#one day i will go to the doctor and figure out if i have executive dysfunction. one day. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

osarina · 3 months ago

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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.

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

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foone · 9 days ago

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The worst part of working at the Dimensional Nexus is that we don't get the regular internet there so you can't just watch your shows on Netflix or whatever. We gotta stick to analog media, since the digital stuff doesn't deal well with the temporal flux (the analog stuff doesn't either, but it's usually just a fuzzy image for a second, while your computer just crashes).

Everyone brings in their favorite media from home on old analog tapes (or laserdiscs. They're analog too! And we've got a couple hardened players on the lounge, so we can watch them).

Anyway while you're on-base (which could be for months or years), all your (video) media consumption ends up being on CRTs and piles of tapes you brought or traded with coworkers. Most people bring in a second suitcase of tapes so they'll have something to watch.

I brought in some letsplayers I stuck on a few VHS tapes (yt2vhs is a great program), and box sets of Star Trek: TNG and DS9.

About a month in, the trades really open up, as everyone has watched their own tapes and wants more. I got a good deal on a laserdisc of the Soviet version of... Well, nevermind. But let me just say, in my defense, the author of the books never went off the deep in in that universe, and the Soviet version wasn't made with her cooperation, anyway. I know that's sometimes a little difficult for people from the 91-verse to believe, but that's not the author's reputation in the rest of the Nexus.

Anyway I traded my TNG episodes for VOY. I've seen TNG a dozen times, so I figured it was time to go back over VOY.

It seemed to be pretty similar to what I remembered (other than them killing off Seska of all people at the beginning of S3? Who kills off your series's main villain?!) but at the end of S3 I hit the big divergence between our universes:

Seven. They introduced him early on in Scorpion, part 1, earlier than I remember.

The storyline goes mostly the same, with just a little less 7/Janeway romantic tension (do they even get together in this version? I'm gonna have to wait until season 5 to find out!)

Harry Kim lives in this version of Scorpion, too. I'm not sure why that is, they were clearly setting him up to die? Probably some executive meddling or something. I don't have access to Trekpedia (especially in that universe!) to check.

But yeah. This is one of the universes that got the twinky Seven instead of the catsuit-girl version (Not that this version wears any fewer catsuits). They got 9 seasons instead of the usual 5, so I'm excited to see if those extra ones are any good. When I was picking up the tapes I was surprised how many there were, and Josh told me in his universe they get home in season 6 and the remaining 3 seasons are a sort of spin-off/reboot done when Orbita took over from UPN.

Can't wait to see how that goes. More Star Treks need a post-script season (or three) made in the USSR!

Anyway I'm already looking forward to finishing this because I've already gotten a lead on a copy of TNG where Yaphet Kotto said Yes to the Picard role (sadly that version doesn't have the quintessential Jeffrey Combs as Riker, but I hear some people swear by the Gregg Marx Riker).

Still looking for any copies of the Kim Miyori-as-Data version of TNG. That one wasn't as popular (not it's vault! They had the US Doctor Who and both the Star Wars shows to go up against) so it's less likely to be brought in, but I'm always checking video libraries whenever I'm in that universe. Someday I'll find it. I found that fucking CED of the Walken A New Hope, I'll get the girl!Data TNG one of these days!

#Dimensional Nexus #star trek voyager #My writing #star trek the next generation

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yois2aki · 7 months ago

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੭୧ if i can't save you... . ۫

chishiya shuntaro x g!n reader

— warnings: fluff, descriptions of typical aib violence, fits both manga and live action, one singular suggestive remark, no use of y/n.

— summary: you arrive from a particularly rough game to an almost empty beach, thankfully there's still a specific doctor awake to treat your wounds.

— word count: 2.4k

your leg barely healed from the last game, and you had to play again already.

it was a wonder why there were so many people left in the borderlands. if it weren't for your high ranking on the beach's hierarchy and the minor hope you had to leave this world once all the cards were collected, you would have probably given up.

it was tiring and stressful. even though so many people were living life as if deathly games weren't waiting for them the next day, you just couldn't brush away the fear of a laser hitting you on the head out of nowhere or waking up with once again new rules to the games.

you waddled to the beach's main hall entrance with the few survivors from the game you played. the three of spades should have been easy, but even you underestimated it, getting scratched violently by a black panther in between. all that mattered was that you were alive, and soon the wound would heal itself like every other did (not really, your leg was full of dried blood, stopping the wounds from opening, but still in critical condition.)

all you had to do was go to your room, take a shower, and go to sleep. there was an executive meeting going on, but you were too unbothered to even care about the hatter's waste of time. you realized everyone you knew would be either sleeping, partying, or at the so-called meeting, which was more of a lecture.

while walking around the hotel rooms, you relished the quietness. it had been a while since you were able to rest, and all you needed was a bed and a pillow to pass out on. that was until a figure in a white jacket showed up in one of the corners of the hall.

"what the-!" you gasped, jumping back at the surprise and placing a hand almost immediately on your chest while trying to catch your breath. dramatic? maybe a little. but you did get scared at his sudden presence.

chishiya stood in place while staring at you. upon regaining your composure, you looked up and noticed he had his signature raised eyebrow look, and you felt the need to explain what went on. "i didn't expect to see you there. aren't you supposed to be at the meeting?"

in reality, you had never been that close to chishiya, apart from the usual small talk due to being both executive members. you had no idea what was going on inside his head at any moment; his expression was definitely unreadable. every time you two were placed together somewhere, the awkwardness made itself present. even if you'd try and engage in a little chat, he'd end it too quickly for you to feel stupid for even trying. if he knew your name, you would be surprised.

instead of answering, chishiya kept silent. usual, you thought to yourself. as your mind ran around looking for ways to end this awkward situation, chishiya's gaze seemed to be elsewhere. your eyes finally met his, but his didn't meet yours. instead, he fixed himself on your legs.

"you're bleeding," he said bluntly.

"oh..." you looked down at your own legs, bending slightly to take a look at the situation. your mouth opened agape once you noticed just how bad your wounds looked.

you didn't realize it the moment you got it, but the scratch from earlier must have messed up with some other of your past injuries, opening both of them up. a trail of blood was running down your legs, and as you glimpsed to the floor, you realized it was also stained by so. for how long has it been like this? you wondered.

"yes, i'll take care of it later..." you mumbled pathetically.

it was quite embarrassing to be in this position, especially in front of chishiya. for some reason, you always messed up your words when talking to him or anyone superior overall. maybe it was because you'd picture a whole dialogue in your mind before speaking, and when actually doing it, words came out messed up and switched.

you finally looked up with the stupidest expression on your face, realizing chishiya's eyebrow had only raised more. you bit your lip in embarrassment as he spoke up again. "if you take care of that the same way you did with your other wounds, you'd be better leaving it how it is."

if you could be more ashamed than you were, you would. perhaps he was just trying to get under your skin, but the only thing you wanted to do was get out of this situation.

you stood there awkwardly as your gaze never met his, unsure of what to say next. instead, he was the one to break the silence.

"follow me." he said after a sigh left his mouth.

and you did exactly so. or at least you tried. you noticed that chishiya didn't even bother to look behind to see if you were actually following, but you also noticed he was moving slower than he usually did, probably because he knew you could barely hold yourself on your own two feet. you weren't even sure how you knew how fast he normally walks.

your thoughts were interrupted as you realized he was actually taking you to his room. you knew this path like the back of your hand since you would always watch where he was going after the executive meetings. this was where you registered that you had been analyzing every single one of chishiya's movements without even knowing it. you probably looked like a creep as soon as you grasped it all.

chishiya opened the door to his room and finally looked at you, as well as at the trail of blood you left behind. something in his gaze — you could not understand what — changed as his movements hurried slightly.

"sit down in a comfortable position," he demanded with a voice that almost seemed caring, pointing to his bed.

you did as asked, although you struggled to be in a pleasant posture due to your legs almost opening apart.

this seemed all too weird to you. the chishiya that barely looked your way for more than five seconds was the same chishiya that was now leaving his suite with a first aid kit, seemingly prepared to treat your wounds without even asking.

"why are you doing this?" you couldn't help but interrogate. his latest actions were way too out of character, at least to the chishiya you made up in your mind.

"i was bored," he replied sarcastically, a tone of irony present in his voice. now this was more like the chishiya you knew, even though it was obvious that wasn't the real motive.

you wanted to keep smothering him with questions because your mind was way too confused to function properly, but your line of thought was put back as you saw him kneel before you and open the box he positioned on the bed. you would have folded and turned into a blushing mess right there and then, if it weren't for the agonizing pain that decided to come back.

you got a quick glimpse of what the box held: gauze roles, sterile gauze pads, eye pads, a roll of adhesive tape, elastic bandages, sterile cotton balls... your head started almost immediately hurting looking at all the utensils that you had barely any idea what did.

