#he ended up moriing me <3< /div>
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jokest3r ¡ 2 years ago
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So i have my name as ghostface simp and me and my friends decided to three stack and we went against a ghostface right? I go to kiss him and everything, eventually downs me and tbags me for a full minute(im not complaining) and hooks me. Get unhooked and he comes after me again
Me: oh hey-
Ghostface: kiss me- *literally stabbing at my direction*
Me: thats enough kisses thats enOUGH-
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moisette ¡ 22 days ago
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Had more fun playing today than I did yesterday. My head is still foggy, though...
I don't get why people do this. If you're going to kill me - just fucking kill me. You're wasting my time and it's annoying. I don't have the time or energy for shit like this - especially when I'm sick. I was worried this would be all my matches today but they weren't. Not ALL Wraiths play this way but I've seen it a lot with them. That is why I don't like playing against them <_<
Except against Trickster. Probably Huntress too. Plague if she has her power, I guess. And Trapper if he traps it. Anyways...
This is the scariest match I've ever played against a Xeno xD; Near the end it said Meg and Nea were being chased. I was like "...But I see Meg and Nea and they're not being chased o_O" Dunno if their internet cut out or if it was due to the servers? My ping has been yellow since the event started but it's normal everywhere else...
I...don't know how Skull Merchant works anymore... I also haven't played her in a longass time. Do we bother with drones anymore?
I wanted to heal Haddie but I guess I didn't get her attention well enough... I was hoping that after the chase we had earlier, she'd go for me. I got downed and I crawled away as far as I could and luckily she did come get me. That allowed them to get Taurie and also open the gate. They tried so hard to help me and I still got downed. The issue is that I need to look behind me but if I look behind me only, I run into shit and get stuck >_> So I have to alternate... I got stuck in my chase earlier and had to drop the pallet because of it. I really wish I had Reassurance that match. I brought it into the next match because of this standoff and I died first so xD;
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synthshenanigans ¡ 10 months ago
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Thank you Mr. Jash for adding the 20XX skirt to a Power Hour. This design is accurate now, thank.
Not a set design [since its not all out yet] but here's vague idea of a fusion of the power hours!
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[and also technically 20XX with the skirt but i needed something to fuse the funky kong skirt with okay shuuuush]
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osarina ¡ 6 months ago
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ᥣ𐭊 WICKED LOVE WILL LEAVE ME BLIND
FEATURING: dazai osamu
SUMMARY: dangerous games are played between you and dazai during one of the most important events of the year for the japanese underworld. you're never this risky, not when your reputation is on the line, but fuck being near him just seems draw out all of the worst in you.
(wordcount: 4.5k; ņsfw; fem!reader; port mafia member!reader, jealous!dazai, possessive!dazai, public sex, spitting, unprotected sex, gagging dazai w/your panties, switch!dazai, switch!reader. lmk if anything is missing!)
AUTHOR'S NOTES: WOOWWWWWWW u all can thank tumblr user mioblobby for this one, she sent in an ask 3 days ago and this consumed me so badly that i dropped all of my wips to write this. anyway, enjoy dazai & pmreader being absolute FREAKS in public
His gaze hasn’t left you once all night. You can feel it dark and heavy from where he’s leaning against a wall on the opposite side of the room, black coat hanging around his shoulders and a cold, unapproachable expression on his face, looking every bit the wraith people claim him to be. 
Chuuya is off somewhere to your side, smooth talking two of Mishima’s daughters, surely planning to end the night in one of their beds to get those loose lips moving about the meeting that their father had with Cao Xueqin of the Red Chamber two weeks ago, something he’s been unnervingly tight lipped about when Mori pried. 
You��re entertaining two of the younger members of Mishima’s upper echelon, Abe Kimifusa and Ibuse Masuji—they can’t be much older than you, early twenties max, and they’re delighted by the attention you’re giving them. Ibuse is half hanging off your shoulders, arm wrapped around you, too many drinks in as he leans in close and laughs at some comment Abe makes about one of their fellow executives. You smile idly as you listen, resting against him as you take in their words, trying to pretend to be engaged with the conversation to not give away how you’re hyper-focused on a certain black-haired executive in the distance. 
Usually, he would join you and Chuuya in your attempts to gather some easy intel on the Sun and Steel—that’s what he’s done the past year and a half, at least, targeting some of the older members of Mishima’s upper echelon who would sell half of their organs and their soul for a night with the untouchable Demon Prodigy. The thought leaves a bitter taste in your mouth now, knowing what he told you, but you still can’t help but be a little surprised that he’s not even trying to put up a facade of charm and wit, rather spending his time skulking in the shadows watching you, especially when his usual targets are so blatantly staring at him, waiting for him to make a move.
You think it’s hypocritical the way you’re so pleased over the fact that he’s not entertaining anyone tonight, because the thought of him letting any of those men drape themselves all over him like Ibuse currently is with you leaves a very sour taste in your mouth.
You also think that’s why you’re letting Ibuse take it as far as he has—to see Dazai get wound up about it. You don’t typically let people get touchy with you unless you plan on taking them to bed, and you have absolutely no intention of fucking Ibuse Masuji. He’s pretty enough with dark hair and a nice smile, but too stupid for your taste—maybe that’s a good thing though, if he’s already so loose-lipped now with only a few drinks in him, you can’t imagine how much he’d let slip in a post-orgasm induced haze.
You start to reconsider your decision on Ibuse, looking up at him contemplatively as he makes a snide comment about Kamatsu Sakyo—an older executive of the Sun and Steel, one of the ones you know have spent a night, or more, with Dazai, so your smile is a bit more genuine when you hear the way Ibuse drags him for being incompetent and useless.
“The older generation has to go,” Ibuse hisses, shaking his head as his arm tightens around you, leaning back against the wall. “They’re running us into the fucking ground. That fucker Kamatsu wants us to take that deal from the Red Chamber-”
“Masuji,” Abe warns, giving you a careful look, not as drunk as his companion. You raise your eyebrows at the comment from Ibuse, looking at him questioningly.
Ibuse waves off Abe haphazardly. “The Port Mafia did it right,” he says bluntly, taking another sip of his drink. “Wiped out the whole old regime after the previous boss died. That’s what the Boss should’ve done when he took over from his father. All of these old fucks need to drop dead.”
“The meeting with Xueqin went that poorly?” you ask casually, sure to keep the interest out of your tone as you look up at Ibuse.
“Don’t even get me started,” Ibuse scoffs. “That fucker wants-”
You’re careful to keep the irritation off your face when you hear the telltale sound of Mishima preparing to give his annual ‘thank you, fruitful alliances ahead!’ speech that always bores you to tears. Next to you, Ibuse sighs and pulls his arm off of you, pushing off the wall.
“We’ve gotta go up there with him. I’ll find you later?” he asks you, eyes a bit too hopeful, voice eager as he waits for your response.
“Definitely,” you say—the things you do for information.
With most of the attendees of the ball distracted by Mishima’s speech, you slip away to make your way over to the far corner where Dazai is waiting. Still, he tracks you—from the moment you make your subtle escape from the crowd until you’re standing right in front of him in the shadows where he’s lingering, his gaze remains trained on you, intense in a way that lets you know that he’s unhappy, if the way his jaw is tight didn’t.
“You’ve been having fun tonight,” he drawls, voice low as he looks down at you, arms folded across his chest.
“Is that what it seemed like?” you say lightly, taking a step closer, casting one last glance behind you to ensure that all eyes are pinned on Mishima before hooking your fingers into his belt loops to tug him closer to you. “At least I’m doing my job properly then.”
“It’s your job to let Mishima’s whore of an executive drape himself all over you?” Dazai tilts his head to the side, one hand sliding behind you to close the small distance between the two of you, leaving your chest pressed to his.
No, you let that drag on just because you could tell how irate Dazai was becoming over it, but Dazai doesn’t have to know that. So instead, you play coy.
“I have appearances to keep up,” you say, tilting your head up with a simpering smile, enjoying the way his gaze immediately darts down to your lips, lingering there before he has to forcibly drag it back up to your eyes. “You know that.”
“Yeah?” Dazai hums, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. His gaze drifts above you. “Maybe I should be making more of an effort with appearances then, Kamatsu has had his eye on me all night.”
Your eye doesn’t twitch at his words, but your grip on his belt loops tightens. “You don’t want to play that game with me, Dazai,” you warn, keeping your voice deceptively mild.
“And why is that?” Dazai drawls, looking too smug for your liking as he looks down at you as if realizing how much his threat bothered you.
“Because I’ll win,” you say easily, fingers slipping from his belt loops to slide your hands up and down his sides before settling them on his slim hips, relishing in the way his lashes flutter at your touch. “You know that. It’s unlike you to pick losing battles.”
“I won’t lose,” Dazai says with a scoff, and you walk him backward until the back of his knees hit a chair, guiding him back to sit down in it as Mishima finally starts a long-winded speech that’s going to last at least twenty or thirty minutes.
You give Dazai another teasing smile as you stand in front of where he’s sitting, lifting your hand to his chin, tilting his face up toward you. You lean down, lips brushing his as you murmur, “You already have.”
“Have I?” Dazai asks, amused. He unconsciously leans forward to capture his lips with yours but you shift just out of reach before he can, raising your eyebrows pointedly at the annoyed look he gives you.
You make quick work of undoing his tie, slipping it from his neck before wrapping it loosely around your wrist, hyper aware of the way his gaze is trained sharply on your face, studying your every move. You bring your other hand back up to his face, cupping his cheek gently, and your breath catches as he leans into your touch, eye lidded as he looks up atwith you. He tilts his head to the side to press his lips against your palm, keeping eye contact as he lifts his hand to cover yours, shifting it so he can graze his lips against the pulse point on your wrist.
“You have,” you agree, grateful that your voice isn’t as breathless as you feel from the combined intensity of his gaze and his lips on your skin.
“How so?” Dazai looks entirely too smug, probably can feel the way your pulse is racing under his touch, and you itch to wipe the smugness right off of his face.
“I’m meeting Ibuse after this speech,” you tell him, now entirely too smug yourself as Dazai expression drops and goes icy, fingers stiffening from where his hand is still pressed over yours. “Need to get him to spill about the meeting with the Red Chamber, he already started getting into it before. If I get him alone, we’ll know everything we need.”
“Go ahead,” Dazai sounds deceptively calm, you’d almost believe he didn’t care if the look in his eye didn’t betray him, cold and promising bloodshed. “I’ll kill him.”
“You’ll start a war,” you say absently, the tips of your fingers brushing through his dark hair.
“I don’t care,” Dazai replies, and you know that he’s serious—it should worry you, he could throw all of your work with the Sun and Steel out the window in a split second, but instead you only find yourself giddy, tongue pressing behind your teeth and a smile curving at your lips as you look down at him.
“Careful, Dazai,” you breathe out, “almost sounds like you care.”
He does care, you know that and he knows that, but he refuses to admit it out loud. Refuses to put a label on anything between the two of you. You think it’s his way of maintaining some semblance of control over things; he thinks that if he actually admits what’s going on between the two of you, it’ll be a loss of control over himself that he can’t afford. 
As if threatening to start a gang war with the Mafia’s most important ally because you’re planning to sleep with someone for vital information isn’t a loss of control in itself. 
You also think it might have to do with the broken gasps he’d let out over the phone during the assassination plot on you a few weeks ago, when he thought that he’d miscalculated and they called his bluff, that they were going to get to you and no one was going to be able to get there in time to protect you. 
“Everything I never want to lose is always lost the moment I obtain it.”
You wonder, maybe, if he thinks that not making things official with you is his way of protecting both you and himself. 
But it’s fucking frustrating. It’s frustrating dealing with his hot and cold—days where he’s so clearly enamored with you, spending hours laid up with you admiring you while you do work, looking at you with eyes that should only be reserved for long time lovers, and then there are days where he can hardly bring himself to look at you, avoiding you at every given chance, cold and aloof. It’s frustrating, and it’s exhausting, you just want to be with him.
His eye darkens, jaw clicking at your words, but he doesn’t respond other than that.
You’re not sure what exactly compels you to take another step forward, you watch as his gaze tracks down to the low cut of your dress, as he shifts in his seat, legs spread, clearly withholding the urge to adjust himself in his pants. A dangerous thought crosses your mind, one that you know you should toss away because of where you are, how many people are just on the other side of the room, but you find your body moving before you can stop yourself.
You watch him inhale, gaze tracking down to where your hand has slipped into the high slit of your dress, casting one last look over your shoulder to make sure the two of you are at an angle that no one would be able to easily see you before pulling down your thin black panties—the ones you know he loves and wore just to see the way the pupil of his visible eye becomes blown wide at the sight of them, breath hitching.
You shift closer to him, balling them into your fist, one hand sliding behind the back of his head, fingers entwined with his dark hair as you tilt his head back, eyes tracing the exhilaration on his face as he looks up at you, realizing what you’re going to do, where you’re going to do it.
“You’re crazy,” he breathes out. The words are reverent, he speaks them in the same way you imagine he would tell you he loves you, it makes your breath catch. “Here? What're you gonna do if one of them looks over and sees you stuffed with my cock, hm? How're you gonna explain why you're full of cum when you go meet that clown?”
“You talk too much,” you note, stepping forward. “Open up.”
Dazai’s lips part instinctively, but before you stuff his mouth with your panties, you lean over him, fingers hooking around his bottom lip as you force his mouth a little wider, watching as his breath hitches and his lashes flutter when you spit right into his open mouth, swallowing it immediately. 
Your lips curl up as you lift the hand holding your panties, taking in an unsteady breath as he lets you push your panties between his lips; he lets out a muffled groan around them, eyes sliding shut as if savoring the taste of them. You shift your dress around slightly so you can comfortably straddle his thighs. His hands immediately fly to your waist, but you click your tongue lightly, pushing them off and sliding his tie around his wrists once you’ve got them behind his back.
He tilts his head to the side, giving you a heavy, judgmental look. He doesn’t even have to speak to know what he’s thinking: “You really think this is going to stop me?”
You give him a sweet smile, leaning in to graze your lips against his jaw, feeling the shaky breath he lets out around your panties. “If you free yourself from them,” you murmur, lips brushing his ear as you speak, “I’ll stop.”
You don’t wait for his reaction, directing your attention down toward his slacks, loosening his belt and unbuttoning his pants. You ease his cock out of his briefs, weight heavy in your hand, tip flushed pink and leaky. You give it an experimental pump, using his own precum as lube, and watch as he tilts his head back, giving a full body shudder.
“You’re so easy to rile up,” you sigh softly, shifting forward so that his cock slides between your slick folds, you press your lips to the underside of his jaw to smother the moan you almost let out when his tip catches on your clit. “I love it.”
You know he’s trying to shoot you a withering look, but the effects of it are severely diminished with how his face is flushed pink and his eyes are unfocused. You give him another saccharine smile, and that’s the only warning he gets before you’re sinking down on his cock. 
You can feel every inch of him stretching you open, filling you up until the tip of his cock is nudging right up against your cervix. It takes all of your self control to bite back the loud gasp that nearly rips from your lips, not wanting to have to bury your face in the crook of his neck just yet, watching as he lets out a choked noise that’s loud even with your panties stuffed in his mouth, eyes rolling to the back of his head.
“Careful,” you warn, leaning in to drag your lips up his neck to the corner of his lips. You lift one of your hands to hold the back of his head again, gripping his hair as you force him to look at you again, fingers tugging hard at his hair. His gaze is unfocused, lips parting as he heaves around your panties, throat spasming—he looks fucking divine, and for a moment, you regret doing this here because you might have to kill someone if they see him when he’s looking like this. “You don’t want them to see you like this, yeah?”
You can hear the whine that builds in the back of his throat, trying to rock his hips up into yours. The sloppy sound of his cock driving into your cunt is too loud—Mishima is still speaking loudly, drowning out any noise that could possibly be coming from your secluded corner, but it’s so risky, you almost don’t know what’s gotten into you. If anyone happens to wander over this way…
“God, what do you do to me?” you gasp, leaning in so you can graze your teeth against his neck, threatening to bite down. 
You’re never this reckless—not when it’s your reputation on the line, you’ve spent years honing it into the weapon it’s become, and here you are risking it all just because Dazai Osamu decided to give you bedroom eyes during one of the most important events the Port Mafia attends. Fuck, he drives you insane.
His head lolls forward, forehead resting against the side of yours, lips brushing your ear. You can feel his heavy pants, each one catching over a moan muffled by your panties. You rock your hips back and forth quickly, each drag of his cock against your walls making you hot and lightheaded. Whether it’s just from the sheer pleasure of it all—the way the tip of his cock pressees right into that sensitive spot deep inside of you, the way he’s so quickly coming undone beneath you, body trembling and drool pooling at the corner of his lips around your panties—or if it’s because of the way anyone could wander over in this direction, catch you fucking Dazai so brazenly when there’s a crowd of one hundred and fifty, two hundred of the most important people in the Japanese underworld just on the far side of the room, you don’t know, but heat pools in your abdomen so quickly that it’s almost impossible to control. 
You can feel his breath ragged, his body tense, each roll of your hips against his has Dazai falling apart, and you can feel the telltale sign of his cock twitching inside of you, signaling that he’s about to finish. You tug his hair, pulling his head back from where it's fallen against you, and you lift your other hand quickly up to his lips, pushing them inside of his mouth to hook your fingers around your panties, pulling them out of his mouth.
Instantly, Dazai is pushing himself forward to press his lips against yours, freeing himself of his own tie so his hands can fly to your waist. You let out a low moan into his mouth as he pushes his tongue into yours, one hand sliding from your waist to your back, keeping your body flush to his as he grinds you down on his cock hard.
