#steam wallet card

[mrgladstonegander]

i dont know how people can have character shrines. if i had a bunch of gladstones in my room at all times i'd probably throw it all around when angry for stress relief and then meticulously put it back together.

i want to put him into a hydraulic press.

wait this ones so cute :D hes a cutie patootie :D what a guy! hes so cute.

[simcardiac-arrested]

me when in stars and time doesn’t get a steam sale discount. Shaking my head

[arnold-layne]

my sister gifted me an Anomaly dlc for rimworld so expect to watch a couple (dozens) rimworld streams in the nearest future 🥰

[memoryoflife]

shit wait. steam summer sale. i can buy unpacking

[zevrans-remade]

.

[gender-euphowrya]

girl help i bought code vein and all i've done is make little guys in the character creator

[rainofdauwuand0w0]

My brain rn:

“try summoning a steam wallet code/steam giftcard with your mind”

[abxtchbetired]

seven deadly sins headcanons

because i'm tired of sinday memes being all about sex. send a category + a number. warning: some of the questions in the lust section are nsft. that's why it's at the bottom.

gluttony - - -

what could your muse eat all the time without ever getting tired of it?

a feast of all your muse's favorite foods is laid out in front of them. what's on the menu?

is your muse the type to leave the last bit of food for someone else, or to take it for themselves before someone else can claim it?

does your muse frequently overeat?

does your muse go back for seconds? thirds? fourths?

how many meals and snacks does your muse eat in a day?

what are your muse's go-to beverages?

does your muse drink enough water?

does your muse drink many sugary drinks, like soda or juice?

is your muse a heavy (alcohol) drinker? if so, what do they drink? in what situations do they drink? do they know their limits? do they stop at their limit, or go past it?

is your muse addicted to caffeine? if so, what is their preferred caffeinated beverage?

does your muse have a sweet tooth?

greed - - -

what does your muse collect, if anything?

is your muse prone to hoarding anything?

what is your muse's financial situation? what are their financial goals?

is money important to your muse? why or why not?

how much money does your muse keep in their checking account at any given time? if your muse keeps cash, how much do they usually have in their wallet? does your muse carry coins around? what is the limit on their credit card, if they have one? do they have multiple credit cards?

does your muse have good savings habits? how much do they currently have saved up?

is your muse prone to shopping sprees? if so, what do they usually indulge in buying?

is your muse in debt? if so, are they managing it well, or are they struggling?

would your muse throw others under the bus/step on others if it meant they could find more success/make more money?

would your muse steal anything?

wrath - - -

does your muse like to get revenge on those they feel have wronged them?

how does your muse handle anger? do they have anger issues? how do they manage or vent their anger?

does your muse believe in karma?

did your muse get into fights as a kid? do they get into fights as an adult? if your muse never got into fights before, would they in the name of self defense?

what, if anything, provokes your muse to violence?

does your muse believe that violence can solve some problems? or are they more a "violence is never the answer" type? somewhere in-between?

does your muse destroy things for fun, or to let off steam?

was your muse a bully? or were they bullied themselves?

has your muse ever considered murdering someone? or have they actually gone through with murdering someone?

does your muse enjoy hurting others, whether it be physically or emotionally?

pride - - -

does your muse believe they are the best at everything, even if that belief is unwarranted?

in what areas might your muse be a little overconfident? are they overconfident in the sense that they don't have the skills to back it up, or in the sense that they do have the skills but they are obnoxious in their confidence?

does your muse accept responsibility for their actions when they have done something wrong?

is your muse comfortable with apologizing to others?

does your muse feel remorse? if so, how do they express it?

has your muse every blown off preparing for something because they were confident they could complete the task without preparation? if so, what was the situation?

is your muse prone to bragging? what do they brag about?

does your muse look down on others they perceive as being "not as good" at things as they are?

sloth - - -

on what day(s) does your muse feel most lazy? at a specific time of day, or all day?

