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osarina · 3 months ago

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ᡣ𐭩 IF I WAS BORN A BLACKTHORN TREE

FEATURING: dazai osamu

SUMMARY: it's finally the night of the event you've been preparing so ardently for. it's going as well as it can be considering the circumstances—or it is until dazai osamu shows up and throws you off your game. suddenly confused and concerned, you can't help but wonder if maybe things aren't what they seemed with the civilian you've grown so attached to.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: PART THREEEEEEEEE!!! hehehe we finally have some major plot development here <.< i was rlly excited for this chapter it was one of the ones i was looking forward to most when plotting the series. anyway, tae some more of reader being THE it girl ever - actually i was rlly excited for this because i havent really had the chance to showcase pmreader in her element the canon universe so i had fun with it here

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: lots of politics, dazai has the beginning of a panic attack, jealousy on both ends

SEE: WASTELAND, BABY! SERIES MASTERLIST

“Are you sure you don’t want me to come with you?” Chuuya asks, leaning over the center console to look at you, watching as you dab on lipstick in the mirror.

In the driver’s seat, Albatross snorts, and he sees how you hardly refrain from rolling your eyes—Chuuya has half a mind to use his ability to rattle the car while you’re finishing up your makeup just to piss you off, but he has a feeling that you’ll lose your shit if he does that. You’re about to head into the event being hosted by the government for that agency in Tokyo, and Chuuya is just not feeling good about it. He’s felt this way since you were finishing up preparations at the headquarters an hour ago, forcing his way into the car with you and Albatross before you left.

“Chuuya, your face has been plastered all over Japan’s most wanted for three years. How do you propose you walk in with me without confirming that the Mori Corp. is a front for the Port Mafia?” you sigh heavily.

Chuuya bristles. “I just don’t have the best feeling,” he says defensively. “Forgive me for being worried. Damn.”

Chuuya settles back against the middle seat in the back row, letting out a sharp puff of air and pointedly turning his head away. He stares ahead, mind racing—it’s barely been a week since the operation against the Ingawa-kai. His body is still sore, and he should probably still be on bed rest, but he wasn’t going to laze around his apartment while you’re out here still healing from having your stomach sliced open.

By him.

Well, you won’t say what caused the almost lethal injury, but Chuuya knows it was from when he was in his Corrupted state. Whether it was by accident or because Arahabaki targeted you when you approached him, it doesn’t matter—the guilt he feels remains the same.

“It’s just a government event, Chuuya,” you say, looking back at him. “I’ve been to hundreds of them, relax.”

Yeah, but never so soon after a major operation against a Yakuza syndicate. Tokyo is Shimazaki-kai territory—they’ve always worked closely with the Inagawa-kai, and he doubts they’ll take kindly to Port Mafia presence in their heartland after they just annihilated one of the branches of their biggest ally.

“Just be careful,” Chuuya says quietly when he sees you’re about to step out of the car. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

“I’m not Albatross,” you say dryly.

“The fuck did I do?” Albatross demands once the abrupt and uncalled-for insult registers, head snapping to the side to look at you.

You only give him a sharp smile and wag your fingers in a mocking wave before stepping out of the car and making your way to the steps of the city hall. Chuuya only feels slightly relieved at the sight of Kiyomasa Daichi of the Sun and Steel immediately making his way over to you to escort you into the building.

As soon as you’re out of sight, Chuuya is gnawing at his bottom lip, grateful that his gloves are preventing his nails from drawing blood from his palms. You’re right��you’ve done this hundreds of times before, attending these types of events since you were fifteen with Lippmann chaperoning, taking over them alone when you were sixteen just because of how impressed Lippmann was with how easily you were able to navigate the intricacies of political webs and veiled conversation.

So, why is that nagging feeling still-

“Yo, what the fuck?” Albatross suddenly says, straightening up in his seat, eyes pinned on a figure making their way into the city hall.

Alarmed, Chuuya follows his gaze quickly, eyes widening when he registers what Albatross is seeing. “Isn’t that…?”

Dazai Osamu.

That civilian you’d been seeing for a few weeks. You cut him off a few days ago, Chuuya doubted it at first when you said you’d done it, but then he’d seen how much withdrawn you’d become the past few days. How you bought yourself a new phone with a new number. Chuuya feels guilty over that, too. He can see the way it’s tolled on you—you’ve been uncharacteristically quiet during meetings, constantly glancing down at your phone as if expecting messages from him—but Chuuya would also prefer this than to make you go through the same devastation he felt years ago that still weighs to this day.

“Yeah,” Albatross says, jaw tight. “The fuck is he doing here? It’s going to throw her off—there’s no way she knew this. What do we do?”

“We can’t do anything,” Chuuya says, pulling out his phone to warn you that your civilian is evidently attending this event even though he knows damn well you don’t check your phone while on missions like this. “Fuck. The Shimazaki-kai are attending this event. The Boss is still trying to settle things with them after our conflict with the Inagawa-kai—it’s not going well.”

“Yeah,” Albatross scoffs. “Apparently, the oyabun’s daughter was married to one of the Inagawa-kai’s shatei. We’re probably gonna end up at war with them too—heard that they took in most of the Inagawa-kai’s refugees from our operation.”

Shit.

That Chuuya didn’t know. Family is everything to the Yakuza syndicates—if the head of the Shimazaki-kai married off his daughter to one of the sons of the head of the Inagawa-kai… they’re a lot more tightly aligned than Chuuya initially thought. Attack on one is attack on all, or however that saying goes. Even if they don’t know that you’re the one that ordered the operation, they know you’re an executive of the Port Mafia, and that would be enough…

“They’ll be watching her like a fucking hawk,” Chuuya says, his throat swollen. “If they’re smart…”

If they’re smart, they’ll take you out now.

“I should go in,” Chuuya says, fingers curling around the handle of the door.

“Don’t,” Albatross tells him, giving Chuuya a short look. “If you blow her cover in there, it’ll fuck the Mafia over completely. We can’t lose our foothold in the Diet. Not with this bill about to pass through.”

Chuuya takes in a short, shaky breath, pulling off his hat and running his fingers through his hair. “If they see her with him-”

God, he can’t even finish the sentence, looking down to see his hands covered in familiar blood, a cold body in his arms. He-

“Chuuya,” Albatross says, twisting around to face him, reaching back to grab Chuuya’s hair and force him to look up and away from his bloodied hands. “She’s smart, she’ll be fine. She won’t seek him out.”

“And what if he goes up to her?” Chuuya hisses.

Albatross looks away grimly. “… Let’s just hope he doesn’t.”

Dazai feels distinctly out of place as he makes small talk with two House Representatives. He plays his part well, that’s for sure—he can feel Hinami hanging off his arm, watching him with wide eyes, stammering over words whenever she’s addressed by either of the politicians—but he feels like he looks like a fraud. Like everyone can tell that he’s just talking out of his ass and hoping for the best. Like everyone knows that he doesn’t belong.

He knows that he’s only in his own head about it. The two Representatives he’s talking to treat him like he’s one of their own and not a college student who doesn’t know jack shit about what he’s talking about. He supposes he has you to thank for that—knowing what to look for, it’s easy to pick out who belongs and who doesn’t, and because of that, it’s easy for him to figure out how to belong. Ayato sticks out like a sore thumb from where he’s trying a little too hard to talk to one of the Councillors, Dazai thinks Hinami would be too if she wasn’t attached to him.

He misses you. It’s only been a few days, but he misses you badly. His lips tingle from where you’d kissed him that night, and he can still feel the weight of your body on his. He misses you, and this event just makes him think even more of you. All of these people, this whole event, it all reminds him of you and Dazai can’t help but wonder if he’d feel more comfortable here with you at his side.

“I have to ask, Dazai-san,” one of the representatives—Hayashi, if Dazai remembers correctly—suddenly asks, drawing him from his thoughts. “Where did you get your suit? The tailor that works at the warehouse I usually get mine ended up quitting recently, and I’m looking for a new one.”

“Kido’s boutique in Nishi-ku,” Dazai tells him, a bit surprised when he watches the man’s eyes widen a bit in astonishment. “You know about it?”

“Who doesn’t? How did you manage to get a fitting with him?” the other man—Sato?—sighs, envy edging into his tone. “Kido-san is so selective with his clients. He turned me away when I went in for a fitting.”

Oh, Dazai thinks, surprised. He figured that Kido’s boutique was high-class, but the fact that even people like Hayashi and Sato, who were very clearly well off with notably important positions in society as two of the more vocal members of the House of Representatives, couldn’t even get a fitting with the man leaves Dazai a bit put off.

“My brother-in-law got a fitting with him a few months ago for his son’s wedding,” Hayashi says, looking more at Sato now as he speaks. “He’s on the board of the Age of Blue Company and even he had to pull strings to get the appointment. Cost him nearly a million yen.”

Dazai has to physically force himself not to blanch at his words. Nearly a million yen—that’s more than what Dazai made in two months back when he was working full time and for a suit that he’s probably going to wear once.

Ridiculous.

Dazai hates rich people.

He can feel Hinami’s eyes on him, the way her arm tightens around his. Dazai wishes it was you on his arm instead. Or maybe him on yours, he’s not picky. He doesn’t even know why she’s attached herself like this to him—they’d make more progress splitting up. They’re seriously limiting their scope by only having two opportunities to talk to people but Hinami has been intent on staying at Dazai’s side no matter how much he urges her to go off and talk to people on her own.

Observe. Small talk. Gather information.

Not hard, not really. Dazai is good at putting on masks and blending in with people, and you certainly made it easier by making him look the part, but it doesn’t change the discomfort he feels, the lingering fear that people can see right through him. He likes to play the role of the clown because it distracts people from looking too deep, but that’s not an option in a setting like this, and he thinks people are still seeing him as a clown but for all of the wrong reasons: he’s dressed up in clothes that feel more like a costume than an outfit, he’s talking about subjects that go over his head even after he’s studied them in preparation for this, his face is stretched into a smile that feels foreign on his face.

He hasn’t made much progress with gathering any useful information. Either he’s prodding at the wrong people, or they’re being extra careful not to let anything slip—could be both. Professor Ui gave them an overview of the important figures that are going to be in attendance and the ultimate goal would be to eventually talk with the majority leader in the House of Representatives and the minority leader in the House of Councillors. They were warned to keep a wide berth from Kiyomasa Daichi, an executive of the Age of Blue Company’s board—evidently the Ivory Eagle’s biggest target for this event. So Dazai supposes he’s among the right people right now, at least, because Hayashi just mentioned that his brother-in-law is on the board of the company.

The right people. Unless they find out what Dazai is here for and then-

“Tendo-kun,” an unfamiliar female voice calls from behind the two men he’s making conversation with. “I was hoping you’d be here.”

Hayashi immediately cuts off his conversation with Sato, whirling around with a wide smile to face a pretty young woman with dark hair and darker eyes, red lips curled into a too-sweet smile as she comes to stand between the two of them, giving both Dazai and Hinami a curious look.

“Noriko-san, I didn’t think you’d be here tonight. I thought your father was only sending Kiyomasa to rep the company,” Hayashi says easily, hooking his arm into the woman’s and looking down at her, enamored.

Kiyomasa. Dazai has to force himself not to react to the name. Hinami is not quite as subtle, drawing in a sharp breath that makes Dazai nearly wince because the woman, Noriko, clearly catches it from how she tilts her head to the side, looking over the two of them.

Your father was only sending Kiyomasa…

Her father must be Mishima Yukio, the CEO of the Age of Blue, and that means-

Mafia.

Exactly what they were meant to avoid right in front of them and Hinami is not being slick. Dazai can feel her fingers trembling from where she’s holding his arm.

“You know I only come to these events for one person,” Noriko laughs airly, leaning into Hayashi as she looks up at him before turning her attention back to Dazai and Hinami. “Who are your friends? Unfamiliar faces…”

Luckily, Hayashi is more focused on the first thing Noriko said. “No way,” he says, eyes bright and voice low and conspiratory. “She’s here. I thought for sure she wouldn’t show at this after everything that happened between this agency and the Mori Corporation a few months ago.”

“I think that’s exactly why she did come,” Noriko hums with an easy smile, lashes fluttering as she looks back at Dazai. “Mishima Noriko. And you are?”

Dazai doesn’t even get the chance to respond—which is for the best—because in an instant, there’s a commotion on the other side of the room, drawing the attention of all of the attendees of the gala. Noriko, Hayashi, and Sato all turn around, and Dazai takes a slight step forward to peer around them, trying to see what’s going on.

It doesn’t take long for Dazai to pinpoint it, mouth drying and heart stilling in his chest as his eyes land on you at the center of all of the attention.

You walk away from your previous company feeling grim, sure this is what you came here for—to meet with the more influential individuals attending the event tonight and help ease them into an opinion more aligned with the Port Mafia’s interests—but your heart’s just not in it. It’s easy to keep the smile on your face as you make casual conversation with House Representative Yamamoto, one of the key swing votes you have to bring to your side, but it’s much harder to make the smile reach your eyes.

Kiyomasa claimed that most of the swing votes are already falling in your favor, so long as Yamamoto’s and a few other controlling ones can be secured, you’ll be on a quick path to ensuring that the military bill is quashed in the Lower House.

But you find yourself distracted. Your thoughts drift mid-conversation to a familiar pair of warm brown eyes and a soft smile, your heart yearns for something you know you can’t have, and it makes you feel sick. Luckily in situations like these, your body works on autopilot—you smile when you’re meant to smile, you laugh when you have to laugh, you make witty comments and sly remarks to push the swing votes your way—but you just want to go back to your apartment.

“I must say, I didn’t expect you to be here tonight,” Representative Yamamoto hums, waving down a server to grab the two of you flutes of champagne. He looks amused as he turns his attention back down to you, dark eyes glittering. He’s handsome, you think, with dark hair and darker eyes, only a few years older than you—maybe if you can’t convince him with your words, you’ll convince him in bed. “Not after everything that happened between the Mori Corporation and this… what is this agency called again?”

You laugh—genuinely this time, not one of those airy automatic ones. You take a sip of your champagne and look at Yamamoto. “Ah, Yamamoto-san, how terrible of you, not even knowing the name of the agency we’re all here to celebrate,” you tease lightly.

“Shame, shame, I know,” Yamamoto sighs, leaning against the pillar where the two of you are standing.

“The OCDA,” you tell him, looking up at him through your lashes as you study his face.

Organized Crime Defense Agency, Mishima is truly taking far too long to eliminate them. The Sun and Steel were supposed to put them in the ground months ago after they drew attention to the Mori Corporation, trying to accuse the business of being a front for the Port Mafia. You had to lay low on business for months because of it, knowing that one wrong move could lead to a huge exposé from one of the big journalism groups in Yokohama, and if that happens, the government will have no choice but to intervene. The OCDA didn’t have proof to back their allegations, but if one of those journalism groups managed to get their hands on some…

The Port Mafia isn’t exactly in the position to be dealing with wars against major Yakuza syndicates, the Guild, and the government all at once. It could spell the end for it.

“Ah, yes, that’s it,” Yamamoto says absently. “The Commissioner has been staring at you since you walked in.”

Of course. Five months ago, you dedicated every waking moment to ruining the reputation of the OCDA—you had to do it. If people started believing their accusations, even if there was no evidence, it could cause trouble for the Port Mafia. You’d tarnished their public perception so completely that it literally took until this operation against the Scarlet Gang and the government going above and beyond to commemorate their success for the public to start viewing them in a better light.

“I’m not surprised,” you tell him. “He still clearly holds a grudge over what happened a few months ago.”

“Unjustly, too,” Yamamoto notes. “They were the ones that chose to target the Mori Corporation with no grounds. I don’t know what they were thinking and to act like the victim after being the one to start it… Deplorable.”

Interesting, you think.

You look at Yamamoto under a new light, tilting your head to the side.

Is he just saying that because he knows it’s something you want to hear?

Or is that how he really feels?

The whole incident between the OCDA and the Mori Corporation has been a hot topic amongst the members of the National Diet. You’d feared that the allegations were going to severely harm your position amongst the Representatives and Councillors. To some extent, it had; a lot of the people who wanted the Mori Corporation to lose sway over the members of the Diet used it as a way to try to turn people against you—but you’d been able to salvage it. Still, even to this day, it’s a contentious topic that most politicians don’t willingly bring up.

Just as you’re about to open your lips to respond, pry a little bit more into his mindset before you say something riskier. You catch sight of an achingly familiar face from the corner of your eye.

What-

All conscious thought leaves your mind as you turn your head to the side, trying to figure out if you’re seeing what you think you’re seeing.

Dazai?

Your gaze settles on none other than the boy who has been plaguing your thoughts since you left his apartment a few days ago. He’s standing off to the other side of the room dressed in the suit that you bought him—you can hardly bring yourself to draw your gaze from him. He looks… stunning, actually, at ease in a way that you never would have expected him to be in this setting.

He’s talking to Hayashi, Sato and Noriko—three people that have close ties with the Port Mafia, much to your distress—the smile on his lips is easy and casual, body language relaxed. He looks right at home. A part of you itches to walk right over to him, but you know you shouldn’t. There are too many eyes on you at this event, enemies and allies alike. You don’t want to draw unwanted attention to Dazai, not when you’ve cut him off to protect him from this very sort of attention.

Your eyes linger on him as he laughs at something Hayashi says, breath catching in the back of your throat—and god, you know you’re being obvious. You need to force your attention back to Yamamoto and at least try to remember what you were talking about to play this off. But-

But then he looks at you.

Dazai’s eyes drift from Hayashi right to where you’re standing with Yamamoto as if he already knew you were standing there. He looks surprised, and you realize that he’s probably more surprised that you’re looking back at him, like he didn’t expect you to notice him.

How could you not notice him?

And as soon as his gaze meets yours, you know that’s all an act. You can see the way his eyes are a bit lost, lonely. You know he feels severely out of place and you long walk over there to him. All thoughts of keeping attention off of him out the window if it means he doesn’t look so uncomfortable—you yearn to see the bright look in his eyes that you’d become so accustomed to, feel his smile against your lips. You’d known it was a mistake to kiss him that night, that you’d already let yourself indulge too much, and taking that next step would just hurt you both but…

Just like now, all reasonable thought seems to be thrown out the window whenever he’s around.