“Fuck,” Dazai groans into your mouth, voice choked. You can see the way he can hardly keep his gaze steady, the way he’s gripping your dress to try to keep himself grounded. “I-ah, shit-I’m close. I’m-”
You lean in to swallow his moan, kissing him hard as his eyes roll to the back of his head, hips stuttering as he spills his cum deep inside of you. Your breath catches at the feeling of his cum filling you up, warm, heavy, so much of it that you can feel it dribbling out from where his cock is still stuffed deep inside of you; it’s the last thing you need to push you over the edge, mind blank and jaw falling slack as your body shudders in his arms.
Black dots spot your vision, your nails dragging down his black coat, your whole body consumed with pleasure—it hits you so hard that you think maybe you might’ve passed out for a split second. The feeling of your release sends a shockwave through Dazai, you can feel the way his body spasms and jerks when your walls suddenly tighten around his sensitive cock.
“God,” Dazai breathes out against your lips, eyes glazed over as the two of you come down from your high, an expression so adoring on his face that you think for a moment, you might be imagining it. “You’re so…”
He doesn’t finish his sentence, leaves it to your imagination, and you want to press, but you don’t have the chance because you’re slapped hard with reality when you hear Mishima’s speech coming to an end, eyes widening. Your legs are shaky as you push off of him, hissing at the feeling of his softening cock slipping out of your cunt—you almost snort when you see how Dazai twitches and winces at the sudden movement, still sensitive.
“Clean yourself up,” you tell him sharply, straightening your dress and fixing your hair, trying to catch sight of yourself in the reflection of a nearby glass, watching from the corner of your eye as Dazai stuffs himself back in his pants, wiping your cum off of his expensive black slacks before sucking it right off of his fingers. He grabs his tie from where he’d let it fall to the ground, and then your panties, winking at you before he stuffs them in the pocket of his jacket. 
His gaze lifts to you as he rises to his feet, drifting lazily over your form, lingering on the way your skin glows with a soft sheen of sweat, the loose strands of hair that cling to your forehead—something you hope you can play off considering the air condition in the ballroom isn’t on. Then his gaze settles down on the lower half of your body, lips curling up into a slow smirk.
He takes a few steps closer to you, holding his tie out to you. “Re-tie it?” he hums, and you roll your eyes because you know he can do it himself and you know he has some sort of ulterior motive right now, but you take it from him regardless.
You quickly slide the tie around his neck, trying to tie it quickly before anyone catches sight of the two of you, but with you so focused on getting this done, you miss the way his hand sneaks forward until you feel it slip into the slit of your dress. 
“Dazai,” you warn, keeping your voice low, but your breath catches when you feel him gather up all of the cum that had dribbled out of your cunt, head falling against his shoulder as you try to force yourself not to react when he uses two fingers to stuff it right back inside of you.
You can feel the wicked grin against your ear as he leans down to tug your earlobe gently. “Good luck explaining this to Ibuse.”
Then he steps away, dark eye glittering dangerously as he looks down at you.
“I’ll find you later,” he says before turning to walk away.
You’re not sure if it’s a threat or a promise and you don’t have time to make a snide comment asking, because you hear Ibuse approaching you from behind, giddy and excited until he catches sight of Dazai’s infamous black coat retreating, swallowing thickly and eyes flickering nervously between the two of you—a common reaction to the executive’s presence, knowing how dangerous and unpredictable he can be.
You wonder if Dazai would make Ibuse half as nervous and uncomfortable if he’d known he just spent the last fifteen minutes with your panties stuffed in his mouth and his hands tied behind his back, whining and whimpering, muffling all of his sounds so people didn’t overhear the two of you. But you dismiss that thought—that’s knowledge for you to keep to yourself, you don’t like sharing.
“Let’s get out of here?” you hum, drawing him out of his thoughts before he can spiral.
He lights back up again, but you can tell he’s still nervous from Dazai’s brief appearance. “Yeah, c’mon.”
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Two hours later, you wander out of one of the back rooms in Mishima’s mansion, intent on getting back to headquarters. You don’t get more than two feet before you feel a hand wrap around your wrist, tugging you backward hard until your back meets a familiar chest.
Your heartbeat stills from the brief bout of erraticness when you felt someone grab you, relaxing back into Dazai, tilting your head back and to the side to look up at him as he holds your hips, keeping you flush to him.
“Did you fuck him?” Dazai asks, voice low and expression unreadable.
You have half a mind to say yes, just to see what Dazai plans to do if you did. He can’t kill Ibuse, not even he is reckless enough to start a war with the Sun and Steel right now, but you don’t think you want to risk it.
“Didn’t have to,” you say honestly. “He was babbling out everything I wanted to know before the doors even closed.”
Dazai searches your face for a moment as if trying to decide if you’re being truthful, when he does, one of his hands slips off your waist into his coat, and you hear the familiar sound of Dazai flipping the safety of his gun back on.
“Dazai,” you snap. “You can’t just-”
“I can do whatever I want,” Dazai interrupts you with the type of confidence that lets you know he had every intention of putting a bullet through Ibuse’s head if you fucked him, regardless of the consequences. The thought of that alone makes your blood run hot, pupils dilating as you look up at him; Dazai’s lips curve up slowly as if he knows just what’s going on in your head. He looks behind you curiously before focusing back down on you asking: “Is he passed out in there?”
“Mhm,” you agree, watching him curiously as you try to figure out what he might be thinking. “Drank too much.”
“Good,” Dazai murmurs, walking you right back into the room you’d come out of, a sharp smile on his face. He closes the door behind the two of you, gaze flickering over to where Ibuse is unconscious on the couch before he backs you up until your knees hit the corner of the bed, pushing you back onto it. “Let’s see if we can wake him up then.”
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thewickedjazzy ¡ 5 months ago
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𓍼𝑽𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝑶𝒇 𝑴𝒚 𝑶𝒘𝒏 𝑺𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒚𓂃
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➵ 𝓟𝓪𝓲𝓻𝓲��𝓰𝓼 : Beast! Dazai osamu x f! reader
➵ 𝓘𝓷𝓽𝓻𝓸: You are Dazai's favourite—an executive who avoided unnecessary bloodshed, preferring to strategize behind the scenes. With your cunning plans, you helped the Port Mafia flourish after Mori's death, and under Dazai's leadership, you became vital in securing the organization's power.
➵ 𝓒𝓸𝓷𝓽𝓮𝓷𝓽: NSFW minor dni, smut, angst, dazai is controlling, yandere dazai?, character death, abuse, guns, blood, SA, dissociation, manipulation, unhealthy relationship, let me know if I forgot any Xx.
➵ 𝓐𝓾𝓽𝓱𝓸𝓻'𝓼 𝓷𝓸𝓽𝓮: Helloooo, this fic took me 3 weeks to finish, I'm always down with angst stories cause, let's be real, no bsd fan doesn't like angst, right? also, ice cream man by raye inspired me to write some parts uwu I hope you enjoy it. xoxo -dividers credits to @anitalenia
➵ 𝓦𝓸𝓻𝓭 𝓬𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓽: 6.8k
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You shouldn't be crying. You already did beat the man up till he was shaking, but you couldn't help it. You can still feel his ice-cold hands marking your body, a sensation that sends shivers down your spine. How you wish you could express how you feel, how you felt in that moment when your strength faltered. You long to explain why you’re silently blaming yourself, why the guilt gnaws at your insides like a relentless parasite.
You put on these faces, pretending you're fine, wearing a mask of strength that you desperately want to believe in. But in the privacy of the bathroom, you press rewind, playing the events over and over in your head. His fingerprints, like invisible stains, linger on your skin, a cruel reminder of how he made you frame yourself for his sins. Such a pathetic, dead excuse of a man.
The man in question wasn’t just some random thug—he was your crazy ex, the one who had haunted you for years, refusing to let go, even after everything had ended. You hadn’t told anyone about the encounter. What would they think? What would he think? Dazai, with his sharp eyes and sharper mind, would see right through you. He always did.
You straighten up and hastily wipe your tears away as you hear a knock on the door. The sound sends a jolt through your body, and you quickly compose yourself, trying to erase any trace of vulnerability from your face.
Seated at your desk, you take a deep breath and call out, "Come in."
The door opens, and it's Chuuya, greeting you with his usual smile. But the moment his eyes land on you, the smile drops, concern filling his gaze as he takes in your red nose and puffy eyes.
“Hey, you okay?”' he asks with a low and gentle voice.
You force a weak smile, shaking your head. "Yeah..just... pmsing," you lie, the excuse feeling hollow even to you. You get up walking towards him before adding quickly, "Please don’t tell Dazai."
Chuuya hesitates, his eyes searching yours, before he nods, accepting your words without question. He hands you his handkerchief, his expression softening with sympathy as you take it from him.
You dab at your eyes, feeling the wetness seep into it, and then take a deep breath. You can’t afford to break down, not now. Not in front of him.
He escorted you to Dazai’s office, his presence a quiet comfort. At the door, he gave you a final, soft look before turning away.
The office door creaked open, and you stepped inside, the chill of the room amplifying the coldness you already felt. Dazai looked up from his desk, his eyes narrowing slightly as he took in your disheveled state.
“Rough day?” he asked, voice so velvetly soft that it could melt you.
You tried to muster a casual smile, but it felt hollow. “Just had a run-in with some old... baggage. Nothing to worry about.”
Dazai’s eyes didn’t leave you, his expression shifting to something more serious. “You know I don’t buy that ‘nothing’ act. What’s really going on?”
You took a deep breath, struggling to keep your voice steady. “It’s really not your concern. I’m handling it.”
Dazai’s gaze was sharp as he looked you up from his desk, his usual lazy posture replaced by a steely focus. “Come here,” he said, a command wrapped in casual tones.
Reluctantly, you approached, his eyes never leaving you. He patted his lap, a gesture both familiar and unsettling. “Sit.”
You shook your head, trying to avoid his intense stare, oh god how he toys with your emotions. “I’m fine standing.”
Dazai’s expression darkened slightly, his patience wearing thin. He reached out, his fingers grazing your wrist as he pulled you closer. The touch was feather-light but unmistakably commanding. He guided you gently onto his lap, his hands resting on your waist.
You stiffened, trying to keep your breathing steady. “Osamu, really, it’s nothing.”
Ignoring your protests, Dazai’s lips brushed against your neck, his kisses soft but insistent. You tilted your head, a soft whimper escaping your lips. The sensation was like a nicotine hit after a long withdrawal; you had been away on a mission for three days, and you had missed his touch more than you cared to admit. As his lips continued their tender assault, he pulled your shirt down slightly, revealing the fresh bruise that marred your skin.
Dazai’s eyes narrowed, a dangerous glint reflecting in them. The bruise was vivid, a stark contrast against your pale skin, and his expression darkened as he took in the sight.
“Who did this?” he asked coldly, his voice remained low.
You turned your head away, refusing to meet his gaze. “It’s not important.”
Dazai’s hand tightened on your waist, his grip firm and unyielding as he tilted your head back. His kisses turned sharper, more insistent, and you couldn’t help but let out soft whimpers. His breath was warm against your skin, his lips pressing harder with each passing second. “I said who did this..”
You swallowed hard, the pressure of his words mixing with the lingering sting of the bruise. “It’s nothing. Just...someone from my past.”
His grip remained unyielding, his gaze piercing. “I don’t like secrets. Especially ones that involve you getting hurt.”
The room seemed to shrink around you, the weight of his expectations pressing down. You felt cornered, unable to escape the intensity of his scrutiny. “I said it’s nothing. Please, just let it go.”
Dazai’s expression remained impassive for a moment, then he simply nodded. The acknowledgment was neither reassuring nor dismissive, leaving a cold tension in the air.
After a few seconds of silence Dazai's voice cut through the room, his fingers still brushing against your skin. “The thing is, my love, you don’t have to tell me anything.” He turned to the intercom on his desk, his tone shifting to a cold, commanding edge. “Atsushi, you can bring him in now.”
Your eyes widened in shock, your legs going weak as you tried to turn your head towards the door. It creaked open slightly, and Atsushi rushed in, dragging your ex behind him. Your ex’s hands were bound tightly, and he was unconscious, a cloth over his mouth. Atsushi tossed him roughly onto the floor and announced, “I brought him alive, just as you ordered.”
“Good work, Atsushi,” he said calmly. “You can leave now.”
Dazai’s gaze remained on you, his smile twisted with a cruel satisfaction as Atsushi closed the door behind him. He lifted your legs lightly, forcing you to stand as he moved toward the prone figure of your ex, who was beginning to stir. Dazai’s fingers traced along your ex’s jawline with an unsettling gentleness.
Horror gripped you as you watched, understanding what was about to unfold. You begged, your voice trembling, “Please, Dazai, don’t kill him.”
He merely tsked in response, his eyes cold and unyielding. “I’m not going to kill him.”
Before you could take a deep breath, his voice sliced through the tension like an arrow. “You are the one who's going to do it.” He gently grabs your hands placing a gun between them.
Your hands trembled as you held the gun, the cold metal biting into your palms. The room was deathly silent except for the faint, ragged breaths of your ex as he began to regain consciousness. His eyes fluttered open, revealing a mix of confusion and fear as he took in his surroundings.
Dazai’s cold eyes were locked on you.“Go on,” he urged softly. “You wanted him to suffer for what he did. Here’s your chance.”
The gun felt impossibly heavy, and your heart pounded in your chest. You glanced at your ex, his eyes widening in terror as he realized what was happening. “Please,” you whispered, more to yourself than to anyone else. “This isn’t what I wanted.”
Dazai’s smile widened slightly. “It doesn’t matter what you wanted. You’ve been given a choice. What will you do with it?”
Your mind raced, grappling with the gravity of the situation. You thought of the pain he’d caused you, the fear he had instilled, and the bruises that still stung. Yet, the thought of ending his life filled you with a profound dread. You felt trapped, the decision crushing under the weight of Dazai’s expectation and your own turmoil.
“Do it,” Dazai said, his voice a soft command, almost a caress. “Or I’ll do it for you. But if I do, you’ll have missed your chance to decide your own fate.”
Your eyes filled with tears as you faced your ex, his terror and confusion mirroring your own. Choked sobs left you lips Dazai’s gaze followed every movement with a sick interest.
“Please, Dazai..don’t make me do this,” you pleaded, your voice cracking.
Dazai’s expressionwas stoic as ever. “You’re not being asked to make a choice you can’t live with. You’re being given the chance to claim control over your own life.”
With a final, desperate look at your ex, you closed your eyes, trying to steady your breathing. The gun felt like a lead weight in your hand, the gravity of your decision pressing down on you. Finally, with a heavy heart and trembling hands, you raised the gun.
You closed your eyes tightly, the room spinning as you tried to steady your racing heart. The gun trembled in your grip, the weight of the decision nearly unbearable. You heard Dazai move behind you, his footsteps silent against the floor.
His presence was almost soothing as he came closer, but you knew better than to trust the comfort of his proximity. Dazai's hands settled on your outstretched arms, his touch both firm and unsettlingly gentle. His fingers caressed the metal of the gun, guiding it with a measured pressure.
“You don’t need to hesitate,” Dazai murmured softly into your ear, his breath warm against your skin. “You’ve already made the decision. Now, you just need to follow through.”
The sensation of his hands on yours, the intimate pressure of his grip, made your breathing shallow and uneven. You felt a dark, twisted sense of helplessness as his fingers guided the gun, aligning it with your ex’s trembling form.
“I’ll count to three,” Dazai continued, his voice was steady “And when I reach three, I want you to pull the trigger. Don’t let yourself falter.”
You felt his breath on your neck, his lips brushing against your skin as he spoke. The intimacy of his touch contrasted sharply with the gravity of the moment. You wanted to pull away, to escape the suffocating pressure, but his grip held you firmly in place.
“One,” Dazai said, his voice calm as he pressed a soft kiss on your neck.
Your tears fell silently as you fought against the urge to drop the gun.
“Two,” Dazai’s breath was warm as he pressed another kiss.
You could hear your ex’s shallow breaths, his eyes pleading as they met yours.
“Three,” Dazai said, his voice now a commanding whisper.
With a final, shuddering breath, you squeezed your eyes shut, trying to block out the world as you pulled the trigger. The sound of the shot echoed painfully in the room, and you felt the impact of the action resonate through your very core.
You opened your eyes, your arms fell limp as the gun slipped from your grasp, hitting the floor with a hollow clatter. You staggered back, your legs barely holding you upright, and turned away from the grim sight before you.
Dazai’s grip on your shoulders was a cold anchor as he held you steady, his touch paradoxically soothing yet possessive. You could feel his breath against your neck as he leaned in close, his voice a chilling murmur. “Well done,” he said placing soft kisses again as his arms wrapped around your waist pulling your back against his chest. “You’ve proven your resolve.”
You felt a wave of nausea and despair wash over you, your emotions a tangled mess of guilt and horror. The room spun as you tried to make sense of the scene in front of you. The body on the floor was now still, the weight of your actions sinking in with a heavy finality.
Dazai’s hands slid down to your wrists, his touch now insistent as he forced you to look at the aftermath. “Do you see what you’ve done?” he asked softly, his voice a mix of praise and dark satisfaction. “You’ve taken control of your own fate.”
You tried to pull away, but his grip was firm, his presence an oppressive force that left you feeling trapped. Your eyes darted around the room, searching for any semblance of escape, but all you found was the unyielding gaze of Dazai, his face reflecting a mixture of cold pleasure and calculated dominance.
His fingers gently traced your jawline, his touch both tender and unsettling. “It’s done now,” he said, his voice almost affectionate. “You did great, my love.”
The finality of his words echoed in your mind as you struggled to come to terms with what had just happened. The tears streaming down your face were a testament to the turmoil within you, the depth of your inner conflict clear as you fought to keep yourself composed.
Dazai’s hands gently turned you around to face him. His expression, though tinged with satisfaction, softened as he wiped away the tears streaming down your face. His touch was tender, almost reverent, as he carefully brushed away the last remnants of your distress.
He leaned in, his lips meeting yours in a soft, lingering kiss. The tenderness of the moment was jarring against the harsh reality of what had just occurred. His lips moved gently against yours, and he licked your bottom lip before drawing it into a passionate, consuming kiss.
