#pls fusjaow tHE ART RUDJOWOWOSAJEKSJW

[throwaway-yandere]

Ouroboros, the 8th Capo (Yandere Mafia!Dainsleif/Reader)

HELP I NEARLY UDOA0YCKING DROPPED THE PLATE I WAS WASHING THE DISHES MY KNEES CRUMBLED, MOCHI I WILL HAVE GOOD DREAMS FIKSOS. it is near 12 am and this drabble is fueled by only my simping lmao. Also this is ocmc/mafia au!Dainsleif because I said so. Hypothetical scenario when the reader still sold matchsticks for a living and they didn't kill Rosalyne.

------

"(Y/n)...?"

Dainsleif squinted at the light coming from the basement door. He can't see who is behind that door, but no one ever dares enter his house uninvited except for one person.

He heard his house keys.

There could only be one person behind that door.

"I've been counting the number of steps it takes to get here for years, (Y/n)." Dainsleif spoke, sounding undeniably swell for someone who has been caught red handed. If you didn't know any better, you would've associated that voice to the tone he uses to scold your younger orphan brothers and sisters. "I don't miss a single creak in this house. Why don't you come out and show yourself?"

-----

"You know how people in Teyvat are, (Y/n). Most of them are content to live and not to dream, yet you still wish to become an immigrant?"

"Don't you want to see the world out there, Dain? The world outside this miserable excuse of an orphanage?"

"No... No, I don't. That mafia throne is not reserved for people like us."

"Yet you saw the way Pierro stood at the top, right? If he could make a difference, why can't I do the same– why can't we do the same?"

"I'm just... Afraid."

"Hmm? Of what?"

"That once we exit these Khaenri'ahn borders, I wouldn't be the same Dainsleif you know."

-------

He clicked his tongue, amused. Carefully, Dainsleif dropped the arm of the body he was hoisting upward.

"Don't bother sneaking away. Out of everyone else in this country, you're surely the only one I allow to poke into my affairs with my utmost trust."

Your heart is pounding behind that damn door.

He... He killed Rosalyne.

Dainsleif... The person who you thought would remain neutral regarding the conflicts between the mafia and the military...

Was the one who pressed the dagger onto the 8th Capo's neck.

"What are you so afraid of, my beloved?" His voice oozes with a veneer of calm as he silently disposed his gloves. "Can't you see? I took care of your debt collector for you. I've been a decent negotiator, haven't I? 500 mora for 3 answered questions. It was a good deal for her. And it was a permanent solution on my end."

"You... You killed the capo." The words slipped your mouth before you could stop it. Your palms began to sweat and you felt your body trembling as the only possible thing keeping you alive was a half-open door. "You killed La Signora."

"She was asking too much. I merely answered the fair lady as honestly as I could. It was her responsibility to protect herself afterwards, and she failed to do so in time. If I wasn't careful, I might find myself one day as an object of the Innamorati Familia's investigations."

You wanted to ask him what those three questions could've been to warrant her permanent silence, but your throat is dry and you couldn't move an inch.

"Do you wish to know what she was asking about?"

No response.

Dainsleif grinned, his usual stoic voice cracking in a twinge of unhinged delight.

"She was talking about you. She was asking about your dreams. Dreams I wanted to protect."

He pulled opened the door, her blood staining the doorknob then your cheeks as Dainsleif's hand reached to hold you.

"Well, enough chit-chat. Why don't I warm up a bath for you? The floor must be awfully cold. Take my hand, I'll lead you there."