You watch as something akin to hurt flashes through his eyes, and you withhold a wince as you remember all of the lies you told him—leaving the country, not having time to text him. You’d even gotten a new phone and a new number so you wouldn’t be tempted to read his messages. Fuck, why does he always show up at the most inopportune moments? This must’ve been why he’d asked you about the military bill. This was the event his journalism professor wanted him to attend. How did you not put this together sooner?

Then, his gaze hardens, and he looks away, shifting to the side as if to pointedly show off someone you hadn’t noticed before—a girl hanging off of his arm. Pretty. Big dark eyes and light brown hair, a soft expression. Pretty, you think again, sickeningly civilian, probably another student at the university he attends. Even being dolled up in a gown and makeup can’t hide that.

Perfect for him, then. Sickeningly civilian. Just like Dazai. They’d be good for each other—live out long, sickeningly civilian lives with each other. Go to cafes and talk about all of their sickeningly civilian classes, discuss all of the books and poems they read. It’s perfect, it’s what you want for him, it’s why you cut him off. So he’s not in danger by being associated with you, so you don’t drag him into the dark and get him killed.

So, where is the anger coming from?

Your jaw is so clenched that you can feel your teeth grinding together, knuckles tense around your flute of champagne. Your tongue feels itchy, your throat feels swollen, your chest is unbearably tight—you have to force yourself to remain rooted next to Yamamoto, and your body twitches to walk over there. You’re so lost for logic that you can’t even fumble for an excuse to explain the sudden bout of anger.

You try. You tell yourself that you’re angry because he shouldn’t be at an event like this. You tell yourself that you’re angry because his journalism professor should know better than to send college students to gather information at an event where several mafias are going to be in attendance. You tell yourself that you’re angry because he’s always coming around to fuck things up for you, that he shouldn’t have wormed his way into your life.

But it’s all flimsy and weak because the color flooding you right now isn’t red.

It’s green.

“I think you should go over there,” Yamamoto says, amused, nodding over to where you’re looking as he leans in closer to you. He keeps his voice down, luckily, but you can’t help the distress that sweeps through you when you realize that you are being that obvious.

“Allow me to pretend not to be so obvious, Yamamoto-san,” you sigh.

Yamamoto laughs, tossing you a wink. “I’m not that kind,” he says lightly. “I’ll send you an email later if we don’t get to talk again tonight. I’d like to discuss the more… minute details of the proposition you were offering.”

Your smile is a bit more genuine now as you turn your attention back to him.

“Of course,” you say easily. “A pleasure talking to you, as always.”

“And you,” Yamamoto replies. “Talking to you is always a highlight of these dreadfully boring galas.”

“You flatter me,” you laugh, waving off the compliment.

“Me? Never.” Yamamoto winks at you again, then leans in to murmur, “Best of luck.”

Yamamoto wanders off without another word, and your gaze drifts back over to Dazai and you find yourself actually contemplating it. You contemplate going over there and forcing that girl away, forcing him to spend the night at your side instead. You contemplate ruining everything by drawing all of the attention in the room onto him. You contemplate putting him in danger just to make this ugly green emotion go away.

You grab yourself another drink instead.

Dazai can hardly pay attention to the conversation at hand. No matter how much he tries to keep the conversation going between the two Representatives and Mishima and Noriko, he finds that his gaze keeps drifting back over to where you’re standing on the other side of the room.

You look beautiful. You always look beautiful, but there’s something… different tonight. You’re dressed in a sleek black dress rather than the expensive suits he’s become used to. It hangs off your shoulders, a slit up your thigh; there’s a pretty smile on your face and a playful glitter in your eyes as you entertain conversation with people. You’re always beautiful—whether you’re in one of your ridiculously expensive suits or an equally expensive dress—but there’s something different tonight that makes him unable to keep his attention off of you for long.

In your suits, it’s a polished type of beauty. Cold. Untouchable. There’s an air about you that few would dare try to disturb. He noticed it that first night when everyone at the bar gave you a wide berth. At the cafe, it was the same—your presence screams that you’re someone important and someone who should not be bothered. Even at the library, though his classmates clearly wanted to approach you and talk to you, they were all too intimidated to try. Everyone waited for you to leave before badgering Dazai with questions.

This is different. Just as refined but untouchable in a different way. Your smiles are sly and inviting, your body language smooth and languid; people gravitate toward you rather than avoid you, but none dare to draw too close. If intimidation was the factor in other situations, nerves are in this one—you’re warm and enticing but still too elusive for anyone to dare to try to capture. Dazai can see it in the way they watch you longingly, fingers itching to reach out toward you, but they freeze before they can, like you’re some otherworldly being that they think they shouldn’t taint with their touch.

And Dazai is so conflicted.

He yearns to go over to you. He wants to be the one to draw close to you, wants to see the expression on everyone else’s face when he’s the one that breaks through that invisible barrier, wants to slip his arm around your waist, hold you in the way that he knows other people are fantasizing about right now. He’s missed you the past few days; he can still feel the weight of your body on top of his, his lips tingling from where they’d been pressed against yours. If he closes his eyes long enough, he can almost imagine your fingers entwined with his hair, holding him close as your lips slide to his jaw.

But he’s angry. Or maybe he’s not angry, maybe he’s just hurt. Maybe both. Dazai can’t tell. He’s never been good at understanding his own emotions, he just knows that he doesn’t like it. Wants it to go away.

Wants you to explain.

Why did you lie? The thought makes his stomach churn so uncomfortably that it makes the alcohol he’s been drinking come up his throat. Why did you lie? Since he saw you before, he’s been on the brink of collapse. He wants to go back to his apartment and forget all about this shitty event and your betrayal, wants to curl up in his futon and sleep before the gaping hole in his chest starts to spread.

He should have known this would happen. Every time Dazai Osamu has ever come to want something, it’s always lost the moment he obtains it. This has been true since the moment he was born, but somehow it eluded him the weeks he spent pining after you, eluded him the night you spent at his apartment sharing kisses and gentle touches.

The cloud that’s been hanging over him since the night he met you at the bar, the one that you’ve successfully pushed away twice, is heavier than ever and Dazai wants to be rid of it. He’s so tired. Everything feels amplified now that he’s been given a taste of what he could have had with you, only to find you lied to be free of him just like so many others have. Ever since Odasaku died, he’s been alone and Dazai just doesn’t know how much more of it he can take. And he feels selfish, he feels selfish for wanting to go before he can fulfill his friend’s final request but he just can’t do it anymore.

It’s just too much for him, and Dazai isn’t going to finish this novel anyway. It doesn’t matter how many English classes he takes, doesn’t matter how much time he spends reading to teach himself how to write—Dazai will never be able to finish Odasaku’s book. How can he? A book focused on the human experience? Dazai is, unfortunately missing a key characteristic necessary to successfully write this novel.

Dazai has always struggled to understand the minds of people around him. He’s smart, and he can read people easily, but he’s never been able to understand them. It’s why he’s found himself an outcast time and time again: no matter how hard he tries, and he does try, he tries so hard, people can tell something is… off about him. His laughs are too loud and too hollow. His eyes are too black and too empty. His smiles are too wide and too fake.

When he was younger, kids were cruel about it—they would point it out and laugh at him, and when he tried harder to fit in with them, they would point that out too. He couldn’t win, no matter how hard he tried. Now that he’s older, people aren’t quite as blatant with it, but Dazai is far from stupid and he can see the looks people give him, can see the way they actively avoid him, the way they whisper.

Dazai’s gotten better at masking himself. It’s hard for people to tell at first glance now that something is off about him—his smiles have become smoother and less strained, and he’s taught himself to laugh light and airy. He can make do with small talk and acquaintances, even able to charm people into his bed, assuming they aren't put off when he keeps the bandages on.

The trouble comes when they stick around too long, when they start noticing the cracks in his mask; he can evade it at first, become loud and funny, take on the role of a clown so they can focus on that instead of the gaping void within him, threatening to consume anyone that dares to come near. But he can only play that role for so long before people realize something is up; whether his smile fades at the wrong moment or he talks a bit too long, something clues them into the fact that something is wrong with Dazai, and they inevitably disappear without a word, avoid him on the streets if they happen to run into him.

Or they lie to him and tell him that they’re going abroad for a while just to be rid of him.

Dazai is drawn out of his own thoughts when he realizes that all four pairs of eyes are on him—Hayashi, Sato, Noriko, and Hinami are all looking at him expectantly, and he realizes, anxiously, that one of them must have directly addressed him but he was so lost in thought that he hadn’t even been listening. He racks his brain for a response, desperately trying to figure out if he’d subconsciously picked up on the conversation, but the longer the silence draws on, the harder it becomes for him to push away the numbness spreading from his core to his limbs.

Before he can fumble out a non-response, an achingly familiar voice intrudes on the conversation.

“Hayashi-kun, Sato-kun, I’ve been meaning to speak with you two,” you say with an easy smile as you make your way over to the small group, and Dazai can hardly breathe at the sight of you so close, unwittingly rescuing him yet again. “Noriko-chan.”

Your smile is fonder as your gaze lands on Noriko and the cold and aloof woman suddenly looks starstruck by your presence, enamored. Dazai’s chest tightens as he looks between the two of you.

You ignore his presence completely.

“Hime,” Noriko breathes out. Dazai startles at the honorific—it was startling hearing Kido, and the attendants call you it at the boutique, but it’s even more jarring hearing it come from a woman that Professor Ui suspects of being a mafia heiress. “I heard you would be here. I convinced my father to let me come.”

“Just for me?” Your voice is light and teasing, you reach out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind Noriko’s ear, and Dazai’s blood pressure spikes. “You’re so sweet, Noriko-chan.”

“You didn’t come to Arima-kun’s wedding,” Noriko pouts in a way that’s so exaggerated that it nearly makes Dazai roll his eyes and gag. “I’ve missed you.”

“Ah,” you sigh. “I’m afraid I was busy. I heard it was fun. I regret not being able to be there.”

You notably don’t tell Noriko that you also missed her, and it makes Dazai’s lips quirk up in smug amusement.

No, he stops himself, reminding himself that he’s angry at you and he should not care about any of this. In fact, he should walk away. He should. But his feet betray him, they keep him rooted to the ground when you finally turn your gaze onto him.

“Who are your new friends?” you ask casually.

Dazai has to physically stop himself from flinching at your words, the way you pretend you don’t know him, just like so many people have before. His chest aches, his throat feels swollen, and he feels embarrassed—he doesn’t even know why he feels embarrassed, but he can feel heat spread across his cheeks at your words. For a second, Dazai swears he sees regret flash through your eyes, but it’s gone so quickly that he thinks he imagined it.

“Koda Hinami.” Next to Dazai, Hinami stumbles over her words, face pink as she bows her head in respect, “It’s, uh, a pleasure to meet you…”

You don’t even acknowledge Hinami, your gaze doesn’t budge from Dazai, and you don’t offer your name at Hinami’s unspoken request for it. Hinami lets out an embarrassed noise in the back of her throat as she looks away. Dazai has half a mind to stay silent, to ignore you in the same way you ignore Hinami, but he finds his lips moving before he can stop them.

“Dazai Osamu.” He’s grateful that his voice is steadier than how he feels, cool and short, unlike the rampage of emotions tearing through his chest.

You tilt your head to the side as you look over him. You reach out, pinching the material of his suit jacket between your fingers—as you do, your knuckles brush his bandaged skin, and Dazai has to physically withhold a shiver at the touch.

“One of Kido’s,” you note, and there’s a small smile on your lips as if you’re sharing an inside joke with him. “You must have friends in high places—he doesn’t often take appointments without referrals.”

You’re mocking him.

As if pretending he’s a stranger isn’t enough, you’re standing there mocking him too. Dazai doesn’t know if he wants to laugh or cry, everything feels all twisted inside of him—he wants to go home.

“Not a friend.”

The jab is cold and pointed. It goes over the head of the other four, but he watches the way your smile falters at it, and he savors it even if he does know it hardly stings you in comparison to the knives he feels being jabbed into his chest and back.

“Hm,” is all you say in response, gaze sliding away from him as if he’s no longer of any interest to you. You look back at Hayashi and give him a smile that makes Dazai want to throw up. “Dance with me?”

Hayashi rushes to take your extended hand, fumbling over a yes, and you don’t even bother to spare another look at Dazai as you lead Hayashi onto the floor, where a few couples are already swaying around. Dazai can’t even force himself to look away from you, eyes pinned on how Hayashi’s hands rest on your hips as you wrap your arms around his neck.

Maybe he’s a bit petty when he turns to Hinami and offers his hand to her. For a second, the girl looks as if she’s going to shake her head no, too nervous to go to the dancefloor, but then other couples start taking your cue, grabbing a partner to take to the dancefloor.

“I don’t know how to dance,” Hinami whispers, panicking. “I don’t-”

“You’ll be fine,” Dazai says. “Follow my lead.”

Dazai also doesn’t know how to dance, but he thinks it should be easy enough. He observes the few people already settled on the dancefloor, watching their steps and the way they sway to the slow beat and then matches their pace and hand placement.

“I don’t know how you’re so good at this,” Hinami says quietly as he leads her in the dance. Dazai hardly pays attention to her, gaze cutting through the growing crowd of couples to find you. “I feel so in over my head. I have no idea what I’m doing.”

“You’re doing fine,” Dazai tells her absently, stiffening when he finally spots you not too far from him in deep conversation with Hayashi. “I don’t know what I’m doing either.”

“I don’t know if I believe that,” Hinami sighs. Dazai’s eyes linger at how low Hayashi’s hands dip down on your hips, how your heads are bowed together as you sway, speaking quietly in one another’s ear. It makes him sick, he can feel his stomach turn inside of him, he can feel something ugly and green spreading through his chest. “You look like a natural. Like you’re meant to be here with these people. I can hardly speak to any of them without stumbling over my words. I mean, did you see how that woman ignored me? … So embarrassing…”

Dazai’s breath hitches when you lift your face up a bit, so close to Hayashi that your noses almost brush. He can’t see the expression on your face, but he can see that you’re making eye contact with him, and it looks so intimate that Dazai feels that void in his chest start to spread to his limbs, his fingers feel numb and clunky against Hinami’s waist, and he nearly stumbles over one of the steps in the dance.

You look like you belong with him. High-class. Smooth. Charming. Wealthy. Dazai’s known you were out of his league since the day he met you at the bar, but actually getting a visual of what you would look like with someone of the same class as you—the people you interact with on a daily basis—makes him feel sorely inadequate. Any of the people at this event would kill for just a few seconds of your time, all of them wealthier and more influential than him, way more worth your time than a broke college student who can hardly talk himself off the edge of a bridge.

Why would he have ever thought he had a chance with you? Why would you waste any time with him? Why wouldn’t you pretend not to know him? Dazai would be embarrassed to associate with himself too. He can hardly even stand to look at himself in the mirror.

He shouldn’t be as upset as he is. He should’ve expected this from day one. He doesn’t know why all of this hurts as much as it does.

Because it’s the first time he’s allowed himself to hope since Odasaku’s death.

The air getting to his lungs is thin and shallow. Dazai feels like he’s at the peak of a mountain where oxygen is few and far between. Hinami doesn’t seem to notice his distress from the way she’s still complaining about the event, but it’s hard for him to ground himself to the present.

He’d allowed himself to hope.

The way you had immediately noticed his discomfort with the bandages and moved to try to make him more comfortable—no one has ever done anything like that for him, not since Odasaku died.

The way you came to him when you were hurt.

The way you helped him around his apartment and didn’t question the filth and mess, buying him food, replacing what he’d broken in his depressive episode.

The way you looked at him.

The way you touched him.

The way you kissed him.

He’d allowed himself to hope that maybe someone would accept him for who he is instead of running as soon as they see beneath the mask.

He had let himself hope. A fatal mistake. Always has been. Dazai should have known better.

Dazai needs to get out of here. He can hardly feel his fingers anymore, can feel the numbness spreading to his legs. His vision is blurring, his lungs are burning. He needs to go back home so he can let the black hole consume him in peace. He needs to be alone. He needs to-

Dazai doesn’t even notice the music tempo changing, nor the way people are swapping partners until he and Hinami are separated and drawn into a new dance. Dazai’s breath catches, caught off guard and still trying to ground himself.

“Why are you here?”

Your voice meets his ears, quiet so as to not be heard above the music, you forcibly guide his body to move in step with yours. He stares down at you, brain not processing who’s standing in front of him. He can see the concern thinly veiled behind your eyes, the way your lips curve down.

“Dazai, snap out of it. Breathe.”

You. You’re here. You’re always here when he feels as if he’s finally going to let the void win, and Dazai just-

Dazai wants to scream.

Why are you always here to rescue him when he knows you’re just going to leave him?

“Why am I here?” Dazai finally forces himself to say, grateful that his voice is steadier than how he feels. “Why are you here? How was your trip abroad, hime?”

Any concern in your eyes disappears, and the grip you have on his waist tightens in a way that makes his breath catch. “Don’t call me that.”

Now a bit more coherent than he was when he was dancing with Hinami, he thinks he should be mortified by how you’re taking the lead. All of the other men are leading their partners in the dance, but he can’t even bring himself to be embarrassed because he’s so focused on your hand on his waist and the way your fingers are laced with his. He’s mad at you, yes, but he has to actively remind himself of that because of the way you’re holding him.

Dazai fears he is a weak man at heart.

“How was your trip abroad?” Dazai asks again, leaving off the title this time. He wants to know if you’ll lie to him. Again.

You watch him carefully for a moment, and then you sigh, shaking your head. “Don’t ask stupid questions,” you tell him.

Dazai’s jaw tightens, throat bobbing at your words. Doesn’t know if it’s a good or bad thing that you didn’t even try to lie. Does know that it hurts hearing you admit that you lied to him. That you made up a shitty excuse so you could cut him off, ghost him like so many others have before. He lets out a shaky puff of air, shaking his own head as he tries to take a step away from you, intent on creating some distance between the two of you, but you don’t let him, your grip on his waist tightens again, hand sliding to the small of his back to force him flush to you again. His face heats up.

