the main door to the dorm creak open, footsteps sounding through the hall. Paralyzed with fear, you grabbed your phone and snuck under the bed covers, hiding yourself with a blanket.

“…I can’t believe you didn’t tell us you were dating…” a low voice sounded, and you froze. “How could you keep that from your friends?” A few deep chuckles. And you realized your door was open. The new busy tones emitting from your phone threatened to give you up.

“Alhaitham? Didn’t he move out of the dorms?” Another voice said, and the footsteps grew closer. You clamped your hand over your mouth, not daring to make a sound. Light flooded in as the door opened wider, with a few stifled snickers.

“Alhaitham! Wake up, it’s time for school—” a familiar voice teased, yanking at the covers. But with the grip your legs had on then, the end of the covers folded under your feet, it didn’t budge. You internally cursed as they tugged again, the blanket finally giving way and revealing you.

A scream sounded. A chorus of two more joined in. You took one look at them, seeing…

The three boys from the welcome party, and…

Childe.

Then you screamed.

↞ | m.list | ↠

🏹 notes … heyyy guys im not doing much at all so kind of frequent updates but im off to work rn and imma be kind of busy in the upcoming week but ill still try to update often!!! timestamps don’t matter — also tumblr isn’t letting me paste anything on my phone rn so I’ll add the directory at the bottom on my computer later

🏹 taglist … open!! msg/comment to be added (this is my secondary blog so when i reply to comments it may show as @coconutmilkrefresher so just know that’s me) @alisonyus @tiddieshakeshownu @lxkeeeee @sheraeera @sketcheeee @sukunasrealgf @sweet-seraphim @ulquiorraswife @scaramochi-lover @beriiov

<3 M

[remadewirral]

What's Been Going On + Going Forward

Man it's been a while hasn't it?

Far too long than what I intended so let me give you a run down on what's been going on and what's going to happen.

SO! Posting and art. I've been struggling with getting things to post to tumblr for a while, I'll post and tumblr will just eat things be it I do it when I finish the image or if I queue it to specifically to post at a time people can see it.

That plus real life issues including illnesses, deaths in the family and more have made it quite hard to keep up with things, but no more!

Since I have grown irked by Tumblr's barely functional set up as well as other matters I have decided that perhaps an askblog might not be the best way to tell the story I want to with this blog... Or well AU. There are a lot of things I haven't even gotten to because tumblr hates my posts that truly show that things are a bit... Wrong in this iteration of New Wirral and I am very excited to show you all these things

SO! The plan is this blog will remain, no worries about that, you can still send asks to Kayleigh and some future characters that'll be revealed sooner rather than later, but the primary vector this blog will now be told by will be in comic form specifically over on comicfury once I have my backlog complete and post the first few things (Cover, Warnings, etc) I will link it over here and continually post when the comic updates.

This blog will be more of a general hub for the au and my more basic cassette beasts creations.

I am very excited to introduce you all to this universe's "Cass" (Who if you follow me on ToyHouse you might have already seen ;) ) and I hope this change helps keeps this blog active and you all interested!

Thank you for your patience I hope you all are doing lovely!

[ignoremeimnothere]

Inspired by family's own bout of illness with our preschooler and my husband massively stepping it up 😅 could you write something with dad!matty taking care of his young daughter while the whole family is down with the flu? My entire house was sick last week and even though my husband felt like crap he took care of EVERYTHING for me and it just makes my heart flutter

Thank you Anonymous for my first ever request! Sorry it took so long and sorry its a bit shit, I'm not happy with how it turned out but wanted to get something written for you sooner rather than later. Hopefully its shit because of the funk I've been in, I'll possibly re-visit this one down the line but I hope you like it!

A (Kind of) Perfect Morning

You’d got it first. It had spread around work like wildfire. Despite your best attempts at avoiding it, You were one of the last to get a round in. You did not enjoy being ill at all. Any attempts at avoiding your two babies were futile. You’d wake up with a tiny foot sticking in your ribs and your husband's legs entwined with yours. Needless to say by the weekend all three of you were down with the Flu. 

You felt so guilty. Your two year old was teary and clingy. Last night had been a long slog of waking up to coughing fits and arguing over medicine. 

The sun shining through the curtains made you wince. Your head throbbed and your throat burned. Another coughing fit caught your attention.