"relax. focus on staying awake." chishiya said it with that same voice from way before, tense but almost sweet. he gathered something on one of the cotton pads; you could not figure out what, as your mind almost went blank. "this will hurt."

and as he finished his sentence, not a single second was left for you to process as he started patting your wounds with it. you immediately hissed at the pain, tears threatening to spill from your eyes as you bit into your hand in a way to muffle your whimpers.

your head moved away from the scenario. even though you wanted to keep your eyes on such a focused chishiya, you would have probably passed out from looking at the amount of blood leaving your leg. especially now that, with the alcohol-coated cotton, which you developed a deep hatred for, he had removed the thin layer of dried blood left, securing your wounds.

he moved the piece of pad very quickly around your wounds, removing the blood as fast as he could, probably to make the process faster and less hurtful. the thing is that, if he were more patient, the pain would probably not be half as bad as it is right now. however, you were too dazed to tell him to be more gentle. tears finally ran down your cheeks as you did your best to keep one hand holding you on the bed and the other brushing them away and covering your mouth at the same time.

even through all the pain, your biggest worry was how stupid you probably looked in front of a guy who must have had something to do with the medical department — you assumed by the way he seemed so professional right now.

"calm down. the worst part is almost over." he said, not bothering to look up to guess that you were driving yourself crazy with tears from your whimpers and constant sniffling.

his words managed to comfort you for about 3 seconds, as he finally stopped moving the torturing device on your leg and you opened up your eyes, only to realize he was just picking up another one and coating it with alcohol once again.

before you could even process it, you audibly groaned in disapproval, almost forgetting who was just below you.

he suddenly stopped, his head finally lifting to look at you with that unbothered classical look, his mouth slightly open. you looked at him hesitantly, your eyes still coated with tears and your face somewhat puffy, quickly realizing your mistake.

"would you prefer for me to leave your leg as it is?" he said it with a superior tone. even though the sentence was formed as a question, you could tell he definitely didn't mean it as one. more like a reprimand.

"sorry..." you muttered under your breath, your eyes immediately drifting away from his, trying to avoid getting his confront once more.

he kept his eyes on you for a second before sighing and shaking his head, his attention going back to your leg as he started to move the cotton pad once again. you hissed between your teeth, your hand moving back to your mouth as you closed your eyes as strongly as you could to avoid any tears from spilling.

to your benefit, this part ended quickly as he finally finished cleaning your wounds. you sighed in relief, now only a sharp but endurable pain left on your leg as you finally relaxed your muscles until he spoke up again.

"your injuries aren't that serious. you were lucky you ran onto me." he commented, staring at his newly finished job. so much, it almost made your head hurt. "there is a specific cut that would normally need to be sewn together, though. however, we don't want to hear any more whining tonight, do we?"

his words traveled immediately to your heart, your face heating up for the nth time during this whole interaction, unable to even stare at him.

from this moment on, your mind just went somewhere else as he finished patching up your leg. you couldn't lie and say that by the time he was finished, you didn't feel much fresher and calmer, being able to look at your leg and see it coated in white instead of red.

he finally got up with a sigh and stored everything back into his first aid kit box, entering his suite and placing it back wherever he hid it.

"thank you; sorry if it was an inconvenience," you said in a low voice when he came back. your eyes stuck on your leg, moving it around as if you never had two functional limbs before.

he stared at you, seemingly having fun with your own stuff, with a smirk on his face that, if you had caught onto it, you would have died of embarrassment once again.

"now, be careful not to get wounded like that again." he commented, turning his back to you and moving around the bed, looking for something you didn't pay attention to on one of his shelves. "i might not be as gentle as i was this time."

you were brought back from the moon as he finished his sentence. that was him being gentle? you could practically hear the smirk on his face when he said that, but it still managed to get you thinking. you knew better than to complain, though.

"what were you before coming here?" you remembered wondering a few moments before, due to his skills in treating you. the question came out without thinking twice.

you could hear him stop while looking for whatever it was when you asked that, to which he answered quickly. "i studied medicine. i wasn't a doctor yet, though."

if chishiya could have gotten any hotter to you, he just did. you bit your lip, breaking your process of thinking before your thoughts led you elsewhere.

"that doesn't mean i wasn't smarter than most of the fools that call themselves doctors at the hospital i studied at."

there was that snarky response chishiya was missing, you thought. you turned around to see him, finally realizing that he was actually looking for something between his shirts. you tried to peek into it, but he suddenly pulled something out that looked like a soda can, with a few cables around it. he finally moved closer to you again, handing you the item.

"it's a bomb," he added, as you rolled it around your fingers, trying to figure out how it worked. "so you can be more prepared when playing. make sure not to use it on yourself."

he clearly meant the last part as a joke, but that was something that the percentage of happening wasn't zero, you had to admit. "thanks."

even though chishiya seemed stern, there was something about him that attracted you. and something that made him help you tonight, about which you still weren't sure, happened to make you more confused. you wondered about asking him again, but knowing the littlest bit about him would make you sure that he'd just avoid the question once again. at least your leg was patched up, and you could go to sleep peacefully tonight.

— a/n: aaahh im debuting on this account... hope you guys like this little babble i made a few days ago. aib fever is back and i have a lot to say, might as well spill it out! i will make a masterlist soon enough. feel free to leave requests (if it's working) (╥﹏╥)

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pampushky · 3 months ago

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Foot of the Gallows

trafalgar d. water law/reader - chapter 1 - 3.1k

ao3 link | masterlist | series masterlist | next chapter

1.) sunshroom

sunshroom: A mushroom often found in deserts and dry places. It's a beautiful, orange-red color. By drying it, and then turning it to powder, it can be made into a medicine that can then drive away the chills, or added into a stew to safely raise the body temperature of a patient experiencing even the most severe cases of hypothermia.

cw: planned execution, mentioned character death (rip my boy corazon), mentions of past arguments/insults, not a very heavy chapter tbh

content otherwise: angst, friends to enemies to lovers, hella slow burn, law needing to figure out emotions, reader is an apothecary, genuinely just angst and idiots on both sides

The news of Trafalgar D. Water Law’s execution is brought to you by a kindly old woman, with a bad bought of dragon-scale, fetching medicine for herself. She drops the two silver coins in your outstretched hand, the rough patches of her skin brushing against your palm, and you shiver a bit as she hobbles out the door, already popping one of the dried balls of medicine into her mouth, strictly against the instructions you had just given her.

“Set to be hung tomorrow at mid-day, m’ducky!” She calls over her shoulder, letting out an ugly cackle as she crunches on another ball. “Should have done it from the start, that’s what I was telling Earl this morning!”

You slump into the chair behind your counter and fight the urge to massage your temple, instead washing your hands vigorously before you even start to handle your morning breakfast. You let yourself breathe, after that, leaning over the little basin of water in the back of your shop before you stride back to the front, wiping your hands on your apron, and starting on your orders for the day.

Hanging was a terrible way to go. No where near as quick, as the crowds who would rush to watch would think. In reality, they died of strangulation, often very slowly, when the rope would fail to snap their neck, which it always did. You know this, because of your father’s teachings, mentoring you in your family’s trade until you were able to work on your own, allowing him to retire to the south of the continent, where he could spend his days with your mother, none of the cold northern winds to make their joints ache.

Somewhere, you feel a pang of horror, that your childhood friend is to die that way. Law, who had been a serious, yet sweet child, was always by your side, helping you gather the herbs and mushrooms you needed, drying lichens with you in the branches of the tall aspen beside your house. He helped wrap your scraped knees and elbows, held tightly to the little cuts on your fingers until the bleeding stopped, and lectured you on the importance of proper hygiene the moment the hair under your arms and on your legs started to grow, waving his two years of age ahead of you like a proud banner, shooting up in height almost overnight.

Also, the same boy who had shoved you into a puddle of mud and declared that he hated you, before storming away, forever poisoning the bond that had grown between you for nearly fifteen years, turning you from friends to bitter enemies in the split second it took for you to fall to the ground after being pushed.

Ah, the duality of man.

It didn’t matter now. A suspiciously brilliant doctor or not, he had been nothing but an ass since your friendship had so abruptly ended. You steeled your heart to his tragedies and accomplishments. You thrived in your own way, continuing with your way of life just as your ancestors before you had, living in the same house, beside the same aspen, making the same kinds of medicine and selling it to the descendants of the people whom your ancestors had helped.

It didn’t matter at all. Especially not when Law left after his father’s death, and then returned three years later, with white patches of skin covering his body, making it look as though a skull had been painted on his face, or the streaks of bright white in his pitch-black hair.

So why did that sting of horror never fade? Even as you crushed dried sunshrooms into the mortar until it was a spicy-smelling powder that could be used to drive away the chills, and raise someone’s temperature safely, even in the worst hypothermia cases. That sharp pain never escaped you, thrumming at your heart until you were certain you had eaten something that was starting to mess with you.