is your muse prone to procrastination?

what chores/responsibilities does your muse avoid doing at all costs?

how many hours of sleep does your muse get? do they feel rested after, or are they still tired?

once your muse gets started doing something important, do they drag their feet, take many breaks, and ultimately prolong the task? or do they work as quickly as possible, at the sacrifice of a quality job? or do they work efficiently without sacrificing quality?

does your muse put on real clothes every day, or only if they have to go out?

if your muse could get away with wearing pajamas all day every day, would they?

does your muse complain about responsibilities a lot?

is your muse the type to get up on time on their own or with an alarm? are they the type to hit snooze over and over?

envy - - -

does your muse get jealous easily, or does it take a lot for them to feel it?

what kinds of things does your muse get jealous about?

does your muse compare themselves to others often? if so, how does it affect them?

lust - - -

is your muse sexually active? if so, how often do they have sex? how many partners do they typically have at one time? if not, why not?

what is your muse's sexuality? if asexual, are they sex favorable, sex indifferent, or sex repulsed?

is your muse vanilla, or are they kinky? if kinky, what are their top three kinks, and why do they like them? if vanilla, what position(s) does your muse have sex in?

what sex-related words turn your muse on? what words make them cringe?

does your muse masturbate? if so, how often, and how do they get themselves off? if not, why not?

does your muse have high, medium, or low libido?

is sex compatibility a dealbreaker for your muse in a relationship? why or why not?

how does your muse feel about one-night-stands?

what was your muse's first time having sex like? who was it with, why did they choose that person, where did it take place, how old were they, and what happened?

[endereies]

YOU'RE MY PRIZE - MS

No Nut November - Day 17

NNN Masterlist...

-➤ Matt brings you to the carnival and wins just for you

When Matt said he had a surprise for you, you weren’t expecting to get out the vehicle at the main entrance of a famous carnival. 

It was only set up a few times a year, and with the queues, it wasn’t always an ideal situation. Ever since moving in with Matt, you’ve blabbed every time it sets up a new spot. After all, it was famous. The rides they hosted weren’t your average roller coasters and took several days to set up. Of course it had the classic helter-skelter and teacups. It was only when you looked deeper you saw the abundance of attractions. Set up haunted houses that genuinely left people horrified, stalls that seemed from creative aspect, and of course the Ferris wheel that was littered in light.  

“You’re kidding?!” The child like part of you rushed out as you jumped up and down, grabbing Matt’s tatted arm like a vice. 

“Figured it seemed like a perfect time” He wasn’t wrong about that, your anniversary had just past and he grabbed tickets off the website. You knew something was planned when you read through his card but he didn’t let up. His lips were sealed over the past week or so as you begged him for answers. Now that you had them and it was beaming in front of you, how could you ever complain. 

Once the roads were all clear, his hand was dragged by yours to the grand entrance. After all this time of you dreaming, it was stood before you. 

Matt handed over his phone to the manager and she handed it back, along with two tickets. You’d scanned everyone else’s ticket before yours and they seemed to be a lime scale sort of green. Yet yours were a deep purple. Your boyfriend thanked the manager before laughing at your confused face. “Read it, baby...”  

So, you did. The bold letters ‘VIP’ covered the back of the ticket in a gold colour. “What!” 

“If I am treating m’girl tonight, I’m doing it right. After all you deserve it”  

You both stopped walking as you practically tackled his side. Both of your hands gripped his body tightly, shoving your head into his shoulder “Thank you!” 

“You can thank me after, how about we enjoy ourselves.” 

Most of the evening was a collective of rides a day stalls. With the upgraded tickets that Matt got, most of the queues were cut short. But after a long while of the intense rides, the pair of you decided to sit down on a bench and eat some food. You both got burgers which you could see the steam come from as your order was handed to you. The homemade milkshake relaxed the bouts of energy inside. It was a comfortable silence you were in, one that left the sounds of the crowd, chewing and slurping in its wake. Your eyes started to scan the many stalls you had yet to venture down.  

