#he probably couldn't read it but i hope to fuck it was thrown away lol

[nangua]

not that any of you asked but when i was like 15/16 i worked for this reaaaaally suspicious boba/acai place and being the goody two shoes serious person i was i also gave the paperwork you need to give if you're a minor working (which requires a signature from a principal, etc.) ANYWAYS. i gave my boss paperwork which INCLUDED MY SSN and sometimes i can spiral too much about it if provoked

[sirenascales]

-> double black [part five] 18+

-> Chuuya x 1stPOV!F!Reader x Dazai

-> Who knew getting fired from work could lead to this?

-> Content: SMUT, slight angst, violence, murder, swearing

The killer is revealed! What surprises are in store? [Chuuya x 1stPOV!F!Reader x Dazai]

2,420 words

warning: mentions of domestic violence and rape, violence and straight up murder

note: here we go... this is the second to last chapter :) hope you all enjoy reading! no smut again lol

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Final || masterlist

"This place... is creepy as hell," I mumbled under my breath, glancing curiously over at Dazai as we climbed out of the car and started walking towards the large abandoned factory. "Are you sure this is where Ranpo told us to go?"

"Yep~ He's usually never wrong, so there must be something here we can find~" Dazai sang, nonchalantly walking inside the factory. I sighed deeply and quickly followed him, shivering at the creepy aura it gave off.

"Ugh, does somebody really hide out here? It's giving me the creeps," I whined, hugging myself and rubbing my hands up and down my arms.

"What if there are ghosts here?" Dazai wondered and I shuddered deeply, fear striking my heart at the mere thought.

"Don't say that!"

"Will you two shut up?" A third voice spoke up and my eyes widened in surprise.

"Chuuya? What are you doing here? And... who's that?"

In the middle of the factory, Chuuya stood before a man tied up to a single chair, a linen bag over his head. Chuuya had a deep frown on his face, obviously extremely irritated with something.

"Wh-who is that?! Please, help me!" The man begged, howling in pain when Chuuya kicked him in the stomach.

"Shut the hell up!"

"Is that the one?" Dazai asked and Chuuya nodded. I looked at them in confusion.

"The one... what?"

"This," Chuuya started. "Is the one that's been stealing from the Port Mafia for well over a year. Along with that bastard Taichi."

My jaw fell open in shock, not expecting that at all. "Wh-what do you mean stealing?"

"Exactly what it sounds like. Taichi was in charge of moving product and bringing back the cash from the Northern area of the city. He's been getting his hands in the product, selling them little by little on the side to line his pockets." Chuuya seemed to grow angrier and angrier by the second as he explained. "We've been investigating that thief for three months and we finally pieced it together. Thanks to you." Chuuya's angry gaze is now on me and I feel my heart drop to the ground.

"What do you mean? Me?" I stuttered, looking over to the man as he began to struggle in his chair. He rocked from side to side, pleading loudly for his life.

"Please, let me go!"

There was a large bang! followed by a scream as Chuuya swiftly brought out a handgun, shooting the man right in the head. I was the one who screamed.

"I hate disloyalty," Chuuya spat, his voice cold. His equally icy glare narrowed on Dazai, who didn't even react to the man being killed, unlike myself. My now shaking hands were clamped over my mouth, in shock by what I've just witnessed.

"So tell me," Chuuya began, now turning to face me. "How is it that you knew that Taichi was meeting a drug dealer... the dead man at your feet specifically?" He didn't even give me a chance to answer before he continued. "How did you know that? Were you there?"

I rapidly shook my head, heart thudding in my chest. "No!" I exclaimed, taking a step back.

"Really? Taichi was killed in the South. That wasn't his area, and he wasn't even assigned to move the product. Hasn't been for months since the investigation started." Chuuya's voice was even, and it sent shivers down my spine. I took another step back. "Well? Explain yourself."

I gulped, absolute fear coursing through my body. I could feel the sweat slide down my temple and. "W-well, I overheard him talking about what he does for you. So! I just assumed..."

Chuuya scoffed, laughing dryly. "Plausible, yes." He dug into his coat's inner pocket and I gasped sharply when he held up my knife. I was stunned, thinking I had lost it, but Chuuya had it all along. Suddenly, that day I went to visit him in his office ran through my head, and I realized that was when I last saw my knife. Fuck.