Until you remembered you hadn’t eaten anything at all and gave up on feeling any better about the execution. Events like that always made you uneasy, especially when the imperial Guards would come into your otherwise quiet shop, the horse-hair plumes of their helmets muffling the sweet chime of the entry bell halfway through the ring, looking for a lethal herb or plant that you almost certainly didn’t carry. You hated that despite multiple signs on the door, and after repeatedly writing to the captain of the guard, they still would come asking.

So you set to distracting yourself, putting the powdered sunshroom into a small jar, and then eating an easy breakfast of rice porridge and honey, before getting to the rest of your work for the day with your head down, and definitely not thinking of Law as the day drags on.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Law’s tone is dry, while the shackles slang slightly from around his wrists. He’s sitting on the ground of his cell, caked in dried mud, with a split lip and a black eye. There were other, more well-hidden, wounds from the guard’s interrogation, but they got what they wanted in the end. But still, Bepo looks horrified as he looks at him through the bars of the cell, ears flattened against his head, with his canines bared in sorrow and anger.

“You look…. Horrible,” Bepo mutters and then starts to shake his head from side to side, squeezing his eyes shut and placing his hands over his ears.

“Thanks,” Law leans his head against the brick wall and closes his eyes. “That’s incredibly helpful, Bepo.”

“I-I mean, how, you haven’t done anything wrong—”

“I performed a standard procedure from a different country, where the magic I used is outlawed in this one,” Law deadpans, eyes open again on focusing on the ceiling. “So I did do something. And then the guards beat a confession from me, so it’s my word against… well, myself.”

Bepo groans, and slumps to the ground, curled in an awkwardly large ball for how tight the corridor of the city prison is— the detriments of being a polar bear mink. Oh, the things Law would publish if he could, right now. Mainly about the abhorrent conditions of the prisons. Were the people aware of just how terrible the cells were? Or did they simply not care?

Oh well. It didn’t matter now. Law was as good as dead. Ikkaku and Shachi had been researching tirelessly for ways to get out of this without any luck, and Penguin had tried (and failed) to hire any lawyer that was willing to so much as take a look at his case to argue in front of a judge. According to Shachi, once they had so much as heard the words dark magic they had sent him packing, screaming for him to leave immediately before they called for the imperial guards.

“The more accurate term would be lunar magic, but they never want to have that discussion,” Law sighs, and Bepo unravels himself from his despondent ball on the floor, staring at Law with what can only be described as contempt mixed with annoyance.

Just like you how you looked at him every time he had gone to your shop to stock up on painkillers and other supplies. Surely you’d gotten over what he’d said from when you were teenagers? Having to dodge the pestle that was sent flying at his head answered that question rather quickly, along with Ikkaku and Bepo being the only people allowed in your shop to pick up the supplies he needed. Penguin, Law, and Shachi were recipients of lifetime bans from the shop, which had only happened to two other people in the entire history of your family working there.

There was no need to punish his patients for his ‘assholery’, according to Bepo, which is the only reason why he was still allowed to get what medicines he needed. But Law being able to enter was soundly out of the question, so he would end up standing awkwardly outside the door, using Bepo or Ikkaku to communicate with you.

That wouldn’t be an issue to you anymore, he supposed. You could go back to selling your medicines in peace, and probably even get more customers from his death. How morbid of him to think about— the benefits of his untimely demise, and the setbacks that this country would go through because they had decided to execute him rather than letting their medical sciences and their backwater understanding of magic types evolve.

At least he wouldn’t be able to bother you anymore, gods above knew that you deserved some peace and quiet, not deserving to have the doctor haunting your mind, if he even crossed your mind.

But there was still the issue of how to pass his last day alive, especially while Bepo was still sulking in the hallway, one of his ears twitching slightly at the sound of a shopkeeper singing some song about a man on the way to the gallows. Law didn’t catch much after that– he tended to block such things out to focus on his studies and work. Bepo, however, seemed to be rather interested in something, his head snapping up, before scrambling out of the prison, only saying something about an idea to save Law.

Law only closes his eyes again and lets himself disassociate as he listens to the near-rhythmic scratching of the rats on the floor.

The sweet little bell above the door chimes, drawing your attention away from the scale for just a second, staring at the panting polar bear standing in your doorway, one hand pressed against the frame while the other holds the door open, before managing to wheeze out your name, and looking up at you in desperation, and speaking between giants huffs for breath.

“You…” huff “...have ta’,” huff “...help Law.” huff huff.

“Good afternoon to you too, Bepo,” You speak dryly, and the polar bear can’t help but think about how similar you are to the doctor currently sitting in a cell across the city. “Now, how in the name of Wild Mother would I be able to help a man, who pleaded guilty, by the way, to using dark magic?” You raise an eyebrow, arms folded as you stare him down. “He knew the laws. He should have been more careful– or, I don’t know, not use dark magic.”

The annoyance in your voice is palpable, and you turn your back to him, going back to measuring out a shimmery gold power into a little glass bowl. Your back is stiff, and Bepo can see how tightly you’re holding the little spoon in your hand as you carefully fill the bowl, before adding a few drops of some oil, and then stirring it. You don’t even look back at him, but there is fury in your voice when you realize he still hasn’t left yet when the bell doesn’t chime again after a minute.

“Bepo, I already told you, there’s no way I can help him,” You turn again, letting out a frustrated sigh as you look at him. “Besides— surely I am the last person that he would want to have to help him out of this mess,”

“But you are— wait, no, not the last— urgh! I mean, you’re the only one who can help him!” Bepo slams his hands down on the counter, and you look a bit shocked, raising your eyebrow at him again, while he stammers out an apology.

“That…. is four-hundred-year-old wood,” You sigh, and then look pointedly at the mink, “Explain,” you rub your temple as you speak, thoroughly done with everything to do with Trafalgar Law, and on the verge of considering giving Bepo a lifetime ban for slamming on your counter so harshly.

“There’s an ancient law— if someone proposes to whoever is on the gallows, their life is spared for a year, and they are retried then, based on how they’ve improved and lived with their spouse,” Bepo talks to you in a frenzy, eyes wide, “You can propose to him— right when he’s going up, and then you can use your influence to help him prove that lunar magic—”

“Get out,” you snarl, and Bepo freezes, looking at you with shock, mouth still open, as though he hasn’t even finished his pitch yet. But you’re done listening and don’t want to hear anything else about this idea. Yet he continues, even as you stalk around the corner of the counter, set on throwing him out yourself, if he won’t leave on his own.

“Shacchi and Penguin can’t— they’re married, and clearly only interested in each other, and Ikkaku doesn’t court men. I— I’m too publically known not to do anything, so—”

“Get out!”

And with that, Bepo finally takes the hint and leaves, but not before shouting: “At least consider it! Please! You’re his last chance!”

You close the shop early that day, feeling sick to your stomach as you sit on the floor, knees to your chest, trying to fight off tears as Bepo’s pleas ricochet around your skull. The pain and horror in your heart still haven’t faded, and if anything, they’ve only gotten worse. Damn that man. Damn your fool of a heart, for still clinging to that childhood friendship. And damn the cruelty in Law’s heart for saying those cruel things to you as he shoved you to the ground, his eyes full of nothing but hatred and malice as he towered over you in the rain.

The chime from the little bell above the door haunts you as you go to sleep for the night after spending several hours on the floor of the main shop with your back to the door, painfully aware that the next time it rings, there’s a good chance Law will be on his way to the gallows.

><><><

Executions have always been rather…. Obnoxious events. The crowds are too excited for the end of a person’s life, too entertained by the drama of it all, while the guards read out the sentencing, and details of the crimes. Law never quite understood why so many people were so attracted to it— during his apprenticeship across the sea, he had attended many executions, all to collect the body of the criminal, sent to do the dirty work of the medical academy that the second and third years didn’t want to do.

It’s odd, from the other side of the lens. He can see the bored-looking medical student, with the white-and-gold cloak of a first-year medical student, just as he had worn eight years ago. He can see Shacchi, Penguin, and Ikkaku, in the front row, solemn expressions on their faces, pushed into the barrier by the jeering crowd. It’s an odd mixture of emotions on the faces of the people who’ve come to see him die. Some looked angry, crying out about it being unjustified, and that they were killing an innocent doctor who had done nothing but save countless lives, while others shouted about the god of light and the sun striking him down for his insolence.

Backwater country, Law sneers in his mind, right when a rotten peach gets pitched at his head, causing him to stumble a bit. The guards, ever merciless, only tug on his shackles harshly and nearly make him fall flat on his face.

Shachhi lets out an angry shout, and Law watches as Penguin holds him back, straining against his husband. Ikkaku spits at the man, though, and goes down in a flurry of fists and screaming. Bepo is nowhere to be seen, and he is oddly okay with that. The polar bear is sensitive— it would be best if he didn’t see him die this way.

