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osarina · 1 month ago

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ᡣ𐭩 TWO SLOW DANCERS, LAST ONES OUT

FEATURING: osamu dazai

SUMMARY: your one day of pretend with dazai is over, but something isn't right. there's more going on than what he's led you to believe, and you're desperately trying to figure out what it is before it's too late.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: WAHHHHHHHHHHH PMREADER BEAST AU IS OFFICIALLY DONE. CAN U GUYS BELIEVE IT. what was supposed to be a 15k one-shot turned into a 40k monster </3 one day i will learn to be casual about things, but i fear it is not today </3 and especially not with beast au. wahhhhhh guys this was such a pleasure to write & share with you all, thank you all for bearing with me throughout it and showing me so much love. i put my full heart into this one :') and a special thank u to miss river & one of my irls who beta'd this whole monster for me and cleaned it up for you all to read. if you guys had seen the number of commas that river had to fix for me naifhsaiudfhsdu HUMBLING TRULY. anyway i love the both of you so so very deeply this couldn't have been done without you. as always, reblogs appreciated! MWAH love you guys <33

GENERAL WARNINGS: fem!reader, port mafia executive!reader, beast!dazai, tragedy, angst, canon compliant.

CHAPTER SPECIFIC WARNINGS: mcd (suicide, canon), hints toward suicidal thoughts at the end.

SEE: TWO SLOW DANCERS SERIES MASTERLIST

The next morning, the two of you dress in silence.

You don’t know what to say—you don’t even know if you have anything to say. Or you suppose that’s not true, you have a lot to say, but most of it you’re sure will just be answered with more ‘I can’t’s and you just don’t want to deal with the disappointment. Plus, Dazai seems to be done with whatever day of ‘weakness’ he had yesterday. His expression has been cold and withdrawn since he woke up an hour ago—he’s hardly even spared you a glance.

He slept well, though. You couldn’t help but wonder if this was the first time he’d slept through the night in months—years, even. The moment he rested his head back on the pillow, one arm curled around your waist, Dazai was out for the night. He ended up shimmying closer to you so that he could rest his head on your chest, breath even, expression peaceful for the first time in… too long.

You were not quite as lucky.

Your eyes are heavy as you button up your dress shirt. You spent the whole night awake, restless as you watched him sleep; hours were spent carding your fingers through his hair, relishing in intimacy and trust he hadn’t given you in years, and hours were spent with your fingers curled around a paper-knife he left on the nightstand, considering the drawbacks of putting it through his throat while he slept in your arms.

You could’ve done it—you almost did do it. You had the tip of the small knife pressed to his pulse point for twenty minutes, fingers trembling, each breath he took making the sharp edge press deeper into his bandages. Dazai is usually a light sleeper, so you suppose it’s a testament to how tired he was and how much he trusts you that he didn’t even stir with a knife against his throat.

You weighed out the pros and cons. You would get away with it; who would even try to punish you for it? The Flags? Itou or Klaus? Chuuya? Over half of the upper echelon wants him dead, and the other half has no love left for him after he murdered Mori—Dazai is alone; he has no friends left, and he has no allies. The only reason people put up with him as boss is because of how the Mafia has prospered under his reign, and that will only be enough for so long. There are already whispers of incompetence and madness because of his recent decisions with the Armed Detective Agency. So, not only would you get away with it, but you’d be rewarded for it, you’d be given the seat and the scarf and full control over the Port Mafia. The worst you’d deal with is Chuuya’s irritation because he wanted to be the one to put Dazai down.

And Dazai deserved it, didn’t he? After the four years of hell he put you through, after murdering Mori—Dazai deserves to die, and you deserve to be the one to do it, Chuuya would understand that. Dazai treated him like shit too, but it was nothing like what he put you through. He’s only as insistent as he is now about being the one to do it because he doesn’t think you can handle it. You gave him better than he deserved—a whole day of being able to pretend nothing changed between the two of you, being able to pretend his actions didn’t ruin what you had with him… it was more than he deserved by all accounts.

You almost don’t know why you didn’t go through with it.

“What are you thinking?” he finally asks, voice still rough with sleep, all of the warmth from yesterday gone.

You look at him from the corner of your eye as you pull your suit jacket on. He’s not looking at you—he’s adjusting his scarf, making sure the ends are even in the mirror. His lips are curled down, bandages back over the left side of his face, and when you don’t respond immediately, his gaze flickers up to look at your reflection. You immediately look away.

“That I regret not putting a knife in your throat last night,” you tell him flatly.

Dazai lets out a noise, you’re unsure if it’s a laugh or a scoff. You stiffen when you hear him padding across the bedroom in your direction. You can feel his presence looming behind you, fingers brushing over your hips before he lifts a hand to your chin, tilting your head back enough to force you to look at him over your shoulder. His touch is light, but it’s so different from the gentle caresses from last night that it sends shivers down your spine. It’s almost… you aren’t even sure how to describe it—oppressive, possessive, taunting? It’s light, but somehow the weight of it is unbearable—like he knows he’s going to say something to upset you and he’s waiting for you to react just as he wants.

You’re back to the mind games and power plays.

“You’re so quick to say such cruel things,” he murmurs, breath warm against your skin. His eye glints with something unreadable—amusement, maybe, like he knows something you don’t—but all you care about is the confirmation that yesterday is really over. You know that for sure now with him looking at you like this. “But you always come crawling back to me, don’t you?”

You slap his hand away hard, but he doesn’t flinch.

“Fuck you,” you say coldly. “Do you want to know why I didn’t?”

Dazai tilts his head to the side, shoving his hands into his coat pockets. His gaze is half-lidded as he looks over you, but he finally raises his eyebrows, beckoning for you to speak.

“Because last night, I finally realized how fucking miserable of an existence your life is,” you tell him, but you don’t find any pleasure in the way he draws back ever so slightly. “Death would be too easy for you.”

For a moment, the air between you stills, thick with something neither of you wants to name. Dazai’s expression is unreadable, but you don’t miss the flicker of pain that crosses his face. Just as quickly as you catch it, it’s gone, replaced with that infuriating smirk.

“Oh?” he hums, rocking back on his heels. “And here I thought it was your inability to let go of the past kicking in again. You’re too fond of me to ever hurt me.”

“Fond of you?” you scoff, taking a step closer, ignoring the way your heart races when he doesn’t move away. “What is there to be fond of, Dazai? Chuuya is right, you’re a walking corpse. I haven’t been fond of you in years, I’ve been mourning you.”

You don’t mean the words; you’re just looking to hurt him, but his expression shifts again, something raw in his gaze as he looks down at you that he can’t quite push away fast enough. Your stomach twists, but before you can say anything, his sharp grin returns. “Ah, and yet, you stayed. How many times did I give you the opportunity to leave?”

You shake your head and move to walk past him. You can’t stay in this place any longer—it’s suffocating, too much of a reminder of what could’ve been. Before you can get far, his hand darts out to grab your wrist, stopping you in your tracks.

You turn your head to the side to look at him from the corner of your eye.

“Just out of curiosity,” he finally asks, a cruel edge to his voice that has you stiff, “how much of yesterday did you actually believe?”

His words and the implication of them don’t cause the pain that he clearly wants to make you feel. They can’t, not with the way you can feel his fingers trembling around your wrist. You look down at them pointedly and then drag your gaze back up to his face. Dazai snatches his hand back and shoves it into his pocket, but the damage has already been done.

“Not even you’re that good of a liar, Dazai,” you say quietly. Before you can change your mind, you turn to face him, lifting your hand to cup his cheek. His lashes instinctively flutter shut as he leans into your touch; the immediate reaction only serves to prove you more. “I don’t regret yesterday, but I hope you do.”

Dazai’s throat bobs beneath his bandages as he looks down at you. He looks young suddenly, even with the black cloak acting as a shield and Mori’s scarf hanging around his neck. He looks like a kid who knows he’s done something wrong but doesn’t know how to fix it. His lips part slightly, then press together again, as if he wants to say something but can’t find the right words. The usual playful glint in his eyes has dulled, replaced with uncertainty, fear even.

“I should,” he replies, voice hoarse. “I really should, but I’ve always been too selfish when it comes to you. I’m sorry.”

You exhale, thumb running over his cheekbone gently. “I wish I could hate you.”

Dazai’s lips curl up into a small, wry smile. “Me too.”

Your hand drops from his face as you look away, gaze lowering to the ground. “We should go.”

Dazai lets out a quiet hum of agreement, following you out of the bedroom and to the front door. As you step outside, the early morning air is crisp, biting against your skin. The world feels too quiet as if it knows the weight of what happened between you and Dazai. He walks a step behind you, subdued.

You pause when you see that there are two cars waiting outside, your throat tight. If you’re not going back to headquarters together, then… You can’t help the wave of panic that starts to claw at your chest when you realize what that means. You look back at him and ask too quietly, “Are you… sending me away again?”

His expression shifts into a softer one when he sees the genuine fear that crosses your face. His lips curl up into a small smile, and he reaches out to brush the back of his fingers against your cheek.

“Just for a meeting,” he says to ease your panic, voice low and soothing, fingers lingering against your face as if he’s reluctant to pull away. “The Family reached out, wanted us to send someone to Rome to meet with them. Didn’t want to disclose why over the phone.”

Your brows furrow. “Goldoni reached out to you?” you ask suspiciously, wondering why he wouldn’t have just reached out to you instead.

Dazai raises his eyebrows. “I am the boss,” he replies dryly, amused. “Why do you sound so surprised?”

You frown but decide not to press any further, letting it go with a shake of your head. You look back over to the cars—Albatross and Iceman are in one, two of Dazai’s personal guards are in the other.