I felt a sense of dread wash over me.

"I know you take excellent care of this knife, clean it regularly. Except for the blood in the hilt."

"And the bloody clothes I found under the sink in your bathroom," Dazai finally spoke up and I gasped sharply. "You probably should have thrown those clothes away before you had me sleep over. You know I like to snoop," He continued on as I clenched my shaking fists. Dazai circled around so he and Chuuya now stood before me, tall and intimidating. "You're the killer, aren't you? Actually, you don't have to answer that. We already know that you are."

I didn't say anything, my lips pulled in a thin line as I stared at the ground. I started to breathe a bit heavily, heart pounding and my blood boiling with the anger and rage I tried to keep at bay from the moments I wake up in the morning to the time I go to sleep at night.

"Well?" Chuuya yelled, growling. "Aren't you gonna say anything?! You killed him!"

I lifted my head up, and the two men looked genuinely surprised at the look in my face, eyes dark and narrow and full of anger. I was seething, but I couldn't help the sick, twisted smile that grew on my face. "And what if I did?" I asked, tilting my head to the side. "Hell hath no fury, right?"

Suddenly, there was an almost inhuman shriek as a figure jumped out from behind the men, knife brandished and slicing right at Dazai. Dazai luckily dodged it, the figure landing on its feet before standing tall. Dazai and Chuuya are both shocked, as they now stared at the perfect clone of myself. The clone didn't give Dazai any time to process, running towards him again and slicing almost wildly with the knife in hand.

"My, what a turn of events!" Dazai exclaimed a bit excitedly, taking in my clone's features. She looked exactly like me, except she looked more wild, her face contorted into one full of rage, anger and anguish with a seemingly endless stream of tears pouring down her face. Her movements were erratic, cries leaving her mouth as she lunged for the attack.

Meanwhile, I had engaged in a fight with Chuuya, but even I could immediately tell just how outmatched I was and that I had no hopes of beating him. Still, I threw a punch at him, able to get him right in his cheek, but he quickly retaliated with a harsh kick to my side. I cried out in pain, clutching my side.

"Are you crazy," Chuuya hissed. "Ability user or not, I'm one of the best martial artists in the Port Mafia! You're not beating me!" He dodged yet another of my punches, jumping back before he kicked me again right on my torso. I grunted in pain, falling on one knee.

"I'm afraid I don't like you," Dazai told my clone as he ducked down to dodge a wild swing. He quickly shot up, successfully headbutting the clone. She cried out in pain, covering her face with her hands as she fell back, Dazai reaching out to grab one of her wrists. As soon as he did so, she disappeared, his ability coming into effect. He let out a tired whew! dusting his hands off before turning to the fight between Chuuya and I.

Even if Chuuya did outmatch me, I tried to keep fighting him, until he suddenly grabbed me and threw me hard on the ground. I gasped, the wind knocked out of me. "Fuck!" I cursed, struggling to breathe as I tried to stand up. I am forced right back on my knees, a hand pressing on my neck. My anger disappeared, and by then, I knew that it was Dazai.

Now that all my anger, and fury was gone, all I had left was the immeasurable despair that settled in my chest, tears now freely sliding down my cheeks. I couldn't stop my sobbing, feeling the two men's wide eyes on me.

"He was beating her!" I cried out, just desperate for them to hear me out before they passed their judgements on me. "Taichi... was beating Keiko and... I never knew! She's been my best friend ever since I moved here and I never had a clue! Not one! Until that day she called me.. when I was at your place," I glanced at Dazai, lip quivering as I struggled to continue. "I went home and when she came over... I knew something was wrong I... then she took off her clothes and there wasn't an inch of her skin below her neck that wasn't covered in bruises I-" 

I choked up, covering my face as I started to sob uncontrollably, the pain of once seeing my friend who was so full of life, looking like a scared, beaten animal as she stood before me. As I cried, Dazai and Chuuya looked at each other, just stunned beyond words.

"I knew..." I spoke up after a moment. "That one of these days, he would actually kill her. That's why she was so afraid to leave him. He was already beating her, and raping her, what would stop him from killing her if she defied him?! Huh?!" Even with Dazai still holding onto the back of my neck, I started to grow angry. "So, I killed him. I killed him before he could have a chance to kill her!" I then stared at Chuuya in his blue eyes. "And I'll do it again."