You tilt your head to the side as you look up at him as if daring him to make a scene. Dazai wants to. He does—just to embarrass you in front of all of your rich, upper-class friends—but more than that, he wants answers.

“Why?” he asks tightly.

“Stupid questions annoy me,” you say with a thin smile, being purposely obtuse.

“That’s not what I’m talking about.” Dazai refuses to humor the non-answer. “Why did you lie? Why didn’t you just tell me you didn’t want to-”

Why didn’t you just tell me you didn’t want to be with me?

Why did you have to give him hope?

Why did you have to be like all of the rest?

“It has nothing to do with what I want,” you finally sigh, voice quiet as you lead him into an outside spin, keeping him in pace with all of the other couples. “It’s complicated, Dazai.”

“Then uncomplicate it,” Dazai says immediately, body tense. “What did I do wrong? I thought-”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” you tell him, which only frustrates Dazai more because if he’s about to get the ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ speech, he thinks he might storm right off the dancefloor, leaving you here. “It’s just complicated, Dazai. I can’t uncomplicate it.”

“That’s not fair,” Dazai murmurs. “You kissed me, you-”

“You kissed me,” you correct.

“You kissed me back,” Dazai hisses, getting annoyed, “and you initiated the second kiss.”

“Dazai-”

“You know what,” Dazai laughs to himself, shaking his head. “It doesn’t matter. You’ve made it abundantly clear that you want nothing to do with me.”

“That’s not true,” you say immediately, but Dazai is already taking a step away, brushing your hand off of his waist and pulling his hand back. He can’t listen—he can’t—he can’t let himself hope again. He doesn’t know if he’ll survive it this time. “Dazai-”

“I need to go,” Dazai interrupts.

He doesn’t wait for a response from you as he turns to walk off the floor, leaving you standing there alone. He can hardly breathe in the crowd, with you so close—he needs air. It feels shallow again, like it’s not getting to his lungs. He tells himself that this was to be expected, again, but the thought doesn’t calm him down this time. You don’t follow him off the dancefloor—he doesn’t know if he wanted you to or if it would just stress him out more.

“You’re so lucky,” a familiar voice sighs as soon as Dazai is off the dance floor. He feels unfocused as he looks at Sato. “I was trying so hard to position myself to switch with Hayashi for the partner swap.”

Dazai is annoyed. He is annoyed, and he is jealous and he is once again very acutely reminded of the fact that every single person in this room would kill for a few seconds of your time, once again very acutely reminded of his own inadequacy. He had known from day one that he didn’t have a shot with you but-

No.

He’s not going to go down this rabbit hole again.

“Well, she has no partner now,” Dazai says with a strained smile, ignoring the tightness in the chest and the way his vision blooms green. “You should go ask her to dance.”

Sato brightens. “You’re right,” he says, sparing a haste ‘thanks’ before rushing off to the dance floor.

Dazai doesn’t let himself linger long enough to see if you accept his extended hand, making his way out of the event room and down a nearby hall, hoping for some fresh air.

You don’t know where Dazai went, but he’s a sneaky bastard for sending Sato your way to distract you. You couldn’t blow him off without looking like an asshole, so you had to entertain him for a song before making an excuse. Dazai is nowhere to be seen now—not hanging near the walls, not hovering near the apps or drinks, not making small talk with any of the other politicians or businessmen in attendance.

Did he leave?

No, he wouldn’t have. Your eyes trace around the room again as you make small talk with Noriko—he had to have gone somewhere, but where? You focus on a hallway leading out to the back of the city hall, tilting your head to the side. There, maybe? There are bathrooms back there, if you remember correctly, most people will probably use the ones in the entrance hall, but if he’s looking for somewhere quiet…

You excuse yourself from the conversation with Noriko and make your way across the room, careful to avoid the eyes of any of the other attendees who might try to steal you away for a talk. You get there without incident, luckily, because you think if someone tried to interrupt you, you might shatter the carefully crafted reputation you’ve built over the past six years.

The hallway is dim and cool, a welcome reprieve from the stuffiness of the other room. You head straight for the men’s bathroom, hoping that your hunch is correct. Also hoping that there are no other men in the bathroom because that would be awkward—and you’d have to do some serious explaining because you can’t have anyone know you’re seeking out Dazai.

You think you’ve done a pretty decent job in making sure people don’t realize you knew him before the event. Noriko and Hayashi have no suspicions, and if anyone was going to pick it up, it would be those two. You were casual enough with the positioning of the partner switch that it didn’t look like you were intentionally seeking him out, but you could see the way he was thinking himself into a panic attack, the girl with him obliviously babbling on as Dazai struggled to breathe. You suppose him being mad at you is preferable to him thinking himself into an abyss, but it’s just not settling right with you.

You think that this is a mistake—you should let him think that you want nothing to do with him, should let him hate you and resent you so he can move on with his life—so why are you still turning down the hallway to get to the men’s bathroom?

You blame Dazai. If he hadn’t shown up at this event and all but shoved himself in your face, purposely antagonized you by shoving that stupid civilian girl in your face, then everything would be fine. You would’ve evaded the places he frequents in Hodogaya-ku, and you’d have never crossed paths with him again. Both of you could’ve moved on with your lives as if you’d never met each other—but now-

You’re almost angry as you shove open the door to the men’s bathroom.

No, you are angry, and it isn’t just because he’s shown up to the event and fucked up your plan to keep him out of your life. It’s also because you know why he’s here, and he’s a lot stupider than you thought he was. The suit for the event he’d mentioned his journalism professor wanted him to attend and the question about the bill… He’s here to gather intel for that professor of his, and the only reason why a bunch of students would be sent to an event like this in lieu of the actual journalists themselves is because they’re trying to seek out information that wouldn’t be easily acquired by known faces. Whether that’s information about insider opinions on the new bill or something else, it’s dangerous business. If the opinion of the wrong person gets out to the media and the public, there’ll be a witch hunt trying to figure out who let it loose, and all eyes will be on the unfamiliar faces.

All eyes will be on Dazai.

He’s stupid.

The door slams against the wall hard, and your gaze cuts to the side, hardly focusing on Dazai’s surprised expression as he straightens from where he’s leaning over the sink. Your attention shifts from him to the stalls, making sure each of them is empty before shutting the door behind you and locking it.

“No,” Dazai says, shaking his head, jaw tight as he moves to leave the bathroom.

Your eye twitches when he tries to push past you and all of the rising frustration you’ve felt the past few weeks snaps like a taut cord that has been pulled at too much. Your hands dart out to grab his waist, fingers hooking in the belt loops to stop him before he can get past you. You watch as his eyes widen as you tug him closer before slamming him back against the bathroom door hard.

“What are you doing here?” you ask again, ignoring the look he’s giving you, lips parted in shock and pupils blown wide as he stares down at you. “Dazai, what are you doing here?”

Finally, he’s drawn out of whatever stupor he’s in, scoffing and looking away from you but not pushing you away.

“Really? You just came here to interrogate me some more?” he says bitterly. “Don’t you have better things to do? I’m sure there are plenty of people out there more worthy of your time.”

“What are you even talking about?” you ask, irritated. “I couldn’t care less about any of them. Stop avoiding the question, why are you here?”

Dazai looks conflicted at your words, and you don’t know why, but it’s really starting to piss you off. You feel like you should step away from him, give some space, but you can’t bring yourself to move. In fact, your grip on his slacks tightens.

“I told you I had that event to attend for my journalism class, I-”

“You didn’t tell me this was the event-”

“You didn’t ask! What does it matter?” Dazai demands, glaring at you.

You inhale sharply and let go of his belt loops, taking a step back, but Dazai doesn’t move to leave. He stays leaning against the bathroom door, staring at you as he waits for a response, but you don’t even know how to respond.

“It matters,” you finally say without giving any context, which evidently pisses him off from how he lets out a sharp puff of air.

“Why does it matter?” Dazai asks, raising his voice in a way that stresses you out because if anyone happens to come down this hall and find you in the bathroom with him, it’s going to cause issues. “Why does-Why won’t you explain anything? Why did you lie about going abroad? Why does it matter that I’m here?”

“Because you shouldn’t be here,” you hiss, not wanting to expand on it, but you can see the frustration rising on Dazai’s face, and you think it’s more important not to have him screeching for people to overhear. “Dazai, don’t you think there’s a reason that your professor didn’t come to this event himself and with his trained colleagues?”

Something shifts onto Dazai’s expression that you don’t like—a strange look caught between suspicion and wariness that you take note of. You misspoke somewhere but where? This conversation is risky—you don’t even know what his professor sent him and his classmates to get information about, how they were prepped for it, or what information they were given. What a mess.

“What are you talking about?” Dazai asks in a way that lets you know that he’s onto something.

You don’t respond for a moment, choosing your words carefully. “What do you think will happen if an unsavory opinion of one of these politicians gets out to the media, Dazai? These people have more money than you could ever dream of, connections with-” You cut yourself off abruptly, staring at him for a moment before saying tightly. “Connections with all types of people. Good and bad. They’ll find out who spread what was spoken at this event.”

“Isn’t this suit supposed to help me blend in?” His voice is so snide that you almost want to smack him. If he were anyone else-

You don’t even finish that thought. He’s not anyone else. He’s Dazai Osamu, a stupid civilian who has managed to worm his way into your life, for better or for worse.

“Sure,” you agree tightly. “It makes them less concerned about your presence at the moment. But once they have something to be concerned about, you know who they’re going to remember? The boy in a poorly tailored suit who spoke too loudly and with far too many people. The girl in a thirty dollar dress from Muji who stumbled over all of her words and the boy that she latched herself onto.”

“And what exactly are they going to do if they figure out who leaked their shitty opinions?” Dazai asks, a challenging expression on his face as if he knows what the answer is but wants to hear you say it out loud. “Ui-sensei said-”

Ui. There aren’t many journalists with the surname Ui and if they’re here at this event…

“Ui?” you ask cooly. “Don’t tell me you mean Ui Koutarou.”

The surprise that flashes through Dazai’s eyes tells you all you need to know, and you can’t help the scoff you let out, a bitter feeling spreading through your chest. Ui Koutarou, one of the senior journalists at the Ivory Eagle—a group that’s been relentlessly trying to pin down the Mori Corporation as the business front for the Port Mafia.

Is that what this is?

The thought is as haunting as it is jarring, realizing that maybe this has all just been some giant scheme that you fell right into. You know the man has been trying to expose you as an executive of the Port Mafia—the first stepping stone of taking down the Port Mafia. Is that why Dazai attached himself to you so quickly? Pushed into it by his professor as a means to get proof of your affiliation with the Mafia? You’d assumed maybe it was your ability at work, making him more comfortable around you, and since he was so lonely, he ended up attaching himself to you but… this would make more sense, wouldn’t it?

Dazai is a lot smarter than he makes himself out to be, a lot more observant and perceptive; you knew that day when you showed up at his apartment wounded that he was seeking out information about you. He could’ve been asking about the military bill to prepare himself for this event but… could he have been asking about it because Ui Koutarou is using him as a puppet to corner you? To get the proof that he needs?

You don’t want to believe it, but the passive form of your ability isn’t strong enough to create such a dependency even on the weakest of minds… and this makes a lot more sense than someone liking you for who you are.

You don’t say anything else, unwilling to incriminate yourself anymore than you already have. You’re sure Dazai must have some idea of who you are by now—maybe not exactly, but there’s no shot that he doesn’t have a clue as to your real occupation, and if you keep running your mouth, it’s only a matter of time before you hand him the proof Ui Koutarou needs on a silver platter.

So, instead, you shake your head and walk back to the door, unlocking it so you can go back to the event hall.

Dazai grabs your wrist before you can. His grip is weak enough that you could pull out of it if you want, but you don’t. You don’t turn to look at him, waiting to hear what he has to say.

“Can’t you just tell me what I did wrong?” His voice wobbles a bit as he speaks, you can feel the way his fingers are trembling on your wrist. God, it’s so believable—you remember the way he kissed you, unsure and hesitant, breath shaky. No one is that good of an actor. “I did something again just now, why won’t you just tell me? I want to-”

You don’t want to hear the rest of that sentence, so instead, you look back at him and watch as the words die on his tongue. The look he gives you is confused and desperate, pleading with you to help him understand.

“If you know what’s good for you, Dazai, you’ll forget you came here tonight and won’t do another job for a man who’s willing to put three stupid kids on the line to save his own ass,” you say and Dazai’s brows furrow, he looks impossibly more confused as he waits for you to explain, protests and questions on the tip of his tongue.

You leave before he can get any of them out.

Dazai’s head spins as he leaves the event hall. He tries to seek you out again, but you’re nowhere to be found, so he finds himself wandering the edges of the event hall, unsure of what to do. Mishima Noriko is missing, too, he can’t help but notice with a tight feeling in his chest. Hayashi and Sato are speaking quietly to one another by the refreshments table, heads dipped together and serious expressions on their faces.

“Dazai,” Ayato calls, making his way over to where Dazai is standing.

After your words, Dazai can’t help but wince at how loud his voice is in comparison to the other attendees of the event. It’s glaringly obvious now that it’s been pointed out to him—even when he lowers his voice, there’s a jarring cadence that’s stark compared to the smooth tones of the other people here.

Hinami is with him too, Dazai realizes, watching as the girl comes over to Dazai’s side, looking between the two of them before asking: “Are you ready to head out?”

No, Dazai wants to say, throat swollen and stomach churning. He doesn’t know when he’ll see you again if he leaves now. Doesn’t know if he’ll see you again. This might be his last chance and he’s so frustrated and lost. He wants answers from you—more than that, he wants you.

He wants you.

You didn’t explain why you lied to him. You hardly explained why you were so mad about him being at the event. You clearly know who his professor is, you’re clearly unhappy about Dazai working with him, and you made a cryptic comment about how he’s putting Dazai and his classmates on the line to save his own ass.

Does that mean you know? Do you know what information that they’re trying to uncover at this event? You kind of implied it, didn’t you? You implied that a lot of the politicians in the Diet have affiliations with criminal organizations because what else could that ‘good and bad’ comment have meant? But how could you possibly know that? How could you know unless-

Dazai’s mind drifts back to all of the suspicions that had been floating through his head, letting out a heavy breath. Shit, could you really be-

“Dazai,” Hinami prods, nudging his shoulder, but before Dazai can make an excuse about staying longer, the entire building shakes.

Dazai nearly topples right over, barely catching himself on the wall behind him. His eyes are wide as he looks around the room, watching as people shriek and dive for cover. Again? The second one in a few days?

“Come on,” Ayato grabs his wrist, and Dazai instantly draws back, not expecting the sudden touch. “Dazai, come on. Ui-sensei’s been texting. He’s panicked about something, we’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

“Texting about what?” Dazai asks, casting one last longing look around the room, a last-ditch attempt to seek you out, only to find himself empty-handed again, shaking his head as he follows the other two out of the building. “What’s going on?”

“We don’t know,” Hinami says as they slip out of the building into the front parking lot. “Just said we needed to get out before things started going down.”

“Crazy that the earthquake happens right as he tells us that,” Ayato notes. “What are the chances?”

What are the chances?

Unless it’s not an earthquake, Dazai thinks, taking a deep breath of the cool air outside, mind racing as he thinks back to the day you showed up at his apartment, the cryptic comment about the earthquake. You acted like you didn’t know that it was an earthquake, but Dazai had a strong gut feeling that you knew exactly what it was and it wasn’t an earthquake. And Ayato is right; what are the chances it happens twice, and both times you’re around for it? The first time, you seem to know what’s going on but try to evade talking about it; the second time, you mysteriously disappear right as it takes place.

It’s suspicious. Everything about this is suspicious, and Dazai just doesn’t know what to think. He wishes that he had more time to talk to you, that you hadn’t rushed off as soon as he mentioned Professor Ui—and that’s suspicious, too, because Professor Ui sent them here to try to get some intel on one of the big mafias in Tokyo so…

Dazai can’t even finish sorting out his scrambled thoughts because a familiar van is pulling up to the front steps of the city hall. The door is sliding open and Dazai can’t stop himself from looking back one last time before he’s being ushered into the back of the van by Hinami and Ayato. Professor Ui is already waiting inside for them, brows creased and a frown on his lips—an expression that instantly has Dazai on edge.

“Ui-sensei, what’s going on?” Hinami asks softly as Ayato pulls the back doors of the van closed. Slightly alarmed, Dazai watches as Professor Ui instantly motions for the driver to get going. “Is something wrong?”

Dazai’s stomach lurches as the van flies over a bump, gaze focused on Professor Ui as he taps furiously at his phone. His voice is a bit tighter than he intends for it to be when he asks, “Aren’t you going to tell us what’s going on?”

“We got a tip-off that the Port Mafia was going to be in attendance at this event at the last second,” Professor Ui finally says, sitting up in his seat as he focuses his attention on the three of them. Dazai stiffens, mind racing back to Mishima Noriko and her last minute attendance of the event when she heard that you were attending, mind racing back to his piling suspicions of you. “We also got a tip-off that there was going to be a major conflict between them and one of the Tokyo-based Yakuza syndicates tonight. We wanted to get you out of there before it happened.”

“What?” Ayato sounds far too excited for Dazai’s liking; he gives the other man a heavy side-eye before focusing back on Professor Ui. “A gang fight is breaking out tonight? Wouldn’t that have been the best chance to get the proof?”

Best chance to get killed more like it, Dazai thinks, hardly withholding an eye roll as he keeps his gaze pinned on their professor. He can’t help the way his heart is skipping around with anxiety; he finds himself nervous for you, remembering how you abruptly disappeared from the event.

“Too dangerous,” Professor Ui shakes his head. “The fight has already broken out. Did you feel that quake?”

“The earthquake?” Hinami asks curiously.

“Not an earthquake,” Professor Ui says dryly, grabbing his laptop and clicking a few times before turning the laptop to face them. Dazai’s gaze focuses on the screen, frowning at the blurry image of a man with red hair and an ugly hat. “From what we know, that was the ability of this man. We believe he’s an executive of the Port Mafia, the gravity manipulator. He’s been at the top of the country’s most wanted list for three years since he leveled all of Izumi-ku; hard to track down because he’s frequently in the west. They say he’s currently the strongest ability user in the world.”