The warmth of his kiss contrasted sharply with the icy numbness you felt inside. You felt his fingers trace your face, lingering on the slight traces of blood that you hadn’t even noticed. His touch was delicate, almost intimate, as he wiped away the remnants with careful precision.
Dazai pulled away from the kiss, his expression unreadable as he reached for the intercom on his desk. “Atsushi,” he said with a cold, commanding tone, “bring in the clean-up crew. Dispose the body.”
Atsushi entered the room, his eyes shifting between you and Dazai. He bowed slightly, acknowledging the order before moving towards the body. As he lifted your ex’s lifeless form, the finality of the situation hit you with renewed force. You stared blankly, more tears streaming down your face, as Atsushi carried the body out and closed the door behind him.
The room was filled with the soft hum of Dazai’s presence as he moved back in front of you. He gently placed his hands on your cheeks, shushing you softly as your sobs grew louder. “Shh, it’s alright,”he murmured, his voice almost soothing.
You couldn’t stop the tears from flowing, your sobs escaping in ragged bursts. Dazai’s arms wrapped around you, pulling you tightly against his chest. His embrace was both comforting and suffocating.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice a murmur against your hair. “I know it was hard.”
You could barely respond, the weight of your own emotions too heavy to articulate. All you could do was clutch at him, your sobs muffled against his chest as the realization of what had happened continued to sink in. You hated him, and yet, in the chaos of your emotions, you felt a desperate, confusing affection for him—a love that seemed to only grow more complicated in the aftermath of his actions.
Dazai’s fingers gently combed through your hair, his touch soothing despite the circumstances. “It’s all over now,” he said softly.
His lips brushed against your forehead in a tender kiss, “He should've known better than to touch what's mine.”
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The room was filled with the constant contact of your colliding bodies. Your body arched against the rumpled sheets as his thrusts filled you completely, each stroke hitting exactly the right spots.
" Mmm.. that's it my love, take my cock all the way inside this pretty eager pussy of yours" he growled softly against your skin.
You relished the way every thrust brushed against your cervix, sending waves of pleasure through you. The intensity of his movements left you feeling utterly consumed, your mind hazed and eyes glossy with desire. Your fingers dug into his back, desperately clutching him as he moved with a raw intensity.
His lips traveled down your neck, biting and kissing with a fervent need. One hand cupped your breast with a possessive grip while his mouth hovered over the other, teasing with gentle flicks of his tongue and playful nips at your nipple. The mix of sensations was overwhelming, your moans filling the space between you.
Yet, even in the midst of this passion, your mind began to wander. The memories of the past few days—the confrontation, the guilt, and Dazai’s chilling command—flooded your thoughts, turning the intense pleasure into a distant murmur. You felt a growing disconnection, your body reacting while your mind struggled to stay present.
Sensing the abrupt change, Dazai felt as if he were thrusting into a lifeless body. He slowed his movements and pulled back slightly, his gaze meeting yours with a rare softness. “What’s wrong, my love?” he asked, concern filling his lustrous gaze.
You took a few deep breaths, trying to steady yourself as your voice, though shaky, was firm. “It’s fine,” you reassured him, forcing a weak smile. “I just... got lost in my thoughts for a moment. It’s nothing.” You reached out to gently touch his cheek, trying to convey that the issue was more internal than it was about him.
Dazai took a deep breath and shifted to sit upright, his concern still evident. “You're still thinking about it, right?” he asked, his voice tinged with genuine worry.
"Please, just forget about it." you said, pulling his wrist with a firm but gentle grip. Before he could respond, you pressed your lips against his, kissing him deeply to steer your focus back to the present.
Dazai gasped into the kiss, his breath hitching as your kissed him with fervor. He gently pinned your wrists down with a possessive grip, his lips trailing soft kisses along your chest. He positioned himself again, his cock pressing against your throbbing cunt, his voice a low murmur.
“We can stop if it’s too much, my love,” he whispered as his chest moves up and down with each breath.
You locked gaze with his eyes, “Just fuck me already,” you breathed. You wanted to reclaim the moment, to bury the past beneath the intense passion that bound you both.
He slams his cock into you again, filling you completely. A growl escapes his lips as he watches you squirm beneath him, clearly enjoying the sight of your reactions. His thrusts become more powerful, and he showers your neck, chest, and breasts with fervent kisses.
"So addict to my cock, love? Hmm?" he continues to taunt you with his words and delivers a firm slap to your ass, making you shiver from his touch.
You gasp, arching your back as his thrusts hit all the right spots. “It feels so good, 'samu” you breathe, trying to steady yourself.
He slaps your ass again, making you shiver and whimper. “Say it again, my love haah~ I need to hear you say how good ugh~I’m making you feel.”
“s'good,” you moan, your voice breaking.
"Good" with a satisfied growl, he pulls out. “Now, ride me.”
You nod, your legs trembling in anticipation. As you position yourself over him, he hisses at the sensation of your cold hand guiding his hard, leaking cock to your eager, wet cunt.
As you sink down onto him, your walls stretches to accommodate his size, a deep moan slipping from your lips as you take him in fully. The feeling is overwhelming, your inner walls tightening around him, drawing a sharp gasp from both of you.
His long slender fingers grip your hips, helping you find a rhythm as you begin to ride against him. Each roll of your hips sends waves of pleasure through you, the friction making you shudder.
You lean forward, your fingers fumbling as you carefully remove the bandage from his eye. Your breath is hot against his neck as you whisper, “’Samu, I love you.” Your body presses against his, and with a surge of passion, you begin to ride him at a faster pace, each movement gaining a growl from him.
His eye, now fully exposed, darkens with lust as he gazes up at you. “I love you too, darling,” he murmurs through soft gasps. He meets your rhythm with powerful thrusts, each one driving deeper into you, matching your pace perfectly.
Feeling the pressure building within you, your moans grow louder. “I’m... close, ‘Samu,” you gasp, your trembling hands held onto his shoulders for support as you ride him faster, rolling your hips against his perfect sized cock feeling him hit every spot with his thrusts against you.
A smirk tugs at his lips as he groans in pleasure. “Oh yeah? Come all over my cock, love,” beads of sweat rolling down his temples, his words sending you spiraling closer to the edge. His hands grip your hips tightly, guiding you through the overwhelming waves of pleasure as your body trembles in his grasp.
The coil inside you finally snaps, releasing a wave of ecstasy that washes over you. “Yes, yes, yes, I’m coming, ah~ hmm~,” you cry out, your body going numb from the overwhelming pleasure. Your juices flow freely, spilling down and coating his cock as his thrusts become more intense, shaking your body upwards.
Dazai's growls of satisfaction mix with your moans as he thrusts upward forcefully, riding out his own climax. His body shudders with the release, and he moans loudly, his pleasure echoing through the room.
As the intense waves of pleasure begin to subside, Dazai slowly pulls out, his breath heavy and ragged. He wraps his arms around you, holding you close tenderly. The warmth of his embrace soothes you, bringing a sense of comfort and safety as you both calm down from your shared high. His fingers gently caress circles on your back, his breathing gradually steadying as he murmurs softly into your ear, “God, you did so well, my love.”
You watch him as he gets up, stretching slightly before heading towards the bathroom, the soft hum of water barely filling the room as he turns on the shower. The warmth of the bed still lingers around you, but it does little to quell the chill creeping into your thoughts.
Your mind drifts back to that moment a few days ago. The weight of the gun in your hand, the resistance of the trigger as you squeezed it—it's all so vivid, so real, that it feels as if you're still there, frozen in that moment. You can almost hear the echoes of the shot ringing in your ears, see the flash of surprise in his eyes as life slipped away from him.
You shake your head, trying to dispel the images, but they cling stubbornly, refusing to let go.
He calls your name from the shower, his voice gentle, inviting, yet tinged with concern when you don’t respond immediately. The sound is almost enough to pull you back, but your mind remains caught in that dark place, replaying the scene over and over.
"My love?" another call, softer this time, as he pushes the already ajar bathroom door further open to check on you. His presence pulls you back just enough to acknowledge him, to let the past slip away—at least for now.
His eyes meet yours, concern etched on his face. “Are you okay?”
You nod, forcing yourself to sit up. “I’m fine,” You managed to get off the bed, the cool air brushing against your naked skin, grounding you somewhat.
As you step into the bathroom, your body moves on autopilot, but your mind remains distant. You tell yourself that in a week or so, the memory will fade, that the guilt will lessen, that you’ll forget. But deep down, you know it's just another lie you’re feeding yourself, another attempt to bury the truth under layers of denial.
He steps aside to let you join him under the warm cascade of water, his arms wrapping around you as he senses your unease. “Hey,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your temple, “you’re safe with me, my love.”
You nod, leaning into his embrace, but the words feel hollow, the comfort fleeting. The water washes over you, warm and soothing, but it can’t cleanse the darkness that lingers within.
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You stood in front of the mirror, the dim light casting shadows on your face. Your reflection stared back at you, hollow eyes and a face pale from sleepless nights. The trauma of the past week weighed heavily on you, the memory of the blood-soaked room and the desperate cries of your ex replaying in your mind over and over again.
It had been a week since that horrifying event, but still the memory still clung to your mind like a stubborn stain. Dazai had been more affectionate than usual since then, uncharacteristically tender in his way.
The intimacy between you had taken on a new, softer turn, the moments shared tinged with an almost fragile gentleness. His eyes, once so sharp, now held an unsettling softness, as if he were trying to erase the darkness with his own brand of twisted comfort.
You couldn’t shake the feeling that you were trapped—caught in a web he’d spun so intricately that you hadn’t even noticed until it was too late.
You had tried to bury the memory, to push it away with every ounce of strength you had. But it never really left, lurking in the corners of your mind—what you had been forced to do.
You needed a break, a breath of fresh air, anything to push back the suffocating fog that had taken over your mind. So, you grabbed your coat, slipped into your favourite boots, and stepped out of your apartment, clinging to the hope of finding some shred of normalcy.
The bar was a refuge, a place where the world’s harsh edges seemed to dull. It was where you went to forget, even if only for a little while. As you walked through the door, the familiar clink of glasses and murmur of conversation welcomed you. The warmth inside, the smoky haze and soft jazz music they all played a part into easing you up even for a bit.
You made your way to the bar, your usual seat already occupied. The bartender greeted you with a nod, his understanding gaze a small comfort. You ordered your drink and settled into your chair, trying to shake off the lingering heaviness from the past week.
Your phone buzzed, pulling you from your thoughts. You picked it up and saw a message from Chuuya: "Hey, just checking in. Are you okay? I’m worried about you."
You typed back: "I’m fine, just needed some time to clear my head. At the bar now, trying to relax a bit." You hit send and put your phone down, taking a deep breath to calm yourself.
That's when you heard a familiar voice. You looked up and saw Kaito standing there, a surprise that made your heart skip. It had been years since you last saw him. He was the one who had helped you escape from your ex's grip, the only person who had reached out to pull you from that nightmare.
“Hey..." he said, his voice warm but edged with worry. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”
You gestured to the empty seat beside you. “Sit. I could use the company.”
Kaito slid into the chair, his gaze softening as he looked at you. “You look... different. Is everything okay?”
The question was like a trigger, a floodgate that opened the dam of your emotions. You looked away, taking a deep breath. “It’s been... a rough week.”
He looked at you concerned, but he didn’t press further. Instead, he ordered a drink, and the two of you sat in silence for a while, before he broke the silence.
“I heard your ex went missing. I just wanted to check in...uh...make sure you’re alright. I know how much he hurt you.”
The mention of your ex was like a punch to the gut, the memory of that night resurfacing with cruel clarity. You struggled to keep your composure, taking a sip of your drink to steady yourself. “I... I don’t know what happened to him.”
Kaito’s eyes searched yours, his expression a mix of concern and confusion. “I just wanted to make sure he’s not plotting anything or trying to reach you again. I know what he put you through.”
You nodded, a lump forming in your throat. “Thank you...but seriously I don't know anything about him.”
Before Kaito could respond, your phone buzzed again. You glanced at it and saw a new message from Chuuya: “If you need anything, I’m here for you.”
You were about to reply when Kaito’s voice broke through your thoughts. “ You okay? You seem a bit lost."
You forced a smile, brushing off the concern. “It’s nothing. I just needed a bit of air.”
You stood up, glancing at Kaito. “It was really nice seeing you after all tonight.”
You placed a few yen on the bar as a tip and offered Kaito a final, appreciative look before heading towards the door. Stepping out into the cool night air, you took a deep breath, hoping the walk would clear your head. Hearing the door swung shut behind you.
The crisp breeze brushed against your face as you began walking down the pavement, each step attempting to ground you in the present, you tried to focus on the rhythmic sound of your footsteps, letting the chill seep through your coat and numb your thoughts.
Just as you were beginning to lose yourself in the soothing cadence of the night, a familiar voice cut through the silence, sending a shiver down your spine. It was a voice you knew too well, one that you loved the most—Dazai’s.
Turning slowly, you saw him standing there, his figure framed by the dim streetlights.
“Out for a late-night stroll?” His voice was low and smooth so so smooth.
"Osamu" You whispered his name, barely audible over the street noise, as he approached you. His tall frame seemed to shield you from the harsh cold breeze that had been nipping at your skin.
His arms reached out, pulling you into a desperate, intense embrace. The warmth of his body pierced through the biting cold of the night. You closed your eyes, inhaling the intoxicating scent of his captivating perfume that you were addicted to.
“How are you feeling, my love?” the vibrations of his soft voice soothed you.
You murmured a reply, “Fine,” nuzzling your face into his warm chest. His coat offered a cocoon of comfort against the cold. You could feel the steady beat of his heart, a rhythm that both soothed and troubled you. His soft, cold lips brushed gentle kisses against your hairline, each touch leaving you wanting more.
Dazai’s gaze softened as he tilted your head gently, his fingers brushing against your cheeks with tender.
His lips, still cold from the evening air, found yours in a slow, deliberate kiss. The sensation was electric, a jolt of warmth that spread through you, making you forget the cold that had been clinging to you just moments before.
Your lips parted slightly, and you felt his bottom lip against yours, his kiss deepening as he traced a path of warmth across your mouth. His hands roamed softly over your body, every touch sending shivers down your spine.
When he pulled away, his eyes bore into yours filled with affection. “I’ve got a surprise for you, my love,” he whispered, his breath warm against your lips.
“A surprise?” you asked, your voice barely more than a whisper as your heart fluttered. The night’s chill seemed to dissipate as you gazed up at him, eager to discover what he had under his sleeve.
Dazai’s voice was soft, almost a whisper, as he said, “Follow me, my love.” He guided you through the city streets, leading you to his penthouse—an opulent space you were intimately familiar with. As you entered, the familiar strains of soft jazz filled the room, its soothing melodies filled your ears.
You shrugged off your coat and sank into the nearby couch, glancing up at him curious.
“You know how much I cherish you, don’t you?”
You nodded, a shiver running down your spine. What is he intending to do?
“And you remember when I swore to protect you with my life, back when we shared our first night together?” His eyes bore into yours, searching for affirmation.
Again, you nodded, feeling a knot of unease tightening in your stomach.
He reached out and took your hand, leading you to a door you had never entered before. He typed in a series of digits, and the door slid open with a soft whoosh. What lay beyond sent a jolt of shock through you: Kaito, tied up against the wall with chains, his eyes wide with fear.
You froze, your breath catching in your throat as you stared at the scene in disbelief.
Dazai’s gaze on you never wavered. “You recognize him, don’t you? The one who claimed to be your savior,” he said, his voice carrying an edge of derision. “Kaito, the one who helped you escape. Such a noble act, don’t you think?”
Your heart pounded in your chest as you stared at the sight before you. “No... no, this can’t be real,” you stammered, the words spilling from your lips in a disbelieving murmur. “This isn’t happening. Not again.”
Dazai stepped closer, his expression both smug and infuriatingly calm. “Isn’t it? How often have you been deceived by those who promised you protection and safety? This was no different.”
You shook your head, trying to process the absurdity of it all. “But Kaito—he was different! He helped me when I needed it most. You don't understand he's the only one who saved me from my ex.”
The disillusionment in your voice only seemed to amuse Dazai. “And you think that makes him any less of a threat? How easily you’ve been misled. Did you ever consider that he was simply another pawn in your ex’s game? A way to keep you within his reach?”
Your gaze shifted to Kaito, who was now looking at you with desperation. The realization that Dazai might be telling the truth hit you like a physical blow. “No, he can’t be. He was... he was kind to me. He never hurt me.”
Dazai’s gaze was unrelenting, his tone dripping with cold logic. “Kindness can be deceiving. Sometimes, it’s just a means to an end. Kaito’s actions were a calculated move, meant to keep you under control, to make you trust him while feeding information to your ex.”
Tears spilled down your cheeks as you faced Dazai, the weight of his words crushing you. “You’re... you’re insane! You can’t do this to me again. STOP IT STOP HURTING ME!”
Dazai’s hand reached up, forcing you to meet his gaze. His eyes were cold and unyielding, the warmth of his voice now a sharp contrast to the icy anger in his eyes. “I’m not insane. I’m showing you the truth, my love. Kaito was never your friend. If you don’t make a choice now, I will choose for you.”
The room seemed to close in around you, your heart pounding wildly. You were ensnared between the echoes of your past and the oppressive reality Dazai had crafted, desperately searching for an escape from the nightmare he had ensnared you in.
Dazai's lips curved into a passionate smile as he placed the cold, heavy gun into your trembling hands. The weapon, tainted with the blood of your ex, seemed to burn with its own malevolent energy. His eyes gleamed with a twisted sense of pride.
“Come on, my love,” he urged, his voice laced with a seductive intensity. “Take control of your own life. Show everyone that you’re not someone to be trifled with. Make them fear you. No one dares to hurt you again.”
His words echoed through the room, mingling with the suffocating tension that surrounded you. The weight of the gun felt like a cruel burden, a symbol of the power Dazai was forcing upon you.