When Law gets to the steps of the gallows, an odd hush falls over the crowd. He knows it’s because they finally got a better view of him now, and are likely spending the time to really take in his admittedly miserable state. Or at least he thinks that’s what they’re doing, until he turns to look back at his friends, only to see a figure in a dark green cloak, finely embroidered with white leafy and floral details, and looking straight ahead as it marches down the path he had just walked. The vice-captain of the guard, Kizaru, who has to be present for all executions that take place in the capital city, pays no heed to the figure or the silence of the crowd and tiredly reads out the charges levied against him.

The hood falls, just as the figure reaches the foot of the gallows, as the noose is slipped over Law’s head, and there you stand, holding up your hand.

“I invoke my right to propose to this criminal, in the interest of bettering and upholding our justice system,” Your voice is steady. There is a roll of parchment in your upheld hand, “Here is the ancient law that states this right, should you need me to source the legal right I have to do this,”

Your eyes are filled with fire, be it fury or determination, Law does not know, but he does know that you look like you are going to throttle him when the two of you go behind closed doors. Bepo somehow appeared behind Shacchi, Penguin, and Ikkaku, looking extremely hopeful while the other three looked utterly baffled. The crowd is whispering amongst itself.

Kizaru only nods, reading the parchment after taking it delicately from your hand, and then gestures for the noose to be taken from Law’s neck, and the shackles unlocked, nudging him off the little stage.

“We shall discuss this in more detail tomorrow,” Kizaru sighs lazily, shooing Law and yourself away with a flick of his wrist, setting his chin against his other hand, and studying the two of you. “But for now… in the name of our great Empress, and by her divinely-appointed power, I ask the gods to bless your union and re-introduce you to our beloved creators as a married couple. Congratulations." Amusement twinkles in his eyes, before his mood suddenly sours, and he scowls, "...Now get out of my sight.”

The crowd riots the moment he dismisses you, and you drag Law by his wrist in the direction from which he had come not ten minutes earlier, expecting to be executed, only to leave alive, but married, as well. You only keep your gaze forward, cursing under your breath the entire time, the chaos of the botched execution sends the town square into chaos as the two of you disappear into the crowd.

#trafalgar law #law x reader #trafalgar d law x reader #trafalgardwaterlaw #one piece x reader #one piece x you #law x you #law x yn #one piece x y/n #one piece insert #enemies to lovers #friends to enemies to lovers really #ao3 #not actually unrequited love #trafalgar one piece #soulmate au too ig

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david-talks-sw · 2 years ago

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Okay so I watched Inside Man on Netflix. It's interesting. More importantly, it's a masterclass in crafting likeable characters and how the POV we follow in a scene affects the way we see a character. Also, this somehow relates to the Star Wars Prequels, I promise! 😆

The moral of the series is that "everyone is a murderer, all it takes is a good reason and a bad day." The main characters are:

A vicar who - through a huge misunderstanding - has now locked his son's tutor in his basement and doesn't know how to get out of this situation, played by David Tennant.

A convicted murderer and ex-criminal psychology professor who solves crimes from his cell, as he waits for his execution, played by Stanley Tucci.

So a man who locked a woman in his cellar and a guy who murdered his wife. In any other movie, these guys are the villains. Yet, both of these characters are extremely likeable!

This is achieved through how relatably they behave in their relationships (kind, humble, humorous)...

... and through the emotion and/or charisma brought by the actors playing them (it's THE DOCTOR/CROWLEY and Stanley Friggin' Tucci)... but also through the amount of screen time they get.

We're with them for most of the show. There's other characters (the journalist, the trapped tutor and the vicar's wife) and subplots, of course, but they're our two anchors.

So when I'm watching David Tennant lock his son's tutor in his cellar and consider if he should free her - only to see him and his wife make things worse - I'm not thinking "you monster" like I do when I see Buffalo Bill in Silence of the Lambs for example.

No, I'm thinking "goddammit vicar you're making things worse, it'll come back to haunt you, there's still a chance to turn back, please!" I'm rooting for him to make the right choice because I'm seeing him struggle and despair and hesitate throughout many scenes.

When I'm watching Stanley Tucci guiltily say he deserves death, after being so darn charming, humble and in clear possession of a moral compass, my instinct as a viewer isn't to go "he's right".

It's to go "aaaw, no it's fine, everyone makes mistakes."

And these characters remain likeable and/or relatable for a huge chunk of time... until, every once in a while, the show reminds you that, "remember, these guys are criminals."

"One of them's killed his wife then decapitated her, and the other one is contemplating murder, so they did/are doing evil stuff, they're the villains and you shouldn't grow fond of them."

Then it goes back to making you empathize with them again.

It's quite the emotional roller-coaster, very intriguing yet frustrating, which I have to guess is exactly what the show is going for.

But the point is: the amount of time we spend with these characters is partially what elicits this emotional reaction out of us.

If we consider the tutor's character:

For all intents and purposes, we should feel sorry for her, or full-on fucking love her. Objectively-speaking, she's:

smart but obviously scared,

we establish early on that she has a brave heart and stands up for oppressed women,

she thinks she's trapped by a pedophile or a man defending a pedophile, figures he'll inevitably try to murder her, yet manages to stay resourceful, determined and cool-headed despite it all.

She's an absolute superhero.

But that's not how the narrative frames her.

She's framed as an antagonistic force, in the vicar's subplot.

She may be the one tied up in a basement, but she's in control and the vicar is not. She's almost framed as being in a position of power (when she's really not), which leads the audience to view Tenant's vicar as an underdog.

When the vicar is trying to look for alternatives to end this situation so that he doesn't have to kill her, she's unhelpful,

and even starts pitting the vicar and his wife against each other.

Again, in-universe, she's scared shitless and in "fight-or-flight" mode. She's putting up a front because she's just trying to get outta this alive. She's the victim, here, not the vicar who captured her.

But as a viewer, you don't feel that, despite objectively knowing that. Why and how?

Because we barely see this character, compared to Tenant's vicar. So we have more time to grow to feel for him. There's "why".

Also 90% of what we do see of the tutor is her being aggressive, manipulative, sometimes downright merciless and we're seeing her from the POV of the vicar or the vicar's wife. There's "how".

Result: the viewer feels sorry for the captor and frustrated towards the captive.

This isn't a rational reaction, it's an emotional one (the goal of any visual artform being to get an emotional reaction out of the viewer).

Which means the series and Stephen Moffat effectively did their job.

How does this relate to the Prequels?

Well, a lot of people see the Jedi in a negative light in the Prequels, and Anakin in a more sympathetic one.

Even though the Prequels are about how a good man becomes bad, and even though the Jedi embody one of the major Star Wars themes (selflesness) as opposed to Anakin who clearly displays the anti-theme (selfish)... a majority of fans feels more for the latter than the former. Why?

Because the Prequels unintentionally do what Inside Man does purposefully. You react to Anakin like you react to the vicar. You react to the Jedi like you react to the tutor.

Simply put: Anakin has more screen time than the Jedi. And we don't just see him more, we see him struggle, we see him about what he knows to be morally right vs what he really wants, we see him be overtaken by his own fear...

... and just by contrast, that makes him more relatable than the Jedi, who have already overcome their character arcs and mostly all learned to keep their flaws in check.

The narrative doesn't intend to frame them as antagonistic. We do see them talk about how worried they are, we do see them emote.

And if you think about it, it's easy to see why:

their entire way of life is going to crap,

their values are being corrupted as they're forced to fight and die, alongside their clone brothers, in a war they wanted no part of,

they sense that the Force is close to the breaking point and that the galaxy's inhabitants are suffering on the daily.

But, for example, when Mace or Ki-Adi Mundi are shown expressing concern in the Prequels... as worried as they are, in-universe... out-of-universe, their measured reactions doesn't emotionally impact a viewer as much as Anakin's intense ones do.

So a big chunk of the audience will sympathize more with him than them. But like the tutor in Inside Man, the Jedi are objectively the victims and Anakin is objectively an unstable space-nazi who betrayed and destroyed them.

Just because we're not shown these characters be worried beyond just monotonously saying "I'm worried" doesn't mean they're not actually worried as Anakin is in Revenge of the Sith (if not more).

However we don't see it.

Because these three films aren't about the Jedi Order, they're about the Republic and about Anakin and about how each of these two beautiful things were corrupted (by Palpatine and by themselves) into becoming the very thing they stood against.

The Jedi aren't a factor in either of those two themes set up by George Lucas.

They became a factor when fans - who despite not liking the Prequels, still admirably chose to engage with the material - made the Jedi be more important to the narrative of the Prequels by re-framing these films as "The Failure of the Jedi".

Now, should Lucas have recognized that most fans wouldn't give two shits about why a Republic falls or the "matinee serial" format, and would've rather he focused on the Jedi, and developed them accordingly? Probably.

But good luck telling an indie filmmaker with a bunch of money how to tell the story he wants to tell.

Could Lucas have done more with the Prequels to highlight the fact that the Jedi are the underdogs of the story, not Anakin's oppressors? Yes.