Those games always seemed a scam and yet the child like spirit inside invited you so willingly. Matt giggled when he saw you eye up a certain stall. It was a line up of wooden clown slabs which had a bunch of cricket balls a few metres away. They seemed heavy in the way they shook but your eyes traced all the designs of them. 

“Want to go over?” Your shock from his voice made him giggle before repeating himself so you heard. “baby, do you want to do that one?”  

You knew he saw you gawk at it so there was no point in hiding your excitement. “Absolutely!” 

The burgers were quickly finished and discarded before you walked straight towards the  red stall, the stripes on the outside calling you. 

“Hey you two, think you can handle this?” The host gestured animatedly towards the rows of clowns. A smirk crossed your face as you instantly grabbed a note from your wallet and handed it to him. Matt finally met your side after you rushed ahead, watching a group of balls land just by your stomach. It was a lot more than the number of clowns and as soon as a timer started you knew why. 

After picking up the first ball, you swung your arm to throw at the centre of a clown’s face. The wood wobbled before clattering backwards. With spawned courage another ball quickly followed a larger clown and yet it barely moved.  

Sure you weren’t strong but even kids played this game, you couldn’t be that bad, right? By the time the buzzer for the timer rang, only four got pushed over. You hadn’t meant to sulk but your expression was clear. It was towards an obvious plushie you must’ve noticed, it was a cute otter stuffed animal that was curled up around its tail. 

“Let me have a go.” Matt’s voice was stern as he slammed a note on the wood next to the abandoned ball bucket. Your body turns back and the bag of balls gets replaced while the machine holds up the four clowns you knocked over previously. 

While they do so, you remain quiet so Matt can focus. His hand rises as he tosses the ball up and down in his palm, gathering its weight. Once the signal was given he leant back and pelted the ball, hammering down the clown you first attempted. It fell with such ease. 

Years of lacrosse and hockey built his strength and precision, he wasn’t going to disappoint. Ball after ball, each clown was clattering as they fell, rebounding slightly on the floor. He only stumbled on a few as when that buzzer rang, the last one bounced and sounded on the concrete. He tossed a spare ball into the bucket and handed it back to the host who was a little shocked at the intense strong skill he had. 

“Well..sir, which shall be your prize.” He smirked at you before he spoke. “That bottom otter please.” 

The host jumped slightly to grab the large otter off its hook and handed it to Matt. “Here. Congratulations!” They smiled at each other before setting up a game for another child. 

“Here baby, think this belongs to you.” Your face lit up as he pushed it towards you. “I saw you eyeing it up after you played. 

“Matt...you didn’t have to, this is so sweet” As much as you tried to hide it, you were so giddy to finally hold its softness against your chest. It was the perfect material and softness, it only made you thank Matt harder. 

“I love you Matt, thank you...” His hand came up to your chin, tilting your head towards him. 

“I love you more baby, besides, you’re my prize.” 

@melliflws @yuhayeee @st7rnioioss @sturn-bugz @bueckerrss @worldlxvlys @raysmayhem-72 @patscorner @y0urm4m @bernardsbendystraws @junnniiieee07 @luverboychris @jnkvivi @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @shorthairchris @colorthecosmos444 @anabethinking @zay-sturns @anyaa2s @emilyfaith2003 @jassturn @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @sturniolosiphone @ribread03 @slutf4rmatt @spaghetti835928383 @flouvela

© ENDEREIES 2024

[wifeyoozi]

Telling svt that you know they're batman

scoups : "I am certainly rich enough to be him"

Jeonghan : "thank God the burdens off" casually takes off his shirt to be wearing another shirt underneath with batman logo in centre

Joshua : "when you made me wear this costume I thought we were getting horny"

Jun : "no, I am cat man meow"

Hoshi : "no, I am tiger man RAWWRRR"

Wonwoo : sighs. Disappears into his room. Comes back with a random object in his hand and puts in on your head with a straight face "now I gotta erase your memories"

Woozi : side eye never rests. "If you want my black card it's in my wallet."