“Tacky hat,” Dazai mutters absently, ignoring the looks he receives for the comment.

He’s ignored.

“I didn’t see him at the event,” Ayato announces, leaning back in his seat. “I made a lot of rounds too. Maybe your tip was off.”

“He wasn’t the executive in attendance,” Professor Ui says firmly.

Dazai’s heart drops to his feet. His professor flips the laptop back around, and Dazai can hardly breathe as he clicks through again. It feels like an eternity before the clicking stops, and he can hardly even drag his gaze back to the screen.

Dazai knows what it’s going to show him before the computer is even turned toward them again. Doesn’t need to hear him say your name. Doesn’t need to see your face on the screen.

He looks anyway.

Your smile is foreign—unkind, almost—and the expression on your face is much cooler and unapproachable than what he’s become used to. You look beautiful, you always look beautiful, but he feels sick to his stomach at the sight of you when he’s usually dizzy with how much he’s enamored by you. His ears ring as he tries to tune into what Professor Ui is saying.

“... presents as vice-chair of the board of the Mori Corporation, suspected of being an executive of the Port Mafia… -sing her position within the Mafia would be the easiest way of exposing the Mori Corporation for what it is considering how public of a figure she is… say that Mafia affiliates tend to refer to her as hime in recognition of her position as heir…”

Dazai doesn’t care to hear anymore. He ignores the way Hinami stares at him with wide eyes, ignores when Professor Ui asks if any of them managed to speak to her at all, ignores everything as he stares at the damning image of you on that screen, confirming all of the suspicions he’s discarded over the past few weeks of knowing you.

Suddenly, for better or for worse, all of the peculiarities that he’s noted about you begin to make sense—everything from your ungodly wealth to how evasive you were about why you lied to him about going abroad, saying it’s too complicated to explain when he begged you to tell him why you lied.

Shit.

There are too many emotions ricocheting through his chest and mind for him to pinpoint all of them, but as he looks back to the direction they’d left, knowing that whatever conflict is taking place there, you’re at the center of it, one emotion stands out above all of the rest—fear.

#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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artsninspo · 1 month ago

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FORGIVELESS - IV - YOU DON'T MIND SECOND FIDDLE, THAT'S WHY YOU A BITCH 🎻

Full Masterlist

PREVIOUS CHAPTER

RIO MASTERLIST

IV - YOU DON'T MIND SECOND FIDDLE, THAT'S WHY YOU A BITCH 🎻

Pairing: Rio (Good Girls) X Reader

Word Count: ~2.4K

Warning: Messy, mature themes & 🌶️ implied, a bit of a domestic situation.

Summary: The rendezvous with Rio continue causing James to spiral. only women are better cheaters. Rio proposes something outside of his previous boundaries. Japan is revealed while you get to keep your secret about Rio a little longer.

Sitting in front of the mirror pleased with your makeup you go over excuses in your head. You’ve set up the perfect situation. You’ve overheard James whispering and arguing on the phone. Japan’s been blowing his line up. You already know your husband is suspicious of you but everyday you care a little less. Your own indiscretions with Rio let you know how much work it is to be dishonest. Chasing the highs of being a well off young professional has your husband thinking too much of himself and now he’s paying with his eroding marriage. It’s Rio who’s been consistent for a man who doesn’t think he's the relationship type. Looking yourself, you smile, feeling sexy. It’s become a familiar feeling again with Rio. Heading downstairs you find James sitting on the couch which is a rarity for a Friday night. Usually he has some more important plans than spending time with you.

“Where are you going?” He asks.

“Friends bachelorette” you smile.

“Which friend?” he asks.

“Marlène from yoga, I was invited.” you tell him.

“Marlène” he says trying to register the name. “I can drive you there and pick you up” he offers.

“No need babe, I don’t drink” you remind him.

“How late?” he asks.

“Maybe 2 or 3 the latest” you tell him.

“Okay, maybe we should keep a calendar so we can keep up with each other's schedules. In case I want to surprise you” he suggests.

“Sure, I’ll see you in a bit” you smile waving.

“Hold up, we were invited to the wedding?” He asks standing as he makes his way over to you.

“I declined the invite. I know how busy you get.” You respond.

“Next time, ask me first. I love you and I want to do what it takes to make you happy. I know it’s been hard since the move but I’m here and I’m in this and I miss you.” He says. All it took was some distance for him to shape up and pay attention.

“Ok” you nod pecking his lips and when he deepens the kiss, it's all wrong. The passion isn’t there, or if it is it doesn’t mix well with his lies and betrayal. You’re relieved when he pulls away. Your heart isn’t racing, there's no tingles or butterflies. Your heart settles a little knowing the sun has set on your marriage. You force a smile heading out to the car. Standing there James is struck with panic, sure now more than ever he’s losing you.

Heading out you meet a new group of friends at one of Rio’s clubs. It’s a bachelorette party. You remember yours. You’d been too young to be considered someone’s wife and so excited to do whatever James asked of you. It’s bittersweet memories. Had you known then what you know now you wouldn't have walked down the aisle. A cheater, a liar, a coward and your husband. Mentally you decide to file the next time you have some free time or at least get the papers. Once the liquor starts flowing between the girls you call Rio as planned. The thrill is still there, it’s how you're making it through this tough time. Reclaiming your agency as a woman. Rejecting the treatment you once settled for. Doing James just as bad. It’s dark when Rio rolls up to the back entrance of his establishment. It's only been fifteen minutes since you made the call, he gets out his G-Wagon matching it in all black. His hands go into the pockets of his black denim jacket as he waits against the passenger door. You dont waste any time heading to him. His smile is the same as always as his eyes look you over in appreciation. Rio never misses the details. Stepping aside he opens the door helping you into the truck.

“You good?” He asks and you nod as he pulls off.

“You?” You ask.

“Mhm” he nods. The silence is comfortable and Rio keeps a hand on your thigh possessively as he drives to his place. You notice he’s not here with you and somewhere else in his thoughts when he passes the exit to his place.

“Rio, you missed the exit” you tell him.

“I’m taking you to my place” he mutters looking over at you. You swallow feeling the new reality between you has changed. You're no longer on quicksand, you're in it. You don't respond feeling comfortable with the decision. You place your hand over his on your thigh.

“I gotta go out of town for a few days,” he says, breaking the silence.

“How long is a few days” you ask.

“Three, I was hoping you could come with me,” Rio says, shocking you. It’s what had been on his mind. If he left it would give James the opportunity to slither his way back into your good graces and probably lead to a reconciliation. Something Rio didn't want to even entertain the possibility of for his own selfish reasons, among the principal of things.

“Come with you?” you ask.

“That’s what I said, what I fuck you so good you cant hear now?” he remarks and you hit him playfully.

“Shut up” you laugh.

“You coming or what?” he asks and you look him over.

“Where are you heading?” you ask.

“Mexico for my cousin's wedding. I have a plus one” Rio says casually.

“I would love to but with all I have going on it’s not the right time” you sigh.

Rio’s nostrils flare in frustration “So what?”

You sigh, “Rio, leaving the country to be your date looks bad.”

“Fuck everyone who would question you after you say he stepped out” Rio snaps.

“Rio you’re being unreasonable” you respond.

“What about me gives off reasonable?” he responds and you smile. He’s right from day one he’s been a handful.

“Rio” you start.

“Tell him whatever he needs to hear, then bring your ass to Mexico with me.” he demands like it's not even a question.

“You want me held up in your room like a sex slave for a few days” You scoff.

“Shit the roleplaying might get you off” he shrugs still upset that you aren't jumping up and down like most women. Rio doesn't like having to compete for your time with the ego of a man that doesnt deserve you even a little.

“You’re being an ass” you smile, rolling your eyes at him playfully. He comes in for a kiss and your phone rings. You look at the caller ID and see it’s James. Rio sighs and you follow suit. You let it ring out but he calls again. After the third ring Rio turns on his sound system to mimic the club before hitting the answer.

“James?” You say.

“What time are you getting home? It's after one” he says.

“I don’t know I’m having fun” you lie.

“I’ll come meet you” he offers.

“No, go out with your friends. Don’t wait up.” You shout.

“No, I miss you and I want to make love to my wife tonight.” The thought alone is off putting. When your eyes re-open from the disgusted shudder you find Rio watching you pissed.

“Sorry I can’t hear you, I’ll see you in a bit. Bye!” You shout hanging up.

“You’re gonna have to tell him you know,” Rio says.

“I’m not ready to play pretend with my family or his. It’ll take time away from you and I'm having fun.” You explain knowing how it’ll work. Women were expected to be distraught, hurt or psychotic after infidelity from their husbands. Your callously orchestrated revenge will be vilified and used as justification for his indiscretions in the beginning. You’ll be burned at the stake for not lying down and taking disrespect.

“Think he’s shitting himself now? When he knows you know and sees you riding around with me, me taking you out treating you right. Then what?” Rio says onto your lips kissing you. The thought of James getting his just due is desert for the both of you. Your moans are audible as his lips kiss you down your neck. His hands hold you there firmly.

“Are you listening?” He asks.

“Yes” you nod.

“Good” his voice softens his dark eyes holding yours.

“He doesn’t get to touch you, doesn’t get to sleep beside you, doesn’t get to see you undressed, nothing. His time’s up mama.” His words are slow and deliberate. He’s placed his claim. His possession is all in his eyes. “Handle it, Love, or I will” he warns, incapable of sharing. You don’t even make it to the bathroom. Rio has his way with you on the couch talking you through it. He fights for control over what he’s feeling and channels all his jealousy and possessiveness into making you feel good enough to want him. Enough to forget about the feelings of a man that did not consider yours or upkeep his vows. You spend the night christening his home and the morning is everything you hoped morning’s with James would be like in this new city. Slow and full of comfortable silences based on quality time. Rio typically did not talk too much, not needing to but today was different. He wanted to put an end to Jame’s hold on you. To James being a two timing fuck waling around like he owns the world. He wanted James to pay for blowing up your life. By the time you leave Rio’s place it’s 9am. That’s how little fucks you have left to give. You don’t expect James to be waiting at the house when you arrive but he’s sitting in the living room fuming mad. His eyes go to your rings first. When they are located he calms down just a touch.

“Where the fuck have you been!” He snaps through gritted teeth, standing and closing the distance and sniffing you like a dog. It’s how you should treat him.

“Don’t talk to me like that!” You shout triggered.

“You’re not walking out of this house again to go anywhere without me. Matter of fact, give me your phone!” He snaps grabbing your purse from your arm. He finds your phone unlocking it with Face ID and going through it. Instead of fighting him you go for his phone on the island knowing you’re in the clear. You search to find the messages have degraded into arguing instead of steamy exchanges. The blue flame between James and his mistress has faded into contention with him trying to be more present in his marriage. It’s against everything the mistress wants to hear. Little miss Japan is pulling out the stops. Her revised attempts at luring your husband away from you flip a switch. You clear the counter throwing two vases at him in succession. He fails to duck away from the first one hitting him in the chest. The other douses him with water before shattering on the ground.

“I should’ve known you were cheating!” you scream, snapping him out of his rage. Fear flashes in his expression. “All the accusations! Neglect, no sex, it was all here” you snap holding up his phone. Tears well as you release the secret you’ve been keeping in for the past few weeks. You send the phone flying at him too. The device hits him in the chest and you snatch yours from him. “That’s how you’d let some women speak about me and talk to you. You dirty low down fuck!” You add feeling your hands and face heat from the rage.

“Baby” he panics “It was a mistake.”

“Don’t call me baby, matter of fact don't call me anything! Don’t call me!” You cry getting your keys and heading out. “Japan, Japan, Japan, whole time Japan is a fucking woman that you’re seeing!” you continue your tirade.

“Y/N!” He snaps. “I’m sorry. I can explain, listen to me.” His words mean nothing and you keep on heading to your car. He grabs you violently.

“I said I’m sorry!” he asserts with a mixture of anger and panic.

“You are and I’m done with you” you pull away but he grabs you. You try to free yourself but he’s too strong. You struggle against him as you and him exchange unheard feelings at a high volume. He wins the struggle.

“I said I’m sorry! I made a mistake but I love you!” He shouts, shaking you and your heart races as you see all the threads you’ve been picking at are loose. You want to stick the nail in the coffin but you don't. Instead you look at him with all the hate you feel for the predicament his actions have created.

“I hate you and you’ll regret it I promise” you snap, turning to face him as you open the garage. Fear turns from panic to rage again at your threat. He grabs your arm unlike ever before. “Get out my face and let me go. Go be where you’ve been with her.” you snap pushing him off.

“Don’t walk away from me and don’t threaten me!” He snaps as you get to your car. Before you get in he grabs your hood, yanking you back.

“What’s going on here?” An officer interrupts. Just the way his eyes fall on you it’s clear he’s been sent by Rio. James steps back and you readjust your neckline.

“I’m trying to leave and he won’t let me” you speak frankly. You hear James gasp in shock at your betrayal.

“She’s my wife. Officer I just want to speak with her” James says. You look him over and see he’s all wet. It definitely looks like a domestic dispute.

“Do you want to speak with him?” the officer asks you.

“No” you respond and the officer opens your car door. You get in.

“Y/N!” James shouts.

“Keeping her here against her will with force is something I can charge you with” the officer informs your asshole soon to be ex-husband.

“It’s a marital disagreement,” James says, trying to turn on the charm. It doesn’t work on the officer who gives him a final glare before walking out with you.

“Stay put” he snaps at James. “Are you alright?” he asks and you nod, adjusting your sweater and clothes.

“Yes”

“Did he hit you?”

“No officer he didn’t” you confess honestly.

“Go see Rio” the cop whispers before closing the car door. You’re a little startled at how perceptive you are and pull out of the driveway to head to Rio’s place. You find him pissed and pacing. His eyes go to your stretched out collar but he keeps his thoughts to himself offering you comfort and a hug. He ignores his phone ringing and you ignore yours until James stops calling and it’s your mom. you already know. James is in damage control mode.

Thanks for reading my loves, theres more mess to come - I promise. Keep on, liking, commenting and sending over ideas. I hope those of you who send some in liked seeing them integrated in the story. What was your favorite part?

NEXT CHAPTER

TAGS:

@meadows5 @wnbweasley @becauseimher @ariiaeltheedonn @woahthatshitfat @miniaturehideoutmentality

#rio good girls #masterlist #rio x reader #rio x you #good girls rio #manny montana x reader #manny montana fanfiction #rio good girls imagine #rio imagine #rio good girls fanfiction #good girls imagine

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hiraethwa · 6 months ago

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ִ ۫ ּ ֗ – lost and found.

pairing: miya osamu x reader a/n: my ushijima fic procrastination/trying to get the creative juices flowing attempt word count: 700

miya osamu has few regrets in life. one of them was breaking things off with you when things got rough. that was a few years ago back in high school when he was immature and too caught up with trying not to be left behind by atsumu.

his last words to you then were “i don’t have time for us right now.” he thought he had time on his side after volleyball, after high school, at the next stage of life, but he realizes now that it was childish of him to think that he would have more time in the future.

with onigiri miya being a success in the city far away from your childhood home of hyogo, he is kept busy with the day to day operations of the shop. not that it would have mattered, since your family moved away from hyogo when he returned from nationals, and he has not seen or heard from you since.

the eleven digits are still stored under your name in his phone, transferred from his old flip phone he used in high school, even though he had it memorized by heart. he had stared at the numbers for an unhealthy amount of time, unable to bring himself to dial it.

it wouldn’t have mattered, he told himself, what was the point of barging into your life again when he was the one who ended things? no, he did not have the right to do so. heck, you could have moved out of the country for all he knows.

except he does know, he just can’t remember it. it was a few days before winter break. he vaguely recalls you calling and telling him something about moving in hysteria when he was busy with practice or some other thing that felt insignificant now that he thought about it, but he had brushed you off and told you that he will talk to you later about it.

and then like the worst boyfriend in the world, he forgot all about it. in fact, he had gone and broken up with you before the team left for tokyo like the inconsiderate asshole he is.

if only he could recall where you told him your family was moving to.

he taps into his call log, staring at the most recent entry dated last night. atsumu had gotten him drunk after yet another amazing win by the msby jackals, and like the lovesick fool he is, osamu had fucking dialed your number when he went to the bathroom.

the call had gone through, each ring a steady succession after another, instead of the rapid beeps that signaled an out of service number. to his eternal horror, someone had picked up, his muddied brain registering the change when the ring tone he had been listening to stopped. that was enough to snap him out of his drunken daze and press the red button in a hurry.

but that piece of information did nothing to give him any answers. it could have been you, if you were still in japan and kept your old number. it could have been someone else who is using your number now. and he still didn’t know where you were.

osamu groans, resting his head against the counter and closing his eyes briefly. it was late at night near closing time, and the person he was waiting for to show up at such an hour would be his horrible twin brother who was running late.

the ring from the doorbell has him perking his head up. finally. “i’ve been waiting ages for ya, ya scrub–” but the insults die in the back of his throat as he realizes it is not atsumu staring back at him with wide eyes.

the customer stands frozen in shock at his words, her form-fitting dress with intricate lace detailing, possibly tailor made, seemingly out of place at his casual establishment. her face is obscured by a mask, and osamu thinks that he may have frightened this poor lady, and is about to blurt out an apology when he meets her eyes.

he would recognize that pair of eyes anywhere, he’s seen them in his dreams so many times he lost count since that fateful day in hyogo.

“y/n” he breathes.

looking for more? browse the library

#hiraethwa writes #miya osamu #osamu x reader #miya osamu x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #miya osamu angst #osamu x y/n #miya osamu x y/n

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lady-ashfade · 2 months ago

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Can I place an order of Blueberry Pie with Villain Class 1-A. Please and Thank You.

Broken Shoes

´*: ･ﾟ⋆˒ Villain!Au!Class 1A x College!Waiter!Reader. (Reader doesn’t have pronouns in this)

WORDS: 2.1k

WARNINGS: Yandere!Behaviors, Everyone is in their 20s, Posted Late, Dark!Romance, Reader Is Just From America But Any Race, Villan Au, Non-Quirk Au, Is the reader is claimed any pronouns tell me so I can fix it.