“Oh ba-” You cleared your throat but your voice was gone. You huffed, accepting the hug from your baby before attempting to get up. 

“Hey” You felt a hand guide you back down. “I’ll get it”. 

You looked at Matty, his eyes were bloodshot and his cheeks were flushed. Instinctively you put your hand to his forehead, before you could comment he put his hand to yours. Your frown was challenged by his smile. He planted a kiss on your head before repeating “I’ll get it”.  

You got more comfortable moving your daughter to the side of you, your body heat doing nothing to help each other's fever. You reached over to your bedside cabinet looking for your glass of water but it was completely empty. As if on queue, your husband reappeared with various medicines, two bottles of water and one of your daughters storybooks. 

“C’mere peanut” Your daughter got up again on the return of her dad, she stretched her arms out for him, burying her face into his neck as soon as she was in his arms. You got to work measuring out some of her medicine while Matty closed the curtains fully. He sat on the side of the bed, repositioning the curly haired girl onto his lap. Your daughter started to whine again when she saw the spoonful of Calpol. He kissed her head a few times before starting the bargaining process, he’d been the one to do it most of last night too. 

“Just until you feel better. I’ve got your squash ready and we can read however many stories your little heart desires. All you need to do it take this”

“Nooo” Tears began to pool her eyes again. 

“Yes c’mon have some for daddy and then we can snuggle up with mummy” Matty took the spoon from you, after a little more nagging he found success, swapping the spoon with her water bottle in record time. He praised her, before swapping her for the medicine bottle in your hand. You worked on getting her comfortable again, coaxing her into drinking a bit more before you were met with a spoonful of the mixture. 

“Open up baby” Matty grinned, feeding you the mixture. You playfully rolled your eyes beginning to tell him to sod off but again, your voice failed you. You washed down the medicine with some water attempting yet again to speak, ordering Matty to get back into bed.

“Babe I mean this in the nicest way but you need to shut up” You dropped your jaw in a joking way before his hand guided your chin back and his lips met yours. “I’d die if I never got to hear your voice again” 

He poured himself some medicine before disappearing into the bathroom, you heard the tap run as he blew his nose. Re-appearing with two wet flannels, he put one over your forehead before trying to rest the other over your daughter’s. 

“Story time daddy?” She turned, knocking the flannel off completely wanting to get closer to her dad again. 

“As promised, it’s no Burroughs but I guess the tiger who came to tea will have to do ehh?” 

Matty wrapped his arm around you before scooting closer, he checked the flannel making sure it was covering your head before picking up his daughters for the third time, giving up he placed it on the back of her neck as she sprawled out on his chest. 

He cleared his throat to begin the story but this caused him to have the coughing fit he had obviously been trying to conceal all morning. You tried to get up to assist him but he kept you in his arms. “I’m alright, I’m alright” He spluttered a few more times before eventually stopping.

“The Tiger Who Came To Tea” Matty put on his ‘children’s tv presenter’ voice which was surprisingly soothing. You closed your eyes, succumbing to the comfort of this moment. 

Despite wishing you were all well, it made your heart swell to have these kinds of mornings where the three of you could laze around. They did not happen as often as you wish they could, making them all the more important. You smiled, wishing you could stay in this moment forever. Eventually Matty’s voice grew softer, and your eyes grew heavier, the story lulling you into another sleep.

[seven-stars-in-his-palm]

okay but hold me like you scared to sounds so good already (they all sound so good tbh but this one piqued my interest lol) what's it about? and for the fanfic questions 32, 50 and J :))

@frappe-the-peppermint WE GOT ONE 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥 ahem oh wow who said that. anyway ill do the questions first then get into fic discussion…

32) Do you listen to music when you write or does music inspire you? If so, which band or genre of music does it for you?

i listen to SO MUCH MUSIC!!!!! it depends on what im wrting tbh but i just queue up a bunch of songs in my liked playlist and write and write until it ends or im no longer on that flow. and well my music taste is an absolute mess so there isnt any one definitive band or genre that does it for me (i only pay attention Sometimes) but i suppose artists like mitski and queen would be a decent summary of my taste 😅

50) How did you get into reading and/or writing fanfiction?