"After Taichi dropped Keiko off at my apartment, I snuck out through the emergency stairwell and back exit to follow him. The building is old, so I knew there were no cameras."

I carefully kept the hood of my hoodie over my head as I followed Taichi from a distance, a determined look on my face, one that said that I will not stop.

I soon followed him into the alleyway, where I hid behind a dumpster and watched him do his drug deal. He was grinning and laughing, acting smug and it was honestly fucking disgusting.

"I waited until he was completely alone before confronting him. He didn't expect to see me at all."

"What the hell are you doing here?" Taichi demanded, glaring at me. He wasn't that nice, friendly guy he played himself to be anymore.  "What the fuck are you doing in Port Mafia business?"

"I honestly don't give a fuck about the Port Mafia. I do give a fuck about Keiko, and you're going to stay the fuck away from her."

He just stared at me, before he threw his head back and laughed loudly. "Okay... okay, stupid bitch. That was kind of funny. Just go back home before--"

"And before he could finish his sentence, my clone stabbed him right in his back."

I watched Taichi fall to the ground, my clone falling on top of him, shrieking as she stabbed him over and over again in a rage filled flurry. There was blood everywhere, some even spraying on my clothes as I watched.

Then, I stepped closer, pulling out my knife and landing one more final blow right in his chest, killing him.

"And he was as good as dead."

"... was Keiko in on this?"

Keiko opened the door to my apartment, letting me rush inside before closing and locking the door. She turned to look at me, eyes wide as she took in the blood on my clothes.

"Did... did you..." she stuttered softly, and I nodded.

"He's dead."

Keiko burst into tears.

"You know the answer to that already."

I was sitting on the ground now, head hung low as I stared at my hands. "I killed someone," I said softly, eyes burning with tears as I clenched my fists. "But when it comes to the people I love... I will do it again. So," I turned to Dazai. "Turn me into the police." I then turned to Chuuya. "Or just shoot me in the fucking head. I'm not strong enough against either of you... I just ask that you keep Keiko out of this. She has suffered far too much already."

I kept my head down, Chuuya and Dazai standing above me. Chuuya had a displeased look on his face, though Dazai's expression looked a bit forlorn.

"You'd do anything to protect your friends," Dazai stated and I looked up at him, looking broken, and small. Dazai gritted his teeth, frowning deeply.

"This is so fucked up," Chuuya grumbled, his mind moving at a mile a second as he rubbed his temples. Taichi was as good as dead anyways, seeing as him stealing from the Port Mafia was punishable by death. So what the hell is he supposed to do now? Chuuya growled in frustration.

"Did you guys..." I started, voice small as a thought plagued my mind. "...know all along...?" I bit my lip, keeping my gaze on the floor. "And when we-"

"It's not what you think," Dazai spoke up, knowing exactly what I was thinking. "You were just sloppy. But I don't blame you for panicking, bella."

"I knew as soon as you brought up the drug deal," Chuuya spoke up and I scoffed, laughing at my own stupidity. "I just wanted to fuck you 'cause of that dress."

Dazai snorted while I couldn't help the short laugh that escaped my mouth despite the situation. I shook my head, sighing deeply. I just decided to accept their answer, as this wasn't the right time to dwell upon my insecurities. I glanced over to the dead body of Taichi's accomplice, thinking he was probably going to die by the Port Mafia's hand anyway.

Dazai followed my gaze, tilting his head a bit as he tapped his chin. "There is no DNA evidence," Dazai recalled and Chuuya narrowed his eyes at him.

"Yeah, so?" he replied, stuffing his hands in his pocket.

"So," Dazai started, glancing over at me still on the ground. "There is no proof of her involvement. Man, just what will I tell the Boss now?!" Dazai threw his hands up dramatically, Chuuya's eye twitching in annoyance.

Still, the Executive kept his mouth shut, taking in the meaning of Dazai's words. Then, he looked over at me, blue eyes staring me down before his lips twitched upwards a bit.

"Oh yeah... I won the race."

-End

tags in replies!!