But, firstly, he probably didn't think that was a point that needed explaining. And secondly, as he explained at Cannes, in 2002, feature films are a very limiting format to tell a story, especially one of the Prequels' scale. If it doesn't directly contribute to the story you're telling... it's gotta go.

A limited show would've been better to cover every aspect of the Prequels more in detail and avoid confusing the audience re: who they should be rooting for.

Which is why it's interesting, to me, that Stephen Moffat used his limited show to INTENTIONALLY confuse the audience! 😃

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darkbluekies · 2 years ago

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Oh, oh, I got an idea! How do you think the Yandere characters will do if they found out their s/o got kidnapped! Kinda like how the mad doctor kidnapped Yandere Doctor's s/o??

Warnings: killing, mentions of suicides, violence, manhandling, dismemberment, kidnapping, arson

Silas:

All hell will break loose once he understands what has happened. Everyone — even his own men — will be scared for their lives. Silas is angrier than anyone’s ever seen him before and the slightest wrong step will result in death. He will cause blood baths wherever he goes until he gets you back. The gang that has taken you will be sorry, Silas will make sure of that. He’ll grab every kind of weapon he can get his hands on before leaving with his men to go get you back in his arms.

“Alright, you shitheads, I’m going to fucking come for you. Touching my baby will be the last thing you’ll ever do. I’m going to make you regret the day you were born. Oh, I’m going to enjoy this …”

Dr Kry: (oneshot where this happens)

He’ll be absolutely terrified if he doesn’t know where you are. This man will never stop looking for you. He’ll not eat, not sleep, not drink until you’re back in your room. This man is smart, he finds clues where others don’t. Dr Kry is a person who never gets down and dirty, his murders look like suicides or accidents. But when he finds the one that has taken you from him, he’ll beat them bloody until they’re on the verge of death. Then he’ll leave them to die.

“Don’t worry, Y/N, I’m going to find you and I’m going to make sure you come back where you belong. Whoever took you from me is going to suffer. I’m going to kill them, don’t worry, you’ll be safe and sound in my arms soon …”

King Edmund:

This man is ruthless as he is, but if someone dares to take you away from him, he’ll cause havoc. Every kingdom will know about your disappearance and they’ll fear what Edmund is going to do. No one is safe from his wrath. Edmund will burn down villages, he’ll throw people in dungeons, he’ll have public executions — everything to find the peasant (or royal) who took you. And when he finally does … they’ll be tortured for days and days on end until he finally has had enough and kills them himself.

“The one that touches my queen will be sorry for a long, long time. The kingdoms shall feel my wrath. I’ll burn them all down if I need to. No one takes my queen from me …”

Jerry:

This woman lives for revenge, but not these kinds. You should never be involved. If someone decides to kidnap you, Jerry will turn the world upside down to get you back. No one’s safe from Jerry’s anger. She’ll even hurt her own boss if he gets in her way. Her boss will help her get you back (mostly because he’s terrified of Jerry’s temper) and then, it’s over for whoever was stupid enough to think they could keep you away from her. Jerry is going to cut off limb after limb of the people that separated you from her with a smile on her face.

“When I’m done with those people, they’ll be lucky if the police will ever be able to find all of them to give them a funeral. Because I sure as hell won’t let them. They’ll be so unrecognizable that they’ll be unsure which name to put on the gravestone! And when I have Y/N back, I’m going to cuff them to my wrist and plant a GPS chip in their neck. They’re mine only. No one else is allowed to touch them.”

Hedwig:

She thought you were safe. She really did. You’re a nobody! She realizes that the one that kidnapped you wanted her to get money, but figured that taking you would be a better way to get a bigger ransom. Hedwig will pay whatever price to get you back. Nothing’s too high. She’ll bring one body guard with her to the meeting place where she can exchange the money for you. She’ll hug your manhandled body tightly while you cry.

“It’s okay now, sweetheart, you’re safe now. I-I’ll take care of you. I was so scared to never get you back. Don’t cry, my dear, those assholes will get what they deserve. I have my ways, don’t worry. They’ll never see the sunlight again.”

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere drabbles #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere fics #yandere talks #yandere stories #yandere mafia #yandere oc x you #yandere ocs #yandere male #yandere female #yandere king #yandere doctor #yandere reactions #yandere headcanons

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fatuismooches · 1 year ago

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I'm in love with the "Traveler finding fragile reader" scenario I've seen floating around your blog because this scenario is super interesting for Dottore specifically. Actually caring about someone else, perhaps even more than he does himself and his ambitions, not having the upper hand, and being almost wholly at someone else's mercy in a meaningful way are all probably very foreign things to Dottore. Since I suck at writing proper stories, here are some scattered thoughts.

After all the times they've encountered and clashed with the Second Fatui Harbinger, the Traveler had subconsciously realized that they would have to be just as ruthless, just as cruel as he is to neutralize him. They'd truly come to terms with this after learning about your existence, and muster the will to act upon this knowledge as the doors to the location you were being hidden in slammed open. Paimon's gaze snapped to the source of the sound, and in that split second the Traveler summoned their blade and held its edge against your throat. (As an aside, imo the Traveler would totally do something like this if they had to. We saw how they were willing to coldly execute you-know-who in the Aranyaka quest.)

As he burst through the doors, Dottore was greeted with the sight of the accursed Traveler's determination-filled glare, their white floating imp's wide-eyed stare… and the lab's dim lights gleaming off the blade held over your throat. Their surprisingly calm voice grates against his ears. "Paimon, keep your eyes on Dottore. There's no telling what he might try."

The only other time Dottore had ever felt this alarmed in his centuries of existence was when you just didn't wake up one day, reduced to barely clinging to life with the support of his modified Akasha terminal. This was a new first for Dottore - the first time he lost his rationality. Objectively, this was a favourable scenario - he knew the terrain here like the back of his hand, which would be a major advantage against an opponent as powerful as the Traveler. With this, he had a decent chance of permanently removing possibly the biggest obstacle to the Fatui.

The above should have been what went through Dottore's brilliant mind, devising scenarios to bring it to fruition. Instead, every cell in Zandik's brain was working in overdrive, trying to find a way to somehow get the Traveler away from you, to keep you safe. He knows the kind of person the Traveler is - if it were anyone else, he'd have no problem calling their bluff and striking at the slightest hesitation, but this was you, the only life he couldn't afford to gamble with.

(How the actual confrontation goes down is anyone's guess, since I don't have any concrete ideas. A proper fight is likely out of the question because a clash between two of the strongest beings in Teyvat is going to be incredibly destructive - you're almost definitely getting caught in the crossfire somehow, and Zandik can't have that.)

oh MY GOSHHHHH I AM LITERALLY DEVOURING EATING THIS UPPP

Anon. Im. I have no words. Your writing IS SUPERBBB. ITS AMAZING. All those things you said are so true. Even to this day sometimes Dottore is surprised he cares about you this much. He would have never thought he had the capacity for that previously. He always thought he had the situation and his emotions always under control, yet his love for you still blossomed. That was the one time he felt as though he could not predict something. The Doctor was known for his meticulous plans and actions, with no room for counterattacks or opposition. He was used to the cowered figures, terrified expressions of the people beneath him.

Until now.

Dottore doesn’t have much regrets in his life. He doesn’t regret his countless experiments or people he hurt. That didn’t really matter to him. But right now, he was thinking that he should have killed the Traveler when he had the chance. Then you wouldn’t be stuck in this situation, the Traveler’s blade held dangerously close to your throat, hanging you on the thin line between life and death. (Traveler’s dull blade never seems to disappoint ig…)

The sight has him slowly losing his normal composed, rational train of thought. The tone the Traveler takes with him only worsens his thoughts, and he can’t help but think back to the time when he nearly lost you. From then he swore to never put you in more harm than you already were. But it seems like that was a broken oath now.

Scholars must plan for every possible situation and take everything into account. And now, he has to consider the possibility you may…

There are innumerable amounts of plans and actions unfolding in his head, but each of them leaves you at risk, the one thing he has to avoid at all costs. He simply cannot risk your life. You still have a life ahead of you, the one that you deserve, one when he finally cures you. And he shall not let this Traveler stop him, no matter what he has to do.

Even as this goes on, the Traveler still can’t help but be fascinated by the fact they have the Doctor in a chokehold, not by sheer power, blackmail, knowledge, or anything along those lines. But rather from a person who didn’t seem to be anything special. If the situation was different, they would have liked to see the kind of person you were to be able to change the normally ruthless, unfaltering Doctor into a hesitant one.

I enjoyed this tremendously infinity/10, I loved how u described Paimon as an imp 😭 Traveler better watch themselves after that because when he gets you to safety, he ain’t holding back 🚶‍♀️LIKE I WISH I HAD MORE TO ADD BUT THIS IS PERFECT. I can only imagine maybe the Omega clone stepping in somehow, or a very tense verbal confrontation between the two of them where he has to give up some secrets in exchange for you. Or a crash/explosion from somewhere else distracting the Traveler enough to be able for Dottore to retrieve you.