“Itou and Klaus are already at the airport getting things ready,” Dazai answers your unspoken question. “Albatross and Iceman will escort you there.”

“Chuuya has a mission in Tokyo today, Lippmann is filming in Nagoya,” you say quietly, watching Dazai’s face carefully for any flicker of a reaction. “Who is going to be back at headquarters with you?”

“Don’t worry about me,” he says, much to your displeasure. When he sees the flinty expression cross your face, he smiles. “Atsushi-kun and Kyouka-chan will be there. So will Kouyou-kun and Piano Man. I’ll be fine.”

You’re still unsettled; something about it isn’t sitting right with you as you turn your attention back to the two cars. You take a deep breath, trying to shake off the unease creeping up your spine. Dazai is many things—careless isn’t usually one of them. He’s the smartest man you know, every action he takes is perfectly calculated. If he says he’ll be fine, then logically, you know he will be.

But logic doesn’t soothe the pit in your stomach.

“Fine,” you say at last, though it’s clear you don’t mean it. You step toward the car where Albatross and Iceman are waiting, but before you get down the front steps of the porch, Dazai speaks again.

He says your name. His voice is light, almost teasing, but there’s an underlying weight to it that makes you pause. When you glance back, his expression is unreadable, dark eye giving away nothing as he stares at your face, almost like he’s trying to memorize the picture of you beneath the early morning sun.

“What?” you press after a moment when he doesn’t say anything else.

“Will you… kiss me one last time?” he asks, his voice raspy and his gaze flickering with uncertainty as he looks down at you, fingers twitching at his side.

Your breath catches at the request, and for a second, all you can hear is the faint rustling of the trees, the distant chirp of a bird somewhere overhead, the engines of the two cars waiting for the two of you running. The morning light is soft, golden, and his eye looks like a pool of honey beneath it, gentle and inviting, warm.

You swallow, heart stuttering in your chest. One last time. He watches you carefully, waiting, fingers curling slightly at his sides as if he wants to reach for you but doesn’t dare. You’re acutely aware of the four pairs of eyes trained on you from inside the waiting cars.

You could say no. You should say no.

Yesterday is over, you’ve already given him more than he deserves.

But you step forward, close enough to feel the warmth radiating from his body. His breath hitches, the soft expression on his face shifting to something closer to yearning. You barely breathe as you reach up, fingers brushing lightly against his jaw as you tilt your face toward his.

Neither of you close the distance for a moment. You stand there, lips just almost brushing, dizzy with the feeling of sharing each other’s air. You finally lean in that last bit, lips grazing his. The kiss is soft, hesitant at first, and then he exhales shakily, pressing his lips firmly against yours. He shudders as your hands slide up to thread your fingers through his hair, kissing you with a type of aching desperation that makes your chest tighten. His hands find your waist, fingers digging into your skin like he’s afraid to let go. Like the moment is slipping through his fingers even as it happens.

When you finally break apart, his forehead rests against yours, breath uneven. His fingers linger on your waist, reluctant to let go.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, voice barely above a whisper. “I’m sorry.”

You don’t know what to say to that, so you just close your eyes, willing away the sudden tears that spring to them. You don’t even know why you want to cry—maybe because it feels too much like a formal goodbye, that this is Dazai telling you that things will never be the way they were again, and he needs you to let go.

“I love you,” you tell him quietly, voice cracking.

Dazai lets out a shaky breath, eye sliding shut as he finally pulls away. His hands drop to his side limply, and you pull yours to your body, wrapping your arms around your waist as you look up at him.

“I know,” he whispers. “You shouldn’t. I’m sorry. I love you, too. Always.”

You make your way over to the car, but before you can open the door, Dazai speaks again.

“I—” he starts to say, and when you look back at him, there’s a conflicted expression on his face that makes you concerned. “I’ll miss you.”

You hesitate. “I’ll miss you too. See you in a few days.”

A smirk that doesn’t quite reach his eyes tugs at the corner of his lips, but he doesn’t say anything more. You slide into the car, shutting the door behind you. Neither Albatross nor Iceman says anything as you get settled in the back, your chest feeling impossibly heavy as you stare down at your lap.

“I didn’t understand,” Iceman says after a moment, clearing his throat. “I’m sorry.”

“You still don’t understand,” you reply tightly, swallowing the lump in your throat as your gaze flickers up to the rearview mirror. Dazai hasn’t budged from his spot on the steps, lips curled up into a small smile as he watches you pull away. “You can’t understand.”

“I know,” Iceman agrees quietly as Albatross drives down the long driveway of the beach house, “but I understand enough to know that I was wrong.”

You don’t reply, resting your head against the window as you stare into the side mirror until Dazai finally disappears from your line of sight. You don’t see the way his smile fades as soon as the car turns out of view, but that unsettling feeling returns, curling deep in your stomach like a warning that you can’t quite decipher.

You exhale slowly, trying to shake it off, and prepare to meet Itou and Klaus at the airport. It’s more important for you to figure out what this meeting with the Family is going to be about before you get there, but the further you get from Dazai, the bigger that pit in your stomach gets.

———

Klaus has been insufferable since the plane took off. He’s excited to be going back to Europe—it’s his first time back since you brought him back to Yokohama with you three years ago. Every five minutes, he’s asking if you guys can go to Munich after business is handled with the Family, and you don’t know how to tell him no without feeling like a bitch, so you keep giving Itou pleading looks to make him be the bad guy, but the man has the audacity to blatantly ignore you, whistling as he looks out the window.

He’s calmed down for the most part now, though. He’s lounging back across the seats behind you and Itou, playing on his phone while you guys try to theorize why the Family wants to meet so suddenly. You’ve been dancing around the subject of what happened yesterday, and you know he wants to ask because he keeps side-eyeing you but just can’t figure out how to go about it.

“Just ask, god,” you finally say irritably when Itou gives you another long side eye before dramatically sighing. “Stop pretending to be coy.”

Itou lights up like a kid in a candy shop, straightening in his seat before leaning forward, green eyes gleaming. “Tell me what happened yesterday. You were with him, weren’t you?”

You roll your eyes, distantly noticing that Klaus stopped tapping away at his game and is probably eavesdropping. You shift in your seat, trying to decide what exactly you want to say—neither of them are particularly fond of Dazai. Klaus especially dislikes him and doesn’t even really try to hide it when the two of them are face to face. So, you have to put in an effort to ensure that Klaus never has to go up to his office, that way you don’t have to deal with the repercussions of him disrespecting the boss to his face. Itou isn’t quite as upfront with his feelings about Dazai, but you know and that’s why you also know that in spite of his gossip mongering attitude, he wants you to tell him that his suspicions are wrong because he doesn’t like you spending time with him.

“Why do you even care?” you finally ask flatly. “You already know the answer.”

As you expect, disappointment flashes across Itou’s face, and Klaus lets out a scoff of disgust, hanging above your seat to intrude on the conversation. You shake your head and look back down at your phone, frowning when you realize you still don’t have a response from Goldoni. It’s still the middle of the night back in Italy, but you’re becoming increasingly more concerned about all of this—the disconcerted feeling you’ve had since the beach house has only become more intense with each moment away from Dazai.

“I want to hear it from you,” Itou says flippantly, leaning back in his seat, arms crossed over his chest. “What happened?”

“Yeah, what happened?” Klaus parrots, tossing a leg over the other seat so he can climb over to sit next to you. He leans in obnoxiously before he’s even fully climbed over and says, “Tell us.”

“Yeah,” Itou agrees with a smug smile. “Tell us.”

You raise your eyebrows. “Oh?” you question with a smile that neither of them trusts from the way they exchange looks with one another. “You want to hear about how good he fucked me?”

Klaus recoils immediately, freezing mid-climb, knee awkwardly bent over the seat, and Itou stares at you aghast, like you’ve personally betrayed him.

“Gross,” Klaus gags, not even bothering to sit down next to you, going right back over the seat into his own area of the plane. He spits something else out in German that you can’t quite make out before sneering at you and saying, “You’re so disgusting. God. Don’t look at me, I can’t even stand the sight of you.”

“What is wrong with you?” Itou demands, looking thoroughly perturbed as he turns his attention back to the window. “That was so unnecessary.”

You laugh, delighted by their reactions. “But you asked,” you say sweetly, resting your chin on your hand. “You wanted details.”

“Not those details,” Klaus snaps at you from the far end of the plane, clearly trying to put as much space between the two of you as possible. “Obviously.”

“I was thinking more like, where did he bring you? Why did he bring you somewhere other than his office? Not—” He gestures vaguely, looking genuinely disturbed. “Not whatever nightmare you were about to unleash on us.”

Your smile softens as Itou rubs harshly at his eyes, still thrown off by your comment. You sigh as you look down at your lap. “I don’t know. It was… weird. He was acting weird.”

Itou looks up at you again, frowning. “How so?”

“I… I don’t know, I can’t describe it,” you say quietly, shaking your head.

You won’t explain it. How are you supposed to explain the stuff he was saying without him sounding insane? You trust Itou and Klaus with your life, but that’s exactly the problem. Their loyalty has never been to the Port Mafia, it’s been to you. They’re already of the opinion that Dazai is bad for you, you don’t need to fan the flames with information that could confirm all of the rumors circulating about Dazai’s deteriorating mental state.

Dazai doesn’t need more people working against him right now, so until you can figure out exactly what he meant at the beach house, you’re going to keep the information to yourself.

Klaus has drawn closer again, standing in the aisle next to your seat. He frowns, uncharacteristically serious, “Why not? What did he do?”

You hesitate, fingers tightening in your lap. “Just… off,” you say, knowing it’s not enough but not sure how else to put it. “Like he wanted to tell me something, but he wouldn’t. Or couldn’t.”