As you looked at Kaito, bound and vulnerable, a storm of emotions raged inside you. Dazai’s gaze remained unwavering, his expectations clear: the choice was yours to make, but his influence loomed over every decision.
The gun felt like a leaden weight in your hands, the reality of the situation crashing down upon you. Tears streamed down your face as you crumpled, the gun slipping from your grasp and clattering to the floor. Your voice, choked with despair, broke through the oppressive silence.
“I can’t do this again... not again,” you sobbed, shaking your head furiously. You pulled your legs to your chest, curling up in a desperate attempt to shield yourself from the cruelty of Dazai’s demands.
Dazai’s expression shifted from steely determination to a weary sigh. With a resigned shake of his head, he stepped forward, reclaiming the gun from where it had fallen. His movements were deliberate, almost tender, as he aimed it at Kaito, who stared back in terror.
Three shots rang out, each one echoing with finality. The sound was deafening, reverberating through the room and drowning out your anguished cries. The finality of the act left you in stunned silence, your body trembling as you remained huddled on the floor, the gravity of what had just occurred sinking in.
“No... you didn’t...” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the pounding of your heart. Your eyes were fixed on the lifeless form of Kaito, disbelief and anguish washing over you.
Dazai’s sigh was heavy with disappointment as he shook his head slowly. “I’m disappointed in you, my love,” he said, his voice carrying a cold edge. “You couldn’t take control of your life this time. You think I’m the one hurting you? They’re the ones who’ve been hurting you all along.”
His gaze was unwavering, a mixture of pity and resolve in his eyes as he stepped closer. “I did this to protect you from them, to ensure that you’re never vulnerable again. It’s always been about keeping you safe from those who would harm you. I did what was necessary to shield you from your past.”
You shook your head violently, the world around you spinning as you scrambled to your feet. Adrenaline surged through your veins, propelling you to the door. You flung it open and sprinted down the hall, your breath coming in ragged gasps.
“Where are you going my love, please come back.” His footsteps pounded after you. “Don’t do this. I love you! This is meaningless—everything I did was to protect you!”
But you couldn’t bear to hear him anymore. “I want to stay away from you!” you screamed, your voice cracking with raw desperation.
You burst out of his penthouse and into the cold night air, the chill biting at your exposed skin. Your vision blurred with tears, making the city lights shimmer and swirl. You fumbled for your phone, dialing Chuuya’s number with trembling fingers.
The line rang a few times before a sleepy voice answered, muffled by grogginess. “Chuuya...” you gasped between breaths. “I—I'm leaving. I—will run away from here. He did it again, Chuuya.”
There was a moment of silence on the other end, followed by Chuuya’s urgent voice, now fully awake. “Where are you? Are you safe? Just stay on the line. I’m coming to get you.”
Your voice trembled as you spoke into the phone, trying to keep your words steady despite the panic swelling inside you. “Chuuya, no… don’t come. Please. I don’t want you to get into trouble. I’ll… I’ll manage to get away by myself.”
Chuuya’s voice was firm and insistent. “Don’t be stupid. I’m coming. Just tell me where you are.”
You forced yourself to keep moving, trying to steady your breath despite the adrenaline coursing through you. “Chuuya, listen to me,” you said, your voice shaking. “I just called to let you know. I need you to stay out of this. It’s too dangerous. I can’t risk you getting hurt because of me.”
“I don’t like this at all. You’re obviously not okay. I need to be there with you.” You could hear the sounds of him hurriedly getting dressed in the background.
“I’m sorry, Chuuya, but I can't-” you said firmly.
Before he could protest further, you ended the call, the sound of the disconnect echoing in the quiet of the night.
You made your way through the winding streets, heading towards a nondescript building nestled away from prying eyes. It had been your refuge years before, a place where you could escape the chaos and find peace in solitude. Now, it was the final sanctuary you turned to as you prepared to leave everything behind.
The old studio was just as you remembered it—dusty but comforting, filled with the quiet hum of memories. You approached the closet where you had stored a suitcase, its worn exterior a testament to its many years of service. You opened it, the familiar smell of old leather and fabric greeting you.
With calculated movements, you began packing the clothes you’d kept from simpler times—soft sweaters, faded jeans, and a few cherished pieces that held fragments of your past. Each item you folded and placed into the suitcase carried a piece of who you used to be, the person you were before the mafia and before Dazai.
As you worked, the thought of leaving Dazai behind gnawed at you, filling you with an intense, suffocating agony. Despite everything he had done, the idea of severing ties with him was a painful wrenching of the heart. Yet, the realization that staying would only bring more torment drove you to continue, each movement of packing a silent affirmation of your resolve.
You zipped up the suitcase, the sound of the closure echoing in the empty room. The decision to leave the city and all its shadows behind was a heavy one, but necessary. With a final glance around the studio, you took a deep breath, preparing yourself for the journey ahead. The train would take you far from this place, and despite the heartache, you knew it was the only way forward.
Before you could make another move, a voice cut through the silence of the studio. "My love, are you leaving me?" The words were laced with a deep sadness, sending a jolts all over your body.
You spun around, disbelief etched across your face. "How did you find me?" you demanded, your voice trembling.
Dazai stood in the doorway with a hurt expression written all over his face.
He stepped closer sighing, "The bracelet,” he said quietly, holding up your wrist to reveal the piece of jewelry you had thought was a mere token of affection given to you two years ago. “It has a tracker embedded in it. I had it activated in case you were ever in danger.”
The weight of his words hit you like a physical blow. The realization that he had been monitoring you all along, even in your attempts to escape, left you reeling. You stared at him, your resolve faltering but your heart aching with an overwhelming confusion.
“Why did you have to follow me?” you asked, your voice cracking. “Why can’t you just let me go?”
He took another step closer, his gaze pleading. “Because I can’t bear the thought of losing you. I know you're probably thinking that I’m just some insane man who’s only hurting you. But you have to understand, my actions come from a place of deep love. I need you to see past the madness and understand how much you mean to me.”
"Is this how you show love, Dazai? By trapping me and manipulating me?" you said, your voice trembling. "You don't get to decide what's best for me by controlling every aspect of my life."
Dazai's expression softened, a flicker of vulnerability crossing his face. “I know I’ve made mistakes. I’m twisted and flawed, but I thought... I thought that if I could keep you close, I could protect you from everything else. I never wanted to hurt you.”
You shook your head, the finality of your decision settling in. “You’ve hurt me more than you know. I can’t stay here. I can't stay anxious, wondering who you’ll force me to kill next.”
Dazai’s eyes grew darker, his voice tainted with desperation. “I never wanted to hurt you. I thought I was protecting you. Everything I did was to keep you safe in comtrol of your own life, even if it means making terrible choices.”
You scoffed, “Safe? You forced me to kill my ex! And then Kaito?”
Dazai’s face tightened. “He was a traitor. He manipulated you all this time. I told you.”
“Even if!” you shot back, your voice trembling with anger. “Do you think I wanted them dead? I never wanted any of this! You think you’re protecting me, but all you’re doing is turning my life into a nightmare, forcing me to make impossible choices.”
He reached out, but you flinched away. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly, his voice cracking with uncharacteristic vulnerability. “I know I’ve gone too far. I only wanted to protect you, but I see now that I’ve lost sight of what’s right.”
The realization hit you hard. “Lost sight of what’s right? You’ve lost sight of everything that matters. I’m leaving, Dazai. I can’t stay here any longer.”
He looked at you, his eyes filled with pain, that you've never seen before, “Please, don’t go. I’ll do anything to make this right. Just... stay and let me fix this.”
You shook your head, “It’s too late. I can’t trust you anymore. I need to get away from this life, from you. Goodbye, Dazai.”
Turning around you held the suitcase tightly, your hand shaking as you reached for the door. Just as you were about to open it, the sharp click of a gun safety being disengaged froze you in place.
You turned slowly, your eyes widening in horror as you saw Dazai standing there. The cold, manipulative mafia boss you had come to fear and loathe was now a broken man, his usual confident demeanor shattered. Tears streamed down his face, mingling with the sweat of his desperate resolve.
The gun was pressed against his temple, his hand trembling slightly. His gaze was locked onto you, the anguish in his eyes more raw than you’d ever seen. The sight was a gut-wrenching contrast to the man you had known—this was not the calculating Dazai but a man at the edge of his sanity, driven to an extreme.
“Don’t... don’t do this,” you pleaded, your voice barely a whisper. “Dazai, put the gun down.”
His tears fell faster, “If you leave, I can’t bear it. I’d rather end it all than live with the fact that I lost you.”
You took a step toward him, the suitcase slipping from your grip as fear and heartbreak twisted inside you. “Dazai, please. Put the gun down. We can figure this out.”
His voice trembled, a fragile whisper on the brink of breaking. “I never valued life until you entered mine. If you choose to leave, then I too must follow.”
You rushed towards him, heart pounding with desperation. As you approached, you gently took the gun from his trembling hand, lowering it to the floor. His body crumpled, and he collapsed into your embrace, clutching you tightly as if afraid you might vanish.
“Shhh, it’s okay,” you whispered soothingly, your own voice trembling as you tried to calm him. You stroked his brunet soft hair gently, your heart aching as you held him close. “It’s okay. I’m here. We’ll figure this out together.”
His sobs were muffled against your shoulder, his breath hot and uneven as he clung to you. " I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I never meant to hurt you. I'm sorry I'm sorry.”
You continued to soothe him, the weight of his despair pressing heavily on your chest. You could see through his anguish, past the facade of his calculated mind to the raw, broken man beneath. Even as his twisted personality had driven him to force your hand, there was no denying the genuine love he felt—a love that, despite its darkness, was deeply real.
The room, dim and cold, was filled with the sound of his muffled sobs, each breath a testament to his remorse and anguish. You held him tightly, trying to offer comfort, though your own heart ached with uncertainty. You knew too well the manipulative games he played, but in this moment, you could see the truth in him. His despair was not a ploy, but a genuine expression of his torment and love.
Gently, you reached up and removed the soaked bandage from his eye. His gaze locked onto yours, filled with a sorrow so profound it was almost unbearable. His face was etched with the pain of his past actions, and as you held him, you admired his beautiful brown eyes.
“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, his voice raw and fragile. “I’ll never do this again. I promise. I never wanted to hurt you. I was desperate, and I let my own twisted mind control me. I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but I’ll do everything to make this right. Please... stay with me.”
You looked into his eyes, seeing the vulnerable man who had been pushed to extremes. The cold dim room seemed to shrink around you, the shadows of his past mistakes lingering but overshadowed by his sincere apology. You took a deep breath, your own heart softening despite the pain.
“I’m here,” you whispered back, your voice was soothing him.
He nodded against your shoulder, his sobs gradually subsiding as he clung to you.
“Despite everything... despite your scheming and the cold, manipulative persona you put up, you have no idea how much I love you,” you whispered, the words heavy with the depth of your emotions.
Dazai’s eyes softened as he met your gaze, his voice trembling as he replied, “I love you too, my dear.”
With those words, he kissed you softly, his lips warm and tender against yours. The delicate caress of his kiss pulled you closer, making you surrender to the embrace he offered. In that fleeting moment, the outside world faded away, leaving only the solace of his arms and the twisted love you shared.
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➵Want more of Osamu Dazai ?
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ozai-the-bonsai ¡ 5 months ago
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Could you write for Daemon targaryen like currently after all those nightmares in harnehal he finds a prisoner of harnehal as the only person who brings him peace him falling in love with her and trying to be better person he still fights for team black obviously rahaenya is definitely not happy with these arrangements especially seeing him all dedicated all in love some things he never have done for her but she have no option currently rather accepting his second wife though at the end when team black would be winning and fight at harnehal like aemond Vs Daemon she ask for reader's head happy ending at the end please or anything you wanna write I just wanna see Daemon happy in love at end please
Finally I have time for my hobbies again! Sorry I left you waiting for ages, this term the exam season was tougher than what I have been accustomed to… Anyways, I have started writing some stuff and I wanted to post the intro instead of writing a full-length chapter 1 since it would have taken a couple more days (:
As a side note, I honestly have no idea where this story will be headed because I have no clear course planned, I had some little ideas and I just started writing them. Also I will be introducing stuff which is not in the asoiaf universe.
I am continuing to read Silmarillion from where I left off and let’s say the ideas about Daemon’s love interest are… inspired from what I have been reading (; Enjoy!
Memento Mori
| Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 |
Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x fem!reader
Warnings: strong language, I am not a native English speaker, reader is (or will be) described with long hair
This is a very short introduction! Also the chapter is from Daemon’s pov. The title is inspired by Memento Mori by Lamb of God (the song has been a great inspiration for the story so far)
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The dungeons of Harrenhal were cold, wet and lonely.
He had no idea when, how and why he had gone down there – one moment, he was in his chambers and the next, he was opening his eyes to the mossy stone walls of the dark dungeons with a torch in his hand. The line between dreams and reality was becoming thinner each day he spent in this cursed castle.
As Daemon walked past the empty cells, he tried to shake off this unsettling feeling lingering around him, dancing on his neck on its tippy toes, making him wonder whether he was indeed alone.
I doubt Simon Strong keeps prisoners down here, he thought while wiping the water from his forehead which was dripping from the broken ceiling. Maybe he has decided to lock up the witch?
Just when the Rogue Prince – correction, the King Consort – was about to turn back and leave the depressing, humid and somewhat eerie atmosphere of the dungeons behind, a soft humming reached his ears.
A soft, sweet humming of a song coming from one of the cells at the very end of the darkness.
“What kind of prisoner is Simon Strong hiding here?” Daemon asked, his voice created echoes as he waved the torch in front of him, trying to cast some light.
The humming stopped immediately, as if the sound itself was cut by a knife.
Daemon’s purple eyes widened upon seeing that the last cell was indeed not empty.
There was a young woman inside, looking at him with her eyes full of curiosity. Her hair had an unearthly shine under the dim moonlight. She tilted her head to the side. “You can see me?” She asked, it was the same soft voice from a moment ago, though the sweetness was no longer there to be felt.
Daemon raised an eyebrow at her direction. “Do people not see you?”
The young woman shook her head, her movements – no matter how simple they were – felt almost too harmonious. “Not normally, it is not intended that I am seen.” Stopping for a moment, she eyed Daemon from head to foot. “You are not really here, are you?”
The raised eyebrow quickly turned into a frown. “What do you mean? I am standing in front of you.”
She shook her head once again. As her soft whisper filled his eyes, Daemon started falling into the nothingness, again, for the unknown-th time ever since he had come to Harrenhal.
“Wake up.”
***
When he woke up, trying to catch his breath, Daemon found himself lying on his bed, as always. Anytime he had one of those weird dreams – he wasn’t even sure if he should call them dreams anymore – his consciousness would find its way back to his bed.
Unless he was daydreaming, which were considerably the worse.
“Who the fuck was that weird woman?” Daemon muttered to himself as he stood up, dressing up in his regular robes. The feeling in his stomach was telling him that he had to go down there, to the dungeons, to find that woman. If he were to wait until dawn, he feared she might be gone.
What was it that she said again? It is not intended she is seen?
Leaving his chambers with a torch in his right hand, Daemon shook his head to the thoughts flowing through his mind, causing his silver hair to move. “Weird woman,” he muttered to himself as he walked through the dark corridors of the castle with haste. “She somehow reminds me of the witch.”
The dungeons were as dark and wet as he remembered from the dream. A cold wind was wandering besides him, kissing the mossy walls and licking Daemon’s skin, sometimes whispering wicked words in his ears. Even the wind was odd here, in Harrenhal, but he had somewhat got used to it – hearing its eerie whispers whenever he walked alone during the hour of the wolf.
“Show yourself,” Daemon spoke with a strong voice which created echoes as he stood in front of that very cell from his dream. “Your king commands it!”
“Huh, king?” The same soft voice answered from the dark corner of her cell. The moonlight had left its shining spot, leaving the torch in Daemon’s hands as the only source of light in this entire corridor of the dungeons. “I answer to no king.”
A condescending scoff left Daemon’s lips as he came closer to the bars made of steel, separating him and the weird woman. “You do live in Westros, do you not?” Daemon asked, not really waiting for an answer. “As long as you breathe in this land, you do answer to the King.”
A chuckle came from the darkness. “I have been breathing in this land before your ancestors flew across the Narrow Sea, Daemon Targaryen.”
Taglist: @throughgoeshamilton @mirandastuckinthe80s @xicesam @mariamyousef702 @eddiemadmunson @dont-try-pesticide @sweetybuzz25 @hc-geralt-23 @schniiipsel @ttae-yong @syrma-sensei @asiludida164 @kaitieskidmore1 @irmavanity-blog @pax-2735 @trickrtreatart @shanzeyxsyed @random-human02 @scarwicht @xcallmetaniax @instabull @niiight-dreamerrrr @my-dark-prince @stargaryenx @abaker74 @babywolff @sonnensplitter @bi-narystars @softtina @sadmonke @avalyaaa
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pedriache ¡ 4 months ago
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i was wondering if you could write a fluffy cubarsi fic where he's super clingy and can't stop giving kisses to the reader and he's just super sweet? i love your writing sm btw 🫶🏻
Too sweet — Pau Cubarsí.
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Pairing: Pau CubarsĂ­ x Fem!Reader
Summary: One thing you quickly learned when you started dating Pau, was how clingy he was. Not that it was a problem, you loved it, but sometimes you think he’s just too sweet.
Word count: 480
Disclaimer/s: none! just fluff <3
A/N: pau!fluff is the only way i can write for him i love him sooo bad! also THANK YOUUU!! 🫶🏻 also hello.. nee pfp.. new theme.. new me.
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During Pau’s off days, you loved to spend the mornings in bed, doing a routine you’d both become accustomed to. You, sitting up and reading with your dog, Mori on your lap, and Pau’s arm around you as he watches something on the TV.
Today was no different. You’d started a new book, and he was watching a show you couldn’t care less about. But something was different, Pau kept stealing glances at you the whole time.