Minghao : "oh dear it's the day I feared." Magically whips out a cup of steaming green tea from I don't know where. "Here, drink this. You're getting sicker by the day."

Mingyu : smirks with a cartoonist chuckle. "That's what everyone thinks. I am actually Superman."

Dokyeom : offended look. "I thought we had established that I am Stella from winx club."

Seungkwan : side eye 2. "This is what happens when you try to drink coffee like me."

Vernon : sighs. Whips out a batman mask from his ass and puts it on. No words.

Chan : shaking his head. "You know how hard it is for a man to be dino, mr cha, pi cheolin akd batman all together?" Starts sobbing idk he has some trauma being batman

[screwitbaby]

naive

hamzahthefantastic x reader (fic)

day 2/7

summary: this is part two of my short story about the boys’ trip to curaçao (read the other one first, or don’t). hamzah’s getting you all riled up and mandy and martin begin to notice his unusual behavior with you.

contains: SFW content

wc: 2k-ish

~

You wake up to an empty bed and some part of you feels disheartened at the sight. The only evidence of Hamzah ever being there is the indent in the pillow and the shorts he borrowed folded neatly atop the mattress. You sit up to stretch, rubbing the remnants of sleep from your eyes. The digital clock on the nightstand reads 10:02 and you decide to get dressed.

When you grab your phone on the way out, you see a text message light up your screen.

morning :)

Your fingers hover over the keyboard, but before you can type out your reply, a pair of large hands grab your shoulders and you nearly launch into the ceiling.

"Fuck—Hamzah!"

He cackles at your scream. You slap his arm, immediately shutting him up as he rubs the spot to soothe it.

"Dumbass," you grumble.

"Good morning to you, too." The grin on his face doesn't fade for a second.

"Whatever.” You shut the front door and walk down the hallway alongside him. “When did you wake up?”

"'Round 9,” he yawns out. "Martin called me back and we got the room situation sorted."

He pulls his new key card out of his wallet and holds it between his fingers to show you. “Nice.”

Upon finding the hotel pool already chock-full of people, the two of you decide to meet Mandy and Martin at a restaurant they told Hamzah they'd be at. The GPS on your phone’s map gives you a hard time and you nearly walk into oncoming traffic with your nose deep in the screen. Hamzah reaches out to grab your forearm and pulls you back right as a taxi flies by.

"That was way too close," he says. Both of you breathe heavily at the realization that it could've ended way worse. "I think I know where it’s at anyway, just follow me."

"Sorry," you apologize, blushing. He smiles and shakes his head to dismiss your embarrassment. His hand stays on the middle of your back as he leads the rest of the way. The sparks you feel from his touch can hardly be ignored.

You get seated in a booth with the couple, who have already ordered some appetizers in anticipation of your arrival. The four of you dig into some sort of steamed veggie dish and catch up.

"Martin kept me up all night," Mandy says.

"Yeah, I got stamina." Martin nonchalantly shrugs.

"No, you literally passed out the moment you went to bed." She rolls her eyes. "I had to check if he was breathing, like, 5 times."

"She got yo lying ass, boy," Hamzah says, laughing with you. "I think I was snoring all night. Those drinks had me messed up."

"You weren't," you assure him.

"How do you know that?" Martin diverts the attention to you.

"Because someone was dead asleep and couldn't help his best friend get back into his hotel room," Hamzah replies pointedly. Martin sinks into his seat and takes a bite of food while pouting.

"So, you guys were stuck in the same bed?" Mandy asks, genuinely interested. "How'd that go?"

"It was—"

"We were—"

You look at each other and you nod your head, gesturing for him to talk first. He nods back and places his hand on your knee under the table before continuing. Your heart leaps to your throat.

"We were watching some show in Dutch that we couldn't understand until we knocked out."