“That bastard never has an issue running his mouth,” Klaus mutters, ignoring the flinty look you give him. “What? It’s true.”

“Watch your mouth,” you tell him flatly, picking at your nails.

He isn’t entirely right—Dazai never has a problem running his mouth when it serves his interests, but he’s notoriously prone to withholding information from people when it doesn’t. You’ve known since the day you met him that there was something… odd going on with him, that he doesn’t tell you everything, but the things he was saying back at the beach house… they just didn’t make sense. You couldn’t understand the jumbled explanations he gave you, so there was no way anyone else would.

Itou leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

“Did he hurt you?” His voice is soft, but there’s a dangerous edge beneath it—one that reminds you just how serious he can be when it comes to you. Sometimes, you forget just how ruthless he is, how easily he’ll turn to violence if he thinks you’re in danger. Klaus might be the louder of the two and quicker to act, but Itou is the one who follows through without hesitation. Of all of the members of the Port Mafia, he’s the one with the most blood on his hands—more than Iceman, more than even Chuuya.

“No,” you say immediately. “No, he didn’t. He—he just… He said things. Things I don’t really understand yet.”

Itou and Klaus exchange another look, the kind that makes your stomach twist. They don’t trust Dazai, and you can’t even blame them for it.

“And you’re not going to tell us what those things were,” Itou sighs with a frown, but he doesn’t push more than that.

You shake your head. “Not yet.”

Klaus rolls his eyes but changes the subject as he nods down to your phone. “Goldoni responded.”

You sit up straight in your seat, turning your attention down to your phone. Itou shifts in the seat across from you, leaning forward as he waits for you to read the message. You almost fumble as you open your phone; the unnerved feeling that’s been clinging to you since you left the beach house returns so suddenly that it almost makes you sick.

Goldoni: We don’t have a meeting. Did I miss something?

“Well?” Itou asks, but his voice is distant, muffled, like it’s coming from underwater. Your ears ring as your eyes track over the words over and over again, trying to figure out if you’re reading them correctly. “What did it say?”

No meeting? But then why—

You feel sick to your stomach as you force yourself up to your feet. A cold wave of nausea crashes over you, head swimming, and Klaus has to steady you. His lips move—he’s saying something—but his words are lost in the deafening thrum of your pulse pounding in your ears. You blink down at your phone, fingers tightening around it as if the message might change if you stared hard enough.

Dazai lied.

But why?

“We need to get back to Yokohama,” you breathe out, voice hoarse and uneven. “Right now. We need to go now.”

“What?” Klaus demands, disgruntled, but concerned more than anything else. “What’s going on?”

“Just breathe for a second,” Itou tries to soothe you, but your heart is racing out of your chest, the dark claws of dread ripping you open. “Breathe, what’s going on?”

But you can’t breathe. Not when your stomach is twisted in knots, not when your mind is racing through the implications at a dizzying speed. Your thoughts are unraveling, and panic is clawing its way up your throat, heart hammering against your ribs erratically.

Dazai is moving pieces.

He sent you, Klaus, and Itou to Europe.

He made sure Chuuya was out of the city.

Lippmann is up in Nagoya.

Iceman and Albatross are occupied all day with missions.

Are Kouyou and Piano Man even at base? Atsushi and Kyouka? Or was that a lie, too?

It’s not a coincidence, not chance—nothing ever is with Dazai Osamu.

He planned this. He’s clearing the building out of all of the Mafia’s most capable members, all of the people who protect him.

But why? What is he trying to do?

Only one answer comes to you—your hand flies to your mouth to hold back the nausea that suddenly pushes at your throat.

“There’s no meeting with Goldoni,” you gasp, stumbling in the direction of the cockpit. Your body is moving solely on instinct, driven by fear. “He lied. We need to get back to Yokohama right now.”

Itou pushes past you to get to the pilot, not wasting any more time, and Klaus leads you back to a chair to sit down before you collapse. Your mind races, trying to piece together answers, dragging you through every interaction you’ve had with him the past two days, a whirlwind of fragmented moments flying around you. The lingering looks, the flashes of everything he refuses to speak in his eyes, the way he cried after he called you up to his office. The unusual tenderness, the beach house, all of the apologies, all of the regret, all of the refusals when you begged him to explain.

You’ll never forgive me.

You still don’t understand, I hope you never do.

You were never supposed to be the price of this.

I’m scared. I’m so scared for what comes next.

I knew how things were going to end from the beginning.

I tried to rid myself of you to make things easier on both of us.

How did it take you so long to realize?

Your hand flies to your mouth as you gag, vision blurring—you should’ve realized, you know Dazai. You knew something was up, it never should’ve taken you so long to figure this out. If you hadn’t been blindsided by everything at the beach house, caught up in the fleeting illusion of everything that could’ve been, maybe you would’ve understood sooner.

“That’s why he brought me there,” you gasp, trying to rock back and forth to calm yourself down as horror sinks into your chest. “That’s what yesterday was about. It wasn’t—he wasn’t—it was a distraction. It was to distract me. We’ll never get there in time.”

You can text Iceman and Albatross to go back, but Chuuya won’t look at his phone until his mission is complete. Dazai knows this—he planned this, he counted on it—and you’re sure he also accounted for you putting together that there isn’t actually a meeting in Rome with Goldoni, which means—

Which means whatever Dazai is doing, it’s already started, and you’re rapidly running out of time to stop it.

———

Headquarters is a mess by the time you, Klaus, and Itou arrive. The air is thick with gunpowder and the acrid scent of burning rubber. Muffled shouts echo from inside the building, and the crack of gunfire ricochets through the parking lot. Albatross and Iceman are in the parking lot shooting at an enemy you can’t see, crouched behind a line of abandoned cars, Chuuya hasn’t even read your text yet, you don’t know where Kouyou and Piano Man are, you don’t know where Atsushi and Kyouka are, you don’t know where Dazai is. He hasn’t read any of your texts either, and every passing second has your heart crawling up your throat.

“What’s going on?” you demand, yelping as Albatross reaches out to drag you undercover with him and Iceman. You hit the ground hard, barely catching yourself on one hand as bullets pepper the pavement inches from where you were just standing. Klaus and Itou follow quickly. “Al—”

“It’s the Armed Detective Agency,” Albatross snarls with a bitter expression, reloading his gun with quick, practiced movements. “I don’t know how the fuck they got inside headquarters. We can’t get in—every time we manage to take one down, that fucking doctor of theirs heals them right back up. They’re holding us at the entrance while their other members do… whatever the fuck they’re doing in our base. We don't—”

You go still. Albatross doesn’t notice your reaction, but Iceman does. His sharp gaze flickers to you, an unreadable expression on his face.

“Yosano is… here?” you ask, suddenly feeling too cold. You don’t really know what you were expecting—you knew Yosano was with the Armed Detective Agency, and you figured that with the rising tensions, you’d be forced to see her soon, but you didn’t expect it to be this soon. “Now?”

Iceman looks at you from the corner of his eye. “You know the Agency’s doctor?”

“It’s a long story,” you say distantly, swallowing thickly as you try to push away all of the old insecurities that claw their way to your throat. You can’t think about any of this now, you need to get to Dazai. You still don’t know what he's planning, but you know it’s nothing good, and if your suspicions are right… “I need to get over to her. I can convince her to let me through.”

A lie. Or at least a gamble. Yosano has always been sentimental, and you’re betting your life on her feeling guilty over having left you behind on Tokoyami Island when she blew it up, but you can’t let your uncertainty show; otherwise, Itou and Klaus will never let you try.

“You’re not going over there alone,” Itou immediately says, as you expect.

“They won't let all of us through, Itou,” you say quietly. “We don’t know how many there are. We can’t waste time fighting. I need to get to Dazai now. I’ll have an easier time convincing her to let me through alone than all of us. She knows I’m noncombatant.”

“No,” Itou snaps, his voice low but firm. “We’re not splitting up. The moment you stand up, they’ll be shooting at you—”

“I’m not asking permission,” you interrupt coldly. “Don’t forget who’s the executive here.”

His jaw tightens. Klaus shifts beside him, uncertain, glancing between the two of you. Albatross swears under his breath. The tension is thick enough to choke on, and you’re becoming increasingly more desperate—time is passing too quickly, and you’re already out of it.

“I don’t give a fuck if you’re an executive. I’m not letting you die for whatever fucked up scheme that bastard planned,” Itou spits at you. “You said yourself that he set this all in motion for whatever reason. You—”

“Let her go.” It’s Iceman who speaks up, expression grim as his gaze settles on you. “She knows the boss better than any of us. If she thinks she needs to get up there, then she’s probably right. I’ll cover you if they don’t stop shooting.”

Itou gives Iceman a betrayed look, but Iceman keeps his gaze trained on you. You think maybe this is supposed to be an apology for the argument that happened the other night. You nod at him in thanks.

You don’t give them time to change their minds. Before anyone can stop you, you brace yourself, inhale sharply, and then run right into enemy fire. You brace yourself for the pain—the bullets don’t immediately stop, one grazes your ear, another your bicep. It’s a miracle that you’re not struck in the chest or head. It’s an agonizing three seconds before the gunfire comes to a halt, and when it does, you almost wish that you had been shot because you turn your gaze to the doors of headquarters, and Yosano Akiko is standing there staring at you like you’re a ghost.

She doesn’t move. She just waits there, eyes wide, chest rising and falling in sharp, uneven breaths. The last time she saw you, she was being dragged off the Schwalbe Ritter after planting explosions that would have killed you, her, and everyone else still on the ship.

Behind you, you hear someone shift, but no one dares open fire. Your gaze drags behind her—you only see two gunmen, a boy with orange hair and a blonde man, but that doesn't make sense, does it? It seemed like there were far more than just two gunmen.