#smooches talks #fragile reader <3 #dottore love notes <3 #traveler being ready to kill always gets me 😭#ok but i want to see traveler actually get beat in a serious fight #omfg i cannot wait for the dottore boss fight

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orange-orchard-system · 9 months ago

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The line "It's not X's fault that your doctor* isn't taking you seriously, it's your doctor's fault." has been said many times before, and not for no reason. However, I've yet to see that reason properly explained, so I'm going to do my best to do that today.

You see, I don't think saying this phrase alone really gets across the message of it. Because sometimes doctors will blame X ("trenders", TikTok, self-diagnosis, whatever) as their reason for not taking you seriously. Which makes this sentiment come across as ignoring the people who have had that happen to them. But the sentiment still applies to those folks, too. Why?

Because if your doctor truly had your best interests in mind, they would still do their best to help you out regardless of their own concerns; they wouldn't just say, "I'm not gonna help you because I think you're just influenced too much by X." Maybe they'd go over the possibility of you being influenced by X, but at the end of the day, the existence of someone else is not a justified reason for your doctor to not give you treatment, because your life is not defined by this nebulous other person, group, or object.

You are your own person. You are an individual patient. Your doctor should be treating you as an individual patient and person, not a mindless mouthpiece for a trend. Outside of whatever influences your doctor may be concerned about, you are still a patient and person, and deserve to be treated well as one. You do not deserve to be treated as incapable of thinking for yourself; you do not deserve to have your concerns dismissed as planted there by whatever scapegoat your doctor has chosen as an excuse not to properly treat you. Being less educated in the matters of health, making an incorrect guess about what's going on with you, or just daring to have a condition that a lot of people are talking about right now are not, in fact, good reasons for a doctor to not perform their job and listen to what's bothering you or going on in your life.

Moreover, a good doctor should acknowledge that even if your concerns are misplaced, there had to be something to build those concerns in the first place. Maybe you don't have ADHD, but you struggle with executive dysfunction and need help with that. Maybe you don't have POTS, but your heart is doing something funky and more testing is needed to figure out what. Even the most extreme of fears come from a nugget of truth, and it's your doctor's job to find that nugget so they can help you with it. It's just unfortunate that many doctors aren't willing to properly search for that nugget.

If I see discourse about "fakers" on this post I'm going back to bed. Stop blaming other people for your doctor's incompetence. Consider reporting on your doctor to their boss or the ethics committee for refusing to properly treat you because a certain condition is becoming more well-known, or whatever their excuse is this time

*Note that "doctor" here is used to refer to any health professional. Psychologist, psychiatrist, dermatologist, whatever. It's just an easy catch-all.

#front soup.txt #health

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tismandrelativedimensionsinspace · 5 months ago

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I just caught up with doctor who and I’m really curious what you think about the episodes? Specifically 73 yards, dot and bubble, and rogue were my personal favourites so I’d love to hear your thoughts on them or the others

ooooh ok yes here we go

space babies - i loved it. ok? i get that a lot of people didnt like the cgi baby mouths. but i think it had such series 1 vibes (i.e. ninth doctor). it took me right back to my childhood. loved it tbh

the devils chord - :/ yeah. maestro was the onky redeeming factor of this episode tbh. it was supposed to be about the beatles but like. nothing about the episodes plot felt specifically beatles-relevant? like. you could have had the exact same plot with any 60s/70s band and it would have worked out the same way. i think if you're gonna do an episode surrounding a specific historical figure, the plot has to Only make sense for that historical figure. otherwise whats the point

boom - ugh. yes. 10/10. loved ncutis acting in this one. HE WAS LITERALLY STUCK ON ONE SPOT THE WHOLE TIME. COULD BARELY MOVE. AND HE STILL GAVE A HELL OF A PERFORMANCE. i was so impressed tbh. i love bottle episodes. the side characters were a little lackluster tbh tho. my only qualm with it really

73 yards - ANOTHER BANGER. i love love love when they get a bit horror with it. i loved that we got to focus on ruby and get to know her and her character a lot better. i very nearly cried when she was sitting outside her mums door on the phone. loved the mystery and the lack of a coherant solution, really added to the spookiness and fae vibes of it all.

dot and bubble - ok. im gonna be honest. this episode was boring to me. nothing really happened for the first 30 minutes. lindy was annoying as fuck. and i know that was supposed to be the point but like. if you're gonna do a doctor-lite-ish episode you've gotta make the focal character interesting. give me sally sparrow any day. i get what they were going for, i see the vision, i just think it could have been executed a bit better

rogue - yessssss!!! yesssssss!!!! loved the gay of it all, obviously, but i feel like that has kinda. taken over literally everything else about the episode??? i love the idea of larping aliens thats so silly and fun. i loved the fight mode scene with ruby holding her own. i loved the bridgerton-esque drama and ruby trying to comfort emily. i loved seeing ncuti get his "fury of the timelord" moment when he thought ruby was dead. the doctors dark side is so important!!! hes not all sunshine and rainbows!!! family of blood anyone!!!!

legend of ruby sunday - hm. the pacing was a little off. i felt like a lot of the time i was like. ok can we get to the point now. they mentioned the anagram thing So Many Times. and probability of trap. like ok girl we get it!!!! but. im very excited about sutekh!! he seems like a fun villain and very high stakes. and im so intruiged and compelled by rubys story. i Need to know who she is and who her mum is so so bad.

ANYWAY SORRY FOR RAMBLING BUT. YOU ASKED LMAO. AUTISM MOMENT

THANK YOU SO SO MUCH FOR ASKING BTW ILY!!!!

#doctor who #mikes thoughts #doctor who spoilers #fifteenth doctor #15th doctor #doctor who series 14 #friends!

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statelysapphic · 11 months ago

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Doctor Blake

Alex Blake x Reader

Summary: When Alex hears you've come down with the flu, she takes it upon herself to nurse you back to health. Covers the Cold & Flu Season square for @storiesofsvu's Holiday Bingo 2023!

Warnings: Mild descriptions of illness, mostly flu symptoms. Fluff.

A/N: Hi babes! I know I said I had four different holiday fics for yinz, but life has been much busier than expected. I'm hoping to finish up another soon for ya. Anyway, here's some Alex Blake fluff. Thanks for reading! <3

Ao3 Link

You felt like shit. Laid on your couch, under a mountain of blankets, yet you still felt like ice. Your muscles ached like no other, and your chest hurt from the near-constant coughing. Your throat was on fire, your head was pounding, and your mind was foggy. You really weren’t sure what time it was, or even what day it was, just that everything hurt. You knew you were dozing off now and again, but soon, you were unable to distinguish between what was real and what was a dream. (Undoubtedly caused by the fever)

Alex was immediately concerned when she heard you had come down with the flu. Doctor's offices and hospitals were inundated with patients, though she knew you wouldn’t be one of them. You were too damn stubborn to ask for help on a good day, and you definitely wouldn’t be asking for help while you were sick. She made the executive decision to take care of you, whether you liked it or not. You had given her an extra key to your place, after all. (In case of emergencies, of course.)

The older woman had spent her entire morning perfecting your favorite recipe. One she jumped through hoops to get, but she would do anything for you.

When she stepped foot into your apartment, the first thing she noticed was your soft snores from the couch. Lightly padding through the living room, Alex was met with the sight of you burrioted in at least three blankets, only your pale face showing. Cough drops, medicines, and an empty tissue box were littered across the coffee table, clear signs you were not well. Your current state only reaffirmed her decision to take care of you. She moved into the kitchen and started to unpack the dinner ingredients.

You woke up coughing and confused but feeling slightly better than you had been. As you were trying to make sense of your current situation, you heard your refrigerator door close. You knew you should have felt some sort of panic, but you didn’t. You listened closely for another moment before hearing the kitchen sink turn on. Confused, you shuffled through your living room into the kitchen.

“Alex?” You asked, rubbing your eyes, “What are you doing here?”

“It’s been a few days since anyone has heard from you and I know you don’t always take the best care of yourself, so I figured I would stop by and check in on you.”

“You shouldn’t be here,” you croaked out, “I don’t want to get you sick. I’ll be okay, don’t worry about me. I’ll be back in the office by tomorrow, no doubt.”

“Sweetheart,” she started, calmly, “What day of the week is it?”

“Thursday,” you said confidently, though you really didn’t know.

“It’s Saturday.”

“No way.” She laughed at your skepticism.

“Yes, way.” You stood in place, eyes squinting, confused by the passage of time. “See, this is why you need me. Now, take this and go lay down on the couch. I’m going to get dinner started.” She handed you a glass of water and some Tylenol.

“Dinner?”

“Yes, dinner, now please go lay down.” She pressed a kiss into your burning forehead before gently pushing you towards the living room. Doing as you were told, you laid back down on the couch.