"That's it?" This earns Martin a light smack on the arm from Mandy and a fiery glare from you.

"Was it the one with the bald dad and the ginger kids?"

"Yeah, how'd you—?"

"I watched it with Martin's mom the day before we came. It’s pretty popular here."

Hamzah's hand is still on your knee, occasionally running his thumb over your skin like it's the most natural thing in the world. You try to be attentive and contribute to the conversation, but it's a struggle when your mind is constantly wandering. When the waiter comes to take your orders, you choose something random off the menu because you were too lost in thought. You’re starting to think you need to be spayed because of how much this affects you.

"I can't believe we have to leave in a week," Hamzah says. You look up from the table.

"Don't remind me," you groan.

"I miss Rudy," Mandy admits with a sigh, "and Fish and Carl, of course."

"Every parent has their favorites.” Martin shrugs.

Your food arrives after some more chatter. Hamzah's hand leaves the spot on your thigh he’d slowly worked up to and you feel like you can breathe again. This trip has made you guys a lot closer than you ever anticipated, but it makes you wonder how things will be once you get back home.

“Wanna bite?” Hamzah whispers to only you. “It’s pretty good.”

“Lemme try.” You pluck a piece of omelette from his plate and bite into it. “Yum. Try mine.”

He shovels a scoop of your yogurt bowl into his mouth and hums. “Let’s split?”

“Yes, please.”

The meal ends with Martin paying for Mandy and Hamzah paying for you, in a surprise turn of events. You try to fight him back on it, but once he swipes his card without a word you know it's settled.

"All that YouTube money has gone to your head," you joke.

"I got fat stacks."

"Ew." You and Mandy cringe.

The couple walks ahead of you up the street and the two of you walk side by side.

"Was that alright?" Hamzah asks once the others are out of earshot.

"What do you mean?"

"Y'know, me paying." He nudges your shoulder. "It felt like the right thing to do."

"It did?" you ask, a smile growing on your face. "I didn't mind it."

"Good, good..." He walks with his hands in his pockets, kicking a rock every couple of steps.

"I actually thought it was cute."

He exhales through his nose, smiling at the ground. "Was it?"

"Yeah." You nod. "Thanks, Hamzah."

"No biggie."

You scrunch up your face and he laughs once he sees your expression. His laughter could cure even the most fatal illnesses, you're convinced. You take steps in unison for a bit—right, left, right, left—until he clears his throat to speak again.

"And, um," he starts, licking his lips. "When I put my hand on your leg..."

"Mhm?" You enjoy seeing the way his face contorts as he tries to find his words.

"Was that... alright, too?"

"I didn't mind it," you repeat.

He shakes his head and this time it's your turn to laugh. The tips of his ears turn red under his hat, making your heart pound at the sight. He fixes the hat tighter on his head and you fight the urge to tuck one of his stray curls behind his ear. Instead, you find that your feet lead you closer to his side, your fingertips brushing past his ever so slightly.

The couple eventually stops at a building and the two of you rush to catch up.

"We made it, kids," Martin says with a smile once you reach them.

"An art museum?" Hamzah questions as he reads the sign at the door. "Are we museum people?"

"We are now," Martin says, turning to walk inside.

"He's been talking about this since we landed," Mandy explains. "C'mon, guys."

Your group enters the museum and you look around at the historic paintings and sculptures from various Curaçaoan artists. Any and all doubt is washed from your mind as you make your way through the space, carefully observing art you haven't had the pleasure of seeing before. Hamzah follows close by, never straying too far as to not miss the way you react to each piece with 'oo's and 'ah's.

"Here's what we came for!" Martin points at a painting in the corner.

You walk closer and catch sight of a beautiful beach landscape. There's bright green shrubbery in the forefront, leading up to a peachy-toned sunset with tropical birds flying in the background. Mandy excuses herself to check out the gift shop and Martin huddles the three of you together.