gravity falls, no stop. the first one that ever piqued my interest was versability (originally on ff.net me thinks) and god damn it HOOKED ME!!!! gravity falls was already getting me up but wow that just got me SO MUCH HIGHER. i have a few authors i started binge reading like thesnadger and pinesinthewoods, i started extracting fics from reccs from tumblr artists, soon discovered ao3, and never looked back. and as for writing fic,,,,, well frankly it was the search for the cure’s original form that got me GOING!!!! it originally had crappy ocs as the forefronters but i soon changed that lmao (im definitely not saying theyre bad in general, just those… no) and i wrote So Much For It on my notes app. i didnt realize i culd actually show people until way later, in which i did, and realized that it could actually be better. thats why i reversed back to part one, made the story a part two, scapped the ocs, and…now we’re here. i still love it and gravity falls, i dont really show it here anymore. i really should, man. i need to write for them again!!!! it still excites me!!!! and the prose that im weaving now,,,, id DEMOLISH THE GAME!!!!!!! :)

J) what your favorite fanfic trope? have you written it?

honestly i think just showing you my favorted ao3 tags will paint a very detailed picture. here:

though i suppose if i had to pick one here…god its between time loop and presumed dead (and grief/moruning but idk if thats a trope so much as it is a theme). MMMMMMMM. mmmmm. just YES. the psychological affects of both being a time loop and thinking someone you love is dead but they arent actually are DELICIOUS!!!!!!!!!! they are a MUST HAVE. i daydream constantly, but i havent written time loop yet because while i love it, i havent hadthe motive to write such a thing myself. reading is chill ✊ and presumed dead well i try to throw it is as much as i can, the most recent ive used being a west end town and my favorite being that one kid from jersey ! i need to do more of these fr. its just so GOOD!!!!!!

okay. its finally time for the brainwashing discussing of the fic ! i can tell you alllll about that story and it will be my pleasure sonny 🫡 its a very long story. but short verison in case you dont want to go on: its a Titanic epic . april 1912. iceberg. ive read a few that are AMAZING, but i wanted to write one that catered it allll to Me. it has lesbians, heaven sucking ass, flood parallels, and a king of the world AND draw me like one of your french girls scene. very nice 🔥

okay now its time for the long story. so a super super long time ago for a post i cant even remember (i really wanna find it 😭😭) i for someone reason went on a tangent about the titanic. i had just read this fic called sinking into the sea which was tbh VERY GOOD (and i would read it again fr fr ) but at the time, i was kinda bummed that aziraphale and crowley never actually Interacted when i had expected. aziraphale didnt even know crowley was there!!! it left me feeling melancholy, and realizing that all of the titanic fics ive ate up to that point didnt HIT hit the spot (i didnt find this after this realization, but again, theyre not even on the boat 🤧) so i was feeling a bit incomplete. i started ranting and ranting it was a wholeee wall of a text of what I would do with a titanic story and i realized oh wait i can Do Something with this because i haev free will and actual (somewhat) coherent skill. pepper jumped on the wagon, REALLY REALLY encouraged which i cant thank enough for, and….we’re here. its brewing. i had a very large interest in the titanic for a long time before this tbh, so being able to insert it into The Interest just JUMPSTARTED my brain and it still does to this day. now for the plot….

its 2020, a year after the apocalypse (no pandemic). anathema, newt, brian, crowley, and aziraphale have been assigned to plan adam’s 12th birthday party—they shenanigan, as you do. on the day of the party (adam’s birthday) anathema and newt find a chest in jasmine cottage’s attic full of titanic relics, including a pack of polaroid photos (handheld cameras did indeed exist in 1912, i checked !) which kinda might sort of have a photo of aziraphale and crowley!?!?! it was sent to them about six months before. but after the whole Second Volume fiasco, anathema just sort of wrote it off in that way and Hid It. but newt was curious, he found it, and god it was writtent his way wasnt it. (well, not by the nutter they were thinking of actually). anathema confronts them about itsoon after, and they all sit down to hear the story of the titanic in a sort of rose dawson beat. then its 1912—50ish years since the holy water incident and almost a century since the resurrectionists disaster. aziraphale has been assigned to take this trip to new york for Some Reason (we found out why later) and happened to invite crowley to come along to attempt to make amends after Allat (he really does feel bad, but he will NOT do the holy water thing yet </3) shit occurs, but history atlarge will not be rewritten. it does change their story, though. adding a sprinkle of interest in the device family line. agnes prophec(y)(ies), dancing on deck under the stars, playing cards with humans and winning by a Lot, aziraphale’s artistic skills are put to use at one point—ughghgufhits just so DEAR TO ME!!!!! and of course the conflict will come later, especially considering the religious connections to the titanic sinking—“not even God can sink this ship” type conversation 🥰 aziraphale can and will be made uncomfortable. its for the character development dont worry about it. i even have a playlist for this fic (it sorted by the way the tone shifts thru the story, some songs are silly but they had to stay). pep has also made some song covers to some of the songs that ive heavily connected to the fic and I REALLY FUCKING LIKED. LIKE A LOT. THEYRE AMAZING YOU SHOULD LISTEN IF YOU WANT TO!!!!