“You…” she breathes out, a haunted expression on her face. “I—”

“I need to get through,” you say, not wasting a second. You have to force your voice to stay steady. “Now.”

Yosano doesn’t answer right away, grip tightening on the weapon in her hand, but she doesn’t raise it. Her expression twists—guilt, disbelief, and hesitation all war in her eyes before something else creeps in. Something colder. Your stomach drops.

“I can’t let you through,” she says quietly. “We have people in there and—”

“I don’t give a damn about your people,” you interrupt. “I need to get to Dazai. Please, Yosano.”

The words taste like acid—you hate begging, but you especially hate begging her. You think you’d rather swallow glass; it feels like reopening an old wound with your own hands. Yosano is the last person you ever wanted to need anything from, and yet here you are, standing before her, forcing yourself to beg her to let you into your own headquarters. The bitterness in your chest is suffocating, but you force it down and lock it away. You can’t afford to let it cloud your judgment, can’t let it stop you from what matters most right now—Dazai. Getting to him before he does something stupid.

“Please, Yosano,” you force yourself to say it again, a hint of desperation clinging to the words this time. “I can’t lose him too.”

Yosano’s face cracks at your words. You see the guilt in her eyes and the way her shoulders slump, and you know you’ve won, but the sweetness of victory is tainted by her bitterness over the situation.

Her gaze lowers as she steps to the side. “Go.”

You rush past her, pausing just long enough to murmur, “In the future, you shouldn’t be so sentimental with enemies. This kind of hesitation will get you killed one day.”

Yosano scoffs, folding her arms. “You really are just like him now. Can’t even manage a simple ‘thank you’ without slipping into a lecture about emotions. Go. Before I change my mind.”

You let out a huff of laughter. “It’s nice to see you haven’t changed, Akiko-chan.”

“You have,” she replies quietly. “I’m sorry that things went down the way they did back then. If I had done things differently… maybe we both could’ve gotten out of there.”

Your throat spasms as you swallow. “I guess we’ll never know,” you reply, and before she can say anything else to unsettle you, you make your way into headquarters.

The detectives of the Agency haven’t actually killed anyone, you realize as you see the unconscious bodies strewn across the lobby. You think that’s more impressive than if they’d slaughtered everyone in here—the fact that they out-classed so many of the lower-ranking members of the Port Mafia to the point that they’d been able to fight with non-lethal force against lethal force is… unnerving to say the least.

It’s not something you can waste any time thinking about right now, though. You need to figure out where Dazai is. Because the emergency lights are on, you know that the building’s power must’ve gone out, and with it, the building’s elevators. You figure that it must’ve been Dazai’s doing because you doubt the conflict would’ve reached down to the electrical room. And if Dazai went out of his way to make sure the power was out, to make sure nobody could use any of the elevators, that leads you to believe he can only be in one place:

The roof.

You take off without hesitation, sprinting toward the nearest stairwell and throwing the door open with a slam. The air inside is stifling, heavy with the scent of concrete and dust. Your legs burn almost immediately, but you force yourself to push through, taking the steps two, sometimes three at a time.

There are forty stories in the main building of headquarters. It’s an impossible distance, you know that—you’re already panting as you drag yourself up each flight of stairs, but you can’t give yourself time to stop, to think even. You can hear the rapid thud of your footsteps, the harsh drag of your breath, and the distant gunfire from outside resuming. Your muscles scream for relief, and your heartbeat hammers in your ears, but you force yourself to push it away—each step you climb, you become more and more certain that Dazai is at the top, about to do something terrible.

By the time you get to the roof, your body wants to give out—tears sting your eyes, your legs tremble violently, and you can barely breathe. Sheer adrenaline gives you the strength to push open the heavy metal door that leads to the roof; you don’t even notice Atsushi and a detective lying slumped on the ground, gaze focused on the familiar figure behind both of them standing on the edge of the roof.

Dazai is breathtaking under the light of the setting sun—it’s almost enough to make you forget where the two of you are, that he’s on the edge of the building, that you’ll never be able to reach him in time if he steps off the side. The warm golden hues cast soft shadows over his features, his black hair taking on an auburn sheen in the fading light—his eye widens as soon as he realizes you’re standing there, the usual dark void closer to a shimmering amber in the sunset.

“You… got here faster than I expected,” he says breathlessly.

“What are you doing?” you ask, voice shaky. “Dazai, come away from there.”

His smile is soft as he looks over you, gaze lingering on every detail like he’s trying to memorize the sight of you. His fingers twitch at his side like he wants to reach out for you but knows he can’t, so he resigns to committing the image of you to memory. There’s something almost reverent in the way he studies you—like he knows that this is going to be his last chance.

Dazai tilts his head slightly, gaze focusing on yours. “You always did have a way of making things difficult,” he says fondly. “I thought it would be easier if you weren’t here.”

Your heartbeat thuds painfully loud in your ears. You try to take a step forward, but he tilts his head to the side, warning you silently that if you come any closer, he’ll step right over the edge. You feel sick, hands trembling because you don’t know what to do—you’ll never get to him in time, and once Dazai has his mind set on something…

“Easier for who?” you demand, stomach lurching as you fumble desperately for something to say to convince him to come away from the edge. “For you? For me? Did you think I wouldn’t care if I wasn’t here?”

His small smile doesn’t waver, but something in his expression cracks just for a second. You notice his own fingers are trembling at his side and you remember his words from last night: I’m so scared for what comes next.

How hadn’t you realized?

“I know you would,” he murmurs. “Don’t you understand now? That’s been the problem this whole time.”

You don’t dare take another step forward, but you find yourself leaning forward a little even though you know you can’t reach him from this distance. The wind whips around him, tugging at his long black coat and scarf. Each gust has your heart in your throat.

“Then come down,” you beg. Your cheeks are wet, vision so blurry that you can barely make out Dazai’s figure on the edge of the roof. “Please, Osamu. We can figure something out. I know we can. If you need to disappear, we can make you disappear—Tolstoy, his cousin’s ability, he can wipe everyone’s memories of you, and we can run. We can go back to the beach house or go to the countryside. We can get away from all of this. Nobody has to know, it’ll just be us.”

His smile softens, lashes lowering as he looks down at the ground. His voice cracks as he says softly, “That’s… a really nice dream.”

“Please just come away from there,” you rasp. “We can find a different way. Just—just explain everything to me, Osamu. Tell me what’s going on, what all of this is really about, and I’ll find a different way, you know I can. Give me that chance. Give us that chance. We deserve that, at least. I deserve that.”

Dazai exhales sharply, tilting his head back as the wind rushes around him, tousling his hair. The setting sun casts his silhouette in gold, and for a moment, he looks ethereal—untouchable, like something not meant to exist in this world.

“I know it’s selfish,” he says, voice raw with emotion as he looks up at the sky. “I didn’t want you to be here for this, but I’m glad I got to see you one last time.”

Your heart sinks in your chest as his words slowly register. You shake your head, desperation clawing at your throat, and your lips part to speak, but the words die on your tongue when Dazai tosses you a bright smile, a genuine one that hurts more than anything else. It’s the kind of smile you’ve longed to see on him for years, the kind that has haunted your dreams since he took over as boss—warm, bright, alive, happy. But now, you only feel dread at the sight of it.

Terror grips your chest. “Osamu—”

“Thank you,” he whispers, and though you know you should be racing toward him now, your entire body locks up, feet planted to the ground. “For everything. I love you.”

Your breath catches, and for a moment, time seems to slow. You scream his name as his body tilts over the edge, but instead of rushing to the edge, you turn back the way you came.

Five.

You know you’ll never make it—you studied physics with Chuuya when he was learning how to refine his ability. The force of gravity is 9.8 meters per second squared, the Port Mafia headquarters is forty stories, around 130 meters—you know the equation like the back of your hand; it was one of the first things you learned.

You don’t have more than five seconds before he hits the ground.

But you can’t accept what’s happening—your brain isn’t letting go of the futile hope that maybe Klaus or Itou will see what’s happening and they’ll do something, that maybe Chuuya got back and he can do something. You know they can’t. Logically, you know that they can’t use their abilities on Dazai, but you think maybe there’s a chance, that maybe you’ll get down there and Dazai will be—he’ll be okay.

Four.

Your heart races, the seconds stretching impossibly long as your feet carry you down the stairs with reckless speed. You leap down them three, four, five at a time, pain shooting up your shins to your knees with every jump, but you don’t let yourself lose momentum—you can’t because the moment you stop, you’ll fall apart.

Three.

The whole world narrows, your heartbeat thrumming painfully loud in your ears. The seconds count down, mocking your attempts to hope against the inevitable, but still, your legs push forward, faster, harder. You know it’s futile, you do, but that tiny thread of hope, the denial your heart clings to, refuses to let go.

Every time your eyes slide shut, you see him—you see his smile, you see the soft expression on his face, and you see him falling. You can still feel him, his hands on your waist, cradling your face, his lips brushing yours. He was in bed with you this morning, his body warm, curled up next to you, his breath against your skin in even puffs, and he was at peace. How did things go wrong so quickly?

You’ve barely eaten anything today, but you feel your stomach churning like you’re about to throw up. Each deep breath has you choking, your head feels dizzy because the air just isn’t getting to your lungs, but you can’t stop moving.

Two.

You could’ve done something different. You know it. If you hadn’t been so blind, you would’ve realized something was seriously wrong at the beach house. You knew it was some sort of goodbye, but this? You thought it was his way of indulging in one last day of pretending before he cut you off altogether, but you should’ve realized it was something deeper. The way he looked at you should’ve clued you in—he told you he was scared for what’s next, he tried to stay away because he knew he planned on dying. How didn’t you fucking realize?