"One day, I'm gonna propose to her here," he whispers. His finger traces the plaque below the canvas. You'd been to this beach the day you touched ground in Curaçao. It was the first thing you guys did, even before checking in at the hotel.

"Martin," you gasp, eyes wide. He shushes you and you lower your voice. "That's so sweet, oh my god."

"She walked right by it," he beams. "She has no clue."

"That's great, man." Hamzah clasps his hand on Martin's shoulder, giving it a squeeze. "She'll love it, for sure."

"I can't believe I'm gonna be a maid of honor," you squeal as quietly as you can. Martin shushes you again but you can barely contain your excitement, turning to Hamzah to find his eyes already on you.

"What makes you so sure it'll be you?" he teases.

"It will be." You raise your eyebrows, challenging him to say otherwise.

"As long as I can be best man."

You take a couple pictures of Martin standing next to the painting with his thumbs up, narrowly avoiding Hamzah's photobombing attempts. When you finally walk away, Martin motions for you both to zip your lips. You mime crossing your heart and make your way to the gift shop.

There's shelves of souvenirs with prints of the art pieces from the museum, as well as some nearby tourist attractions that you recognize from visiting recently. You get to the jewelry section and run your fingers across the array of bangles and necklaces, hearing how they jingle as they move. Once you get to the end of the table, you notice a reddish-brown beaded bracelet.

"'Handmade,'" you mumble, reading the tag.

Hamzah stops close by your turned back and sees what's caught your attention from over your shoulder. "What's that?"

"Isn't it pretty?" You slip the bracelet onto your wrist and hold it up to show him. He grabs another one, doing the same.

Mandy suddenly calls for you and you walk over to her.

"I want this book so bad." She holds up a leather bound book with golden letters on the front, flipping through the pages to reveal photographs of nearby landmarks. "Wouldn't it look cute on our coffee table?"

“We have so much stuff from this trip already—“ Martin starts, but upon seeing Mandy’s glare, agrees.

You conclude that married life would suit them very well.

Your group loiters around the museum until you've seen everything it has to offer, snapping a few pics of your favorites along the way. Hamzah volunteers to take a few aesthetic photos of you, but when you get your phone back, your camera roll is full of him making funny faces. You know you’ll get him back for it eventually.

The four of you make it halfway back to the hotel when you look down and realize the bracelet is still on your wrist. You halt in the middle of the sidewalk and curse at the wind.

"Guys," you call out, making them stop as well. "I'll meet you there, I forgot to put this bracelet back."

"You stole?" Martin exaggerates. "Dang it, now we're all accomplices!"

"Say it louder, why don't you?" You roll your eyes, turning on your heels to walk back up the street.

"YOU STO—"

Hamzah slaps his palm across his friend's mouth, "I got it, don't worry."

"What?" You turn back.

He holds his free hand up and shakes the bracelet on his wrist. "I paid already. You don't have to go back."

You part your lips, but no words come out.

Mandy and Martin share a glance with each other, him mumbling something unintelligible. Hamzah drops his hands and fidgets with his hat.

"I feel bad," you finally say, your cheeks warming up uncontrollably. "You're too nice."

"I wish I had a sugar daddy," Martin complains. You collectively ignore him.

"Thank you, Hamzah," you say with a smile. "I appreciate it."

"You liked the bracelet, so..." He shrugs it off.

The walk back to the hotel commences and you feel your pulse thumping with each step. Once again, the couple get ahead of you two, but that’s fine by you. Mandy turns a few times to make eye contact with you and raise her eyebrows ridiculously. You just shake your head and try not to grin too hard.

The weather is muggy and the sun is beaming on your heads, but Hamzah’s warm hand finds yours despite it all. Your bracelets graze each other and you wordlessly make a pact to not let go.