Bakery event.

A/N: I got a idea from the requester of what they wanted since it has taken me so long, thankful so much for them!!

˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚ 🫐 🥧 ˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚

The first incident was when your shoe feel apart on your way home, the bottom coming undo and looked and sounded like a flip flop. It was rough because they had been your shoes for years, they had to give up sometime. But you didn’t have enough money to pay for a new pair. The only thrift store was a long ways away from where you live and you’d never have the extra money for train ride. So you did what you could…And tried to make it work again. With glue and your sewing kit and then had something to last you a few more weeks.

You set up a new jar in your kitchen by the window, next to the bigger blue jar with the labeled “computer”, while this one was pink and for shoes. You worked at a shitty diner in Japan, a American experience which was perfect since you moved here in your late teen years from the US. The day belonged to collage classes for you’re own business degree to work in more places and maybe start a chain of your own. And after you worked as long as you could to make it through life.

“Mornin’,” you greet your manager. The older woman smiled as she took the rag and whipped off the white counter, the lights from the screens hitting her back to make her pink outfit pop. Hana was the nicest woman you ever met, she was shorter then you with a plump body, her age showing in her skin but her face remained chubby and almost wrinkle free. After any day you had, you knew her warm smile could make you feel better.

While helping around you both chatted about your day and how it went, her more leaning towards your story while making short answers for her day. So, you told her all about school and even some things you learned and studied before customers began the walk through the doors, one after the other and so forth. The conversation died and you did your job.

“Enjoy your evening!” You shout as the last pair of people leave and you lock the doors behind them before exhaling as your body grows tired. The night had come to a end as the moon stood in the darken sky to shine just a bit of light on the streets. Not like they need it with the street lights and building lights.

“Hana, I’ll be in the bathroom.” You shout. Making your way to the bathroom your feet drag as the night hits you like a ton of bricks. The rush hour today was busier then it had been in a few weeks.

Hana was in the back to punch in all the things that happened while taking the money out of the cash register to count it. Her eyes trailed up to the metal door where the trashcans stayed after someone had knocked. It wasn’t un normal to her since she gave a few homeless people food when there was some left over, so she figured it would be them. Her feet took her to the door and her fingers unlocked the handle, before pushing it open with a bright smile.

“Kenji, how can I help you?” She spoke to nothing but air.

Hana blinked her eyes a few times before realizing no one was there, not a person in sight just a empty alleyway. Now this was strange. The knocking was loud and had to be made intentionally. The one thing that made sense of it was when she looked down there was a box with a bow.

Hana brought it to the main room and set it on the counter, just in time for you to exit the bathroom with a sour look on your face. “You got a present.” She exclaimed.

As you examined the box you saw a card attached,

“To: Y/n.

Hope you can find this helpful, thank you for the amazing service.”

The first thought you had was, who could have sent it, before even opening the box. There was a older couple who commented on your shoes but they didn’t seem like the type, and a man in a suit also had his opinions on your attire though he seemed too stingy for that. But you stopped thinking to see what was inside and hoped it wasn’t to grand.

When your eyes hit the shoes they widened a bit, they were perfect. They didn’t look too expensive but brand new with no stains on them or nothing. They looked good to work in, to jog, and to do anything you wanted.

“I bet it was that yellow haired man,” Hana commented out of the blue. You turn your head and tilted it to the side, who was she talking about? You’ve seen so many customers with yellow hair…

“Don’t give me that look dear. The cute one who always stares at you, and never complains and has you talking for hours.” you blink a few times before placing a face to the scenario.

Denki? Yeah, you think that’s his name. He always comes in every other Thursday with the same order, same questions and never wants you to leave his table. He was a sweet man, but flirtatious and sometimes you think you’ve seen him before but never have a clue. Today he came in just as before, made a few flirty jokes that you played along to, and had to rush off since it was a full diner.

“Hmm, maybe. I’ll just have to wait and see if they reveal themselves.” You hummed before going back to cleaning.

That wasn’t the only time random gifts showed up.

Each couple of weeks a new one popped up out of the blue. You’d be in the library and looking of books to help your course studies but find non, or even looking them up on the computer and find out they are too expensive to buy on your own. Then, they show up where you sit each day in classes. No one would look your way, no one was suspicious. It wasn’t just school things, but it was the things you see in windows. You’d see something pretty, look at it and imagining wearing it, then walk away knowing your wallet couldn’t handle it. Your house started to be filled with things you didn’t even buy.

Weeks of things being left you started to grow more and more worried, things you didn’t speak about. And things arriving at your door step. The last thing that made you freak out completely was a computer, the best money could buy and the note made you break. “Ditch the jar, we’ve got it covered.” Who the hell knew about the jars you had? No one did, not even Hana knew because you knew she’d give you money. Someone knew where you lived- someone sent a gifted, someone looked into your apartment or went in to see the jars.

“We’ve got it covered.” Those words stuck into your head every day after.

The blinds to your apartment now remind closed, you took the money you were saving for a computer and got extra locks for your windows. And you never took the gifts that arrived anymore. If it was at class, you’d leave them, if they came to your door you’d say they got the wrong person, if it came to your work the dumpster ate it.

Soon the gifts came to a stop. Nothing show up anymore and you felt relief, like you could breath without worrying about being watched. You stoped looking around the place for suspicious activity, your life went back to normal — Shitty, but normal.

Just as you suspected — Things went wrong for the last time.

Nosies woke you up from sleep, you had been too tired to notice anything or actually think about your actions. So you went out of your bedroom towards the noise, no plan, no worries about your life, but tired and wanting it to end. So as you turn the corner of the hall you hear hushed voices.

“Dumbass— Shut up, you’re making too much noise.” Someone, with a deeper and more grit to their voice spoke. They sounded angry…Like a man you once met on a bus.

Someone whined in response. “Don’t be mean to him Kacchan, and you’re being equally as loud. Now, everyone quiet and lets get our darling and head out.” That voice was strange to you, it was high pitched and loving but there was something else to it.

A little bit of awakening hit you and you started to look around the hall for anything of use. Wait, everyone? — That means there are more people then the two who spoke. The only thing you had that you could hit somebody with was a umbrella but you had to make do.

So, you grab ahold of the handle and hold it like a bat, then go sprinting to the doorway and popping out to surprise who ever was there.

You probably should have thought of more threatening words….

“I don’t have much!! If you’re here to rob me you’ve chosen poorly, but if anyone touches my computer you’re dying.” and like that, you point at the people in front of your umbrella-bat.

Your mind acted so quickly that it just took in everyone standing in front of you. People you have met before. The man from the train with a darken snarl that’s the same.. Denki, the guy who flirts with you at work. Another man who is always nice and friendly when he enters your work, Izuku?

“Hey honey!” A squealing voice takes your widen eyes off the green haired man. The woman who spoke was someone who you’ve talk to at school, one of the pretty girls that sit below you, Mina Ashido.

“Wha… What are you all doing in my apartment?” Your arms held up the umbrella and body still stiffened and alert.

“Don’t worry, we aren’t here to hurt you,” Izuku smiles and walks aloug your kitchen table, “and definitely not here to rob you, most of your things, expensive things, came from us.” he slides the computer along the table towards you. It started to make a bit of sense of how you’ve been getting everything.

Denki and Izuku know where you worked and gave you the shoes, they had both been in the diner that day. Mina had given you the books you looked at in the library and saw were too expensive. And the mean blonde had saw were you get off of the bus. They must have all been following you.

“What do you want then?” You backed away from them. Your eyebrows frown and arms began to tremble in heightened fear and adrenaline of your life being threatened.

“We want you, sweet thing,” the rough one spoke and the nickname sounded strange from his mouth. “The question is,” he stepped closer as your inched backwards, starting a game of chase.

“Are you gonna’ make this easy or not?”

You hummed in fear of what’s to come and wanted to run. Your body was almost about to move before a warm hand covered your mouth and made you scream and wiggle against the chest that was pressed against your back.

“I told you not to bring weapons,” the person behind you snapped at the others, making them all roll their eyes.

“I wasn’t going to hurt them!” Mina shouted.

“The gun was for looks, had to look badass for my babe.” Denki smirked.

“I wouldn’t hurt them badly, my knife would only stab their horrible neighbors.” Izuku laughed.

“And why would I listen to you, old man?”

A sharp pain in your neck shot throughout your body as your limbs began to numb up almost immediately. Your vocal cords wouldn’t make any sound when you wanted to scream, your legs couldn’t run, there was no fighting back. All you could do was keep your eyes open for as long as you could while being picked up.

A older man had you placed in his arms. Dark long hair with gray at the roots, the same for his beard. He looked tired but deadly with the glare he gave them. You knew this man. He was a teacher in the lecture room beside yours, the same man you greeted each morning — The man you served coffee to on Saturday mornings.

“You know damn well what I’ll do if you hurt them, if anyone of you spoiled brats hurt them.” His voice started to get drowned out by ringing in your ears. You wanted to listen and to stay away but your eyes just felt too heavy to go on….

There wasn’t just five of them waiting for you to wake up again, but 20 villains going insane for you.

158 notes · View notes

glearyyyne · 6 months ago

Text

a true story Part 2

Part 1

Synopsis: You thought you would be having a peaceful life after running away from him in Tokyo as you moved into the countryside and built a cafe but what would you do if he suddenly showed up asking for an explanation that night?

Word Count: 7,284 words

Warning: 21+ DNI, gun, swearing, mention of knife, threatening, negative comments, mention of stalker, fighting, betrayal, a sprinkle of angst, open ending.

Note: So I finally finished this yay!! Even though this was also one of my few episodes of 'wanting to drop the fic' I didn't really expect people to be so invested in part 1 so here have some more!

_____________________________________________________________

“[Reader's name]!”

You turned your head to see Megumi waiting by the gate of your house.

“Just a second!” You told him as you closed the hose after you finished watering the plants as you headed to the gate to open.

It's been at least 4 years since you left the city you lived in. You tried your best to leave everything behind so that Satoru won't find you.

You quit your job at the bar, you even begged the owner not to tell satoru that you left your job and you even told Fumiko where you’ll be staying just so she can visit you and give you some updates about the bar but you also begged her not to tell satoru as he knew your friendship with Fumiko.

You even sold your phone behind as you knew there was a chance that satoru could trace your whereabouts. You now live in the countryside that isn't most likely known in Japan.

"Are you not going to open the cafe?" Megumi asked.

"I am, can you wait for a minute? I'll just go and lock the door," you replied as you hurried to secure the house before heading to the cafe with Megumi.

Megumi nodded as you headed inside and locked the door. Running a cafe in the countryside wasn't easy, but with your experience in the bar, you managed to make it work.

Despite the challenges, you found comfort in the relaxed atmosphere of your cafe.

Megumi, your neighbor for the past three years, took on the role of cashier, a move that initially puzzled you given his introverted nature.

However, you accepted his request for a job since you needed someone reliable to manage the register.

Not too long after, you and Megumi arrived at the cafe.

With your keys, you opened the door and the two of you headed inside to begin opening the shop.

You busied yourself with cleaning the coffee equipment while Megumi neatly arranged the pastries in the glass display.

Together, you swiftly prepared the cafe for another day of serving customers in the peaceful countryside setting.

As you were at the sink, you heard a ringtone from beside it. It was Megumi's phone, and you accidentally saw the message.

‘Any update from her?’

Your brows furrowed as you saw the sender's name

G.S?

"Megumi?" you called his name. He responded with a hum while still doing his task.

"I think you got a message from... G.S?" Your words made Megumi stop abruptly.

He quickly grabbed his phone, "Sorry, I'll go outside and answer this," he said before you could say anything. With that, he left the cafe to respond to the message.

You were baffled, it was the first time you saw Megumi panicking. It must be from his family.

You shrugged it off and went back to cleaning the sink, trying not to dwell on it too much. But as you scrubbed, you couldn't help but recall the conversation where you asked Megumi why he moved here.

"Why did I move here?" Megumi asked, counting the money at the register as you nodded, perched on the countertop since the cafe was already closed.

"Uhm, I guess my guardian placed me here so I don't... meddle in his business," he replied.

You rolled your eyes, "You're lying, Megumi, your ears are bright red," you pointed out, making Megumi sigh and cover his ears.

"It's just cold in here and I'm telling the truth!" he defended himself, which made you laugh.

"Whatever you say. But wait, you said guardian? Does that mean... not to offend you, but you don't have your parents?" you asked cautiously, not wanting to make him feel uncomfortable.

Megumi sighed, momentarily stopping counting as he nodded.

"They left me and my sister when I was younger," he said, making you want to apologize for asking. But before you could, he continued, "I don't even remember what they looked like, so it doesn't matter to me."

"Then where's your sister?" you asked.

"In Tokyo. She's doing some job, that's why she's not with me here," he answered.

"I guess that guardian of yours is an angel," you told him, but he only groaned in annoyance. "He's a pain in the ass," Megumi said, making you laugh.

As the sun set, the closing of the cafe drew near.

Today, a lot of customers came, which made you happy knowing that the pastries wouldn't go to waste, and the aroma of the coffee made it feel even more like home.

As soon as it hit 10, you closed the sign, and you and Megumi began packing up. You were busy cleaning the tables while Megumi handled the money in the register again.

"Megumi," you called out while wiping down a table. "You can head home after counting the money," you told him.

"Are you sure?" he asked, a hint of hesitation in his voice. "We usually head out at the same time," he added.

"Yeah, but I have to go somewhere first before I head home," you told him.

Megumi was hesitant at first, but then he proceeded to agree as he went on to count the remaining money.

After Megumi bid goodbye to you, you were left alone in the cafe.

Once you finished cleaning, you began to switch off the lights before locking the main door.

Walking down the streets, you hugged the heat pad closer as the weather began to get colder with winter nearing.

Stopping by the cake shop, you entered and were greeted by the cashier.

"What can I get for you, ma'am?" she asked. "Do you have any bento cakes?" you inquired.

"We do! We have a lot of variations of bento cakes. Feel free to pick one you like," the cashier replied, gesturing to the display of cakes.

Not too long after, you picked your desired cake and paid for it before heading home.

Just as you arrived at your gate, you noticed the lights on in Megumi's house and a silhouette larger than Megumi's. It seemed he had some visitors.

Shrugging it off, you got inside your house, turning on the lights and the heater as you headed to your table and began to open the cake.

Glancing at the time, you saw it was already 12:14 am. You sighed as you lit the candle.

You started to sing yourself a happy birthday before making a wish and taking a bite of the cake.

It was another birthday alone. It was hard to get used to, but what could you do? With divorced parents busy with their own families, they had forgotten about you. Your other relatives were in Tokyo, and since you moved to the countryside, you weren't expecting them to visit.

You didn't want to hear their pitying comments anyway.

You didn't even eat half of the cake before you stood up to clean the table and put the cake in the refrigerator.

"I should give some to Megumi tomorrow," you muttered after closing the refrigerator.

Then you headed to the bathroom to change and brush your teeth before finally heading to bed.

The next morning, you woke up to the sound of your doorbell, a recent addition to your gate in case someone wanted to see you.

It was still too early to head to the cafe, so you reluctantly got out of bed.

Making your way to the gate, you opened it without much thought, only to be met with surprise when you saw the white-haired man standing there—a face you hadn't seen in four years.

He seemed to have changed, a bit more muscular here and there—wait, what were you thinking?

"Satoru? What—how did you find me?" you asked, your face peering out cautiously from behind the gate, ready to retreat if necessary.

"[Reader's name], long time no see," he said with that infuriating smirk.

With an annoying sigh, you attempted to shut the gate, but Satoru was a step ahead, managing to hold it open.

"Oh, come on, is that how you greet someone you suddenly left after that night?" he teased.

"I left? It's you who left!" you retorted, feeling frustration bubbling up.

"I never left that day. It was you who suddenly left with that typical note," he argued.

"Look, the past is the past. Let's forget what happened between us," you urged, hoping to move past the confrontation.

But you noticed the intensity in his gaze. "I was serious," he said, his tone shifting.

"What?" you replied, caught off guard.

"I was serious when I said I like you—scratch that, when I said I love you," he confessed, his tone grave.

Your heart began to race, but you fought against letting your guard down. "You're lying," you countered.

"I'm not," he insisted.

"No, you're literally lying," you shot back, refusing to give in easily.

"I'm not," he repeated firmly, his gaze unwavering.

"How could I believe you?" you challenged, skepticism coloring your tone.

"Believe me? Fine, I paid off your debt," he suddenly announced, catching you completely off guard.

"What?" you exclaimed, incredulous.

"Remember that guy you were hiding in the parking lot? The one that led to all of those... interactions?" he said, his smirk returning, much to your annoyance.

"Yeah, I know that," you replied irritably, cutting him off before he could mention the kiss.

"I did a background check on him and found out that little miss [reader's name] has a debt to him," he continued, his smirk widening, irritating you further.

"I'll just pay you back when I can," you said, attempting once more to close the gate, but Satoru didn't like that.

"If you close this gate, I'll triple the debt you need to pay me back," he threatened, his tone sending shivers down your spine. It was the first time he had been so intimidating.

"Don't forget how much debt you left," he added, reminding you of your past financial troubles.

Feeling like you had no choice, you reluctantly let go of the gate. "Good," he said when he noticed you giving up on closing it.

"What do you really want, Satoru?" you asked, frustration evident in your voice.

"I need a face-to-face explanation of that night," he answered firmly.

"And if I don't agree?" you questioned, dreading his response.

"Then I'll triple the debt you need to pay off," he said with a smirk, his threat reinforced by his control over your finances.

Damn him and his money. "Can we talk at the cafe? I have to wait for Megumi," you suggested, hoping to buy some time.

"There's no need to," he said, catching you off guard.

"Megumi's not here," he revealed, leaving you stunned.

"You killed him, didn't you?!" you shouted frantically, your mind racing with horrifying possibilities.

"Chill, why would I kill the kid when I'm his guardian?" he revealed, his words only adding to your surprised look.

You placed a strawberry croissant on the table before sitting down across from Satoru at the cafe.