If you had more time, you could’ve convinced him. You know you could’ve; you saw the look on his face when you tried to convince him to leave with you, you saw the yearning. He wanted it, and if you had more time to persuade him, you would’ve been able to. If you’d realized back at the beach house what was going on, you would’ve convinced him to choose another option. This was your fault.

One.

Your foot slips on the next step, and when you crash against the middle landing, pain shoots through your wrist and spreads—you don’t hear or see the impact of Dazai’s body hitting the ground, but you feel it. The pain in your wrist is sharp, a violent jolt, but it’s nothing compared to the agony that floods through you like a tidal wave. It’s like every bone in your body shattered the moment his body hit the ground, like his ribs, his spine, his skull fracturing on the pavement, is happening inside of you, too.

You can’t hear anything above the terrible buzzing in your ears, you think you must be screaming because it feels like knives are dragging through the inside of your throat, and you can taste blood in the back of your mouth. You feel it all—the way his body must have crumpled, the way his breath must have left him in one final, shuddering exhale, you feel it all.

A crushing weight slams into your chest, pressing down until you can’t move, can’t even breathe. The pain is unbearable—not just in your wrist, not just in your body, but everywhere. In your heart, in your soul.

Dazai is gone, you know it.

You don’t know how long you lay there—it could’ve been seconds, minutes, you don’t know. You don’t think it could’ve been that long because it’s when you start to regain your hearing and the numbness in your body from the pain starts to fade, you realize that the whole building is shaking. The rumble vibrates your bones; first, a low, resonant hum, but it becomes violent quickly.

Chuuya.

Chuuya felt Dazai’s death in the same way you did. Of course, he did. The three of you have always been bound together since the beginning. It was never just the two of them, and it was never just you and Dazai—whether it was a curse, a bond, or just fate, it didn’t matter. One way or another, the three of you have always been tied to each other.

The thread that bound you together was woven of something that transcended logic and reason, something that all of you had become too dependent on, something that none of you could live without, and the loss of Dazai causes it to unravel, causes you to unravel, causes Chuuya to unravel.

It was always supposed to be the three of you together—there’s no world where one of you can just die, and the other two go on with their lives. Maybe Dazai knew that, and that’s what his incoherent ramblings were about back at the beach house, but if that’s the case, and he tried to push you and Chuuya away so the two of you could live on after his death, then he did a shit fucking job at it.

The metal of the building shrieks, and the very foundation trembles with the force of Chuuya’s grief and anger. You don’t know where he is, but he must be close, and he’s losing control. You need to get to him before that shitty corruption god wakes up inside of him to take advantage of his loss of control.

You push yourself up weakly, wrist screaming in protest, but you don’t care. You drag your body forward, forcing yourself to move, forcing yourself down the stairs, because you can’t lose them both—not in the same breath, not ever, you won’t survive it.

Your legs threaten to give out beneath you as you stagger down the stairs, breath ragged and body screaming for rest—you can hardly see in front of you, vision blurry with tears. It takes too long for you to get back down to the lobby. Your whole body is trembling, and you’re so unsteady on your feet that when you push open the door out of the stairwell, you almost topple right into the room.

You’re not thinking as you make your way forward. Distantly, you notice that you don’t see the Agency anymore, and you realize that the Flags, Itou, and Klaus are in the lobby dealing with the now waking subordinates who had been neutralized by the detectives, which means the Agency either left or was driven further into the building. You don’t care about any of that—your brain has you on a one-track mission to get to Chuuya before you lose him too, and you don’t consider what you might see stepping outside until you catch a glimpse of red from the corner of your eye through the window as you approach the door.

Is that—?

You don’t even have a chance to focus your gaze on what you’re looking at.

Immediately, Itou is launching himself at you, only just now realizing in the chaos that you’ve finally arrived. He grabs your bicep hard and yanks you toward him, one hand flying up to cover your eyes as his other wraps around your waist, holding you close. The noise that escapes your lips is inhuman—animalistic, almost—something caught between a scream and a wail that rips from your throat before you can stop it. Every cell in your body screeches in protest, instinct demands that you tear yourself from Itou’s grip and look, but he holds you tight, fingers digging into your skin and hand firm over your eyes.

“Don’t,” he whispers, voice raw, desperate for you to listen. “You don’t want to see that.”

“Let me go, Itou,” you scream, thrashing against him, blind with grief, fury, denial. You know it happened. You felt it the moment it happened—the moment he hit the ground—but knowing and feeling is different than seeing. “Let me go to him, let me go!”

“He fell forty stories,” Itou rasps, voice cracking. “You don’t want that to be your last memory of him.”

You fight, claw, kick—anything to get to him—but Itou doesn’t loosen his hold. He shifts, adjusting his grip so you can’t break free, keeping one hand over your eyes and the other locked around your waist, pinning your arms to your sides.

“Please,” you choke out. “Please, I need to—”

“No,” he says again quietly. “There’s nothing you can do.”

A sob wracks through you, violent and gut-wrenching. You sag against him, body unable to take anymore as the weight of everything crashes into you at once, pressing down on your chest until you can’t breathe. When you stop fighting, Itou’s hand slides from your eyes to hold you more gently, but you don’t reopen them—you can see him, you can see Dazai bathed in the sunset, you can see the golden glow, his soft eyes, his smile.

You try to breathe in but end up gagging over the air. Itou is quick to make sure your hair is out of your face before you vomit what little you have left in your stomach onto the ground. You hear Albatross and Iceman shouting for all of the lingering subordinates to clear out of the room. Klaus is somewhere in front of you, expression fraught as he watches you fall apart. Your chest heaves as you choke down another sob; your mind feels disconnected from your body, floating somewhere between numbness and agony, trapped between the image of Dazai in that golden light before he fell back over the edge and the knowledge of what’s left of him beyond this wall.

“I should have—” The words crumble before you can finish them, dissolving into something incoherent. You should have known, you should have stopped him, you should have been faster—you’re always too slow.

“You did everything you could.”

A lie. You know it’s a lie.

Your hands tremble as you clutch at his sleeve, desperately trying to ground yourself, but all you can feel is the cold creeping in, the emptiness hollowing out your chest where his heart used to beat.

“I need to get to Chuuya,” you finally gasp. Your whole body is shaking, you can’t even bring yourself to sit up straight. “I need to—”

“Chuuya is gone.”

Your gaze lifts to focus on Piano Man, who looks grim as he steps into the headquarters with Kouyou, who can hardly even stand to look at you. Klaus dragged a table over to where you’d caught that glimpse of red, blocking your view of it.

“What do you mean?” Itou demands, arms still tight around you, hands running up and down your biceps to calm you down. “Yo, would you fucking—”

Piano Man doesn’t reply to him. Instead, his gaze focuses on you; there’s no trace of the whimsiness you’re used to as he takes a few steps forward to kneel in front of where you’re wide-eyed and shivering in Itou’s arms on the ground. His throat bobs as he swallows, and you can tell that he’s warring with himself before he finally speaks.

“You need to pull yourself together,” he finally says quietly. Itou tenses behind you, but you only stare at Piano Man, hardly registering what he’s saying. “The government sent a special ops squad to handle Chuuya. They sedated him and took him and are bringing him to a government facility to keep him imprisoned.”

“How the hell did the government react so quickly?” Klaus demands, voice shrill with nerves. “How does that make any sense?”

“We don’t know,” Piano Man answers flatly, keeping his gaze trained on you. He reaches out to hold your hands tightly as he focuses on you again. “You are boss now, and I am so fucking sorry it has to happen like this, but the Port Mafia is not in a good spot right now. Once word spreads about Dazai’s death and Chuuya’s imprisonment, we’ll have half of the criminal underworld on our doorstep. We need to get Chuuya back before that happens. Do you understand me?”

Your mouth is dry as you stare at him. You don’t think you could respond if you wanted to. You see the frustration fly across his face, and Itou tenses again, ready to intervene if Piano Man acts out of line, but his shoulders only slump as he takes in a shaky breath.

“You know what happened to him when he was a kid,” Piano Man says tightly. “He is the strongest ability user in the world. Every second we waste, we give them the chance to do that to him again—and they will do it again because if they could find a way to replicate his ability or understand more about Arahabaki, they could make themselves the most dominant military power in the world. They will keep him locked up in whatever facility they bring him to, and they will experiment on him night and day, and he will not survive this happening to him again. It will break him. Do you understand me?”

You nod, throat spasming as you swallow thickly.

“Okay,” Piano Man agrees after a moment. “Then pull yourself together. We need to get working.”

“Fucking hell, Piano Man,” Itou spits out. “She hasn’t even had the chance to process what just happened, let her fucking mourn, she just lost—”

“There is no time to mourn during transitions of power,” Piano Man says coldly. “She knows this better than anyone.”

The words cut through you deeper than a blade ever could have, and the silence that follows them is suffocating.

Your whole body begs for rest, for just one moment to grieve, to let the pain consume you—Dazai is dead, Chuuya is gone, and the weight of the Port Mafia is crashing down onto your shoulders before you’ve even had the chance to breathe. It’s only a matter of time before the rest of the crime lords of the Eastern Hemisphere catch wind of what happened here, and when they do, all bets are off.

You swallow hard and force yourself to sit up. Itou moves with you, steadying you, hesitant to let go, but you shake him off. You need to do this on your own. Piano Man watches you, unreadable, waiting to see what you say.

“We need to consolidate power first,” you say. Your voice is weak, too shaky. “I need to talk to Mishima and Tolstoy. Goldoni too. We need two executives to replace—”

You can’t even finish the sentence. You can’t speak their names. Your throat tightens again as you try to swallow down the lump of grief threatening to choke you.