the point of all this is that i like titanic fics and im trying to throw my hat in the ring even if its just for me and my friend 🔥🔥 because while others have fed me, i havent seen ones that have documented like Every Single Day on the titanic that aziraphale and crowley would theoretically have as well as developing aziraphale and crowley’s relationship while taking into account whats happened before (insert the story into a part of the timeline seamlessly i think thats how i’d describe) AS WELL AS connecting the reason why the titanic was such a freak tragedy and how the world is not fucking fair instead of just “oh whoops the thing sank 😞” i want NITTY GRITTY DETAIL!!!!!! I WANT GUILT!!!!!!! I WANT CHAOS!!!!!!!! I WANT TALKING ABOUT GOD!!!!!!! I WANT AZIRAPHALE IN A MENTAL CRISIS!!!!! I WANT CROWLEY JUST WANTING TO FUCKING LIVE FUCKING PEACEFULLY!!!!!!! I WANT LESBIANS!!!!!! i need to get on this,,,, so much to do. i love it all and TY FOR THE ASK!!!!

[threadsun]

Ooo, any chronically ill/disabled Nick headcanons you'd like to share? I always love seeing headcanons from communities I'm not a part of, it's just cool to see experiences outside of mine (Tis why I find your Jewish Joseph headcanons so fun)

Ooooh yessss I love talking about Jewseph and chronically ill Nick!!!

So it's not at all uncommon for people with chronic illnesses and disabilities to get into sex work. You tend to be your own boss, so you can take things at your own pace. And if you're on top of things enough, you can make a backlog and queue content so you can take the time to focus on yourself during a flareup

That being said, sometimes Nick has to cancel livestreams because he's feeling too rough to even get set up. Sometimes he'll do a little informal thing from bed on his phone if he's got the energy, but usually he'll just cancel it and sleep

He's got chronic pain and fatigue. The classic trifecta of pots/heds/mcas plus various other symptoms that he doesn't quite know how to fit into his diagnoses

Standing is. Not his thing. He can't do it for very long at a time without getting exhausted and being in lots of pain. He's got a wheelchair he uses whenever he anticipates having to stand/walk a lot

He uses his hypermobility for content sometimes, but he always regrets it when he accidentally fucks up a joint and everything hurts the next day. He still does it again a week later

He sleeps a solid 14 hours a day. Pretty much after every meal, plus whenever he exerts himself too much. Seriously, he's constantly low energy and half asleep if he's not actively sleeping

He's terrible at remembering to take his pills, both in general and at the right times. His pill bottles are scattered around the apartment wherever he last remembered to take them. Someone please get this man a pill organiser

The unfortunate reality of being chronically ill and disabled is that most people around you end up getting compassion fatigue. So whenever people take his health seriously and show him genuine concern and care, it blows his mind. But he's also always half waiting for them to get tired of him being sick and stop caring

Pico and Cheese are informal migraine alert dogs. Nick didn't train them, he just noticed that they tended to start licking his ankles a few minutes before he'd get migraines and he put two and two together. Now whenever they lick his ankles, he takes his migraine meds and finds a quiet, dark, cold place to lay down

He experiences wild temperature fluctuations. His body can't really regulate its own temperature so he's always swapping between being half naked and bundling up in thick sweaters, usually within the span of half an hour or so

He has an uncanny and quite frankly disturbing awareness of his own body. He can feel his blood moving in his veins, he can tell whenever his heart does a natural skipped beat, he can sense exactly where food is in his intestines. It's frustrating and makes his skin crawl, so he always tries to distract himself from it with one thing or another. If he spends too long in silence doing nothing, he starts to be able to hear his own heartbeat and blood and starts getting freaked out