Since it was a weekday with few customers, you seized the opportunity to talk to him, while he was already busy enjoying the croissant.

"I must say, it tastes good," he remarked between bites.

"Thanks, Megumi made it," you informed him.

"Really? He tells me he only makes coffee here, not pastries," Satoru commented.

"Let's get this over with," you said, wanting to dive into the conversation.

"Okay," Satoru agreed, wiping his mouth with a tissue. "Why did you leave that night?" he asked directly.

You sighed. "No, no. Why did you leave me alone in your bed?" you countered.

"I never left. I was in the bathroom," he revealed, surprising you. Wait, what?

"You were? Uhm..." You stumbled over your words, unsure how to respond.

"So, answer my question. Why did you leave me?" he pressed.

"I left that night because I thought you had left me after... after you just— I don't know— used my body," you confessed, looking at him earnestly.

"I didn't use your body. Did you forget that night how I kissed every inch of your body?" he asked with a straight face.

"You... didn't have to remind me of that," you replied, feeling your face flush with embarrassment.

"I just don't understand why everything I do for you doesn't seem appreciable to you," Satoru expressed his frustration.

You felt compelled to address the issue of Ayaka. "Everyone at that ball seemed so... expected to see you with Ayaka," you explained.

"Was it because of what that old man said?" he inquired.

"No, your cousin... he told me you two were childhood sweethearts. Everyone around you expected you to marry that girl, but instead, you brought me to that ball as your 'girlfriend,' and suddenly it feels like everyone paints me as the villain," you confessed, frustration evident in your voice.

Satoru listened attentively, letting out a sigh. "If we're talking about a villain here, it's Ayaka, not you," he reassured.

"Why would it be her?" you questioned, needing more clarity.

"Well, for starters, Tsumiki and Megumi hated her," he revealed, but you wanted more detailed information.

"Elaborate more—" you began, but before you could dig deeper into the topic, a customer entered the cafe, prompting you to unconsciously stand up and head to the cashier.

It felt like déjà vu, with Satoru watching you from the usual table while you attended to your duties.

Before you knew it, more customers arrived, causing you to forget about the conversation with Satoru.

Witnessing how hard you worked while managing the cafe alone, Satoru decided to lend you a hand.

As 10:00 pm approached, the cafe closed. Satoru watched as you counted the money, feeling nervous under his gaze.

You muttered the numbers, trying to speed through the counting process.

"By the way," you stopped counting and looked at Satoru, "where is Megumi?" you asked him.

"Can't we just have a day without mentioning his name?" he replied, annoyance evident in his tone. "I'm getting jealous, you know?" he added with a smirk.

I rolled my eyes. "I need to know. If he's still not here by tomorrow, then I'll just close the cafe for the day," you informed him firmly.

"He's visiting his sister. She's getting married," Satoru informed you. "He'll come back here by tomorrow," he added.

"Wait, Megumi's 25, so how old is she?" you asked.

"26," Satoru replied.

"Oh, she didn't get you to walk her down the aisle?" you teased, smirking at him.

Satoru sighed. "As much as I wanted to, she chose Megumi to walk her down the aisle," he admitted.

"I stayed here because Megumi literally begged me to stay," he bragged, causing you to roll your eyes as you secured the money.

"I think that's a different Megumi," you remarked dryly.

Not too long after, you closed the cafe, and you and Satoru began walking out onto the street. Despite wearing enough layers to keep warm, the cold still seeped through. "Cold," you muttered, not expecting him to hear.

"Here," he said, extending his hand towards you. You stared at him, puzzled. "What? Hold my hand so you can stay warm," he suggested.

"I don't think holding hands will be enough to warm me up," you replied skeptically.

"I can give you something more to warm you up," Satoru smirked, hinting at something suggestive. You rolled your eyes and were about to take his hand when suddenly you felt someone grope your butt. You flinched, and Satoru noticed, his protective instincts kicking in.

The guy who touched you continued walking as if nothing happened, but Satoru immediately pulled you behind him and called out to the guy, "Hey!" trying to catch his attention.

The guy turned around with an annoyed look. "What's your problem?" Satoru confronted him, his voice laced with anger.

The guy only chuckled. "What? It felt good," he said, his tone mocking.

Satoru's fist clenched at the guy's bold response, and without hesitation, he swung a punch, aiming for the guy's jaw. The blow landed with a solid thud, eliciting a grunt of pain from the guy.

"Stop it!" you shouted, rushing forward to try to intervene. But the guy, now furious, shoved you aside, causing you to stumble.

Satoru, fueled by rage, launched himself at the guy, grappling with him in a fierce struggle. Punches were exchanged, and the sound of grunts and impacts filled the air.

"Enough!" you cried out, attempting to pull Satoru away from the altercation. But he seemed lost in the heat of the moment, his focus solely on the guy who had dared to touch you.

Just when it seemed like the fight would escalate further, Satoru suddenly withdrew, his hand reaching for something at his waist. With lightning speed, he pulled out a gun, aiming it directly at the guy's face.

"Back off," Satoru growled, his voice cold and menacing. The guy's eyes widened in fear as he stumbled back, raising his hands in surrender.

The tension in the air was palpable as Satoru held the gun steady, his gaze unwavering. Finally, the guy turned and fled, disappearing into the night.

With a heavy breath, Satoru lowered the gun, the intensity of the moment slowly fading. You stood beside him, shaken by the sudden turn of events, but grateful for Satoru's protection.

You were about to hold his hand when Satoru turned around to you, quickly checking to see if you got hurt. "Are you okay?" he asked, concern evident in his eyes. It felt like déjà vu.

"Me? Shouldn't it be you? Look, your knuckles are bleeding," you pointed out.

"Oh, this? It's nothing," he brushed it off as if he were accustomed to such situations.

You shook your head, taking his hand in yours. "Let's go to my house. I'll treat your wounds," you insisted.

Before he could reply, you already began pulling him towards your house. The cafe wasn't far from your place, and you were determined to take care of him.

You looked at yourself in the mirror, seeing your pajamas—an oversized shirt and cotton shorts.

You sighed, realizing you had forgotten to wash your clothes, leaving you with no other option but to stick with this look.

Turning away from the mirror, you grabbed the first aid kit and headed to the living room.

As you stumbled into the living room, you froze at the sight of Satoru sitting on the couch, shirtless, engrossed in his phone.

"What the hell?" you blurted out, successfully catching his attention.

He glanced at you before tossing his phone aside and humming in response.

"Why are you shirtless?" you questioned, making your way toward him.

Satoru eyed you with a smirk before dramatically resting both elbows on the sofa's back.

"It's so hot, especially with you in front of me, princess," he teased.

You rolled your eyes, ignoring his comment as you sat beside him and began to open the first aid kit.

"Give me your hand," you instructed, holding out your own hand. Satoru complied, extending his hand towards you.

As you started treating his wound, you noticed how surprisingly quiet he was.

It was odd to see him so subdued, considering the circumstances.

You guessed he was probably used to getting into fights and sustaining wounds—a stark reminder of his dangerous lifestyle.

You didn't notice how intensely Satoru was staring at you while you attended to his wound.

It had been years since he had been this close to you.

He thought he had done everything right back then, but he never expected you to leave and erase all traces of your past together.

As you finished bandaging his hand and stood up to put the first aid kit away, Satoru swiftly grabbed onto your wrist, pulling you close.

Before you knew it, you were sitting on his lap, your legs encircling him.

You were taken aback by the sudden turn of events, about to speak, but what Satoru said next caught you off guard.

"Happy birthday," he said softly, a gentle smile spreading across his face, melting your heart.

You felt tears welling up as Satoru was the first person to greet you on your birthday, even as the day was coming to an end.

"How... Do you know it's my birthday?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Of course, I know. I'm in love with you. I know everything important to you," he replied, trying to make it sound sweet and romantic.

"That sounds like a stalker," you quipped, ruining the moment with your comment.

Satoru chuckled, but he sighed when you still hadn't returned the "I love you."

But he was willing to wait. He could say it a million times, even if you didn't say it back. He knew you'd return it someday.

You both stared at each other quietly, feeling the weight of unspoken words hanging in the air, reminiscent of times past.

"May I?" Satoru suddenly spoke, breaking the silence, and you snapped out of your thoughts, humming in reply.

"Kiss you?" he asked, his hand moving to your chin as his thumb gently caressed the bottom of your lips. It had been such a long time.

Instead of answering, you pulled him into a kiss, silently permitting him. Satoru didn't hesitate to respond, kissing you back with passion.

In that moment, everything felt right, and you wished it could stay that way forever.

"I thought you'd head back to Tokyo?" Megumi asked, annoyance evident in his tone, as he noticed Satoru at the coffee section preparing some coffee.

"Did I?" Satoru replied obliviously, seemingly unaffected by Megumi's irritation.

You could see the frustration in Megumi's eyes, ready to throw daggers at his guardian.

"We're fine here now, go back," Megumi instructed through clenched teeth, trying to maintain his composure.

"I don't want to," Satoru retorted, and you sighed, knowing this would escalate.

"Sorry, Megumi, I can't let him go," you apologized, trying to diffuse the tension.

"See, she needs me," Satoru declared proudly, his ego shining through.

"Yeah, since he attracts most of our new customers, so we really need him to sell some coffee," you explained, trying to be diplomatic.

"I thought you needed me because I'm good at it!" Satoru argued, his pride wounded.

"Yeah, you're good at attracting customers, that's all," you clarified, causing Satoru to sulk in the corner for at least a few minutes, his ego deflated.

You chuckled at his sulking behavior before heading over to him, offering to help him make the drinks.

As you worked side by side, showing him the ropes, you couldn't help but smile like an idiot whenever he made a mistake.

At that moment, you forgot about his status as one of the most dangerous men in the world. All you could see was him having fun, and it warmed your heart to see him enjoying himself.

It’s not even that long since you two talked again that your heart began to beat again just like it did 4 years ago.

A few days had passed since Satoru began helping out at the cafe, and you couldn't help but notice the significant changes.

More and more people were frequenting the cafe, eager to catch a glimpse of the infamous handsome "white-haired" guy.

You first noticed it when you took charge of the cashier while Megumi was on his break. Customers were stealing glances at Satoru, who was busy grinding coffee beans. Some even approached him to take pictures.

You had expected a few more customers after Satoru started helping out, but you never anticipated the inpouring people that now filled the cafe to the brim. Lines began forming outside as the cafe reached its capacity.

Even people from outside the countryside were making special trips just to see him.

It was clear that Satoru's presence had brought a newfound popularity to the cafe, and you couldn't help but feel both amazed and overwhelmed by the sudden attention.

You were deeply engrossed in calculating all the bills and expenses involved in managing the cafe when Megumi approached you.

"Hey, [Reader's Name]," he called out, and you responded with a distracted hum, still focused on your task.

"Look at this," Megumi said, showing you his phone.

You glanced at the screen to see a photo of Satoru serving a customer their order. It must have been taken on the day he first started helping out.

You squinted at the picture, trying to make out the details, but your attention was quickly drawn to the comments section below the photo.

People were raving about Satoru's appearance and charisma, expressing their excitement at having him at the cafe.

As you scrolled through the comments, you realized that this photo had garnered a lot of attention, with many users tagging their friends and making plans to visit the cafe themselves just to see Satoru in person.

‘OMG, who's the new guy at the cafe? 😍 He's so dreamy, I need to visit ASAP!’

‘Wow, the cafe just got a major upgrade! Can't wait to grab a coffee and maybe a date with the new cutie behind the counter! ☕️❤️’

‘I don't get what all the fuss is about. He's just another server, nothing special.’

‘Finally, some eye candy at the cafe! 😍 Who needs coffee when you have a sight like this to wake you up?’

‘Honestly, I'm not impressed. Looks like the cafe is trying too hard to attract customers with looks instead of focusing on quality drinks and service.’

It was clear that his presence had sparked a wave of interest and excitement, contributing to the cafe's newfound popularity.

As you scrolled through the comments, your eyes furrowed in annoyance at some of the hate comments directed towards the cafe and even your coffee.

"These people insulting my coffee," you muttered, your frustration evident.

Megumi stood beside you, watching you with concern, unsure of what you might do next.

Just as you were about to reply to one of the hate comments, Satoru suddenly snatched the phone from your hand.

"Damn, I looked good in this shot," he remarked casually as he looked at the photo, seemingly unfazed by the negative comments.

Satoru noticed the glare you directed at him.

"What? Am I that handsome?" he said, brushing his hair back with a smug grin.

"I don't care about your face, I care more about when people insult my coffee," you replied, frustration evident in your voice.

"Do they?" Satoru asked, seeming curious as he checked the comments.

You let out a sigh and returned to your calculations.

"Can I have my phone back?" Megumi interjected, feeling wary as Satoru held onto his phone.

Satoru glanced between you and the phone before suddenly shoving it into Megumi's chest. Luckily, Megumi managed to catch it.

"Hey!" he protested, but Satoru shushed him away, gesturing for him to go attend to his tasks.

Rolling his eyes, Megumi walked off to the storage room to check the products, leaving you and Satoru to deal with the situation.

As you were busy calculating, Satoru smirked and leaned in close to your ear, whispering, "But you make the best milk though." His sudden voice made you shiver, and you flinched away, squealing and covering your ear, cheeks flushing red.

Fortunately, it was closing time, and there were no customers around, just the two of you at the counter while Megumi was in the storage room.

Satoru gazed at you with an innocent smile that only seemed to annoy you further.

"You stupid!" you exclaimed, standing up abruptly and grabbing the papers you were calculating, along with the calculator.

You shoved them all towards Satoru before storming off to the storage room, leaving him there.

However, Satoru didn't quite interpret what you wanted him to do.

Instead of realizing you wanted him to help with the calculations, he took it as you handing him something to pay.

The next day, you were left confused when you received notifications that all your bills were paid, while Satoru stood in the corner, smiling innocently as he prepared drinks for the customers.

A couple of days later, after finishing some errands, you hurried back to the cafe to resume your duties. It was still 4 in the afternoon, and the chilly air urged you to quicken your pace.

Upon opening the door to the cafe, you were taken aback to see Megumi wearing an unpleasant expression as he conversed with a woman standing in front of him.

It was a sight you hadn't witnessed before, and it left you feeling puzzled.

Quickly approaching them, you intervened in their conversation. "Excuse me, is there a problem here?" you asked, addressing both of them and drawing their attention to you.

Megumi swiftly pulled you closer to him, his usually calm demeanor replaced by a defensive stance that you rarely witnessed.

"I'm asking you to leave right now, Ma'am," he asserted, his tone laced with a hint of anger as he glared at the woman before him.

The woman scoffed. "Oh, come on 'Gumi, you can't treat me like that when I spent a few years babysitting you and your sister," she retorted, her words dripping with disdain.

You found yourself caught in the middle of their exchange, confused by the tension and the sudden revelation of Megumi's past relationship with the woman.

"Megumi, what's happening?" you asked, still held close to him as he engaged in this heated exchange with the woman.

"Just don't move, wait for Gojo-san to come here," he instructed firmly, intending it for you, but the woman overheard.

"I need to talk to Satoru, why won't you just let me?!" the woman snapped, her frustration evident in her tone.

"You know full well why Gojo-san doesn't want to talk to you," Megumi stated firmly, his glare piercing.

Just then, Satoru appeared, grabbing the woman's arm as she attempted to retrieve something from her bag.

"What the hell are you doing here?!" he snapped, his voice laced with anger, and it was unsettling to witness him in such a furious state.

"I'm here trying to seek some answers as to why you won't accept the marriage?!" she shouted, her voice rising and drawing the attention of other customers.

Marriage?

Your mouth dropped open in shock at her revelation.

Satoru let out a frustrated tsk before speaking. "Will you stop, Ayaka? That was six years ago," he told her, his tone firm.

Your eyes widened as he mentioned her name. So, this was the Ayaka that everyone at the ball had been talking about.

As Megumi turned to you, attempting to guide you to the storage room, Satoru's eyes kept darting between the two of you.

Ayaka noticed this and became agitated. Without warning, she swiftly grabbed the gun from her bag and pointed it at you, her expression twisted with rage as she prepared to pull the trigger. But Satoru reacted swiftly.

“No!” He shouted as he seized her wrist and redirected the gun toward the ceiling just in time.

The deafening sound of the gunshot echoed through the cafe, causing you to shout in shock as you instinctively hid in Megumi's chest, while he did his best to calm you down.

As chaos erupted in the cafe, customers scrambled in panic, shouting and rushing to escape. Some knocked over chairs and tables in their haste to flee, leaving only the four of you behind.

Satoru grappled with Ayaka, struggling to wrestle the gun from her grip, determined to prevent her from pulling another trigger that could harm you or Megumi.

The tension in the air was palpable as the struggle unfolded, and you and Megumi stood frozen, watching with wide eyes, unsure of how to intervene in the dangerous confrontation.

Satoru succeeded in disarming Ayaka and swiftly restrained her, holding both of her wrists behind her back as she dropped to the floor with a groan of pain.

He knelt beside her, his voice laced with frustration and anger as he addressed her.

"You know what? I'm so fed up with you. The only reason I haven't hurt you is because of your family's reputation, which you've protected so fiercely. Not only did you try to hurt Tsumiki back then, but you also tried to hurt [reader's name]," he told her sternly, his tone cutting through the tension in the room.

Satoru makes Ayaka stand up to her feet, exchanging a brief, apologetic glance with Megumi and then with you.

It was as if he could sense the turmoil of thoughts running through your mind.

"Take care of her, Megumi. I'll deal with this situation," Satoru instructed, his voice firm as he indicated Ayaka.

With that, he led Ayaka out of the cafe, leaving you and Megumi to catch your breath in the aftermath of the tense encounter.

"I didn't really expect her to find this place," Megumi muttered, but his words barely registered with you as your mind raced with questions demanding answers.

"Uhm, [reader's name], should we—" Megumi began, but his words trailed off as he surveyed the chaos left by the fleeing customers, then turned to see you collapsed on the ground, breathing heavily.

Concern etched his features as he knelt beside you, attempting to calm you down, but at that moment, you felt as though you were in a world of your own, where only thoughts of Satoru occupied your mind.