“We need two more executives,” you say instead. Itou shifts closer to you, trying to remind you that he’s here, that you’re not alone, but it still feels like you are. You feel hollow, empty, alone in a world where both Dazai and Chuuya are gone—it was always supposed to be the three of you. It was never supposed to be just one. “I’ll reach out to Mishima and Tolstoy. We—we have to move quickly.”

Your gaze tracks back over to where you’d gotten a glimpse of red before Itou pulled you away. Your voice is far away as you whisper, “We can’t leave him there.”

“I’ll handle it,” Itou promises quietly.

You nod, taking in another deep breath, and at once, everyone gets to work. Everything around you is a blur, and you can’t tell if it’s a testament to how quickly everyone is moving into action or if it’s because of the tears that threaten to roll over your cheeks. You don’t let them—not now—you just need to keep it together a little while longer for Chuuya, and then, maybe, you can finally let yourself rest alongside Dazai.

———

Dazai Osamu is dead.

There’s no arguing with Chuuya about it because he’s gone, too. There’s no clashing with the Flags because they saw it happen. There’s no disagreeing with Itou and Klaus, because they were the ones who cleaned up his body. There’s no warring with yourself because you felt it the moment it happened.

Dazai is dead.

You haven’t been in his office since it happened two weeks ago—you haven’t had the time. You haven’t stopped moving, haven’t stopped making decisions, and haven’t let yourself feel anything beyond the fear of knowing that one mistake could lead to everyone else’s deaths, too. You’ve been in Tokyo talking to Mishima, you went to Vladivostok so you could talk to Tolstoy face-to-face and tell him what happened yourself, you’re leaving for Rome tomorrow to talk to Goldoni, and you’ve been trying to solve things peacefully with the government to get Chuuya back.

Everything is a mess—Mishima and Tolstoy are in conflict with Cao Xueqin, trying to buy you time to get Chuuya back before the Red Chamber is at your doorstep, and Goldoni is distracting the Guild, who evidently are preparing to come to Yokohama for Atsushi, but the government is refusing to hand Chuuya over. Atsushi and Kyouka are missing. The Agency has gone silent after causing all of this, and you don’t have time to deal with them either.

You haven’t had any time to grieve him, but standing in the space he left behind, it hits you all at once.

Dazai is dead.

“You’re such an asshole,” you breathe out to the empty room like he can hear you, staring at the desk he sat behind. “How could you just leave me with all of this?”

Everything is exactly as he left it. Papers stacked haphazardly, a pen resting at an odd angle, a half-empty cup of stagnant tea. It’s like he could walk through the door at any moment, like none of this ever happened—this is just another one of his games, sitting back with that infuriating smile, waiting to see how you’ll react so he can hold it over your head, mocking you for taking everything too seriously, teasing you for mourning him.

You don’t even remember why you came up here—you had a reason for it, otherwise, you would’ve avoided it for as long as possible. Your fingers ghost over the edge of his desk, hovering above the polished wood hesitantly before you finally let your hand fall down against it, fingers dragging across the wood as you walk to the other side of the desk.

You shouldn’t be here. You’ve avoided this room for a reason.

But instead of leaving, your legs decide to give out on you. You take in a breath that’s too ragged as you sit back in his chair, burying your face in your hands. The weight of his scarf around your neck is suffocating, a weight that you’re not strong enough to bear—it was the only thing Itou could salvage from his body, and as much as it makes you sick with grief, you can’t bring yourself to part from it. You swear you can almost still catch the faint scent of him on it, and if you close your eyes, you can pretend that it’s the weight of his arms draped around your shoulders as he hangs behind you, back pressed to your chest and chin on top of your head as he uses you as a shield to antagonize Chuuya without consequence.

You need to get yourself together. It’s only a matter of time before someone comes up here looking for you, and you don’t want to be spiraling when they get here. Now isn’t the time to mourn—Chuuya is still out there, trapped, waiting for you, tortured with god knows what horrific experiments the government is performing on him. You have to get him back. You have to keep the Port Mafia from falling apart. You have to keep yourself from falling apart. Now isn’t the time for this.

You exhale shakily and rest your hands down on the arms of the chair to push yourself up so you can leave the office, but you pause when you see one of his desk drawers not fully closed. You press your lips together, hesitating, before reaching out to open it the rest of the way.

Inside, neatly stacked and untouched, are documents, mission reports piled up, but your eyes aren’t drawn to that. They’re drawn to the single envelope sitting at the very top and the very familiar, small metal trinket sitting next to it.

It has your name scrawled across the front in Dazai’s handwriting.

Your pulse roars in your ears, breath catching.

Slowly, almost afraid that it will disappear if you touch it, you pick it up. The paper is thin beneath your fingers, fragile, like it's been sitting there for years instead of days. The weight of it in your hands is unbearable.

You don’t know if you should open it.

You shouldn’t open it.

You know you shouldn’t.

But your hands are already shaking as you slide a finger beneath the fold, breaking the seal with excruciating slowness. You hardly breathe as you pull it out of the envelope, swallowing at the address written on the back of the paper before you unfold it.

The handwriting is unmistakable. All across the page, you see characters crossed out and rewritten where water had blotted the ink. Dazai had been crying as he wrote it.

My sweet hime,

If you’re reading this, then everything has probably settled by now. I can already imagine the look on your face. Don’t frown too much—it’ll leave wrinkles.

Kidding. I wasn’t going to write anything. I thought a clean break would be easier for you. But after the day we spent yesterday, I realized I’d already ruined things enough. I figured a goodbye wouldn’t do more damage than anything else I’ve already done.

There was nothing you could’ve done differently to change what happened—I know that’s what you’re probably thinking. You’re going back through every moment, trying to find all of the places where you could have said something, done something to change my mind, but it wouldn’t have mattered. This was always how this was going to end. This plan had been set in motion long before you and I ever even met.

I wish I could’ve spared you from this. I really did try. I told myself for months leading up to our meeting that I wouldn’t let myself get close to you. There were so many plans that I made, so many ways I convinced myself that I could keep my distance. I wasn’t even supposed to go with Chuuya on the mission to pick you up, but when Mori dangled it in front of my face, I couldn’t stop myself.

Loving you was my biggest and only mistake. Not because you weren’t worth it but because I was never meant to have you. Not in this life. But you always made me weak. Reckless. I never think straight when you’re around, even when you’re not around, you’re always in the back of my mind. But I thought that knowing how things were going to end would be enough to keep me from slipping up. I thought I would be satisfied with admiring you from afar and knowing you would be okay when I was gone. I should’ve known better—I never should’ve let myself get close to you when we were younger, I should’ve been cruel from the beginning, I should’ve made you hate me.

But I was selfish. I let myself love you, and I let myself be loved by you, and now you’re alone dealing with the consequences of it.

I’m sorry.

Once I realized I let things go too far, I thought I would be able to make you hate me after I took over as boss. I thought if I could be cruel enough and cold enough that you would finally turn your back on me, but you are just too goddamn stubborn. You kept coming back again and again, and I was too much of a coward—too selfish—to push you away the way I should have.

You were right back at the beach house—I was frustrated and angry that I couldn’t stop myself from seeking you out, and I was even more frustrated and angry that you kept coming, and I put you through four years of hell because of it. I’m sorry for that, too. I’m sorry for a lot of things that I know you’ll never forgive me for.

I wish I could explain more, I wanted to tell you everything. Do you know how many times I almost did? How many nights I almost turned to you and let it all spill out? I know you would have believed me, I know you would’ve shared the burden with me, but this was never supposed to be your price to pay. I wish I had done things differently because it became yours anyway, didn’t it?

I hope you hate me. I hope you find a way to curse my name and let me rot in the hell I’ve made for myself. I don’t deserve for you to mourn. I don’t deserve to be remembered by you at all. But I know you, and I know you’ll mourn, and I know you’ll blame yourself even after reading this, so I hope you just remember that this was something bigger than you and I and the ending was never going to change no matter what you did differently.

I love you. I’ve always loved you, I’ve always been yours. In this life and every other one. I’m sorry we couldn’t be happy in this one, but I promise I’ll make it up to you when we find each other again in the next. I’ll love you better in that one, the way you deserve, I’ll give you all of me, every piece I held back in this lifetime. And in the next, I promise I won’t make you say goodbye. We’ll live a quiet life—we’ll go to the countryside, and we’ll grow old, and we’ll be happy. Maybe we’ll even drag the slug along, force him to be our farmhand, give him a new flock of sheep to herd.

Now to business.

Dark times are coming to Yokohama. I know you’re probably sick of me saying sorry, but I’m sorry that I’ve left you to deal with everything like this. There are foreign threats coming—the Guild, the Order of the Clocktower, and Fyodor Dostoevsky. All of the files below this envelope are full of information I’ve put together for you. Abilities, strategies they’ve used, how everything has gone down in different timelines—I’ve put it all together so you can figure out how you want to handle this. I left some suggestions, but it’s all very dependent on how things played out after everything settled.

The Armed Detective Agency will be a valuable ally going forward. Don’t blame them for what I did—they were only pawns I used to get everything set up. Everything that happens today is what I’ve planned, my actions and theirs. They’ll help protect Yokohama from the coming storm, and you’ll stand a better chance working with them.

I don’t think there’s anything else that needs to be said that’s not in the folders. Don’t underestimate Fyodor Dostoevsky. And I know you’re going to say ‘I spent many months with him when you sent me abroad blah blah blah’ but there’s so much more to him than you can ever imagine. You’ll understand when you read through everything.

There’s no perfect way to end this letter. I could apologize a million times and it wouldn’t be enough. Just know I meant what I said before—I’ll find you again in the next life, and we’ll be happy. I’ll love you better. I won’t leave you behind.

Live well. I’ll always be with you.