Finally having enough, you set your book aside, careful not to move too much so Mori wouldn’t stir from his sleep. “What is it? Do I have something on my face.. feel free to let me know.”
Pau, caught off guard, clears his throat. A small blush spreads across his cheeks. “No! No, you just look very cute when you’re concentrated like that.” Despite seeming shy, Pau never hesitated or faltered when it came to complimenting with you.
Your bottom lip tugs between your lips, suppressing a smile. “You’re too sweet, amor. But seriously, you make it very hard to concentrate when you’re looking at me.”
Grinning, Pau leans closer to your face, lips mere inches from yours. “Sorry.” He mumbles, giving you a light peck. Your smile grows as he gives you a few more light kisses, moving to your cheeks and forehead.
“Pauuu.” You laugh, greeting every kiss with a giggle. “My book was getting interesting!”
Your boyfriend gives you a cheeky grin, “but—“
“No buts! Let me read, just another thirty minutes, please?” Who was Pau if he denied such a pretty face everything she wanted? So he caves, sinking back into the bed with his arms wrapping around your waist.
He presses a few kisses to the exposed skin on your abdomen, where your tanktop had ridden up before looking back to the TV. He is so, so perfect. You think, eyes twinkling with love, you force yourself to grab your book and continue reading.
Now, with the loss of your lips, Pau finds himself rubbing small circles on your hip. He couldn’t pay attention to the TV, his mind filled with thoughts of you. Every few minutes, he’ll place another kiss to your stomach, causing your attention to be stolen away from the book.
Less than ten minutes later, your book mark had been placed, saving your spot, and you toss it aside. Pau tries to hide his growing smirk as you gently move Mori onto the end of the bed. The dog whines but snuggles up once again, falling back asleep.
With all the objects out of the way, you shuffle around till you and Pau are intertwined, your head resting on his shoulder. You roll your eyes, pecking his lips. “I never get a moment of peace with you.”
“Whoops.” Pau shrugs, though he clearly held no remorse, and once again, plants his lips against yours.
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DTS , @halfwayhearted @spidybaby !
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tirasamu ¡ 5 months ago
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EVERYWHERE, EVERYTHING . . . ever since you joined the port mafia four years ago and met dazai, you have an unspoken agreement: you're each other's person. aka how you leave the port mafia with dazai and what happens afterwards.
ft. pm!dazai x pm!reader (chapters 1-3), ada!dazai x ada!reader (chapters 4-6), childhood friends to lovers, canon divergence, possessive behavior, mentions of blood, injuries, violence, and suicide, suggestive moments, light novel and manga spoilers.
p.s.! ⊹ ࣪ ˖ repost from my old blog !! i rewrote the first two chapters a little bit and the new manga chapters have made me decide to change the direction of the ending too. if you've been here before, thanks for coming back <33 ily
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01. cruel beyond my years . . . you do the impossibleミ you make dazai feel. that's why you're his, even if neither of you know it yet.
02. something i wait for . . . dazai has a close call (not close enough, in his opinion). he barely makes it to your apartment, but you're there just in time to patch him up, in more ways than one.
03. heartstrings . . . dazai can’t believe you’re finally his, but your unconventional version of a domestic routine doesn't last long. he knows something is off when mori tries to send you away, and he's right.
04. a life in your shape . . . tba
05. through the night . . . tba
06. armageddon . . . tba
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abarero ¡ 5 months ago
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"Magia Record Puella Magi Madoka Magica Gaiden" Review Dialogue | Director x Main Scenario Writer
This is a quick overview of this article featuring a dialogue interview between Taguchi, Director (COO) and Director of f4samurai, and Mori, who served as the main scenario writer for MagiReco.
- MagiReco has been in development since 2015. Some of the staff have worked on it for 9 years.
- Originally, only 3 members were assigned to work on it. This included Taguchi and Mori.
- Taguchi continued to work on the project up until the release of Last Magia / the end of Arc 1. Mori continued to work on it until the end.
- The first Azaleas event (our first branching event that had “bad ends”) was not planned at the start of release. This event type was developed in the 2 months prior to appearing in game.
- Arc 2 (which completed in 2022) was something they’d been working on for three years.
- Roughly speaking, the total of MagiReco is 8,390,000 characters. Mori probably wrote about 3 million characters directly, including events and Magical Girl Stories.
- That word count is estimated to be about 70 light novels (80,000~120,000 character books) worth of content for the entire game.
- In regards to Puella Historia, Mori said, “I started with the idea of portraying magical girls who appeared in history as they appeared in the original work, but in the end it became a completely new approach to portraying magical girls from other past eras, which was fresh and interesting as a scenario writer. As expected, it was not possible for one person to do the historical research alone, so it was great that we were able to share the scenario with everyone.”
- They remark that given the nature of gacha games, it’s uncommon to write about character death. Mori notes it made Main Story a little more predictable since they were limited by this to some degree.
- Including spin-off characters, there were more than 150 characters represented in MagiReco.
- Mori notes that there were fans who supported each character, so when he could he made an effort to explore them in events.
- Taguchi asked if there were any scenarios that Mori thought had a particularly strong response. Mori noted, “The storyline with Sena Mikoto, the last boss of Part 2, received a great response and left a strong impression on me. As some users may have noticed, Mikoto was originally not intended to be the last boss at all. We were very excited and happy when we were able to show her off at the event.”
- The two comment that the release of Ultimate Madoka for first Anniversary did so well and got them number 1 rank on the App Store in sales at that time.
- Mori notes that the final story had a lot of influence from the publisher (Aniplex) on how it should play out.
- In regard to Magia Exedra, they note that MagiReco will be tied to it.
- Mori was responsible for the design and scenario behind Namae and the Lighthouse, but will be working on other projects. However, there are people on from the original scenario team who continue to be involved in scenario production for Exedra.
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loudkidsoulfreak ¡ 1 day ago
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Detective Conan - First Concept Note
(Full under cut)
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"Half of my life was tied to Detective Conan (lol)"
Note: Texts in indented paragraphs are Aoyama Gosho's quotes/comments. The "Initial designs" parts are probably editor's comments I'm not sure. I'm not good at translating so feel free to correct or throw rocks at me if I get anything wrong.
Note 2: These are not scans. They're just pictures I took with my phone. The sketch itself is already messy tho (probably giving you the feel that you are viewing the raw sketch itself). I only edit it a bit so it doesn't look too dark or yellow compared to how it look irl.
Kudo Shinichi / Edogawa Conan
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His bangs ended up being a centre parting. (lol)
Initial design: Shinichi's hairstyle was mostly finished. The balls are to indicate his soccer skill. Conan's glasses style was also decided. The handwriting texts are to indicate the character's tone.
Mori Ran
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She haven't got the horn yet. (lol)
Initial design: Go to the next page to read the author's comment about Kogoro to know more about characters' surname (lol). This design really give the Karate Champion vibe. And here she supposed to call Kogoro "papa"?
Mori Kogoro
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His surname was supposed to be Hattori. Later, it becomes Heiji's name. (lol)
Initial design: Slicked back hair and parted pencil mustache look also mostly finished. It giving the classic vibe of a sharp detective instead of the comedic feel. His hair stand up like a thorn when he just woke up? Not mentioning the surname, the name Kogoro probably wasn't decided back then either?
Agasa Hiroshi
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His surname supposed to be Mori you know! I probably wanted to use this design for Ran's grandpa. (lol)
Initial design: The design are well rounded. From his smiling face to his "serious" face are all perfect. Not sure if he's a genius inventor, but the great thing about this design is it also give off the vibe of a mad scientist.
Gin
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I literally sketch these in just 3 minutes (lol)! Back then, I haven't even give him a name yet.
Initial design: Black hat and long black coat. Along with the cold stare of a cold-blooded murderer. This mysterious and scary figure is definitely Gin!
Toyama Kazuha
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The hair is still tidy! The brown is a little thick though. (lol)
Initial design: Her first appearance was "The Naniwa Serial Murder Case" from volume 19! There is a lot of great dialogue scattered around in that case.
Detective Conan: The Time-Bombed Skyscraper
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This is the concept art for the movie "The Time-Bombed Skyscraper"! I already draw the scene "I might never get to say it again" (lol)
Illustration: This sketch were drawn in the meeting for the first movie - "Detective Conan: The Time-Bombed Skyscraper" first aired in 1997. The author Aoyama has put in the story he had always wanted to write from a long time ago! Beside, the author himself has take in the responsibility for the key frames of these scenes using these concept arts!!
For TV Anime
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I draw these so the anime crew can draw him in every angle!
Initial design: This is the sketch for the anime production crew when the anime was produced 29 years ago!
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petitesmafia ¡ 10 months ago
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I just think skk eventually reached a point (read: 3 weeks into their partnership) where Dazai was just like I Do Not Need to write post-mission reports anymore and just scribbled his name on Chuuya’s bc what was Mori gonna do about it? fire him??
there's Chuuya who always does his paperwork regardless (Dazai calls him a keener) and as much as he complains about Dazai, he still lets Dazai put his name on his (which somehow became "their") report anyway,,,
i'm just thinking about skk's first mission together again at 22 and Dazai emailing Chuuya right after like "hey can you send me your report. Kunikida is ON my ass" and Chuuya's just like "??? mf we're in different orgs. write your own shit??"
Dear Chuuya, I hope this email finds you well. If you wouldn't mind kindly forwarding your post-mission report regarding the Lovecraft mission to my inbox by end of day, that would be much appreciated. Best Regards, Dazai
Dear Dazai, I do mind. Why don't you kindly write your own shit. No Regards, Chuuya
Dear Chuuya, If you recall, my arm is currently in a cast and I would have much difficulty typing such a long and detailed report by 5PM. I am appealing to your kind and generous nature. Sincerely, Dazai
Dear Dazai, You don't seem to have an issue typing up bullshit emails to me with that fake ass cast on. Don't make me gag. Please hesitate to reach out, Chuuya PS: pen and paper also exist. get to work.
(Kunikida thinks Dazai's busy working on the report since he's typing away at his computer but little does he know Dazai is very much NOT.)
311 notes ¡ View notes
opulent-valkyrie ¡ 4 months ago
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Something i thought of while writting my exam :3
Chuuya x Reader
Sharing a bed situation
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The mission hadn’t exactly gone according to plan. The intel you and Chuuya were supposed to gather ended up being far more of a trap than you’d anticipated, and after narrowly escaping, you both found yourselves stranded in the middle of nowhere at a run-down motel with only one room left.
“Of course, there’s only one bed,” you mused, smirking as you tossed your bag onto the sole piece of furniture that qualified as a mattress. “A setup straight out of a bad romantic comedy. Tell me, Chuuya, are you the type to steal the blankets?”
Chuuya glared at you from across the room, rolling his eyes as he removed his hat and tossed it onto a chair. “Shut up, this is temporary. We’ll be out of here in a few hours anyway, once Mori sends backup.”
You stretched out on the bed, sprawling as much as you could just to get on his nerves. “Sure, sure. But until then, looks like we’re sharing. Don’t worry, I won’t bite… unless you ask.”
Chuuya’s eyes narrowed, and you could practically feel the heat of his irritation boiling over. “You’re such a pain,” he muttered, stalking over to the bed and yanking the pillow from under your head.
You pouted dramatically, flipping onto your side as you watched him with amusement. “Aw, is the big bad mafia executive afraid of a little closeness? You’re going to hurt my feelings.”
Chuuya’s hands clenched into fists at his sides, clearly trying to maintain some semblance of composure. “You and your feelings can shove it,” he snapped, before plopping down on the opposite side of the bed, as far away from you as possible.
You sighed contentedly, shifting slightly so that your back was to him, but still speaking in that teasing tone you knew would set him off. “You’re so tense, Chuuya. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you’re uncomfortable being this close to me. Does the great gravity manipulator not know how to handle a little emotional gravity?”
You snickered, loving how easy it was to rile him up. “Promises, promises,” you said, your voice light and playful. You could almost hear him grinding his teeth beside you. The silence that followed was thick with the tension you knew he was desperately trying to ignore.
“Keep talking and I’ll throw you out of the room with more than just gravity,” he growled, pulling the blanket over himself aggressively.
A few minutes passed, and you could sense Chuuya trying to get comfortable. You shifted slightly, moving closer just enough to brush against his arm. “You’re so warm,” you commented, a sly grin spreading across your face.
“*What the hell do you think you’re doing?*” Chuuya barked, pulling away from you as if you’d set him on fire.
You turned to face him, eyes wide with mock innocence. “What? I’m just trying to get comfortable! Can’t a colleague appreciate some body heat?”
He shot you a glare that could’ve burned through steel. “You can appreciate the floor if you’re that cold.”
“You’re so cruel,” you sighed dramatically, laying an arm across your forehead as if in some tragic play. “Here I thought we were partners, allies. But no, the great Chuuya Nakahara would rather see me suffer than share the warmth of his tiny little heart.”
“Will you stop talking?” he grumbled, turning his back to you and tugging the blanket tighter around himself.
You watched him for a moment, feeling that familiar spark of enjoyment from watching him struggle to hold his composure. There was always something fun about pushing Chuuya’s buttons—it was like watching a beautifully controlled explosion.
But beneath all the teasing, there was something else. Something that made the closeness between you two feel more dangerous than any mission.
Without warning, you slid closer again, just enough that your breath tickled the back of his neck. “You know, Chuuya,” you murmured, your voice taking on a more serious tone, “for all your barking, you’ve never once asked me to leave.”
He froze, and you could see the tension ripple through his body.
“Don’t flatter yourself,” he muttered, though his voice lacked its usual bite. “It’s just easier to deal with you when you’re in one place.”
A soft laugh escaped your lips, and you propped yourself up on one elbow, looking down at him. “Is that what you tell yourself? That you tolerate me because it’s convenient?”
Chuuya’s jaw clenched, and for a moment, there was silence. Then, he rolled onto his back, his blue eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your playful demeanor falter for just a second.
“You really think you’ve got me all figured out, huh?” he asked quietly, his voice low and controlled, but there was something simmering beneath the surface—something more than just the usual irritation.
You shrugged, the playful smile returning to your lips, though now it felt a little different. “Maybe. Or maybe I’m just waiting for you to figure it out.”
His gaze didn’t waver, and for once, neither of you had a quick retort. The tension between you shifted, something heavier now hanging in the air. Chuuya’s eyes searched yours, and for a split second, you saw that vulnerability he tried so hard to hide beneath all his bravado.
But then, just as quickly as it came, it was gone. He scoffed, turning his head away. “Whatever. Just stay on your side of the bed.”
You grinned, laying back down beside him with a satisfied sigh. “Sure, Chuuya. Whatever you say.”
The silence that followed was different than before. You could still feel his presence beside you, the tension no longer something you wanted to provoke, but something you knew would be there, unspoken, between you.
For now, at least.
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hyuneskkami ¡ 17 days ago
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h.h ✦ so good ! ༄.°
𝒽wang hyunjin x f!reader
masterlist . . . ✰
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𓆩♡𓆪 𝒶n : ayyy dominoooo merry christmas (it’s literally exactly 12:00am here) 😋 this fic is not even christmas-related, but it is hyunjin-related and that’s the only excuse I need to post it ☝️ this is the longest fic i’ve ever written (oneshot), so I hope it’s not too dragged out </3 I wanted to split it into 2 parts but decided against it. 👺 anyway!! this is me spreading cute and comfy!hyunjin as well as crop top!hyunjin agenda (esp after that solo mv?! babygirlism is OFF the charts w that fit ✨). well! merry christmas again! may your christmas be filled with streaming the solo mvs and christmas evel <3 this fic is dedicated to mori ( @serendipitous-girl )’s friend (if youre seeing this, HIIII!!) ❇️ enjoy~~ 💗🥟 (:
𓆩♡𓆪 𝓌arnings + tags : fem!reader , trainee!dancer!reader , idol!hyunjin , reader is 18 and hyunjin is 19 years old , ot8 mentioned , reader has (playful) beef w chan , one remark about reader thinking she’s heavy (if you think that way too, js know that i love you and i’d work out enough to bench press your weight ok) , crop top!hyunjin agenda , hyunjin is a CUTIE PATOOTIEEE , cheeky gentleman!hyunjin , also the last icon on the top is reader’s outfit described at the start of the fic / you can find reader’s stage outfit in the reblogs of this post >.< ;
𓆩♡𓆪 𝓌c : 3.8k
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I was getting ready in a short top, cargo pants and v-strings, first thing in the morning today. 
I was packing my stage outfit in my bag when my uncle called me. I switched the call to speaker mode, and continued packing.
“is my little star almost done packing?” he asked, and I could hear the smile in his voice. 
“yup! i’ll be at the venue in 20 minutes,” I said.
“great, i’ll see you there.” he hung up. 
I resumed my stray kids playlist, and the muscle memory to the choreography of the songs kept kicking in as I tried to finish packing. their new comeback album, HOP, was way too addictive to listen to.
I ended up being 10 minutes late—with my shoelaces barely tied—to the venue because I got too invested in my one-woman-concert.
as soon as I got down the car, it was surprising not having any cameras flashing in my face.
my uncle was hosting a premiere for the newest k-drama he had directed. he was quite the talk of town, with multiple blockbuster dramas credited to his name. 
he normally loved all the attention from the world. though, this time, the paparazzi was not allowed to the event since it was his last premiere before retirement. 
in lieu of the special circumstances, he declared the event a no-paparazzi only-vip one. and I was the most excited, which was an understatement, because the loves of my life were going to be there: stray kids.
well, it would be a little bit of an exaggeration to call them that, but they were my ult group, and they were all going to be there today.
during production, my uncle had asked me who I thought would be fit to be responsible for the soundtrack of his last drama ever, and I suggested stray kids to him, half as a joke. he ended up taking my suggestion, and so, as the music directors, stray kids were invited today as well.
the venue was an outdoor stadium, set for a proper viewing and many performances on the huge stage in the centre. 
lots of staircases and escalators went up and down the rows of seats and soft couches sat at the bottom, closest to the stage. 