Satoru didn't return to the cafe after you and Megumi had helped each other clean up the mess. You closed the cafe early due to the broken ceiling, sighing as you arranged for someone to come and fix it the next day.

With the cafe closed for repairs, you had no choice but to cancel business for the day.

After Megumi left an hour ago, you locked the doors of the cafe and were about to head home when you noticed Satoru standing, his back against the wall.

"Hey," he greeted as he approached you.

You scoffed before turning on your heels and walking away. Satoru, confused, hurried his pace to grab your wrist.

"What's wrong?" he asked, his concern evident in his voice. "It's nothing. Can you let go of my wrist?" you replied, avoiding eye contact.

"Don't tell me we're going back to being strangers again," he said, frustration creeping into his tone. Annoyed, you faced him. "What do you want me to do?" you asked.

"I want you to stop acting like a brat," he told you bluntly. You laughed sarcastically. "Me being a brat? My cafe was in chaos, Satoru, especially the ceiling because of that damn Ayaka," you told him.

"If that's all it is, I can pay for it," he said casually, as if money could solve everything. You groaned, hating the fact that he thought money was the answer to every problem.

"Fuck off! You're just going to add to the money I owe you," you frustratedly said, pulling your hands back.

You hurriedly left, not looking back as Satoru stood there alone, watching you disappear from his sight.

He let out a deep sigh, running a hand through his hair.

The cold night air bit at him, but it was nothing compared to the chill he felt from your words.

He knew he needed to find a way to bridge the gap between you, but right now, he felt lost.

As you were busy trying to calm yourself after all that chaos happened back in your cafe, you started feeling drowsy after watching a reality show for about 20 minutes.

Suddenly, you heard your doorbell, which confused you since you hadn’t heard it when you installed a gate last year.

You didn’t think much as you got out of the couch and headed to the door to open it.

As you opened the door, you were immediately surprised when someone pushed you inside, pinning you against the wall and successfully closing the door. You looked at the person to see it was Satoru.

"Satoru—" you tried to speak, but he cut you off.

"I hate it," he said. "I hate it when you ignore me and go back to acting as if we're strangers," he added, staring deeply into your eyes.

Satoru slowly leaned towards you, his intense gaze never wavering. "Do you really hate me that much?" he asked slowly, a hint of pain in his tone.

You didn't expect him to act like that, especially considering how prideful he usually is.

"It's not like that—" you tried to explain, but he interrupted you again.

"What do you want me to do to stop you from leaving?" he asked, his voice almost pleading.

You suddenly remembered the chaos earlier, wondering why Megumi hated Ayaka.

Satoru had only briefly mentioned it, but he didn't get the chance to explain further because of the sudden customers.

When Satoru noticed you not responding, he leaned in close, his hands on your waist, and softly kissed your collarbone.

"Tell me everything," you urged him.

"Like how did you find me here..." You paused as his hand moved up your thigh, dangerously close to your core, making you shut your thighs tight.

"And the story about why Megumi hates Ayaka," you managed to ask.

Satoru hummed as he patted your thigh, signaling you to lift it so he could carry you to the couch.

You quickly complied, wrapping your legs around his waist.

He gently laid you down and began placing soft kisses on your neck, his hand rubbing the outer lips of your clothed pussy.

You moaned softly, arching your back to give him better access to your collarbone.

"I always tried finding you when you disappeared," he began.

"I even threatened your boss to tell me your whereabouts or else I'd shut his place down," he added as you hummed, urging him to continue.

"But then, someone dropped your whereabouts."

"What?" you asked in a breathy tone, caught off guard.

"Fumiko, was it? Such a good friend for keeping your secret—until she wasn’t," he said, making your eyes widen.

"I guess she was tempted when I told everyone in that club to tell me where you were and I'd give them money. Seems like she was really desperate for it," Satoru continued.

His hand slowly removed your shorts, leaving you in your dark red panties, and you felt a flush of embarrassment.

Satoru chuckled when his eyes landed on the wet patch on your panties.

"It's been a while since I played with you," he said, talking to your pussy as if it were a person.

"Tell me more," you whined at him.

"I got Megumi to stay here and watch you," Satoru replied, his voice low and filled with intent.

"He'd give me updates on what you do." As he spoke, he began rubbing his two fingers against your pussy, moving them up and down to give attention to your clit and little hole.

You moaned softly, feeling the pleasure build.

"When I heard from Megumi that you were opening a shop, I insisted he join," Satoru added, his fingers still moving inside you.

That's why it was so weird to have Megumi that day, handing you a resume while dodging your suspicious look. It all made sense now.

You moaned louder, feeling a mix of frustration and pleasure. "So that's why," you managed to say, your voice breathy.

"You always had someone watching me."

Satoru leaned in, his breath hot against your ear. "I couldn't bear to lose you again," he whispered, his fingers curling inside you just right, sending waves of pleasure through your body.

Just as you were getting close, Satoru pulled away, leaving you whining from the emptiness.

"Shh, I just want you to cum on my dick, not my fingers," he whispered.

He hastily opened his zipper and pulled out his erect cock, its tip covered in pre-cum. You drooled at the sight, making Satoru chuckle.

"You missed this, didn't you?" he asked, to which you hummed in reply. "Put it in," you quickly told him, eager for him to fill you up once again.

Since you were already wet enough for him, Satoru gently inserted his cock, careful not to hurt you, and held both of your knees as he began to give you deep thrusts, making you feel as if you see the stars.

"Oh my— Satoru!" you moaned loudly at the euphoric sensation. "So— fucking tight," he groaned, increasing the intensity of his thrusts.

"Ngh— 'Toru," you began speaking, trying to catch his attention.

Suddenly, Satoru grabbed your wrist and pulled you, making you sit on top of him as he sat on the couch. You moaned lightly at the feeling of his cock.

"Give me a ride, angel, while I tell you more," Satoru said, putting his hand on your waist and helping you move. You moaned lightly in response.

"Ayaka and I were supposed to get married. We were fine until I came back to the apartment with Megumi and Tsumiki," Satoru spoke.

Even though you had your eyes closed, you nodded at what he was saying while riding his cock.

"I didn't know it would be the start of how Ayaka showed her true colors. She doesn't like Megumi and Tsumiki one bit.

I hated how I ignored them when they constantly told me how Ayaka acted differently toward them," he said.

"Like what?" you asked, stuttering from all the pleasure you were receiving.

"Like getting mad at them over small things. What I hated the most was when I left them alone with Ayaka. I didn't know that would be the day Ayaka would try to stab Tsumiki with a kitchen knife," Satoru told you.

You felt a sense of empathy for him. It must have been hard knowing the person you were supposed to marry was like that.

"But on the bright side, if that didn't happen, I would not have met you," he said with a smug expression as he began to control your pace in riding him.

You tried not to cum yet, pushing his hands away from your waist.

"I-I don't want to cum yet," you told him, moaning loudly as you clenched around him, trying to suppress your impending orgasm.

A deep groan left Satoru's mouth as he felt you clenching around him, making his cock twitch inside you.

"C'mon, princess, cum," he urged you, throwing a bunch of pet names your way. But you shook your head, unable to form a coherent reply amidst your moans.

Sensing your desire for him to take control, he gently stopped, allowing you to lay back as he got on top of you.

"Just stay still, princess," he said, his breath heavy as he began thrusting faster. You moaned louder, wrapping your hand around his back, scratching lightly in your ecstasy.

Satoru didn't complain about the scratches; instead, he whispered sweet reassurances in your ear, encouraging you to let go.

It was as if the only thing that mattered to him was that you reached your peak. Just before you climaxed, he whispered those three words you'd been waiting to hear:

"I love you." And with that, you came around him, clenching so hard that Satoru moved to your neck, lightly biting enough to leave a bruise.

Satoru paused, his breath still heavy as he lifted himself to look at you.

Tears still lingered in your eyes from the intense orgasm.

He tenderly wiped them away, his expression softening. But before he could speak, you surprised him by saying those three words back to him.

"I love you too."

#gojo x reader #jjk gojo #jjk #gojo angst #jujutsu gojo #jujutsu kaisen #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu satoru #gojo smut #satoru smut #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jjk megumi #jujutsu megumi #satoru gojo #gojo satoru

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transgenderer · 9 months ago

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A jitsuin (実印) is an officially registered seal. A registered seal is needed to conduct business and other important or legally binding events. A jitsuin is used when purchasing a vehicle, marrying, or purchasing land, for example.

The size, shape, material, decoration, and lettering style of jitsuin are closely regulated by law. For example, in Hiroshima, a jitsuin is expected to be roughly 1⁄2 to 1 inch (1.3 to 2.5 cm), usually square or (rarely) rectangular but never round, irregular, or oval. It must contain the individual's full family and given name, without abbreviation. The lettering must be red with a white background (shubun), with roughly equal width lines used throughout the name. The font must be one of several based on ancient historical lettering styles found in metal, woodcarving, and so on. Ancient forms of ideographs are commonplace. A red perimeter must entirely surround the name, and there should be no other decoration on the underside (working surface) of the seal. The top and sides (handle) of the seal may be decorated in any fashion from completely undecorated to historical animal motifs, dates, names, and inscriptions.

Throughout Japan, rules governing jitsuin design are very stringent and each design is unique, so the vast majority of people entrust the creation of their jitsuin to a professional, paying upward of US$20 and more often closer to US$100, and using it for decades. People desirous of opening a new chapter in their lives—say, following a divorce, death of a spouse, a long streak of bad luck, or a change in career—will often have a new jitsuin made.

The material is usually a high quality hard stone or, far less frequently, deerhorn, soapstone, or jade. It is sometimes carved by machine. When carved by hand, an intō ("seal-engraving blade"), a mirror, and a small specialized wooden vice are used. An intō is a flat-bladed pencil-sized chisel, usually round or octagonal in cross-section and sometimes wrapped in string to give a better grip. The intō is held vertically in one hand, with the point projecting from the carver's fist on the side opposite the thumb. New, modern intō range in price from less than US$1 to US$100.

The jitsuin are kept in secure places such as bank vaults. or hidden in a home. They are usually stored in thumb-sized rectangular boxes made of cardboard covered with embroidered green fabric outside and red silk or red velvet inside, held closed by a white plastic or deerhorn splinter tied to the lid and passed through a fabric loop attached to the lower half of the box. Because of the superficial resemblance to coffins, they are often called "coffins" in Japanese by enthusiasts and hanko boutiques. The paste is usually stored separately.

A ginkō-in (銀行印) is used specifically for banking; ginkō means "bank". A person's savings account passbook contains an original impression of the ginkō-in alongside a bank employee's seal. Rules for the size and design vary somewhat from bank to bank; generally, they contain a Japanese person's full name. A Westerner may be permitted to use a full family name with or without an abbreviated given name, such as "Smith", "Bill Smith", "W Smith" or "Wm Smith" in place of "William Smith". The lettering can be red or white, in any font, and with artistic decoration.

Since mass-produced ginkō-in offer no security, most people either have them custom-made by professionals or make their own by hand. They were traditionally made of wood or stone; more recently of ivory, plastic or metal, and carried in a variety of thumb-shape and -size cases resembling cloth purses or plastic pencil cases. They are usually hidden carefully in the owner's home.

A mitome-in (認印) is a moderately formal seal typically used for signing for postal deliveries, signing utility bill payments, signing internal company memos, confirming receipt of internal company mail, and other low-security everyday functions.

Mitome-in are commonly stored in low-security, high-utility places such as office desk drawers and in the anteroom (genkan) of a residence.

A mitome-in's form is governed by fewer customs than jitsuin and ginkō-in. However, mitome-in adhere to a handful of strongly observed customs. The size is the attribute most strongly governed by social custom. It is usually not more than 20 millimetres (0.79 in) in size. A man's is usually slightly larger than a woman's, and a junior employee's is always smaller than his bosses' and his senior co-workers', in keeping with office social hierarchy. The mitome-in always has the person's family name and usually does not have the person's given name (shita no namae). Mitome-ins are often round or oval, but square ones are not uncommon, and rectangular ones are not unheard-of; irregular shapes are not used. They can produce red lettering on a blank field (shubun) or the opposite (hakubun). Borderlines around their edges are optional.

Plastic mitome-in in popular Japanese names can be obtained from stationery stores for less than US$1, though ones made from inexpensive stone are also very popular. Inexpensive prefabricated seals are called sanmonban (三文判). Rubber stamps are unacceptable for business purposes.

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reitziluz · 10 months ago

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thinking about the way psychics both are and are not a known factor in the world of mp100. the worldbuilding is light, allegorical, and comedic, but even meeting it where it's coming from, it paints a delightful picture of how the rest of the world relates to the supernatural shit.

like, clearly most people don't believe in psychic power, or at least they don't assume it to be real. but when confronted with it, the more common reaction seems to be along the lines of "ah shit, huh, makes sense i guess." inukawa knew mob is a psychic, and brought it up without hesitation, like oh yeah, this is a known thing, but was then surprised among the others to see how much mob can do. the talk show is difficult to interpret, because it was a trap set up for reigen specifically, but how things play out, it feels like being a legitimate psychic isn't quite as outlandish an idea as it would be in our world. actual psychics don't seem to be putting much effort into hiding (if they're even trying to hide), there's unions, the goverment can put together a psychic suicide squad, the news can show a giant broccoli flying, there's books with instructions to meet aliens that actually have some truth to them, and yet people aren't that aware. and yet again, people like mitsuura and amakusa exist.

it feels like the supernatural is... kinda boring? weird stuff just happens occasionally, and it doesn't have much bearing on people's lives. the rest of it works like how essential oils do actually have certain effects and uses (for example, insect repellent), but then there's just a mountain of bullshit and people selling you things, so you don't really bother with any of it. cases like mob feel like ball lightning, as in i remember reading about it right next to absolutely fake shit as a kid and being told it's not real, but it is real, but fucked if anyone knows what exactly it is and some of the reports and theories are suspicious as hell. just. weird shit in the world that's ultimately irrelevant and uninteresting to most people.

the delightful part is that this all reinforces the idea that psychic power is just one quality among many that people can have.

but also.

when reigen founded spirits and such. i do not know how exactly it works where i live, let alone in japan. but registering a business. don't you usually need to put down what type of business you're running? did he have to figure out a close enough option, or is there a standard one to pick for psychic business, something they're considered to fall under, or even a psychic specific one?

delighted by the thought that spirits and such is officially a spa or something instead of what the industry standard is. reigen either didn't know which one people usually pick, or chose against the standard because it was less of a hassle. or tax reasons. imagine.

#mp100 #i love the casual vibe of the worldbuilding #but tbh mostly thinking about like #oops seri you can't become a full partner in the company #the govt knows you're a psychic so we'd be hit with the psychic tax #this is the only form of tax evasion i can think of reigen actually committing dfgdsfgdf

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finnbbl · 7 months ago

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Hyunjin x M! Reader - Dancer AU | SMAU | Chapter 10

Ch. 10 - Cutie | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter |

| Story Masterlist |

Written: Yes

Smau: Yes

Word Count: 0.8k

A/N: sry i fell off the face of the earth 😭 I got a writers block then got super busy and stressed with classes. Updates probably won’t be daily, I’ll update whenever the chapters are done <3 sorry to make you wait so long, and tysm for ur support !

P.S. let me know your thoughts on the story so far! i’m a bit insecure on some chapters and want ur guys honest opinion!

Warnings: Uhm swearing? Typos, not proofread. lemme know if i missed anything

The night went on with all 9 of you guys joking around and having fun. For once, you felt as if you fit in, like you belonged somewhere. The night was nearing an end, most stores were closed as it was rather pretty late.

Everyone had decided to window shop. At one point, without even realizing it, you had wandered off. Although it was late, there were still a few other people out and about.

You weren't paying attention, and the next thing you knew you had bumped into someone. You turned towards him as you apologized profusely. He was taller, had darker hair, and was dressed in a hoodie with a jean jacket over it. "I'm so sorry, I should've looked where I was going." You internally panicked as you bent down to pick up his bag, which you had previously accidentally knocked out of his hand. "It's alright sweetheart, don't worry."

You froze. "Sweetheart?" Your mind wandered around that thought as you unknowingly. Your eyes were lost on his gorgeous face as you unknowingly kept a tight grip on the bag. The guy's sentence snapped you out of your trance.

"You okay?" Immediately, you let go of it. "Oh, sorry." A nervous smile fell on your face as you quickly handed it to him and brought a hand to your now warm forehead. The guy chuckled at you as he complimented, "You're cute."

His compliments keep catching you off guard, before you even had a minute to register anything he said, he spoke up again. "You're not busy are you?" You shook your head at his question, wondering how you even got to this point.

For a moment, you completely forgot about everyone else.

This guy was intoxicating. "I've seen you've been wandering around with some other guys, mind if I tag along?" It was at this moment your body decided before your heart did. "Sure, that's fine." Throwing him a smile as he held out his hand for you to shake as he introduced himself. "I'm Mingyu."

"Mingyu.. that sounded familiar." You had sworn you'd heard that name somewhere. Pondering as you connected his hand with yours, shaking slowly. "Y/N." Unable to form a full sentence as you left him with just your name. "Y/N there you are." A voice behind you caught you off guard as you saw that Bang Chan was running in your direction. He seemed a bit worried. "You can't run off like that this late." Chan took a peek at who you were talking to. "Oh hey! Haven't seen you in a while. What are you doing in Japan?" The leader abandoned your guy's conversation and went over to talk to Mingyu. "Ah just touring, we have some free time so." The way he spoke captured you, and you felt like you couldn't take your eyes off of him. "You don't mind if I tag along with you guys do you?" By this time, the other members had caught up with you three and now listened in on their conversation.

"Ah, I think we're about to head back, it's decently late.

Sorry about that."

"Ah no worries, as long as I can get this one's number." His hand laid a gentle tap on your arm. In the few minutes you had been around him, you could tell Mingyu was a very flirty person. This left you sort of embarrassed, but it also left butterflies swirling around your stomach. God, you know that these boys would tease you about this later.

And damn were you right.