Yours always,

Osamu

———

beast au fun facts:

i think i made it pretty clear, but for those of you who read wykyk, essentially ages 16-18 were what wykyk would’ve been if dazai wasn’t emotionally incompetent. he was obviously still a little bit hot and cold with her, but he was quite clear with how he felt about her from day one, which is why it was so hard for her to reconcile how rapidly everything changed.

she finds mori at the address dazai left for her. the first thing she asks when she gets over the shock is if dazai is here too. she thinks maybe he too might’ve faked his death and is here with mori.

reader dies several weeks later. during the operation to break chuuya out of the government facility, they need all hands on deck. she stays behind in headquarters because it’s safest for her there. she ends up leaving headquarters to go visit dazai’s grave and is assassinated while she’s sitting at his grave. like with dazai, chuuya feels it when it happens but refuses to believe it until they find her body.

this was unfortunately intentional on reader’s part. this is actually something she does or has tried to do in multiple universe: she uses her life(/death) as a weapon for the port mafia. we will see it (or attempts of it) in canonverse and civzai. her death triggers multiple powerful organizations coming to the assistance of the pm, and she knows this, so when the pm is backed into a corner and threatened on multiple fronts, she’ll manufacture a situation where she’ll be assassinated because she knows the only way the pm will come out of it intact is if they get help, and the quickest and most surefire way of getting that help is if she’s killed.

make no mistake: it IS a last-resort option when there’s really nothing else they can do. although, i'll also say that i don't think the pm WAS backed into the corner here, but our girl was ... very tired after losing dazai and everything that happened afterward. she only wanted to push through things long enough to rescue chuuya.

it does indeed work btw. after she dies, tolstoy & the three deaths wipe out cao xueqin before coming to yokohama to help with the guild and dostoevsky. the family engages the clocktower in open conflict to keep them out of yokohama.

the conflict takes about a year to come to an end, chuuya only lets himself die once everything is settled. pmtrio indeed became the price of a world where oda can live.

this is the only universe where itou & klaus outlive her. this is also the only universe where they meet. idk if anyone guessed it, but the reason dazai sent her away after he took over was so she could meet klaus.

dazai genuinely didn’t think that his death would ruin her and chuuya the way it did since he ensured that the flags, itou and klaus were all here for them. he was wrong

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

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aethon-recs · 4 months ago

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30 Tomarrymort Recs for 2024 — Completed Multi-Chapter Fics (Part 1)

Happy new year, and what a year 2024 was for the Tomarrymort ship! 🤍 We went from close to 13,000 fics in the beginning of 2024 to over 15,000 fics in the ship tag by the end of the year. How incredible is that!?

I've split up my 2024 year-end recs into 3 parts: (1) Completed Multi-Chapter Fics, (2) One-Shots, (3) WIPs. Here is Part 1 of the list: Completed Multi-Chapter Fics.

Please enjoy these 1.5 million words of completed Tomarrymort fic from 2024!

A Dangerous Game by @cybrid (E, 322k, complete)

Tom Riddle opens the Chamber of Secrets in Harry’s fifth year at Hogwarts. After a botched attempt to extract the Horcrux in Harry’s scar leaves their souls tied together, Tom is forced to kidnap him when he makes his escape. A story of Horcrux hunting, adventure and unwilling attraction.

Anabiosis by @itsevanffs (E, 39k, complete)

The school is… unprotected. Voldemort gets resurrected early, and learns this very quickly. Harry Potter likes his new teacher: he's a pretty man in his early thirties with a kind smile and dark hair and eyes - and he doesn't seem to hate him, unlike all the other teachers.

aurora polaris by @aglassroseneverfades (E, 217k, complete)

Harry does not give up the Horcrux when he dies. Moved by compassion, he embraces it instead. What follows next, he could not predict. He’s not sure he ever really had a choice in the matter. The world Harry wakes up to is not like the one he remembers. And his captor is neither the same as he was, nor as different as he would like.

Change Me by @valkyrie-chemist (E, 17k, complete)

Harry Potter had grown up listening to tales of the cursed Lord Voldemort. Trapped in his mysterious manor, the man—the monster—was said to be crueler and more hungry than Death itself. So why then, Harry thought, was the groundskeeper still alive? What sway did Tom Riddle have over Lord Voldemort to stay his wicked hand when Harry had so brazenly trespassed on his lands? Whatever it was, it was not enough. For try as he might, not even Tom could persuade the monster to let Harry leave. That is, Tom challenged, if Harry even wanted to.

Creatures of the Dark we are by @hikarimeroperiddle (E, 28k, complete)

Banished to his cupboard at age 4, Harry learns to listen only to the Voice in his head. Its teachings warp all Harry could have become until no more than dark magic and devotion remains. Visions of a wraith with red eyes complicate matters, especially when Harry and the Voice follow it to Hogwarts so Master can get his hands on the Philosopher’s Stone. Harry can do magic. He can’t do people.

death cheater (are you?) by regulus_little_mermaid (E, 14k, complete)

Tom tries to understand: just because a stranger saves your life a few times doesn't mean you can fall in love with him.

Dulce Et Decorum Est Mori by beetaker (E, 135k, complete)

“I'm glad it's both of us,” Harry said, green eyes somehow greener, the natural brightness in him turning incandescent. “I'm glad we're going together.” “We'll always go together,” Tom said, knowing it as fact, unable to imagine anything different. Wherever he went, Harry was sure to follow. It'd been that way forever. It would surely always be that way.

Extenuating Circumstances by Origin_Of_Symmetry (M, 87k, complete)

“You’re really quite a delight, Harry. I can’t believe I went weeks thinking you were useless and boring.” Somehow, unwittingly, Harry finds himself engaged to Tom Riddle. He’s not entirely sure how that happened.

friend of the devil (a friend of mine) by @shyinsunlight (E, 28k, complete)

There’s something very unsettling about Tom Riddle. Cedric can’t put a finger on it. Whether it’s the way he moves, all long limbs and eerie fluidity, the dissecting gaze he follows them with, or the way he speaks, with an accent that doesn’t match his manners. Maybe it’s how he drinks in Harry’s presence like a religious zealot, or how his eyes wander over Harry’s body as if he’s seen the skin and flesh underneath before.

gaming buddies by @reggieblk (M, 19k, complete)

All it takes is a rude comment under a YouTube video for Harry and Tom to meet their best friend and, incidentally, the love of their lives. Through thousands of hours of playing Minecraft together, getting to know each other, and finally meeting in real life, it was inevitable they'd fall in love.

Hearthstone Abbey by @ramabear (E, 116k, complete)

Harry follows Thomas Gaunt into his world much like he stepped onto Diagon Alley that first time, wide-eyed and full of wonder. He has no idea what exactly this world has in store for him, but he knows that with Thomas at his side, he is safe and happy for the first time in his whole life. There is someone who will always be there for him, always look after him, always care for him and everything Thomas does just proves that to be true.

In the Shape of Fear, Erised by @rowena-rain (E, 19k, complete)

Harry sneaks into Lupin’s office late at night, determined to banish his recurring nightmares of a certain devastatingly handsome future Dark Lord once and for all. But things quickly spiral into depravity, and before he knows it, Harry is getting thoroughly railed by a boggart in the form of Diary Tom Riddle... Or is it?

in the silence by @satflesk22 (E, 48k, complete)

There's a new student at Hogwarts. And, for some reason, he's decided he's going to be Tom Riddle's best friend. Tom, immortal aspiring Dark Lord, apparently has no say in the matter.

In Their Absence by @mosiva (E, 35k, complete)

“Weird place to hang out, mate,” Harry said, more to break the oppressive silence. There was nothing but the thick hedges, the faintest whisper of a breeze, the grey sky overhead, and Voldemort. “You believe this to be a dream,” Voldemort rasped. “You always were foolish.”

Kudosed, Bookmarked, Subscribed by @maquira713 (E, 79k, complete)

By day, Harry works as a lowly assistant to his boss: the cruel, controlling Tom Riddle. By night, he lives, breathes, and writes fanfiction. And when he's not writing, he's obsessing over the work of his favorite Ao3 author: Lord_Voldemort_. So, of course, it’s only a matter of time before Harry gets caught reading Voldemort’s latest fanfiction at work… by none other than his boss.

Machine Men by @izharmilgram (E, 5k, complete)

Harry discovers Lord Voldemort is transgender, and he's really fucking hung up about it.

rage, rage (against the dying of the light) by MerleBlanc (M, 17k, complete)

1978. Voldemort is winning, bored, and his immortality secured. When a mysterious man appears out of thin air to oppose his Death Eaters, he is more than intrigued by whom the newspapers now nickname the Good Samaritan. Except someone is also stealing his horcruxes one by one, and he has never felt more threatened in his life. Or: Harry just lost his wife, made a deal with Death, travelled from the future to gain back his mortality, and decided to fuck a timeline.

see you soon by @duplicitywrites (E, 9k, complete)

It’s summer, which explains why Tom has all this free time to visit Harry’s flat and place of work, but it does not explain how Tom knows, with unerring accuracy, where Harry is at any given moment. Harry has checked with his coworkers—Tom only ever shows up at Fortescue’s when Harry is the manager on shift.

Shiver, Lustre, Skin by @monsieurclavier (M, 9k, complete)

Harry goes undercover as a bargirl at one of Tom Riddle’s exclusive clubs. Tom has her figured out in approximately one second. Or: In which Tom is a badass Wizarding mob boss and an incorrigible lesbian flirt, and Harry—sassy newbie Auror and secret virgin—is just Tom’s type.

something precious by @mosiva (E, 16k, complete)

“Fine,” Harry said, giving in to curiosity as he always did. “What is it?” Tom shook the vial, letting the liquid catch the light and send rays scattering over his hand and face. “It’s a love potion,” he said.