I checked my seat number and found that it was in one of the first rows of couches near the stage. I made my way towards it and fell comfortably on the seat.
the stadium wasn’t completely filled yet, but it was already buzzing with gossips and such. I could spot a few friends of my uncle, who were all directors or producers, as well as the stars of the drama. I left my bag in my seat, and got up to greet the lead actors. they were a few years older than me, and had perfect chemistry with each other, even off-screen.
after chatting for a while, something else caught my attention in my peripheral vision.
well, more like someone else.
the members of stray kids had gotten out of their vehicle, each one of them looking as handsome as the rest.
my eyes strayed to chan and hyunjin in the corner of their group.
I met chan’s eyes, and bowed a little bit. he smiled back at me.
I tried to catch jeongin’s eye on the other side, but failed, because he was yapping to lee know about something quite excitedly.  
hyunjin was wearing a black tank top and a leather biker jacket, paired with dark cargo jeans and boots. the jewellery on him was absolutely perfect for his outfit and him, and his hair was styled beautifully. I knew stray kids had a performance sometime today, so he must have been carrying his stage outfit with him, just like I was. our eyes met for a second, and I let out a little gasp. he tried to smack away han, who was saying something loudly in his ear with a huge grin on his face. I turned around to continue talking with the other cast members who had gathered. 
after a while, everyone was asked to settle down in their seats, as the entertainment performances were about to begin. I made my way back to my seat, happy to see my bag still there. 
as I flopped down onto the fluffy couch, a taller figure towered over me. their shadow fell across my face. I opened my eyes to be met with hyunjin’s face.
“hi! i’ve got the seat beside you,” he smiled down at me. I stared at him in shock for a second, even though I had seen him countless times before, but just from a little farther away.
“right. yes- sorry, hi!” I stood up suddenly, bowing my head a little, and extending my hand. he shook it with a firm grip, and we both sat down.
a few performances went by, and the crowd started to chat again.
“I feel like I know you from somewhere… have we met before, by any chance?” he asked, turning towards me. our knees were touching a little bit now. 
“i’m actually a trainee, at jype,” I said, smiling a little.
his eyes lit up with recognition. “oh wait, y/n? your group practices in the room beside ours, doesn’t it?”
“yes, actually. how do you remember that?” I asked, a little shocked by the fact that he knew of my existence, and my name as well. 
“ah, I remember seeing you talking to chan, when you guys grabbed some ice cream from the vending machine in the first floor,” he recounted. “chan was telling me all about your group, after that. especially about you, actually.” I blushed a little bit, at the thought of chan remembering me enough to mention my members and me to hyunjin.
“what did he say? nothing bad, I hope,” I laughed. 
“well, that’s a secret,” hyunjin said, covering his mouth as if to shush himself. I groaned. 
“he better not have said anything stupid, then.”
hyunjin chuckled and continued. “he also told me about how he was your babysitter for a while, when you were younger?”
“oh, he was an absolute bully! he was barely 3 years older than me, but he acted like he was a 30-year old who knew everything. pompous ass.” I muttered the last part under my breath. 
hyunjin snickered. “sounds like chan, honestly. felix talks about him just like you do. I think lixie and you would get along well, then.” I laughed under my breath, exhilarated at the thought of even an opportunity to meet the other members. 
we continued talking for a while, when it was announced that the fire show would be starting. delighted, I whipped out my handcam to record it. it always sounded like a fun thing to watch, but i’d never been to any fire shows before. 
the entire show was amazing, but my arms were starting to get sore from holding up the camera for so long. hyunjin peaked at me, and stole the camera from my hands, holding it up, pointed towards the stage. 
“relax, i’ll hold it for you,” he whispered. my heart fluttered at the proximity between his lips and my ear. thinking nothing of the shiver sent down my spine, I left my handcam in hyunjin’s care, enjoying the show. 
there were lots of other entertainment segments, considering the event was supposed to last almost an entire day. there were lots of breaks in between for food, as well. 
at one point, I had fallen asleep on the soft couch. I kept moving around to get comfortable. the lights from the acts on stage were too bright, so I turned my body and head to the side, away from the lights. I threw my hand around something stable, and fell deeper into slumber. 
when I woke up from my quick power nap, I felt something against my palm. I opened my eyes to find my hand over hyunjin’s torso. he was leaning back, legs spread apart, body slowly vibing to the show on stage.
at my movement, he turned around slowly, looking at me. 
“got your beauty sleep, princess?” he asked, smirking a little. beneath my hand, that still rested over some part of his chest, I could feel his heart practically beating out of his body.
“dude, are you okay?” I asked, sitting up, ignoring his question. I moved a bit to place my hand flat against his chest. he had taken off his jacket, and was now in just a tank top. “your heart’s beating so fast. do you need to get away from the lights or something?”
“oh, no, i’m fine,” he mumbled, turning away a little bit. 
“you sure?” I asked, narrowing my eyes at him.
even though we’d officially only met today, I felt comfortable around him. comfortable enough to talk to him, like i’d speak to any friend… which made sense, because we were sort of the same age. 
“yes, yes, mother,” he rolled his eyes at me. I gave him a side-eye, and we turned back around to watch the next set of performances. 
during one of the breaks, my phone rang with an incoming call from my aunt.
“y/n-ah, can you make it to the seventeenth floor fast? your cousin is so clumsy, she spilt juice all over herself and I need some help with her,” she said. I could hear the desperation in her voice through the phone, so I agreed.
“yeah, imo, i’ll be there. I think I have your seat number too, so don’t worry about it.”
as I stood up, hyunjin pulled me down immediately. “where are you going?” he whispered.
“my aunt needs some help with her daughter. she’s just three years old, and cute as hell of course, but she’s quite a handful. i’ll be right back, though,” I told him.
“i’ll come with you, then,” he said, getting up. I was surprised for a second, but nodded anyway.
I stood up and was about to close my ‘phone’ app, but paused at the screen. did I give him my phone along with my handcam, at some point? i’d forgotten about it, if I had. 
hyunjin had saved his contact number under the name ’hyune 🥟’.
“i’m curious, do you give out your number to every girl you meet?” I asked, joking, as we began making our way up the stairs. 
he turned back to me and then turned forward again, “nope. just the pretty ones.”
my heart fluttered at his dialogue, but I quickly regained my composure. “hyune, that’s so cheesy, oh my god.” I rolled my eyes at him.
“whatever,” he laughed. “don’t I get your number too? just so we don’t lose each other in the crowd.”
I was shocked, yet again, at the thought of the hwang hyunjin asking for my number, no matter what the reason.
he passed his phone to me, and we fell in step beside each other. I entered my number in, and saved it as ‘n/n 🌊’, before handing it back to him.
we made it to the seventeenth floor soon, both of us half-dancing to the music playing and talking to each other. when we reached my aunt’s row, though, she wasn’t there.
I asked the people nearby if they had seen a woman with a child in their row, and they said that she had left just a minute ago, with some staff members. 
I thanked them, and hyunjin and I decided to make our way back to our seats.
before we could start going down through the stairs, a security guard stopped us both.
“who are you two? don’t you know it’s the vip section down there?” he asked, gruffly.
“…i’m hyunjin? from stray kids?” hyunjin replied to him, as sassy as ever, and turned towards me to roll his eyes in mock-offence. 
“okay, well, what about you, miss?” he asked me. I had forgotten my tickets in my bag, which was still on my seat. 
I made eye contact with hyunjin, and he somehow seemed to understand that I didn’t have any other proof.
“i’m… uh… with him,” I replied, unsure. 
the guard looked at me suspiciously, narrowing his eyes. 
suddenly, hyunjin yelled, “who’s that running, over there?!” and pointed behind the guard. 
he turned back to see, and in the same second, hyunjin wrapped his fingers around my wrist, as we took off running down the stairs. 
we were sprinting down rows of stairs, laughing, almost breathless, but we could still hear the guard running behind us. 
“wait, wait,” I pulled hyunjin’s shirt from the back. “i’m going to trip, my laces are untied.” I breathed out. 
he shook his head, and picked me up bridal-style. “just tie your shoelace like this, he’ll catch us easily, otherwise!” he rolled his eyes, as if it was an obvious thing to do. 
by the time we were running down the next few sets of stairs, I had finished tying my laces, and we had also successfully lost the security guard. hopefully, he didn’t think of us as a threat too big to report to his boss, or whatever. 
hyunjin was still carrying me, as we were still walking down. 
“are you sure you don’t want to put me down now?” I asked, hesitating a little bit. “I am pretty heavy, I suppose, so-”
“of course you’re not,” he smiled softly at me.
the sun was just setting and the sky was a canvas of orange, pink, and purple. all the hues were reflected on hyunjin’s face, making him appear like an illuminated angel.
“hey…” I started. “would you mind if I recorded a video of the sunset, and… this?” I gestured between him and me. “I guess this is probably one of my favourite memories till date, and I… yeah. I want something to remember today by.” I let out a breath, wondering if i’d crossed the line by asking him if I could record him carrying me. it does sound like an awkward, weird and creepy request.
to my surprise, he nodded. “yes! you have to send it to me too, because I could say pretty much the same thing.” he grinned down at me. 
I smiled happily, and took out my phone. I took a few pictures of the sunset first. then, I flipped to the back camera, zoomed out to 0.5x, and extended my hand. I clicked on the ‘record’ button, recording hyunjin, and the light falling on his face. he smiled at the camera once, and then started making funny faces. I slapped his chest lightly, and we started laughing.
(much later, when i’d rewatched these videos, I noticed hyunjin looking at me with his eyes filled to the brim with love. just smiling at me throughout most of the video.)
we started talking to the camera like a vlog, and I flipped it after a while to show the sunset. it was absolutely ethereal, of course. 
we had almost reached the last few sets of stairs, so hyunjin set me down slowly. 
I thanked him quietly, ending the recording. “pretty sure i’m never forgetting this day.” I laughed lightly. 
“nooo, don’t thank me at all. I had so much fun, unexpectedly. it was cute,” he winked.
I turned away suddenly, heat rushing up my neck for the millionth time during the same day. I grumbled a little, and we continued talking to each other on the way back to our couch in the front row. 
I was telling him about my other friends who were STAY, and told him that they’d be very jealous to find out that I had been at such an event and met him.
“i’d love to meet your friends one day, they all do seem like fun people,” he said.
“oh my god!” I exclaimed. “I really hope you do. it’d be so cool.”
my phone dinged suddenly, and I looked down to see a notification alerting me about my upcoming dance performance on the centre stage for the day.
I bid hyunjin goodbye, letting him know that i’d be back after a while, and that I had to leave. 
would he be surprised when he’d see me on the stage? would he like the dance? I kept asking myself millions of questions.
he pouted for a while, but soon let me go, understanding that it was something important. 
I grabbed my bag from my seat, and rushed backstage. 
seeing the staff members waiting for me, I felt a little less nervous. familiar faces always had that effect, didn’t they?
ᯓ★ hyunjin’s pov . . .
I was back at my seat, continuing to watch the performances.
it was nearly 10 in the night already, and the crowd was getting more and more hyped. 
the other members and I were set to go on stage in about an hour for our performance, and we were all relatively ready, except for our outfits and makeup.
the last few performances were the most anticipated ones, usually. this time, I had forgotten to check the schedule to see who else was performing before us tonight. 
the lights dulled, after a song ended. a spotlight shone, and a girl was standing facing the other way. she was wearing a white button-up, a cropped vest, and cargo-jean pants. her belt shone with a row of stars and rhinestones. she truly gave off a ‘stray kids’ vibe, and would probably fit right in with our concept too. her hair reminded me of y/n’s.
the music began, and she turned around at the beat. I realised two things, simultaneously: first, that it was my solo song ‘so good’—the one that we had released just a week ago—that had started playing. and second, the girl on stage was y/n.
my heart burst at the sight of her. she had sunglasses on, and a black tie was loosely draped around her neck. her jewellery went absolutely perfectly with her outfit and vibe. 
I was awe-struck when she started dancing. they were the same steps I had been performing for so many weeks, but when she did them, they looked… ethereal. she did the isolations so well, and her flow was unmatched, much like an ocean wave.
her rings and bracelets glinted in the light continuously. her expressions were a perfect match for my song. she was pulling off the choreography exactly how it was, if not better. 
if I hadn’t already fallen head over heels in love with her, I certainly did now.
she executed the dance break choreography flawlessly. I was almost envious of how good she looked doing my dance. the lighting enhanced how beautiful she looked. an angel descending from heaven, perhaps. 
still in awe, I didn’t notice her performance ending, and the crowd was going wild. apparently, lots of people knew who she was. 
“who is she?” I asked the old couple sitting behind me. 
“oh, the girl who was just on the stage? she’s the director’s niece. an absolute beauty,” the woman replied, smiling fondly. 
“that she is,” I mumbled, and thanked the woman.
I got a notification from felix, saying that chan was looking for me backstage. I quickly made my way there, hoping to catch y/n too.
thanks to my occassional good luck, she was there, resting on a couch in the makeup room. a staff member was hovering around her, cleaning her makeup. the thin layer of sweat on her face was glistening under the light.
“hyunjin!” she called out, sitting up suddenly.
I smiled and walked towards her, gesturing at han—who was nearby—to wait for me.
as soon as y/n stood up, I hugged her. “that was so beautiful,” I muttered into her hair.
she pulled back a little and smiled at me.
“i’m so happy you liked it. I was kind of nervous-”
“y/n?! that was amazing! It literally looked exactly like hyunjin’s dance style!” jeongin said, running towards us. I rolled my eyes at the intrusion, but let it go soon since it was just jeongin.
I paused suddenly. “wait. how do you know her?” I asked him.
“oh, noona got me chocolates on my birthday, and since then we’ve been hanging out a bit,” he said. I turned to y/n, who was nodding in a very ‘as-a-matter-of-fact’ way.
“i’ll leave you two to talk now, but jinnie hyung, the stylists are waiting for you. we need to get ready,” he said while walking away, and I nodded.
“ah, I see how it is,” I teased, narrowing my eyes playfully. “stealing the maknae’s heart before mine, huh?”
she burst out laughing. “you’ve got it all wrong. innie’s just a little brother to me.”
I felt a little relieved at that.
I saw the rest of the group trickle backstage one by one, each offering her their compliments, remembering her from the jype building.
felix hugged her and exclaimed how proud he was of her performance. “no wonder hyunjin’s been texting us about you nonstop today,” he added with a cheeky grin. I shoved him playfully, slightly blushing.
as the chaos died down, the staff called us one last time to prepare for our performance.
I turned to y/n, and asked a bit hesitantly. “will you still be here after the show?”
she nodded, her smile lighting up her face. “of course. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
I stepped closer, leaning in so only she could hear. “good. I still owe you one for making my heart race like that.” her blush was as beautiful as ever, and it gave me the courage to add, “do you want to grab a coffee, or something, after the event?”
“I’d love that,” she said softly, nodding, her eyes meeting mine with a spark that made my heart race, yet again.
as I walked towards the stage with my members, I couldn’t help but glance back at her. she was watching us, her expression proud and supportive. she threw a thumbs up in the air.
I knew that this day wasn’t just a moment of chance or luck. it was the beginning of something beautiful.
ᯓ★ bonus ending: y/n’s pov . . .
after hyunjin’s performance with his group and my excessively loud cheering and screaming, there were still quite a few performances left.
unbothered, hyunjin and I snuck away from the stadium, and roamed outside, looking for coffee shops close by. it was too late, so the roads were mostly empty.
there were a lot of hands-brushing and staring-at-each-other moments too.
under the city’s twinkling lights, watching korea’s night life with him, I couldn’t help but wonder what galaxy i’d saved in my past life to be lucky enough so as to meet someone like hyunjin today.
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kozumesphone © 2024 | don’t repost my works onto other platforms, or edit and post them even on tumblr, without asking me first • don’t steal my works, steal my heart instead • reblogs and comments are more than appreciated !
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139 notes ¡ View notes
sorrowsofsilence ¡ 4 months ago
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memento mori • n.s
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pairing: noah sebastian x gn!reader
words: 1.6k
warnings: ANGST, grief, loss, death, mourning (this is kinda heavy, please do not feel like you need to read im getting out feelings)
summary: "if you're watching this, im dead."
note: i think i was feeling some kinda way because i don't really know where this came from lol, but here's a quick little blurb if you enjoy angst <3
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THIS IS A FANFICTION USING A REAL PERSON IN A FICTIONAL SCENARIO! I AM NOT IMPLYING THEY WOULD ACT THIS WAY OR DO THE THINGS IN MY FANFICTION- IT IS FOR FUN, AND IT IS SIMPLY FICTION! <3
I sat in front of my computer screen, shell-shocked as the haunting words of his last video echoed in my ears.
"If you're watching this, I'm dead."
My heart clenched at his words, chest tightening as my breath caught in my throat. My room around me felt cold, too large and too empty, even with the myriad of knick-knacks and photos that adorned every available surface.
With trembling hand I reached out a to replay the video, but hesitated before I could do it. His face was frozen on the screen, eyes full of sorrow and resignation. A face I had fallen in love with; a stranger’s face that had brought so much unanticipated joy into my life.
His voice echoed through the silence again, the words heavy with grief and regret.
For what? For whom?
Refreshing the page, I watched his face light up the screen- his brown eyes warm and laughing, a stark contrast to the somber look from the end of the video. I watched as he talked about his day, his love for music, his appreciation of movies and games. It was all so normal, so Noah. It was easy to forget, just for a moment, what the end of the video would bring.
Then came the shift, where his bright demeanour began to fall away, replaced by a solemnity that felt unnatural on his usually vibrant face.
"I have some news," he began, his voice cracking slightly under the weight of his words. Even though I’d already heard him say it, part of me still hoped the next words out of his mouth would be different.