After you all filed onto the bus once again, they started messing with you. "Awh how cute, someone has themself a boyfriend." Hyunjin who was next to you nudged our shoulder. "Stop." You pushed him off of you. "I don't have anything."

"Mhmmm sure. That's why your eyes were glued to his face during his whole conversation with Chan."

"I was just trying to figure out who he was. That's all." You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms in your seat. “Pfft yeah right, everyone knows who Mingyu is. Not a very good excuse.” Lee Know stated again. “Only his name sounds familiar, i can’t think of anything else.” You let out a sigh as you rolled your eyes. Letting your body flop back in the seat as you crossed your arms. “Damn, so you really don’t know?” Felix’s voice sounded and your head shot in his direction, a questioning look on your face as you shook your head. “So you don’t listen to Seventeen?”

Your eyes widened as the group’s name was said. “You’re kidding, Seventeen?!” You sat back up as you heard Hyunjin laugh from next to you. “So I just embarrassed myself in front of the Mingyu from Seventeen?!” You dug your face in your hands, slouching back down. “I don’t think you embarrassed yourself, all you did was make googoo eyes at him for ten minutes.” Hyunjin teased as he neared your face. Feeling annoyed already, you pushed him away. “You’re so irritating!” He only laughed at your reaction as you rolled your eyes. The rest of the bus ride was pretty much just the others teasing you. Although you didn’t particularly enjoy it, you definitely enjoyed the time you spent with them. Finally, you had found your place.

Taglist: @silverstarburst @virluna148 @galaxycatdrawz @onementally-unstabel-kid @uso-dakedo @lampcults @chaer4life

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#skz smau #stray kids #skz imagines #skz x reader #stray kids smau #bang chan #changbin #hyunjin #skz #lee know #hyunjin x male reader #hyunjin x reader #han jisung #lee felix #seungmin #jeongin

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thexmistress · 1 year ago

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Happy Anniversary Pt. 2

5 years later Friday. March 20, 2023, 8:05am

It would be a lie if Satoru said he felt any regrets at this moment laying in bed with Utahime while their son came barging in their room and jumping on their bed making them laugh at his hyperness. “Look what I made dad! I drew a picture of me,” the boy pointed to the small blob on paper, “mommy,” pointing to the bigger blob in the middle, “and you!” Pointing to the even bigger blob making Satoru chuckle taking in the family portrait. Satoru sat up and placed Ren in the middle of him and Utahime.

He took the picture from the snaggle tooth child and examined it closer “This is a masterpiece Ren! I knew you took after me in many talents but this just takes the icing on the cake…. but why do I have black hair?” Satoru questioned the boy making the raven-haired child smile at him sheepishly “uh... I can’t find my white crayon, so I just made your hair the same as me and mommy” Utahime giggled and snuggled their child closer to her “well it’s perfect honey” she peppered kisses over Ren’s face making him giggle.

At that moment Satoru felt free watching the woman he loves with their child. He wanted nothing more than to savor this moment forever. Getting out of bed he looked towards them “Well how about we celebrate our son becoming the next Picasso and go out to eat for breakfast! I can call Uncle Suguru too so he can join us.” What Satoru thought was going to be another good day turned out to be the worst day ever in his life.

Breaking News: A car accident reported in Tokyo, Japan at 10:46am. A side-impact collision between 2 cars leaving 1 child in critical condition. The remaining passengers have been reported to face minor to no injuries.

JR Tokyo General Hospital 4:35pm

It has now been hours since they been at the hospital. Satoru never felt so scared and guilty in his life. It all happened so fast he didn’t see the truck coming from the side of them he blames himself for being too busy singing on the top of his lungs with his son and Utahime that he didn’t even had time to register the truck speeding towards them, towards Ren’s side. He had his face in his hands the entire time his son was in the operating room.

Utahime was embracing the sobbing man telling him it’s going to be okay trying to ease the pain they both were going through. They were so engrossed with one another they didn’t even notice Suguru running towards them looking frantic. Suguru stood in front of them and crouched down in front of Satoru before taking one of his hands, he turned to look at Utahime “Where is he? I came as soon as you called, what happened?”

Satoru was still looking down at the ground with tears that were silently flowing, face masked with guilt and anguish. “I-I… I didn’t see the truck Suguru, I swear I didn’t… we should’nt have left the house... it’s all my fault.” The man in front of them broke down again causing Utahime to reach out to him and pull him towards her into an embrace, rubbing her hands up and down his arm trying to console him. Suguru let go of his friend hand and looked at Utahime. They locked eyes for a few seconds sharing a moment of grief before she focused her attention on Satoru.

Another hour passed and the doctor came to them telling them their child was in stable condition but would need a blood transfusion due to the loss of blood during surgery. Satoru being the father hastily agreed to donate blood making Suguru glance at Utahime who was refusing to look the raven-haired man way. Satoru gave a quick kiss to Utahime before following the Doctor to do the blood transfusion while one of the nurses came to escort Utahime and Suguru to the new room Ren was transported.

Entering the room Utahime almost broke down seeing her child hooked up to an IV bag and a breathing tube. She quickly went to the side of the hospital bed and embraced her child’s hand tearing up at the sight of her baby. Suguru who was quiet this whole time was soaking everything in. It pained him to see Utahime and Ren in this state and he walked to the same side Utahime was on looking at her before glancing at the child that was unconscious……. “Is this our Karma?”

Blood transfusion denied. Reason: Not a match

“What?” Satoru srunched his face in confusion as he looked between Utahime, Suguru, and the nurse. Only two of them was refusing to make eye contact with him while the nurse looked at him with a look of pity. Utahime continued looking at their son laying in the hospital bed with tears threatening to flow down. “What do you mean it’s not a match? Is this a prank?” Satoru took a step towards the nurse “How am I not a match when that’s my son?!” Satoru yelled at the nurse who only looked at him with that same look that he didn’t want. She took a step towards him and placed her hand on his arm before saying the very thing Satoru was too blind to see. “It means you are not the father Mr.Gojo, I am sorry. But we need to find a match soon... When you all find a match, please come get me or the doctor so we can arrange the blood transfusion as soon as possible.”

With that the nurse left the 3 adults in the suffocating room. The tension in the room was unbearable and with Satoru still standing in the same position for the past 3 minutes the other 2 adults were starting to squirm in their seats. Suguru foot was tapping the moment the nurse told Satoru the news and it was at that moment Suguru realized he had enough, he couldn’t do this anymore so knowing the next few words that would come out his mouth would ruin the friendship him and Satoru shared he knows he couldn’t keep living in this lie. So, he stood up and faced Satoru who only looked at him with teary eyes and opened his mouth to say “It’s me. I’m the father of your child.”

It all happened to quick for Suguru to react because next thing he knew he was on the ground after getting punched in the face by Satoru. Security was called after many of the nurses tried to get Satoru to let Suguru out of a chokehold and soon after the white-haired man whose strands were painted red with blood had to be escorted off the premises. As he was being escorted out the room by police Utahime was clinging on to his arm rambling her sorries to him.

Her crocodile tears were making his ears ring and at that moment for the first time he truly felt regret, he couldn’t believe he was living in a lie for 5 years. He yanked his arm from her grasp and looked down at her with a look that made her stop her ramblings, “I don’t want to hear shit from you anymore, we’re done! I wasted 5 years! 5 years! That’s not even my kid in there! If you can lie to me about that, what else were you lying about?!” Before she could answer the police nudged him to continue walking out the hospital doors leaving the tear faced woman alone watching his silhouette grow smaller in the distance.

(Y/n)’s Apartment 11:20pm

You were glad you finally had a night off and Aimi was fast asleep on the floor with her blanket wrapped around her. Her white hair (that unfortunately she took after her father) was sprawled out in a tangled mess from all the playing she did at Yuji’s 6th birthday party earlier. You groaned because you could’ve sworn you dropped her off with a nice ponytail and was mortified when you came to pick her up and watched her running out the house with a bird nest on top of her head.

‘It’s going to be a pain to brush her hair tomorrow’ you thought to yourself. ‘She’s still adorable though… even with that bird nest on her head.’ You giggled to yourself before turning your attention back on your show taking a few sips of your wine. You hate to admit it but ever since you gave birth to Aimi you’ve been drinking a lot more and now it became a habit, a routine. If you didn’t have at least 1 glass of wine before going to bed you were going to get a little cranky.

Your parents mentioned going to counseling because they were convinced you were depressed…. which they’re right of course but you felt like talking about the hurt you went through with your divorce and the 2nd half of your pregnancy wasn’t going to change anything. You just wanted to stop feeling hurt, but you wouldn’t even say you’re still hurt…... oh, who are you kidding, you’re still hurt but it’s more on the numb side. You don’t feel your heart leaking but it’s leaking.

Having to take care of a spitting image of him doesn’t help either and don’t even get you started on how Satoru’s instagram was filled with the birth of him and Utahime’s child but none of yours…. he didn’t even show up to the labor. He came the day after and in the words of Satoru “I guess that counts for something right?” You started feeling irritated again thinking about that while you take another sip or four of your wine. You weren’t even paying attention to your show at the moment. Just thinking how lousy of a baby father he is. He barely even sees his daughter, the agreement between you both was you have her on the weekdays, and he would have her on the weekends. Before she could even turn 1 the agreement of him having her on the weekends turned into every other weekend which now turned into once a month or whenever he can “make time”. ‘That lousy son of a-’

*ring**ring* *ring* your phone going off interrupted your thoughts and your face immediately sours after reading the name. Now what business do he have calling this late at night? “What is it Satoru?” You asked answering the phone. You were met with silence and white noise. You were starting to get impatient and almost hung up until he sighed and spoke in a low voice. “Sorry to call so late.. I-I was wondering if I can come over tomorrow night to see you and Aimi… I-I want to discuss some things… there’s some things I need to apologize to you for. To apologize to both of you.” It was now your turn to be silent. He wanted to apologize? ‘Aren’t you about five years too late?’ Is what you really wanted to say and end the call right then and there but at the same time it’s been about 4 months since Aimi got to see her dad and she has been asking about her “Toru-ru” (a nickname she came up with since she learned to talk) you sighed and internally rolled your eyes before saying “okay, come over around 7pm.” You hung up tossing your phone beside you and eyed the wine that you still had in your glass…. After 5 years now he wants to apologize. You gulped down the rest of the wine feeling it warm your belly. ‘I guess that counts for something right?’

Saturday. March 21st, 2023, 6:52pm

“Mommy! Are we really going to see Toru-ru?” Your daughter was excited, her blue eyes were gleaming as she swayed in her seat. You never thought to correct your daughter into saying daddy instead of the nickname she came up with because in your eyes he was never really a good father to her anyways. “Yep. He’ll be over here in a few minutes, and we’ll spend some time with him, he wants to see his little princess.” You gave her a kiss on the forehead and finished adding the final touches to dinner.

You made creamy shrimp pasta with sun-dried tomatoes since pasta was Aimi’s favorite meal to eat. She loves pasta so much you always tease her that she’s going to turn into one which she would reply “That would be the best thing to ever happen!” You turned the stove off and started to wonder to yourself if you were really cooking this for Aimi or for yourself. Well…. you’re really doing this for yourself. You hate to feel this way but you long for the look in your daughter eyes when the 3 of you are all together spending time even though it doesn’t happen that often. You can’t help but to feed your crazy delusions in having that family moment of just you 3 eating dinner together because you felt like you were robbed of it. Of everything. And it hurts you that you couldn’t provide Aimi with that stable family environment like her friends. She may not mention it, but you know deep down it affects her.

The doorbell to your apartment broke your thoughts and before you could react your daughter is already opening the door yelling “Toru-ru!” Holding her hands out for the blue-eyed devil to pick her up. He chuckled and tried to match her enthusiasm as he picked her up giving her kisses all over her face “Hey my princess, now why are you answering the door?? What if I was a stranger? That’s not safe” He gave her more kisses to her face making her giggle “But you’re not a stranger to me dad” She gave him a toothy grin. ‘Bullshit. He damn near is’ you thought to yourself before setting up the dinner table.

Satoru walked into the kitchen looking at you and taking the sight of you in. It’s been about 4 months since y’all seen each other and he can’t help but to feel a little awkward, not knowing what else to say he put Aimi back on the ground before walking closer to you making you look up at him. He smiled at you, and you noticed his eyes were a little puffy. ‘Was he crying?’

“Hey (y/n) thank you for allowing me to come over and spend time with you and Aimi” he took a seat at the table and you placed a plate in front of him, “I mean you are her dad, you’re supposed to spend time with her right?” You couldn’t help but to let the attitude show through your voice and you scolded yourself because you didn’t want Aimi to catch on, it wouldn’t be healthy for her to know you absolutely hated her dad’s guts. Aimi took the other chair and scooted it closer to her dad so she can soak up as much quality time with him as she can. “Toru-ru! You wouldn’t believe what happened at Yuji’s birthday party yesterday!” She started rambling to her dad and as you were placing the food on their plates you were started to relish this time

With Aimi catching up with her dad you glanced at Satoru who was giving his daughter all his devoted attention laughing when she would say something ridiculous. You started to feel your heart leak again. You took your seat at the table near them after you filled your plate with food telling them they can eat. “And one time mommy had a friend over, and he was helping make spaghetti, but they spilled ALL the sauce on the floor, and they fell! It was so funny!” At that Satoru head perked up from his plate and he glanced at you “Mommy has a friend?”

The question was geared more towards you, and you couldn’t help but to feel irritated of that accusing tone. “Yes, I had a friend over last week and his name is Toji. He came over with his son for a play date.” Satoru only looked at you as his ears perked up at the name and couldn’t help but to feel jealous. Throughout the whole 5 years he knew you were single so hearing you have a new ‘friend’ and it’s a guy that also has a kid was kind of eating at him as selfish as it sounds, he knows he has no place to say anything but Satoru being Satoru couldn’t help but to let his jealousy show. “So, you’re setting up my daughter on play dates with boys now?” You scoffed because you couldn’t believe the audacity this man has. “You’re daughter? Do you even have the right to say that?”

You both were glaring at each other and Aimi wasn’t a dumb child she started to have a feeling this family time wasn’t going to go well so she sneaked out carrying her plate to the living room with her iPad trying to hold in her tears. You noticed the change in your daughter demeanor which made you even angrier at the man glaring at you. “Do you see what you are doing? She wants to spend time with you and you’re just letting yourself absorbed feelings get in the way of that!” It was now his turn to scoff

“me? You’re the one who just denounced my fatherhood in front of our child!” You rubbed your forehead already getting tired. You’ve been so tired for so long and the emotions your heart was leaking was starting to get a bit too much for you to handle. You got up grabbing your plate “you know what, you’re right I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that in front of her. I’m going to go upstairs you can still spend time with her.” You put the scraps of food in the trash and the plate in the sink and began to head out the kitchen until Satoru grabbed your hand softly turning you to face him. You looked up at him trying to hold back tears. He looked at you with so much emotion and he bit his bottom lip to keep him for crying for the 10th time today.

“What is it Satoru?” You softly asked as you glanced away. You were suddenly taken aback when he embraced you into a hug. You felt him place his hand on the back of your head while his other arm was wrapped around your torso. He held you so close to him that you could hear his heartbeat and you swore you could hear his heart leaking like yours. “I’m so sorry (y/n), for everything, for cheating on you to abandoning you when you were pregnant, God, for not being there for Aimi,” he started sobbing on your shoulder and a part of you wanted to console him, but your arms just laid to your side. “Satoru please let me go so we can sit down and talk.” he didn’t want to let you go but he listened and sat down at the same table where he left you 5 years ago. It felt like déjà vu for him and if he could rewind time to stop himself from betraying you, he would. At this moment he would give up his kidney to be able to go back in time. He couldn’t help but to feel like this was his Karma and he never felt so wrong in his entire life.

“Why now? Why after 5 years?” You broke his train of thought as you stared at him from across the table with a stoic expression and arms crossed. “I –“ He began to answer but you cut him off, “why didn’t you show up when I was in labor? Why didn’t you keep your promise to see your little princess every weekend? How could you cheat on me while I was pregnant? While you were living with Utahime in her big house playing daddy I was here working overtime as a single mother…. And I still am, we would’ve got evicted out of this apartment if it wasn’t for Toji who paid our rent 3 months in advance to give me breathing room. God! I’ve only known him for half a year and he’s already been more of a father to Aimi than you ever been for the whole 5 years she’s been on this earth. He’s spent more time with her than you ever did, and I’m not even dating the guy, he does it because he wants to!” You sighed rubbing your face with your hands feeling the tingling sensation of your eyes water,

“I just felt so abandoned and alone Satoru. The trauma from the pregnancy to the birth to now is just too overwhelming for a simple Im sorry. I honestly don’t even want to hear it because it’s not going to change anything that I went through. It’s not going to change the hurt Aimi would feel when she can’t spend time with her dad cause she doesn’t ‘fit in his schedule’…. So why now after all of that are you here to apologize?”

You were breathing a little heavy after your rant and you still sat across from him waiting for his response. It was like your words knocked the wind out of him. He was so riddled with guilt and regret that he couldn’t keep his eyesight from blurring due to the tears. “I wasn’t a man… I’m not going to make excuses for my actions because there are none…. I found out yesterday that Ren isn’t my son. Suguru is the father and at that moment I felt so betrayed by both of them that I thought about you and how I betrayed you. I’m sorry that it took all this time for me to see that…. I... came here to apologize to you and I want to do better for our daughter. I wasted five years raising a son that wasn’t mine when I neglected my own daughter. I know what we had is over and what I did to you is unredeemable but,”

Satoru got up from the chair and walked in front of you and started to get on his knees keeping eye contact with you before bowing to the ground with his head touching the floor. “Please let me redeem myself to our daughter, please let me show you both that I will be a better father for her, please.” He was still bowing on the ground, and you couldn’t help but to feel a little pity for him…. But at the same time, you felt like why should you give grace to the man that was literally the cause of your depression until you remembered the sight of your daughter when Satoru came and how happy she was. You may not be as forgiving but a child seems to always forgive their parent for their shortcomings. You ran your fingers through your hair and sighed before giving in. “Okay... let’s start with you having her on the weekends.”

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