Still Into You by @moontearpensfic (E, 29k, complete)

Harry has a stalker. If only he noticed sooner.

Sugar Soaked by @teaandsweaters9 (E, 46k, complete)

Seducing Hepzibah Smith out of her most precious belongings should have been simple. Spend time with her, charm her, drain her for all she’s worth, and move on. Unfortunately for Tom Riddle, Harry Potter, professional savior and amateur waiter, has other plans.

the only heaven by iwasborntired (M, 11k, complete)

“You,” Ginny swallows, and her voice sounds jagged, waves crashing against an uneven shore. “You called out for him, in your sleep.” He does not need her to finish. He knows. It is sick and festered and rotten, and it is true. In the blanket of night, in his dreams, Harry Potter starves. His mouth forms the supplication, a secret scalds the air, and his soul, then and now and always, calls out for Tom Riddle. It is only fair, after so long spent stitched into the fabric of one other.

the righteous dead by @aspengray (T, 40k, complete)

Harry is resurrected, sewn together with thread and magic. He remembers nothing except that he loves his savior, a man named Voldemort.

Thin Skin by @iseliljathedreamer (E, 15k, complete)

The war ended with a conditional surrender where the most powerful wizard alive signed his freedom away for 100 years to a boy of 17 armed with a basilisk tooth and a putrid, poisoned pool, in exchange for secrecy and eternal life. But that was years ago now. Harry thought he'd never get used to having Voldemort living in his house, but he did. Time is a miracle-worker beyond all human comprehension, and yet, there are wounds it remains to heal. Quite literally.

Tom Riddle's DIY Disaster by @sri-verse (E, 13k, complete)

Harry and Tom were the closest two people could be. They always shared everything, no secrets between them. So, when Tom told Harry about his last orgasm, why was Harry acting all weird? It was granted that Tom would think of him.

Trenches by @shadow-of-the-eclipse (T, 82k, complete)

"Maybe you should kill them," Harry says. He's sitting perched on the stairs, hands clasped together, green eyes watching Tom and his irritating year mates. His form is hazy around the edges, an almost translucent quality to his image. "I can't just kill people," Tom says. "Not in public.” Role-Reversal where Harry is the Dark Lord and Tom Riddle is the Boy-Who-Survived.

two ways of being: the noun & the verb by cycloalkane (NR, 8k, complete)

Potter is finishing up with his sketch of the craniofacial structure. There is still more of his body to go, and more sessions left, and Tom cannot be sure whether he wants the precise drawings to be more or less—true, at all, if he could even describe them as untruthful. They aren’t beautiful as Tom is in the mirror, but they are still, undeniably, him, with the eye of someone learning to cut people apart and look beneath their skin, still bloodless yet, and—well.

What quickens me is the violence in thee by @i-dream-of-libraries (M, 17k, complete)

Harry is sold at auction to a man who is clearly in some kind of disguise - Lord Riddle isn't as charming as he looks, and the way he looks at Harry...

You By The Shore by @blackseatwenty (E, 19k, complete)

Harry's grown on the island his whole life. He fell in love with a stranger standing alone by the shore. Or is it crazy to believe in love at first sight?

#tomarry #harrymort #tomarrymort #tomarry recs #tomarrymort recs #hp fic recs #longfic recs #ao3 recs #fanfic recs #harrymort recs #2024 reads #2024 recs

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loudkidsoulfreak · 4 months ago

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Detective Conan - First Concept Note

(Full under cut)

"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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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!

#detective conan #dcmk #edogawa conan #kudo shinichi #mori ran #mori kogoro #agasa hiroshi #gin (dcmk)#<- i forgot what his tag is #toyama kazuha #the sky-boomed skyscraper #edit: some fix on kogoro part and add text style for the last header #translating stuff

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thewickedjazzy · 9 months ago

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𓍼𝑽𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝑶𝒇 𝑴𝒚 𝑶𝒘𝒏 𝑺𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒚𓂃

➵ 𝓟𝓪𝓲𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓼 : 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

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.”

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.

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.

➵Want more of Osamu Dazai ?

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ozai-the-bonsai · 9 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

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)

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

#daemon x reader #daemon x reader smut #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen #daemon targaryen smut #house of the dragon #house of the dragon fic #hodt #hodt fic #matt smith #game of thrones #smut

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soukokuforthesoul · 4 months ago

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married!soukoku aus where they always get married/engaged in somewhat unconventional ways every time

- just saying “ok we’re married now” and that’s that

- buying rings together and calling it a day

- writing their own marriage papers because they do not need any records of them, even marital ones

- saying their vows in bed a moment before they go to sleep

- ^ or whilst killing people together

- ^^ and being enemies

- ^^^ or marrying before becoming enemies, then treating dazai’s betrayal to the mafia as a divorce contract… at first, seriously, then just joking about it and getting ‘remarried’

- drawing a line on each other’s ring finger

- chuuya accidentally cutting dazai’s finger exactly where the ring would go, and dazai saying that it means chuuya had proposed… so they’re married now

- ^ trying to carve a ‘ring’ into chuuya’s finger but he says no and just gets his own ring

- “let’s marry” “ok, when?” “now” “ok” and so they were bound through life and death, and vowed to hate (love) each other till death did them part

- eloping from the mafia?? (so chuuya leaves, too)

- high school au and they marry on the rooftop of the school just for fun

- marrying before dating

- marrying on the verge of death (both of them are about to die)

- getting caught (or kidnapped) together, and the worst decision their captors made was to put them in the same room. so they make one of the captors the priest and the ring is taken from a grenade as they run away and let the explosions behind them be the symphony to the newly wedded couple—

- ‘marrying’ as children (elementary school, probably) and one of them takes it seriously and to heart, so the other feels bad to say it hadn’t been literal… and then they actually do marry

- ^ OD: “i can’t wait till i find a beautiful woman to marry and die with ><!!” CN: “…i thought we were married, dazai?” *insert the most pathetic expression ever* OD: “w…we were?”

- “chuuya, you have to say ‘‘till death do us part.’” “why? death ain’t got shit on us!” “i don’t wanna be stuck with you even when we’re dead.” “asshole.”

- dazai breaking into the mafia after years, kneeling before chuuya whilst simultaneously avoiding the guards + other pm members who surround him, taking chuuya’s hand, taking the glove off, and sliding a ring onto his finger then just. leaving. 100% to confuse chuuya and give him shit in the pm so they start questioning him until he manages to talk his way out of it (and later confront dazai about it)

- marrying whilst drunk and not remembering anything about it the next day

- marrying as an ‘act’ under enemy territory to catch them off guard, then attack

- ^ later being like “can it just have been real so we don’t have to deal with the cheesy shit again?” “bet.”

- lmao dazai proposing to corruption!chuuya only for the ring to be utterly crushed under his fingers before dazai turns him back… and dazai being upset about it so he doesn’t talk to chuuya for a week

- a ring… made of bandages? just tying a strip on and being like “there! now we’re married <3” “you idiot—“

- putting a ring in chuuya’s food but chuuya nearly ends up choking on it

- putting a ring on the other’s hand when they sleep so there’s no room for rejection… and when they wake up they’re all confused like “did… i just miss a couple years of my life?”

- “truth or dare?” “dare.” “i dare you to marry me.” “…okay?”

- ‘arranged marriage’ but it’s actually dazai manipulating mori/or his parents into wanting to make him marry chuuya—so that chuuya has no choice (he did have a choice bc dazai consulted him about it before, but dazai announced to their families that there had been no choice) and so they can do it technically with the parents/mori’s consent (they didn’t want to ask like normal people)

- marrying through letters… penpals? “dearest chuuya, will you marry me? (enclosed is a ring, if you say yes. if not, send it back without an answer). sincerely, osamu.” “to osamu— fuck yeah?? also this looks expensive as shit… its mine now!! — chuuya.”

- bribery that wasn’t necessary

- ^ “i’ll give you (thing) if you marry me.” “…i would’ve said yes, regardless, but now that that’s on the table—yes please:3”

- pop star/singer au and popping in a “slug/mackerel, marry me!!!” whilst on live… knowing the other is watching

- long distance au and marrying on call, but they were both already prepared so they say their vows and present rings that they’d had sent in mail to each other and put them on themselves

- ^ doing it late at night just for the fun of it and falling asleep amidst giggling and hushed promises to see each other soon

- college au and proposing at graduation !

- fanfic writers au and they slip in a “btw if u see this, pls marry me chibi/idiot (depending on who it is)” in the notes, and later the other frantically texts them asking if they were being serious

- adopting a kid together and then, years later, realizing they never married

- forbidden lovers au but they marry publicly

- ^ that but royalty au and they propose in front of the entire kingdom/broadcast it to the world

- thinking they’re gonna die: “fuck it, marry me, dazai!” “wha—okay!!”

#i ranted a little too much here #might actually write one of these bc i didnt realize i had so many ideas #bsd #bungou stray dogs #osamu dazai #chuuya nakahara #dazai x chuuya #chuuya x dazai #soukoku #skk #bsd dazai #bsd chuuya #bsd skk #chuuzai #dachuu #bsd drabbles #bsd soukoku #bsd aus

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pedriache · 8 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.

Pairing: Pau Cubarsí 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.

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.

DTS , @halfwayhearted @spidybaby !

#pau cubarsi #pau cubarsi x you #pau cubarsi fanfic #pau cubarsi x reader #fluff #blurb #fc barcelona #football imagine #tooth rotting fluff #bf!pau you WILL. be mine..

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hyuneskkami · 5 months ago

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h.h ✦ so good ! ༄.°

𝒽wang hyunjin x f!reader

masterlist . . . ✰

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

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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