"But before I tell you," he said with a long pause, staring directly into the camera as if he knew I was watching, “I want you to remember the fun we had. I want you to remember the laughter, the joy...how I always kicked ass at super smash," His voice wavered with a stiff laugh, vulnerable and raw.
"I want you to remember me as I was, not as I will be."
My vision blurred with tears as his gaze bore into mine through the screen. Pulling my knees to my chest in an attempt at comfort while sitting at my desk, I choked back the tears that threatened to spill.
His words, even though for thousands, felt painfully intimate; like we were alone in an empty world, sharing a private moment of heart-wrenched farewell.
The long-haired brunette continued, "If you're watching this, I'm dead."
The harsh reality of his words hit me again like a physical blow, the tears falling as saliva grew in my mouth, lips quickening.
I watched his face crumple with sorrow before he collected himself, taking a deep breath. An inked hand came up to rub his face, as though he was struggling with words.
"There's no easy way to say it," he said, voice trembling with held-back tears, "I've been sick for a while... I didn't want anyone to worry. So, I kept it to myself."
Taking my sleeve, I rubbed my eyes as he continued.
"But now..." His voice wavered, "Now, I'm gone."
I watched in helpless agony as he tried to smile through his tears, a raw attempt to offer comfort, that he may have needed more.
The image of Noah, smiling despite everything, was a painful reminder of just how much I had lost; what the people in his life had lost.
“And I’m sorry.”
And here he was, apologizing to us for dying.
His brave facade crumbled then, and he broke down, weeping openly on screen. Noah’s sobs echoed through the quiet room, filling the spaces between my cries. I wanted to reach out to comfort him, but he was no longer there…only his digital ghost remained, memorialized within the code.
"I don't want you to mourn me," he said, his voice merely a whisper. "I want you to celebrate me for the life I've lived, and not the life I've lost."
His words knotted in my chest, a cruel irony in the face of the anguish that strung me. How was I to celebrate him? When every fibre of my being felt shredded by grief?
"You’ve been my friends," he continued softly, “and in a weird way, my family. You’ve joined streams with me through my best and worst times. I read every comment, every message; you didn’t know it but you gave me strength and laughter when I needed it most.”
Tears welled anew in my eyes. The impact of his sincere words left my heart racing, and limbs warming in misery.
"I need you to promise me something," he choked out after a moment, his gaze unwavering from the camera.
I sniffed, wiping my eyes again, his plea holding an intensity that made it impossible for me to look away
"Promise me you won't let my story end with my death," he said, sharing a small smile.
His voice tremored, yet it was filled with a surprising steeliness. "Promise me that you'll remember the joy, the laughter... the love."
His eyes held a fervour that pierced my heart; a vow exchanged under the silent witness of testimonial sorrow.
"I want you to take whatever you’ve found in my videos. Every smile, every piece of advice- every Mortal Kombat combo,” He paused, swallowing harshly with a dismissed laugh. "I want you... I want you to live."
The weight of his words hung in the air like a solemn promise. Live. He wanted me to live, us - fully and completely
"Love generously," he whispered, "Don’t take being here for granted.”
Noah smiled, nodding towards me, “You are worthy, and you are cherished. You make an impact on this earth, whether you believe so or not. You have a purpose.”
I continued to sob as his words flowed out of the speakers, dancing through the room in a mournful ballad.
His brown eyes bore into mine from the screen as he tucked a strand of brunette hair behind his ears.
"But most of all," he added, his voice barely more than a whisper now, "I want you to know that even though I'm not physically here anymore, I'll always be with you."
His words wrapped around my body in a comforting hug, and I squeezed my knees closer to my chest. As I rested my chin upon them, letting the tears stain my jeans I shared a bitter smile with the man I appreciated more than life itself.
The finality of Noah’s message was there – stark and painful – yet beneath it was an underlying message of hope and resilience.
"Thank you," he smiled after a pause, wiping away his cheeks with the sleeve of his black hoodie, "Thank you for being a part of my journey."
The screen blanked as the video ended, leaving me alone in the silence.
A sense of loss washed over me, raw and broken, desolate and despondent.
I sat there for a while longer, holding my body as his words echoed in my mind.
'Love generously. You are worthy. You have a purpose.’
The sentiment clung to the edges of my consciousness, like a mantra slowly seeping into my being.
My steps felt heavy and slow when I found the strength to leave my room, each one an effort to move forward.
Grief was insidious like that, invading every thought and action with its hollow grasp, embellishing its roots deep beneath the skin of heartache.
Yet, was I allowed to mourn someone who was ultimately in the end, a stranger?
But when I crawled back up the stairs, into the safety of my room, I crawled into bed and let myself open his channel once again.
Unwanted tears welled up again as I glanced at the screen, scrolling through the various streams and uploads. For so long, it had been my window to Noah - his thoughts, his creations, his heart-warming smiles.
Now, it was merely a screen- the end of the illusion that I had been a part of his life, even though we were strangers separated by thousands of miles.
The digital veil was a beautiful thing; allowing us to feel a brief sense of connection- until it’s pulled away.
And although we were strangers, he reached out to us in his most vulnerable moment.
He had shared his pain, his fear, and ultimately his hope for those of us left behind.
Taking a deep, shaky breath, I hovered my thumb over another video title - 'Noah's Adventures: Ocean with the Boys’.
When I hit play, there he was. Alive. Vibrant.
His infectious smile tugged at my heartstrings as he pointed excitedly at the stunning sunset around him, knocking into his best friends. The brunette’s laughter filled my room, dispelling the stifling silence that had taken hold of my heart.
With every passing second of the video, I cried, my chest aching as my throat tightened with grief and pain- yet nostalgia and laughter as I smiled with him.
"Ya boy Noah here," he said with that familiar twinkle in his eyes, "Me and the gang thought a picnic would be a good idea,”
He then held up a container of sacramental bread, his bizarre favourite snack.
“I got jesus bones, Nick’s got the vodka.”
The chorus of laughter that erupted as Noah smiled cheekily into the camera left my heart aching at the sight of his friends- his family.
I mourned for them, too.
This was the Noah he wanted us to remember: full of life.
As the video drew to an end, the screen filled the brilliant hues of orange and purple splashed across the sky, as if painted by an ardent artist.
Noah looked at the camera with a serene smile.
"Life is a masterpiece," he said, out of breath as he stood upon the hill, capturing the water behind him, "Each day is a new brush stroke adding to its beauty.”
The video ended with a shot of the sky, Noah's laughter dancing into the twilight.
His last phrase lingered into the silence:
"Remember to appreciate it."
memento mori.
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tags:
@thefallennightmare @xxkittenkissesxx @deathblacksmoke @nyxisnotok @anameunmusical
@sitkowski @sammyjoeee @cookiesupplier @th4t-em0-k1d @dsireland86
@whenthesummerdies @spicywhenspeaking @veronicaphoenix @lma1986 @calleyx13
@somewhere-diamond @auratheopossumwitch @blackveilomens @skulliecadaver-blog @silentglassbreak
@darkmxgician @sprokat @thatchickwiththecamera @reyadawn @xserenax-13
@philomenie @into-the-grey @amelia-acero @blend-in-with-the-madness @rumoured-whispers
@anything-more-than-human @blacksoul-27 @sweetwombatpizza
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osarina ¡ 10 months ago
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ᥣ𐭊 YOU AND ME (ALWAYS FOREVER)!
FEATURING: dark era!dazai osamu
SUMMARY: more than friends, not quite lovers. that's been your relationship with dazai osamu for as long as you can remember. you didn't want to push him, and you gave him plenty of chances, but there's only so long you can wait for someone. you thought you would be better off moving on—you were wrong, of course. (wordcount: 4.8k; sfw; angst (???) but with a happy ending)
AUTHOR'S NOTES: dark era dazai </3 my heart, i got a sudden urge to write for him and i wanted it to be fluff but then i got this idea and just had to go with it (warnings: fem!reader, smoking & drinking, suicide attempt mentions)
In your defense, you were never dating Dazai Osamu.
Not for a lack of trying on your part, of course. You’ve made your interest in him clear since you met him at sixteen during the Dragon’s Head Conflict, when Mori Ougai pulled you back from where you were stationed in Kyoto dealing with his associates to help with the declining situation in Yokohama. And you’d thought he felt similarly to you. You really did. The two of you had become inseparable within weeks of knowing each other, such a swift and strong connection that it almost felt unreal. You’d heard rumors of him, of course, before coming back to Yokohama—the infamous Demon Prodigy that Mori had brought in and groomed into becoming his heir, ruthless and cold and so terrifyingly intelligent that he had the entire upper echelon of the Port Mafia on edge. 
By the time you got back to Yokohama, he’d already had a heavy reputation following him, dark shadows clinging to him like a second skin. Demon Prodigy. Black Wraith. So many monikers attached to him, but he never really felt like the monster that everyone claimed him to be.
He and Nakahara Chuuya had been the one sent to retrieve you from Yokohama Station, an area very close to the heart of the gang conflict, and even from the first meeting, he’d always been… well, you’re not going to say normal because he’s not normal. He’s always had an unnerving air about him, eyes a bit too cold and dark, smile a bit too teethy, but he’s always come across as just another kid your age. Maybe a bit lonelier than most, which could be off-putting to other people, but it never bothered you. And yes, you’ve seen the way other members of the Mafia treat him—they’re scared of him, go to extreme lengths so as to not cross paths with him, but you’ve never seen him in the same light they do.
Well, not until recently, at least. 
Again. In your defense, you were never dating him. 
But you’d known he cared about you as more than a friend. And you’d cared about him as more than a friend too. And you waited. You waited almost two years for him to say something. You didn’t want to do it yourself, you know Dazai is flighty and he’s not used to emotions, and you didn’t want to make him uncomfortable, but god, there’s only so much waiting you can take before you start to give up.
When the two year mark hit, you’d become convinced that Dazai was never going to act on his feelings for you; instead, he’d prefer to wait it out until they passed, and if they never did, he’d just pretend they didn’t exist at all. You can’t really blame him, the Mafia is not a place conducive for relationships, it’s only a matter of time before your luck runs out and one of you end up dead by a bullet through the head or captured by the enemy, and the thought of getting attached to someone only to lose them is enough to scare anyone away. 
But you don’t want to live your life in fear, no matter how short it may be, and you also don’t want to live it alone. So when an opportunity arose at a cafe near the main headquarters, where you met a civilian around your age who showed immediate interest in you, you jumped on it. And it’d caught a lot of people off guard—Kouyou was surprised, Chuuya was baffled and questioning what a civilian could possibly have that interested you, even Mori gave you a double take and an odd look the first time he overheard Elise interrogating you about your new boyfriend.
But no one took it as poorly as Dazai.
Your throat feels tight as you remember the hurt expression that crossed over his face when you told him. It was so brief and so foreign of an expression to see on his face that you’d thought you’d imagined it, he was quick to school his expression back into a cold and closed-off one (one that he’d never directed toward you before that moment), but there was no mistaking the way the corner of his lip twitched and the way he suddenly couldn’t meet your eyes. 
How nice, he’d told you, voice frighteningly icy, acidic, even, before he made a half-assed excuse about a mission that you knew he wasn’t assigned to. And it was so unlike him to offer himself up to handle missions, usually Mori has to force him with threats of giving Chuuya his executive position for him to do anything that makes him extend the barest amount of effort . But he did, and he handled it, very bloodily and uncharacteristically inefficient, as if he was releasing all of his pent up rage onto the unfortunate souls who happened to stumble into Port Mafia territory.
You were never, at any point, dating Dazai Osamu. 
You think you’ve told yourself it hundreds of times over the past three months, throwing yourself into your work and enjoying a relationship with a boy who clearly was invested in you and cares about you in a way that Dazai Osamu would never allow himself to admit. You also think that Dazai Osamu has no right being as bitter and angry as he is—you gave him two years to come to terms with his feelings and make a move, you’ve made your own subtle hints that he promptly ignored. If he wanted to be with you, he blew his chance a hundredfold, and he can go screw off if he thinks he can be upset about it only after you’d found someone else. 
Which is what he did, pretty much, and it was a lot harder than you expected—going from talking to him every waking second of every day, seeking him out whenever you have free time and vice versa, to only seeing him during the joint meetings between the executives and sub executives, where even then, he wouldn’t even spare you a glance. It was hard, and deep down, you don’t think being able to experience an actual relationship was worth losing your best friend, but the damage had already been done by that point, so you could only lie in the bed you made. 
And you did enjoy the relationship. The boy you’d met was sweet. He was good. He was impressively smart—a government and law major at one of the most prestigious universities in this part of the country—and humble to a fault. 
But he wasn’t Dazai. 
You knew in your heart that you didn’t want sweet or good, no matter how much you tried to convince yourself otherwise. You didn’t want the type of smart that he was, top of his class and on track for law school, seeking out a job as a public defender in Tokyo. You wanted the type of smart Dazai was, wicked and devious, putting together vicious and efficient strategies to take down enemies of the Mafia, on track for taking over the position as boss in the future. You wanted him for all of his twisted moralities and questionable thoughts.
And it was unfair to you, and it was unfair to Dazai, and most importantly it was unfair to the boy you kept leading on, that you’ve refused to acknowledge this for as long as you have just for the chance of experiencing a real relationship. 
Which is why you stand here now, outside the infamous Bar Lupin that you know Dazai has been drinking himself into oblivion at everyday for the past three months, notably single and possibly about to meet your end at the hands of a drunken and scorned Mafia executive. 
You think you must look like a fool right now. You’ve been standing right outside the door in the rain for fifteen minutes debating on whether or not you should actually go in. You’re nervous, and that makes you sad because you’ve never been nervous to talk to Dazai before, and you’re not nervous because you’re scared of him, you’re nervous because you don’t think you have the balls to actually confront him, knowing that you’d genuinely hurt the boy that everyone claimed didn’t have the emotions to be hurt. He let you in when he doesn’t let anyone in, and you chose to be careless and you chose to give up, and you hurt him. 
And you remind yourself again: you were not dating Dazai Osamu. You remind yourself that you gave him chances, he had opportunities, and he chose not to take them. You remind yourself that he’s just as at fault as you are for the falling out, but you can’t help but also remind yourself that he was the one that came out the most hurt by the situation. Yes, him cutting himself off from you was upsetting, but you didn’t have to watch him go around happy in a relationship with someone else. He did. 
With that thought in mind, you push the door open to the bar. A soft bell rings above you and instantly, three heads swivel in your direction: the bartender, and two men that you recognize as Sakaguchi Ango, one of the Port Mafia’s special intelligence agents, and Oda Sakunosuke, who you only know through Dazai’s high praise of the man from when the two of you were still on speaking terms. The only person in the room who matters to you doesn’t even bother to look to see who entered the bar, one hand circling the glass of whiskey in front of him while a cigarette dangles from the other. You watch as he lifts it to his lips to take a long drag, head falling tilting back to look up at the ceiling as he exhales a cloud of smoke, seemingly unbothered by your presence.
Already, you feel as if you’ve made a mistake, but you force yourself to continue.
The bartender nods his head in respect to you, although you can’t help but notice he flashes a wary look to Dazai. You wonder, pitifully, how much he’s said about you in this place. Sakaguchi and Oda share a look with one another. Both of them speak a low murmur of your name, inclining their head dutifully—you’re not quite an executive yet, but with the Piano Man of the Flags dead, you and Chuuya are fighting for the next spot to open up. Chuuya will likely be the one to get it, which you think he deserves from all of the heavy lifting he’s done on operations the past two years, but you feel a bit awkward when they give you your due respect when you're here with your tail between your legs trying to talk to Dazai.
Sakaguchi and Oda take their leave when you arrive, giving short goodbyes to Dazai, telling them that they’ll see him another day, and the bartender makes a fumbled excuse about going to the back to restock, leaving you alone with Dazai. Internally, you wither just a bit because you think if they’d stayed, Dazai might keep a handle on himself because you know he views Oda highly; instead, they left you in the lion’s den alone. Which you might deserve, but you digress.
You let out a quiet puff of air as you make your way over to the bar stool next to Dazai, taking a seat in it carefully. Still, he doesn’t look at you, but you look at him and the aching in your chest returns tenfold as your gaze sweeps over him fully for the first time in months. During the joint meetings between the executives and sub-executives, you were always sure to keep your glances short and sweet, not wanting to risk any lingering looks, but now, you can look at him in his entirety for the first time since that fateful discussion three months ago. 
He hasn’t changed much. Or, well, that’s a lie. He’s definitely changed. The circles beneath his eye are darker, his expression a carefully constructed blank mask. You think he might’ve lost some weight, his coat has always been big on him but the way it hangs over his shoulders now is looser than it was before. If it weren’t for the way his fingers were tense around his glass of whiskey, you’d have thought he was entirely unperturbed by your arrival.
You don’t know what to say, and you know you need to be the first to speak because you’re the one that showed up here to talk to him, but now that you’re sitting in front of him you’re floundering for words. You could just come out and say that you broke up with your boyfriend, but you feel like that would be a bit weird, and he’d probably laugh in your face and make a comment about how he doesn’t care. You could ask him how he’s been, but you think he might genuinely put a bullet in you for trying to make small talk with him like that right now. 
The longer you stay silent, the more awkward it becomes, and you want to cry because you’ve never been awkward with Dazai before, and for a brief second, you wonder if things really have changed too much to go back to how they were. 
Finally, you decide to just come out and say, bracing yourself for the inevitable derisive words that are going to leave his lips. “I broke up with him.”
Dazai’s scoff is loud and instantaneous, you bite your tongue, eyes sliding shut as you turn to face ahead instead of looking at him. Cowardly, you know, but you don’t want to see the sneer on his face when he asks you why he should care. 
But he doesn’t say that. He doesn’t say anything at first. If you were looking at him, you’d see the way his cold expression shifted into a more conflicted one, still staring ahead because he can’t bring himself to look at you. You count each passing second, and it’s agonizing waiting for him to speak, a part of you thinks that maybe he won’t, and you’ll just have to leave the bar with your tail between your legs, humiliated. 