Alex, however, got to work in your kitchen. She had spent the morning in her kitchen, following your grandmother’s pierogi recipe. She figured making the dumplings would be a messy process and she didn’t want to make a mess of yours. Alex filled a pot with water, putting it on high heat. Once at a boil, she cut the temperature back until the water gently simmered. She cooked the pierogi for a few minutes, just until they floated to the top of the pot. Melting butter in a pan, she sauteed some onion and fried the pierogi until they were golden brown. She remembered to serve them with a helping of sour cream and chopped chives.

You were stunned when she set the plate on the coffee table in front of you. You were even more stunned when she began cutting the pierogi into smaller, bite-size pieces and began to feed you. When the first bite hit your tastebuds, you could tell the dumplings were homemade, and that you’ve had them before. It was your comfort food after all.

“‘Lex?” you croaked.

“Yes, sweetheart?” She replied.

“Are these my babcia’s pierogi?”

“Indeed,” she answered softly, scooping another bite into your mouth.

“How did you-” you pause, losing your train of thought.

“Get the recipe?” You nodded, “I may or may not have gone into your file looking for your emergency contact information so that I could call your parents to get it from them.” You stared at her for a few moments, a confused look on your face, so she continued. “You once said that there wasn’t anything a plate of your grandmother’s pierogi couldn’t fix. I just figured you could use a good comfort meal.” She smiled, pushing the fork towards you again. You were unsure how she could go through all of the trouble and be so blase about it.

“This is too much, Alex,” you squeaked, “You really didn’t have to do all of this for me.”

“I take care of my friends.” Again, blase, and a bit dismissive. She didn’t want it to be a big deal, because, to Alex, it wasn’t. She’d give you the moon and the stars if she could.

“Do you do this for all of your friends?” You asked. She hesitated to answer.

“No,” she sighed.

“Can I ask why you did this for me?” Your brain told you it was probably her motherly instincts, but you wanted to know her reasoning. Alex stared at the dinner plate; You could tell she was fighting an internal battle, unsure of what she should say next. Alex met your gaze, her eyes shone with unshed tears. Concerned, you sat forward and rested a hand on hers. Her eyes darted left to right, looking into yours. Then, briefly, her gaze drops to your lips, and right back to your eyes. It clicked.

You had assumed your chances of landing a date with Alex Blake were low, even though you two were the closest on the team. The two of you worked like a well-oiled machine, often working better together than apart. You spent so much time together in the office and in the field, that being alone was, well, lonely. More so than before you had met. Days in the office turned into evenings at one of your homes, simply enjoying each other's company.

You noticed the signs quickly though. Whenever you laugh, you look her way, hoping to see her smile too. You sought her out in every room, and when you found her, you couldn’t keep your eyes off of her. You learned to hide it quickly though, she was a profiler, after all. And though you were too, Alex hid her feelings better. She was also in denial. She didn’t ever think someone ten years her junior would show any romantic interest in her, let alone a woman. The doubt bubbled within her, and the fortress she built around her feelings for you started to crumble. Tears she had been fighting rolled down her cheeks. “‘Lex,” you whispered, “It’s okay. I’m falling in love with you too.” You were shocked you admitted your feelings so easily, and for a moment you panicked. But Alex simply relaxed and a soft smile formed on her face, which calmed your nerves instantly.

“I was hoping you’d say that.”

Alex fed you the rest of your pierogi and finished hers as well. You knew with Alex taking care of you that you would be feeling better in no time. She stuck around until Monday morning when she insisted you take the day off to recuperate, even though you felt significantly better.

“Fine,” you sighed, defeated, “I’ll take another day, but only if you let me cook for you later this week. If we don’t have a case, that is.” You found yourself lost in her eyes for a moment, just as she stared into yours. Soft hands cupped your cheeks as she swept some hair out of your face.

“I think I would enjoy that.” Alex smiled before kissing your forehead. “Now, get some rest, will you? And drink more water.”

“Yes, Doctor Blake,” you replied. As Alex left for work, and the door shut with a click, you whispered, “I love you.”

As Alex shut the door behind her, making sure the lock clicked into place, she whispered, “I love you.”

#alex blake x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #alex blake fanfiction #storiesofsvuholidaybingo2023 #wlwfic #wlw fanfic

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rose-pearls · 1 year ago

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That's the kind of heartbreak time could never mend - Final Part

Previous Part

Everything is dark, memories appearing before disappearing and you can only float between them.

“It’s done. Snow is going to be executed. We won.”, you hear someone whisper, the voice resonating in the dark.

“We won and yet it feels like we lost, because you aren’t there.”, the voice sounds pained, and you can’t help but want to reassure the person talking.

“Coin is holding a meeting with all the victors, she doesn’t want to wait for you to wake up no matter what we tell her.”, there is a long silence after that before a loud shuddering sigh can be heard.

“I don’t – I don’t know if I can do this, starting everything new when you aren’t by my side. I thought we needed a break, but it was the dumbest thing I could have told you.”, the voice breaks slightly, and you feel pained at the words.

“I don’t think you ever understood the effect you had on me; you make me a better man. My heart aches for you when you aren’t there and I just wanted to protect you from everything, but I couldn’t.”, a second voice says the person’s name and you hear some rustling before the voice comes again.

“Please come back to me.”, it’s whispered so softly you aren’t sure you have heard it but just as you try to figure out what you heard the voice leaves, and you are back in the dark.

“She wants to do a Hunger Games with the children of the Capitol. Says it’s to do a final game but I don’t believe her. I understand what you meant when you said you didn’t trust her.”, it’s a different voice this time but still a male one.

“Snow’s execution is today, I wish you could be there to see it.”, the voice says softly, and you try to think of who Snow is, when memories flash before your eyes.

“I have to go, apparently it takes three hours to get ready for an execution. Or so Effie says. Don’t worry I’ll be back to see how you are doing after. We are both stuck here until the doctor tells us we can go, or in your case wake up.”, the voice seems hesitant before the voice from yesterday appears.

“Peeta, they are asking for you.”, the two whisper and you try to listen but ultimately fail as one of them leaves.

“I guess Peeta gave you the update. I voted no, of course.”, the voice whispers.

“I should get ready, but I wanted to talk to you first. The doctor said it would help to tell a story, that you can maybe hear it. Here goes nothing.”, the voice seems hesitant but after a moment he starts talking.

“During your first year as a mentor, you were scared out of your mind. You were the new Capitol’s favorite and was paraded around, everyone thought you had it together, even me. One day I went to the training center and there you were, sitting in front of some sort of punching bag. At first I thought you were training, and you were just exhausted but then your shoulders were shaking. The first thing I did was come to you and take you into my arms, you didn’t even flinch when I took you into my arms, you just wrapped your arms around me like you had done it a million times before.”, the voice wavers for a moment and you try to listen more, afraid of missing something.

“We had already talked during your tour but that night we stayed there all night long talking about whatever came to mind. Effie came to get you into the early hours of the morning, completely hysteric. You left with a soft smile and told me that you had enjoyed the time together and at that moment I never felt safer. Everyone tells you about butterflies in the stomach but when I was with you it was like, I had known you my whole life, like a puzzle piece fitting perfectly. I fell in love with you at that moment and never stopped.,” you can’t hear the voice anymore, not because he doesn’t talk anymore but because memories come back, slowly putting themselves together like a puzzle.

“Thank you.”, Finnick turns around to see you, looking at him with a small awkward smile.

“What for?”, he can’t help but ask, feeling nervous for the first time, not knowing what to do.

“For yesterday.”, you sit down next to him and Finnick smiles at you softly.

“Anytime, we help each other between victors.”, you nod slowly before looking at him shily.

“It felt good to have someone to talk to that didn’t treat me like a broken bird, so thank you for treating me like a normal human being.”, he can’t help but feel breathless at her words, her eyes full of honesty.

“Well, you aren’t a broken bird, quite the opposite I think, more of a lioness.”, she laughs in response and Finnick can’t help but smile.

“So, tell me what your favorite thing from your victory tour was?”, he asks her dramatically, hoping to change her mind and she lets out a dramatic sigh before thinking.

“I would have to say district four, it’s so beautiful and the food is incredible. The crab cakes!”, she exclaims and Finnick can’t help but laugh at her dreamy eyes at the thought of them.

“Well then you are in luck, I know how to make them.”, she looks at him with wide, hopeful eyes and Finnick smiles in answer.

“You better not be lying to me Odair!”, Finnick laughs in answer and shakes his head in answer, but she looks at him dubiously, a small smile on her lips.

“I promise I’m not! Come by the apartment tonight and we’ll make them.”, he doesn’t even think before offering her to come and he hopes that it doesn’t scare her away but after a moment a blush appears, and she nods slowly.

“It’s a plan.”, she says shily and Finnick can’t help but smile at her before Johanna tells them to join them.