[dclsbaby]

mykonos-crossed lovers (part i) 🦋

🎶 playlist for part i

prologue

part ii

part iii

part iv

Summary: When you drunkenly book a girls trip to a tropical Greek island to help mend your broken heart, you would never for a second think it will take you exactly to where he is. Him. A tale of the right person at the wrong time, an overused cliché made into plots of movies you never thought would live through in your reality. Two people, still madly in love with each other, hearts still broken, suppressed by the alcohol and distractions consumed on this trip. Will they let their egos get in the way, protect what’s left of their already broken hearts, or will let their hearts speak?

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: angst?

Author’s Note: hi everyone, thank you so so much for the responses to the prologue! I am so overwhelmed and did not expect to receive so much kindness it makes me wanna cry hahaha 🥺 thank you a thousand times over! and if this is your first time getting to know the fic, I highly suggest you read the prologue before diving into part 1! This chapter is sort of a filler chapter (I know it has 2.6k words lol), it shows how (y/n) have been doing since the break up & how the trip came about, I hope it’ll make sense once you read it 🤍 thanks for reading x

Gif:

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It’s been months since you last spoke to him. Him. The thought of him still hurts. The idea of him existing without you, hurts. As much as you try to fight it, you still remember him like the back of your hand. You could draw on paper the contours of his face by memory, by instinct, like remembering your way home. He was a love you have never experienced before. Something about his magnetism seemed impossible to resist.

You and Dominic broke up nearly half a year ago. Your hopes of an amicable breakup were destroyed by him. His confusion, his anger, his frustration made it impossible for you two to stay friends. He couldn’t even begin to imagine being just a friend to you when his entire heart belongs to you. He called you selfish for leaving, he called you stubborn for having your mind made up without letting him put up a fight when he was ready to battle anyone, even you, to save your relationship.

The first few months were difficult, but the first few weeks were excruciating. You barely ate, as the numbing in the pit of your stomach constantly made you nauseous that your body couldn’t digest anything you ate. You couldn’t bring yourself to shower and get dressed, and spent days laying in bed, wallowing in sadness. Overtime, you just learn to live with the pain.

Since then, you’ve had good days, and slowly but surely stopped faking smiles and replaced them with genuine ones. But your bad days felt like hell, with your mind often teasing you with memories of him that you’ve suppressed enough to compartmentalise, then it comes back to you all at once, and consumes your entire soul. The pain is suffocating, like being crush by tidal waves, leaving you no time to run for shore, the waters dragging you, pulling you in many directions. All you could do was be still, stay paralysed, and pray that it goes away. That’s what remembering him felt like.

Then on other days, you often wonder how you were able to manage all this, with the pain still fresh whenever you think about it, but I guess we’re all guilty of pushing our feelings to the side and pretending that everything’s alright, when it’s the opposite. You’re still alive, despite it all. But you want to live, not just survive.

The truth is, you did not leave because you fell out of love. In fact, you were too in love—it’s a crime. He was your entire life. Days were spent waiting for him to come home from training and matches. Missing him during away games. Your entire happiness depended on him, and that terrified you. You weren’t happy with yourself either, and expected more out of your life. The burden of having a prosperous career, a stable income, a life for yourself that you loved, becoming too heavy to bear. You had all these dreams and goals set for yourself that you never got to actualise so you could be by his side. Your love for him was insurmountable, that you couldn’t accommodate anything for yourself. No matter how hard you tried, you will always put him first. It was natural. Even though he never asked for all your attention, you couldn't simply choose between yourself or him, because you would always choose him. Over and over.

So you did what you had to do, break your own heart, and his, to love yourself.

Since your breakup, you finally moved out of your friend’s place and got yourself a nice two-bedroom flat at the city centre with a stunning view of the city. You landed yourself a job as a junior editor for British Vogue that demands commuting to London several days a week. As you thrive in difficult situations, the breakup forced you to submerge yourself in work, mainly to avoid the pain, but it propelled you to get to where you are.