But then he does. 
“Why?” he finally asks coolly, and your eyes snap open and your gaze slides over to him when you realize he did not, in fact, hit you with the derogation you expected.
He still isn’t looking at you, and you watch as he lifts his free hand back to his lips, taking another long drag of his cigarette as he waits for your response. You swallow thickly when you try to figure out what to say next. 
What you want to say is ‘because he wasn’t you,’ but you’re not ready to bare yourself vulnerable in front of him like that when he’s still so unpredictable. Just because he didn’t immediately hit you with the harsh words you expected, doesn’t mean he isn’t going to lure you in just to slap you in the face with it, which is how you’re sure he perceived what you did three months ago. 
Rather, you say quietly: “He was boring, I guess.”
It’s a lie. Well, a partial lie, at least. He was a good guy, he was just boring compared to what you wanted, and what you wanted was Dazai Osamu, who no one in the world could hope to compare to. 
“He was boring,” Dazai echoes your words, a cruel and mocking lilt to his voice, and you brace yourself now, taking the sudden switch in tone as the flicking off of the safety. But he shakes his head as he lets out a puff of air, you can’t tell if it’s another scoff or a laugh. “How cold-hearted of you. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised, given your track record.”
Two paths lay before you: you can take the words as well-deserved, trying to avoid the inevitable fight, or you can spit back equally venomous words, dive in headfirst so the two of you can get everything off of your chest. Both choices are double-edged. If you avoid the fight, it means avoiding the topic altogether, and even if the two of you choose to speak again, the resentment of what had happened will only poison and fester. If you dive into the fight, there’s a chance of saying words you can’t take back, and everything might fall apart anyway.
What do you want? You want to ask him, because you aren’t sure what the right decision is. Three months ago, if you and Dazai got into a disagreement about something, you would know in an instant whether or not he wanted to fight it out to let off steam or just pretend it didn’t happen. Now, you aren’t so sure. He’s still not looking at you, so you can’t use the look in his eye as a hint, but his shoulders are tense beneath his jacket, and his knuckles are white around his glass of whiskey. Your gaze drags up to his face, catching the way his jaw is tight, teeth probably grinding together, and you know. 
You look ahead again, leveling your vision on a particularly nice bottle of wine on the third shelf of the wine rack as you say: “I’d rather be cold-hearted than a coward.”
For the first time since you’ve arrived, Dazai’s gaze cuts in your direction, head snapping to the side. You turn your head toward him just enough for you to eye him from the corner of your eye, catching glimpse of the way his lip curled up into a snarl and the way flames now rage in the browns of his eye—a far cry from the bottomless void, but you prefer the anger to the emptiness. 
“A coward?” His voice is low, cold, dangerous. 
You’re treading on thin ice, but you choose to stoke the flame more, gaze sliding back to the wine racks ahead.
“A coward.”
The silence that hangs between the two of you is tense and damning, you have to force yourself not to react to it, keeping your expression as stony as his as you wait for his response. He’ll either hit you back with more venom or he’ll settle down, one will lead to a blow out fight and the other will lead to a very tense conversation. 
You don’t want to fight him, but if that’s what he wants, you’ll give it to him. 
After what feels like an eternity, Dazai makes another scornful noise but he doesn’t say anything, gaze snapping back ahead as he takes a drag of his cigarette, this one clearly fueled by anger, far more aggressive than the last one. As if to piss him off even more, he hardly gets half of a smoke, down to the nub already. Frustrated, he puts the lingering cinders out on the bartop before reaching for the pack in his pocket, pulling out a new cigarette and his lighter.
You watch as he tries to flick the lighter on, cigarette dangling between his lips, but the old thing refuses to cooperate. Distantly, you wonder why Dazai is so damn stubborn: working with an old lighter, living in a shitty shipping container, wearing the same few pairs of clothes every day when he probably has more money than god hoarded from his executive paycheck. But you only force yourself to not roll your eyes as you pull out your own lighter, flicking it on and holding it out to him without looking at him. 
You watch from the corner of your eye as he stares at your hand suspiciously before he exhales from the side of his mouth, dipping his head down to light the cigarette before he faces ahead again. He doesn’t say anything. Instead, he reaches out for his glass of whiskey, still mostly full, and then he slides it over to you.
An offering. A white flag. 
You barely withhold the breath of relief that nearly escapes you, accepting the drink and taking a long sip of it. It’s his favorite brand, smooth and familiar on the tongue; you haven’t been able to bring yourself to drink it since your falling out with him. 
“Was it really because he was boring?” Dazai finally asks. He’s not looking at you again, but you can see from the way his fingers are tense against the bartop that he’s probably waiting for a certain response from you.
You let your eyes slide shut. “No,” you admit.
“Then why?” he presses, as if he doesn’t already know. 
“You know why,” you say tightly, shaking your head and looking down.
“Tell me anyway,” Dazai responds quietly, you can feel his gaze on you but you can’t bring yourself to look at him. Irrationally, even though the atmosphere between the two of you has shifted, you wonder if this is it: he’s going to get you to admit it and then laugh in your face, cruel but probably deserved. 
“Because he wasn’t you,” you finally force out.
He doesn’t respond. Your heart sinks to your stomach, a sick feeling churning. You brace yourself again—you don’t know what for, maybe a laugh or a derisive comment, but he does nothing of the sort. 
A long exhale, smoke billowing around his face, a heavy look in his eyes. He doesn’t look at you as he says: “You’re right.”
You don’t respond because you’re not sure what he’s referring to. Finally, he tilts his head to look at you, a wry smile on his lips—your chest feels warm at the sight, you can’t remember the last time you’ve seen him smile. Probably not since the falling out. 
“I was a coward.”
Oh.
The frustration you felt all of those months ago returns with a vengeance. You had danced with possibilities back then: that you were reading too much into things, that he didn’t actually care for you the way you did for him, that he simply did not want to be with you even if he did care about you that way. Now, faced with confirmation that he had felt the same but was just too pussy to act on it, your chest swells with that familiar anger. You force it away. 
“Why?” you ask after a few moments of silence, nails digging into the palm of your hands as you rest them on your lap. “I… I waited for two years, Dazai. I gave you so many openings. You knew how I felt.”
“I know.” His voice is quiet, barely audible. 
“Then why?” you repeat his words back to him, pressing hard just like he did. His throat bobs beneath his bandages as he swallows, averting his gaze, or trying to, at least, because you don’t let him. You reach out to grab his chin tightly, forcing him to look at you, and the pads of your fingers burn against his skin, hyper aware of the fact that this is the first time you’ve touched him in three months. “Why?”
His hand comes up to grab your wrist as if to pull your hand off of him, but he doesn’t, grip firm around your wrist, fingers pressing against your pulse point, and you’re acutely conscious of the fact that your pulse is probably racing but you can’t bring yourself to care. 
“I told you why,” he says, voice uncharacteristically soft. Vulnerable in a way that you’ve never seen him before. “I was a coward. I… didn’t want to risk ruining our friendship... I don't have many friends. You know that. I would’ve rather just ignored how I felt and kept you as a friend, because I didn’t think there’d be a chance of losing you that way. I thought if I acted on how I felt, one day you’d eventually see me for what I am and I’d lose you altogether.”
“Some good that did you.” You can’t help the resentful words that spill from your lips, but you feel guilty when he winces, hand dropping back to your lap, his grip slipping from your wrist. “You think I don’t already see you for who you are? We’ve known each other since we were sixteen, Dazai. I know all of the sick and twisted thoughts that run through your head, I knew exactly what I was getting into.”
Dazai shakes his head, as if to deny your words. You get frustrated.
“I spend hours at your recovery bed after your attempts, I’ve caught you in the middle of them myself, do you know what the first thing I did was after I told you I had a boyfriend?” you demand, and he stares at you, unsure. “I put a protection detail on him because I thought you’d try to have him killed, or try to kill him yourself.”
Dazai winces. You shake your head and look away, settling down again. 
“For someone so smart, you really are so goddamn stupid sometimes,” you sigh, taking a long swig of his drink before placing the glass back down on the table. “I saw you for who you are, and I wanted you anyway.”
“Wanted?” Dazai asks, an uncertain expression on his face as he zeroes in on the past tense.
“Want,” you correct, voice little over a breath, and something akin to relief sweeps across his face as his gaze drops down to the bartop.
The silence that hangs between the two of you is more comfortable this time. Reassuring, even, because maybe things might still be awkward between the two of you for a while, but there’s a light at the end of the tunnel, one much brighter than the one the two of you lived in three months ago. 
“I can’t believe you went for a civilian,” Dazai suddenly says, almost sounding indignant. “A civilian. You!”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” you snap when you hear the incredulous tone he takes when he says ‘you’.
“You’re a stone cold bitch,” Dazai accuses and you gape, but you can’t find it in yourself to be offended because his eyes are lit up for the first time in months, a lopsided smile painted on his face. “And you’ve got as much blood on your hands as I do. You. A civilian. I think I would’ve been less offended if you went for Chuuya.”
“We both know that’s a lie,” you snort, and then you add, a bit amused, “you know what he wants a job as?” 
“Tell me,” Dazai drawls, resting his chin on his hand as he leans on the bar, watching you with such a fond expression that it makes you feel warm all over. 
God, you missed him the past three months. 
“He wanted to go to law school. Become a public defender.”
Dazai chokes over the smoke he inhales, and you press your hand to your lips to smother your giggles as he desperately wheezes between laughs. You’re not sure if he’s actually choking, you think he might actually be dying from how red his face is getting.
“Maybe you should keep in contact with him then,” he gasps between laughs, “we might need one of those one day.”
“As if you’re sloppy enough to ever get caught,” you say dryly.
He winks at you, his grin sharpening, and you know you’re not going to like what he’s about to say. “Oh, I’m not. By ‘we’, I meant you.”
“Douchebag.” You roll your eyes, letting another silence settle over the two of you, a smile on your lips now as you take another sip of your drink. He’s the one to break it again.
“... Odasaku convinced me not to, by the way.”
“What?” 
“To kill him. I was going to. Odasaku convinced me not to.”
You let out a sigh of utter suffering, giving Dazai a pointed look—see, you say silently, I know you. He has the decency to look a bit sheepish as lifts his cigarette back to his mouth in lieu of responding to your unspoken words. 
“Stop with the self sabotage, Dazai,” you finally say, tired. “For both of our sakes’.”
He doesn’t respond, and you know him well enough to know that he’ll probably never stop with the self sabotage, but he does reach out to lace your fingers with his, and the warm feeling that spreads through your chest is enough to satiate you. 
Little steps, because no, the Mafia is not a conducive place for relationships and yes, it’s only a matter of time before luck runs out for one of you, but if your life is destined to be short, there’s only one person you want to spend it with.
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chuuyaswifeandhoe ¡ 11 months ago
Text
Not today
Pairing: Chuuya x femreader
Warnings: hurt, swearing, manipulation, not a happy ending, Chuuya being an asshole
Not proofread
A/N: Hello all. This fic will have 3 or 4 parts. Please note that it's not going to have a happy ending so read at your own discretion.
“I want to break up”
He said the words so effortlessly that you were not sure you were hearing him right.
“What?” Your mind did not understand yet the meaning of his words. It couldn't be. No. It was impossible. But his annoyed and tired sigh had your heart in a grasp, ready to shatter it.
“ I want to break up Y/N. I don't want to continue this any longer.” His tone was empty, no trace of emotion, no trace of love, no trace of your Chuuya. The pain you started to feel was unbearable. Like someone was planting in your heart thousands of shattered glass pieces making it bleed more when it tried to beat. You did not see this coming. How could you when this morning he kissed your sleepy face, told you he is going to miss you throughout the day and that he loves you more than anything. How could you when only some nights ago you were talking about marriage and how you two see the idea of having kids.
“Why?” Your voice was strained, like it did not belong to you. You choked on air, your mind screaming profanities at you. Your body started trembling. You were living your perfect fairytale. Chuuya was the man you were sure was not going to break your heart. Until five minutes ago…
An exasperated sigh left Chuuya's lips. He did not want to do this. It hurt him as much as it hurt you. Maybe even worse. But if this was the only solution he had to keep you safe then he's going to do it. Better two broken hearts than a dead body, your dead body. The next mission was going to last over a year long, abroad, with little possibility and space for outside communication. And the biggest fear he had was that you'll become a target in all this time and Mori told him they can't offer you protection for such a long time. Their resources were limited at the moment with all that was going on, no weakling could be spared for his girlfriend. And if you became a target, he could not do anything to protect you, he wouldn't even find out until is too late and the Mafia “would not organize a rescue mission or give in ransom requests for Y/N”.
“Why does it matter, I want to end things!” He raised his voice feeling guilty. Seeing you flinch, your glossy eyes widen and tears spilling over your face was like pushing the dagger in his own heart. He did not want to give reasons. He hoped you'd magically understand his thoughts and not put up a fight. But how could you, you were fighting for him and he couldn't be happier to know it, but not today.
“Because this morning you told me you loved me, because few nights ago we were talking marriage and children and now you've done a 180 turn so you owe me at least an explanation.” Your voice cracked, your phrase interupted by a pitiful sob. This had to be a nightmare you got to wake up from, right?
Chuuya's gaze soften for a second before going back to his composed icy attitude. He wanted to extend his arm, to pull you close and tell you he is just a coward and he's scared to lose you. He couldn't bear to see you like this. But he needed to cut whatever strings were keeping you close. He knew you well enough to realize that a simple ”I have another girl or I lost feelings” wouldn't work. He had to make you hate him, he had to cut deep so you'd never want to see him again. He had to be the very last thing he wanted to become, an absolute asshole. He was going to rip your heart apart with his words.
“I lied. I never loved you.”
You scoffed. “Fuck you, try something better. You can't fake a year and a half of relationship, being the most loving boyfriend and then tell me it was all a lie.” Your voice was so confident that for two seconds made Chuuya waver in his own decision. You trusted him so much, so blindly and he couldn't be more grateful… but not today. He bit his lip, not wanting to go on that road, a trip of no return. If he's going to attack every vulnerable part of you he was going to break you in multiple ways, but at least you would be safe, right?
He forced a sinister laugh. “See, you're so fucking gullible that you think a Port Mafia executive would not be able to lie. You want to know the truth?? You were just convenient. The good innocent girl who would believe everything that I feed her. You're fucking way to stupid and naive for your own good. I never loved you, I just wanted someone to warm my bed every night without having to worry too much on the how's and who's.” He regretted every word that was coming out of his mouth. He didn't believe any of it. Saying them was like eating glass, he felt his mouth hurting together with his heart when he saw the impact they were having on you.
It was like a dagger that was cutting every fiber of your muscles. Your heart clenched so hard in your chest you though you were having a heart attack. Everything hurt. There wasn't a cell in your body not burning under the cold eyes Chuuya reserved for you today. To say his words hurt was an understatement.
“You're lying”. It was the only thing your vocal cords could articulate.
“If this makes it easier for you, then of course Y/N, I'm lying. But I don't want to do this anymore. You're annoying, I'm tired of your bubbly energy and the way you act all clingy. You're a grown ass woman and act like a freaking teenager. What, you think I like how you're jumping around the bookstore? Or that you act so fucking selfish towards everyone, like there is no bad in the world. I'm so tired of having to act like I'm not killing people on the daily basis around you. Also, I hate how you get all shy when I'm fucking you. Acting all so innocent like you don't like it.” he took a deep breath before speaking again “The only thing good about you is when you shut up and just take it. And even that is such a rarety since you're so fucking sensibile you're always hurting, always bruising easily. I don't love you, I never did. You were nothing more than a bed warmer and I just had enough of you.”
Lies, lies, lies. He adored every part of you. He loved how you would be so excited by some random hardcover book, just because the covers are pretty. How you'd take photos of the sunsets because they were “pieces of art”. The way you folded under his teasing games and how you tried to cover your blushing face. He loved it all. He worshipped you till the moon and back. If you'd ask him for the moon itself he'd ask the god's permission to rip a piece and bring it back to you.
He was trying with all his being not to crack the mask he's put on. If he didn't had the gloves on, he was sure his nails would dig in his palms until blood would come out. Loyalty, he was doing this out of loyalty towards the Mafia and towards yourself. He was doing it out of love. He was doing it out of selfishness. He couldn't bear the idea of the possibility that his world could get you hurt, or worse killed. So his best idea was to hurt you himself so he could push you away from his world, from his blood stained hands. Your sobs brought him back to reality. He looked at you and saw everything he did not want to become. You were hugging your own body while crying and sobbing uncontrollably.
You felt empty, you were in agony. No, it was worse, but you could not point out just a single emotion you were feeling right now. It was like you fell to hell from heaven. And yet, somehow hell seemed a less painful place right now. Every vulnerability you had, he made sure to point it out and twist it against you. Were you so blind to not see that he actually did not love you? You felt useless, an used object, a used doll. All the moments he kissed your insecurities away were mere lies? Everything you were afraid of, came to life. Maybe was it your fault to have let down your defences and let him under your skin, under the layers you kept on for so long. Was he such a good actor after all? You fell to your knees continuing to cry. It was too much, way too much than your fragile heart could endure.
His first instinct was to catch you, to use his ability to help you get down safely. He fought against it and any piece of respect he had for himself vanished when he heard a desperate cry from your scrunched form. He felt a burn in his eyes, tears forming in them. No, he could not screw this up. He turned on his feet giving you his back.
“You can keep this place and the card I have given to you. Take it as compensation for the time you lost with me. If our paths ever cross again you'll act like you don't know me or I'll make a bullet go through your skull.” He walked away, getting out of the shared apartment, while tears were falling down his cheeks. Even though his body was reacting in a very human way, he felt anything but human. He broke the only person who made him feel human. He took a deep breath before taking his phone out and sending a message to Dazai “I need your help”. He had to find a way to protect her from his world now that he cut any strings. He had to protect her from himself.
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