The crab cakes are more difficult than she thought they would be, but Finnick takes his time to teach her how to make them.

“You know I thought it would be easier.”, she mumbles under her breath and Finnick laughs before coming behind her as she pouts.

“Here, let me help.”, she doesn’t have time to wonder what he means before she feels his large hands on hers and his back against hers. She feels his breath against her neck as he whispers how she should do it.

“And there you go, a crab cake.”, she shakes herself out of the daze she is in and looks at the crab cake in her hand, looking perfect.

“I did it! Well, we did it!”, she says, smiling brightly and turning her head around and coming face to face with Finnick.

His sea green eyes are looking into hers and she can’t stop looking into them, she can smell his cologne and he is so close that she can see all of his whimpers.

“You are so beautiful.”, he whispers under his breath, and she can’t stop the blush from appearing on her cheeks.

“Only beautiful?”, she teases him slightly, feeling breathless.

“So much more then that.”, he whispers before his eyes look down at her lips and look back up into her eyes, asking her permission. She manages to nod slowly before feeling Finnick’s soft lips against hers.

His hands leave hers to bring her closer by the waist and she lets go of the crab cake to wrap her arms against his neck and bring him closer. The kiss probably lasts a few seconds, but it feels like hours, feeling his soft touch against her skin and his heartbeat against her body.

The two of you look at each other slightly breathless as Finnick smiles at you lovingly.

“I think I put crab cake in your hair.”, you whisper shily and Finnick let’s out a laugh.

“Why don’t I go take a shower and you finish the crab cakes? Then we can continue this.”, there is a small suggestive smile, and you peck his lips softly before whispering that you will see him after his shower.

“Welcome back.”, the voice of May Everdeen tells you as you open your eyes, the memories still turning in your memory. She is smiling at you softly and you look at her with a sleepy smile.

“So, May, what did I miss?”, you ask her slowly and she lets out a wet laugh.

“A lot but I’m glad you are back with us.”, you nod in answer, and she looks at you determined.

“I do think there is something you need to do if you feel up to it?”, the somber expression that appears on her face tells you that this is nothing good, so you nod quickly.

“Anything, I just need some painkillers and I’ll be right there.”, May nods quickly before giving you the pain killers and leaving the room.

“Oh, my sweetheart!”, a loud voice yells and you turn just in time to see Effie coming in.

“Hi Effie.”, she stops for a moment, and you look at her with a small smile.

“Long time no see, huh.”, she freezes for a moment before letting out what sounds like a wet chuckle and taking you into her arms.

“Thank god you are back. I missed you.”, she tells you before bringing you into her arms and holding you tight.

“Now, we need to get you ready. So that we can shock everyone.”, she says while wiping away her tears and you nod seriously. She brings out a dark cloak and tells you to put on the rest of the outfit before applying a little bit of make-up.

May wishes you good luck and after that Effie and you leave towards the place of the execution, she fills you up on everything that has happened while walking there. A guard stops you, but Effie looks him up and down before looking at him unimpressed.

“Do you know who she is? She is with the rest of the victors.”, the man looks unsure for a moment before you smile at him awkwardly and he lets you get in.

There are people filling up the stands, people are everywhere, trying to find a place and in the distance, you see the rest of the victors except for Katniss.

“Katniss will be there in a moment, so we are just in time to get you into position.”, you look around to see Coin upstairs, she looks down just in time to see you and she seems in shock to see you. You smirk at her, hoping that seeing you gives her hell.

Effie brings you closer to the others and before you can properly arrive Johanna turns around.

“Holy shit.”, she yells, and you can’t help but laugh un response as she looks at you gob smacked.

The rest turns around to see what is happening and Finnick looks in shock for a moment before you arrive in front of him.

“Hi, Fin.”, you whisper softly, and he looks at you, blinking his eyes multiple times like he is making sure you are actually there.

“It’s really you? It’s not a dream, right?”, his voice breaks at the words and you feel your heart break, you take his hand in yours and squeeze it softly.

“It’s me, and I’m real. Back from the place I was, my mind back too.”, you tell him and Finnick takes a step back at the words in shock, but he holds onto your hand.

“Everything?”, he asks unsure, and you smile reassuringly.

“Everything. From the talk on the beach to our talk in the training room to the crab cakes.”, you tell him and Finnick lets out a sigh of relief before bringing you into a crushing hug. A sob leaves his lips, and you hold him as tight as you are able to.

“I’m sorry you had to go through this, but I’m here know.”, he lets out a chuckle at the words before letting go of you and looking at you with wide eyes.

“It’s really you.”, he whispers before cupping your cheeks and looking into your eyes.

“It’s me.”, you whisper back and Finnick lets out a soft sigh before bringing your forehead against his.

“Thank god.”, you chuckle at the words before cupping his cheek softly and looking into his sea green eyes. Finnick smiles lovingly and you return the smile before bringing him into a short kiss.

“Not that I’m not glad to see the two of you reuniting but the show is about to start.”, Johanna says, but a grin is on her lips as she looks at the two of you and you smile back at her.

Haymitch and Peeta quickly take you into a hug and promise to talk after the ceremony and you have just the time to get into place as Katniss arrives.

She looks surprised to see you, but you only nod in response. You knew that she was going to make the right choice and as she shoots Coin dead you can’t help but smirk. Peeta manages to get to her before she takes some sort of pill and Finnick pushes you to the side to avoid the group of angry people going towards Snow.

“Well, there is going to be a trial for the girl.”, Haymitch says, and everyone scoffs around the room in response.

“I don’t see why, Coin was crazy, and she definitely had it coming.”, Johanna says, and you hum in agreement.

“I think we all agree but it’s part of the new system so I’m staying here until we know what is going to happen. But the rest of you are free to go, we finally did it.”, Haymitch says it while looking at all of us, his eyes a bit misty and you can’t help but smile in response.

“Don’t get emotional on us know Haymitch.”, you can’t help but tease him and everyone chuckles, but everyone looks emotional as they look around the table.

“I’m going back to seven.”, Johanna says after a moment, and you look at her with a reassuring smile.

“If you ever tell anyone I just told you this I will kill you, but I’ll miss you idiots. You were kind off my family for the last years.”, the group chuckles at her words and her eyes turn misty and you take her hand in yours.

“Don’t worry you’re not getting rid of us so easily.”, you tell her, and she chuckles in response.

“We’ll try to get together sometimes.”, Beetee says and you all nod in response, looking at each other with smiles.

Everyone starts saying where they are going until it comes to you and you feel Finnick slightly tense up next to you, not knowing what you were going to say.

“I guess that we are going back to four?”, you turn to ask Finnick, and he looks at you surprised for a moment before a large smile appears.

“Yeah, I guess we are.”, he says, not looking away from you.

“Well, I already know when we will all see each other again, at their wedding.”, everyone starts to laugh and Haymitch scolds Johanna, but she just shrugs her shoulders while Finnick and you blush bright red.

“Mags, sweetheart slowly.”, you try to tell your two years old, but she has a mind of her own just like her father and runs towards the ocean.

“Dad!”, she yells as she sees her father setting up the picknick.

“There is my little princess.”, he says before taking her into his arms and tickling her making her laugh loudly.

“And there is the most beautiful woman in the world.”, he says with a loving smile, and you can’t help but smile in response.

“Only beautiful.”, Finnick smiles brightly at your question.

“So much more than that.”, he whispers teasingly before bringing you in a loving kiss.

“Be careful mister Odair, it’s with those types of kisses that this one came.”, you tell him teasingly as you watch your daughter happily running round in the sand.

“You don’t hear me complaining.”, he says cheekily, and you laugh softly.

“Well, you will have to wait until this one gets born.”, you say and Finnick looks at you surprised before looking down at your stomach.

“Wait – you are?”, you nod quickly and Finnick smiles brightly before taking you into his arms and spinning you around making you shriek and laugh.

“Put me down!”, Finnick laughs in answer before setting you back on the sand and smiling brightly at you.

“I’m so happy.”, he whispers against your lips before bringing you into a heated kiss.

“Dad! Mum! Look!”, the sun starts setting and your daughter quickly drags you to see it closer. And as Finnick brings you closer to him, your daughter between the two of you, you can’t help but think it worked out better then you ever thought it would.

Well this is it! Thank you for all the support and hopefully you liked the story!!

Taglist: @nobody7102, @universal-s1ut, @wannapizzamymindposts, @ladyfiction, @readingb, @capswife, @bela-nov, @zendayabelova, @iwanttoleavekudos, @afraidofshrimp, @simpinformunson, @callsign-haze, @agent-grey-fics, @wolfiealina, @slytherpuffh0e, @certifiedsimp14, @sherlockstrangewolf, @dreaminglandsworld, @purple7theparty, @avoxrising

#hunger games fanfiction #the hunger games #finnick odair fanfic #finnick odair #hunger games finnick #finnick imagine #thg finnick #finnick x reader #finnick x y/n #hunger games x reader

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