~

a/n: u get what u want in the next part ya filthy animals!!! also sorry i took so long, i’m still not 100% happy w how this turned out but i wanted to pump something out before u guys start chasing me w wooden stakes and pitchforks :-)

[seoulmatez]

— 𝒷𝓇𝑒𝓌 𝒷𝑒𝑔𝒾𝓃𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈 ౨ৎ

suo hayato x reader. 1.9k wc. ﾉ sfw ﾉ fluff ﾉ barista!suo ﾉ college student!reader ﾉ mixed povs, mostly suo's ﾉ repost bc i accidentally deleted it (sorry! :3)

it’s a monday morning when suo first sees you walk into the cafe, early and in the thick of the morning rush. you stand out from the familiar faces of regulars precisely because you aren’t one. it’s a pleasant change from what suo has begun to expect at the start of the week—being met with a new face when the bell above the door rings, and such a pretty one, at that. 

as he steams milk behind the counter, his cherry-brown eye innocently drinking you in, he wonders if he’ll see you more often.

he takes notice of when you’re nearing the front of the line and happily offers to take over the register for the time being. his coworker hands over the reins just as you make your approach to the counter while suo wipes his palms on the apron tied around his waist.

“good morning,” he greets you with a smile. “what can i get for you today?”

“hi!” you return his greeting enthusiastically as you remove your earbuds. your eyes fall to the screen of the phone held tightly in your hand. “i’ll have a cappuccino, please. for here,” you quickly add, eyes turning up to meet his, the corners of your lips curling ever so slightly to form a soft smile.

“sure thing.” suo nods as he taps at the screen in front of him to ring up your order. it’s not what he was expecting to hear but he supposes the little guessing game he plays isn’t always guaranteed to end in success. he reads off your total and runs your card before starting on your drink. it’s a fairly simple process, mostly muscle memory at this point, but suo finds himself putting in a little more thought this time around.

he isn’t sure why… maybe there's a little part of him that’s itching to impress you. maybe.

at the pick-up station, suo carefully slides the mug sitting atop a matching saucer to the other side of the counter while he calls out your order. you quickly meet him there, having set your things at a nearby table. suo knows he can’t linger for too long, not with how many other customers he has to attend to, but he sticks around long enough to tell you, “enjoy.”

when you look down, you’re met with a rosetta that was poured into the beverage. your lips stretch into a smile as you turn your gaze back to the barista before you. “thank you.”

by the time you’ve situated yourself at your table, suo is already busy with new orders. though, he can’t help but let his gaze wander back over to you. 

what he sees makes his lips part in surprise: a frown painting over your features after you take a sip from your drink—the drink that he made.

—

suo is surprised to see you back a couple of days later.

he was almost sure he had all but turned you away if the unpleasant expression you wore the last he saw you was anything to go off of. but you’re back here now, on a much less busy day, and the frown that’s been at the back of suo’s mind since that day has been traded in for the soft smile he’d much rather see.

he makes his way to the register as you approach. “hey there. another cappuccino for you?”

“you remember what i ordered last time?” you don’t even remember what you ordered the last time you dropped by. in what feels like an endless sea of faces and a flood of complicated coffee orders—you glance at the man’s name tag—suo could recall that of the person who had only been here once… and that person happened to be you.

for a brief moment, you wonder if something about you was memorable enough to stick with him—perhaps it was the way you wore your hair then or the charm dangling from the zipper of your wallet. though, as quickly as the thought comes, you cast it aside. it’s far too pretentious. he must just have a—

“good memory, that’s all,” suo tells you, stealing the unspoken words right from your head. maybe he can read minds, too. “so…?”

the way his voice trails off reminds you that you never answered his initial question.

“oh! um, no, no cappuccino. i will have…” you quickly look down at your phone, eyes scanning the brightly lit screen. “an iced americano, please.”

suo smiles, mostly to himself, as he rings up your total. it’s laughable, really, how his plan to impress you failed as tremendously as it did—so much so that you’re steering clear of the drink entirely. what an ugly stain on his reputation as a barista.

he’ll redeem himself today, suo tells himself as he turns around to prepare your drink.

there aren’t many ways to mess up an americano—it’s espresso and water, easy enough. although, he supposes he thought the same of a cappuccino and that was enough to earn a visceral response from you. despite the hit to his confidence, suo navigates the appliances as he normally would and presents the glass to you at the pick-up counter.