Trying to get over someone who is in the public eye was a different battle. It seemed as though everywhere you went, he’s there. You see him on billboards, TV screens, his face painted on murals, quickly becoming a tourist site. Occasionally, you would watch his games out of habit, and listen to the prideful Evertonian crowd chant his name. You witnessed his first England senior team debut, and tuned in to England v. Wales on the TV for old time’s sake. You watched him score his first senior England goal behind a screen. Your eyes welled at sight of him living his dream, poaching the ball into the net, scoring the first goal of the game, making his country and family proud. You feel the rush of adrenaline he felt as he ran to his teammates and celebrated. You can’t help but share this sense of pride, as you’ve watched firsthand how hard he has worked to get to where he is.

But on days where he isn’t on your mind, you do not want to be reminded of him. It’s difficult to cope when you encounter pieces of him that takes you back to the worst day of your life, and his.

Like last night, for instance. You had been scrolling on your social media when it was brought to your attention that a magazine had published an issue with your ex on the front cover, spotted on a night out with a blonde you don’t personally know but you could’ve sworn you’ve seen before. Perhaps another one of those so-called “influencers”, you thought to yourself. You know that you have no right to feel jealous or upset, as you broke up with him and this was bound to happen, but selfishly, a part of you had hoped that he wouldn’t find anyone else, or at least not before you did. You’re frustrated at yourself for letting him have this effect on you even months after your break up.

Succumbing to your bad habits, you give in to your impulses and pop open a bottle of red wine to calm your growing anxiety. Two glasses of wine, a takeout, and a season of Gossip Girl later, you find yourself slightly drunk, nerves calmed, and a little drowsy so you quickly change into your satin pyjamas and tuck yourself in bed.

You decide to turn on the TV for some background noise and quickly close your eyes. By some twist of fate, you hear a painfully familiar voice giving his thoughts at the end of a game he’s won. The sheer volume of his voice on the TV causes a sharp pain in your chest as you scramble to reach for your remote in the dark, with your eyes half opened. and change it to anything but a sports channel. That’s it, you thought to yourself. I need to get the fuck away.

Still drunk and not entirely aware of what you’re doing, you reach for your laptop on the nightstand. The brightness made your eyes squint a little bit, but you managed to type out a link and open a travel booking site, and scroll through different pictures of tropical islands you’re longing to get to. Anywhere but here, you thought. You selected options that you thought looked the blue-est, the most expensive, a party town, and had the most five star restaurants.

By the end of it you have booked a return flight to Mykonos for 5 people where you will be staying at a grand, luxurious 5-bedroom villa located at the party central of the island. You couldn’t be bothered to check how much it cost you. All sense of ration gets thrown out the window when you mix heartbreak with alcohol. When you told your friends of what you had just done, it was safe to say that they were surprised but absolutely ecstatic that you have booked a much needed getaway with the girls. With a three-day notice, you all quickly scramble through your closet and go on an online shopping spree to pick out your outfits for the holiday.

***

Days later, you find yourself landing on Mykonos island on a sunny afternoon.

“I can’t believe you’ve managed to pull all this off within days,” your friend says as you all walk through the pebbled entry way of your villa, and open the door. “Holy fucking shit,” another friend says in awe of the sight. The villa was filled with white interior, bright lights, wooden tables that give off beach vibes, and an infinity pool where you could swim as you watch the sunset, with a view of the blue sea. With 5 bedrooms to choose from, your friends collectively decided that you should take the master that had direct access to the pool, which you happily accepted but it wouldn’t matter anyway, as you’ll all probably stay in one room.

Once you’ve unpacked, you pull out your white cardigan and make your way out the terrace to catch a view of the sunset and have a moment by yourself. You take a deep breath of the fresh air with a hint of sea breeze as you try to take in the stunning view of the island. You are filled with gratitude as you bear witness to something so beautiful as you watch the sun sink into the blue Aegean Sea. Despite the peacefulness exuded by the view, your heart can’t help but feel Dom. You remember when he had brought up wanting to spend this exact summer in Mykonos with you, but life had other plans.

***flashback***

Dom was laying in bed with his laptop screen on his chest, an arm to support his head as he scrolled through the travel booking site. He had been looking through different options, but he has his mind set on a lovely town in Greece, Dubai’s overrated after all, he thought.

“Me, you, blue skies, tanned skin, bike rides around town, what do you think love?” asked Dom. “Where’s this?” you ask, moving closer to him as he shows you his laptop screen. “Mykonos. It’s not too far away, I’ll have enough time to rest before pre-season starts,” he replies. “That sounds like a plan,” you smile at him. “But we’ll book it closer to the summer, yeah? In case anything comes up,” you said as you plant a kiss on his cheek. He nods as he bookmarks the site and drifts off to sleep with you shortly after.

Unbeknownst to you, later that night he quietly opened his laptop and quickly booked the trip for you two as a surprise. Anything that will come in the way will just have to be compromised. He was adamant to make sure he gives you the best summer of your life, it is what you deserve after all, he thought.

***

You had forgotten about your conversation with Dom until you stood on the island. Your thoughts were interrupted by your friend’s footsteps. “Hey, you okay babe? You’ve been out here for a while,” she asks with concerned eyes. “I’m alright,” you said. “Or I will be,” you add, giving your friend a forced smile. Your friend wraps her arm around your shoulders as you two make it back inside to have an early and quiet night with the girls, exhausted from all the travel.

***

The next day you woke up a little late, with only several hours to tan before having to get ready for your dinner reservation at one of Mykonos’s famous restaurants that looks over the sea. A little frustrated at yourself for sleeping in, you went to the bathroom to wash your face, put on some light makeup, and change into your swimwear.

You join your friends who are sprawled on the sunbeds. “So, where is this place again?” you asked your friend who booked the dinner. “A restaurant by the sea located at party central babe. Everybody, I mean everybody goes here. They’ve got the best food and music,” she replies. “Think of Mamma Mia 1,” another friend chimes in. Your eyes widen at the imagery. “Better have some great alcohol too, I’m desperate for some,” you laugh. “That’s my girl,” your friend says.

***

By the late afternoon you and the girls are getting ready for dinner. Makeup bags and its contents sprawled on the floor, you had to tiptoe around makeup products and brushes, careful not to step on them. After long deliberation, you decided to dress up in co-ord that hugs your figure and fits you like a glove, paired with your favourite heels, settling for an elegant yet fun look. You decide to keep your hair down and put on some natural makeup to balance out the bold colour. After about 30 minutes of taking pictures of each other and some group photos, you finally made it out the door.

The location was spectacular. The ambience was complemented with bright lights to lighten the dim Mykonos sky that has turned a shade of dark blue, almost purple. The food was divine, a little overpriced for your liking, but it was worth it. The restaurant turns into a nightclub close to midnight, and you and your girls were eager to start your first round of drinks. Fruity drinks were passed around, made with fruits freshly picked from the gardens. Watermelon margarita was your drink of choice, partly sweet, partly sour, and just enough tequila as your first drink of the trip.

The restaurant was packed, you could’ve sworn you had seen a star of a Spanish series you’ve just finished watching on Netflix. The guests were well dressed, many had bravely eccentric taste, mixing patterns and sparkly jewellery, paired with funky footwear to add some flair. In Mykonos, you will not encounter the same judgment as you would walking down the streets back home.

Your friends stood up to dance the second the alcohol kicked in. You took your time, savouring your drink, wanting the night to last. You smile at the sight of your happy friends, so full of life, not giving a single care in the world. As you’re sitting there, observing people, you suddenly feel your chest get heavy. It’s hard to put into words what this feeling is like, but it pushes you to shut down in social settings, overwhelmed by strangers and loud music that makes your ears ring. It is a feeling of unexplained anxiety, where you need a second to correct your breathing, and calm yourself down. Not now, you thought, not here. You often feel these random bouts of emptiness since you left Dom. You try to push the discomfort away, and think of anything else but him. You stood up and walked to the edge of the restaurant by the white border wall to get some fresh air, and take in the view of calm waves under the night sky to collect some peace of mind.

You place your elbows on top of the border, and rest your head on the palms of your hands. A bystander would think that you’re a scene from a movie, a damsel in distress, longing for her love interest. But this was no movie, no fairytale, no knight in shining armour to protect you, no lover to sweep you off your feet.

Or so you thought.

Your focus on the sounds of splashing waves was interrupted by familiar footsteps, getting louder and louder as it creeps its way closer to you. The scent of the sea began to mix with an all too familiar scent of tobacco vanilla. Only one person came to mind. It can’t be, you thought.

“(Y/N)?,” his voice breaks.

It’s him.