“here you are.” there’s a sing-songy lilt to his voice as he cautiously slides the drink toward you. just like last time, he tells you, “enjoy.”

you offer suo a smile, one that makes him think it should be impossible to turn into anything else. with an equally cheery, “thank you,” you’re on your way back to the table you’ve picked out—the same one you happened to sit at during your last visit.

suo returns to his duties behind the counter—restocking inventory and wiping up messes here and there, though, his focus wanes and he finds himself glancing in your direction. as you study the notes spread out across the table, your lips wrap around the straw and the dark liquid in your glass slowly lowers with each of your sips.

your eyebrows pull together in yet another frown as you let the plastic cylinder fall from between your lips. this time around, the expression is mirrored on suo’s face.

—

suo doesn’t usually work nights but he’s here now, having been kind enough to pick up the shift of a coworker who couldn’t make it in. late evenings are nowhere near as lively as the day and that fact is becoming glaringly apparent to suo as he folds the napkins into useless shapes in order to have something to do. he’s starting to wish he had come up with some lame excuse to turn her down when his ears perk up at the sound of the bell above the door ringing. he shoves the many napkins under the counter to clean up later, ready to strike up a conversation with anyone to stave off the boredom threatening to swallow him whole.

he can’t hide the surprise that takes over his features upon seeing that the patron is you, though, he quickly masks the emotion with a grin. “welcome back.”

“hi.” you lift your hand in a lazy wave but a smile of your own tugs at your lips at seeing the barista who’s becoming a pleasantly familiar face. it almost feels manufactured—how you seem to see him every time you walk through the cafe’s door. “do they have you on call?”

the joke actually makes suo laugh—nothing like the forced ones that he makes a show of in an effort to bring home tips, but a genuine one that bubbles up in his chest and pushes its way past his lips. a smile lingers in the laughter’s wake but suo can’t say for sure whether it’s because of your jesting or the simple truth that you only hate his coffee and not him. “something like that. what’ll it be tonight?”

just as he predicts it might, your gaze drops down to your phone before your eyes pull up to meet his once more. “one medium cold brew, please.”

maybe this will be his saving grace, suo thinks. there’s no getting this wrong—the cold brew in the fridge is premade. all he has to do is pour it over some ice and serve it to you. the frozen cubes crackle as the dark liquid cascades over them, your cup filling carefully just below the rim.

he plucks a paper-wrapped straw from the holder and hands both it and your drink to you. your fingers brush against his as the glass moves from his hand to yours. suo wonders if it’s even worth saying, if the single word holds any weight at this point, but ultimately adds his typical, “enjoy,” with high hopes.

you situate yourself at what suo now considers your usual table, your laptop open with your planner, a pen, and your drink set off to the side. it’s difficult for suo to turn his attention away this time, no other customers to attend to and far from eager to go back to folding napkins. he props his elbow on the counter, rests his chin in his open palm, and not-so-subtly watches you start on your work. 

a minute or so passes before you pay your drink any mind, mindlessly dipping your head down to take the first sip. suo holds his breath as he waits for your reaction and practically deflates when the all-too-familiar frown makes its way back onto your face.

“am i really that bad?” the words slip past suo’s lips before he can help it, though there’s no malice in them, only pure curiosity.

you look up from your laptop, turning to face suo. had you done something to offend him? “sorry?”

“the drinks.” he clarifies with the tip of his head in its direction. “it looks like it pains you to finish them.”

“oh. oh!” the realization hits you like a truck embarrassingly late. you never thought that suo had been watching closely enough to take notice of your involuntary reactions or that he’d make the assumption that he was the cause of your frowns. you’re overwhelmed with a sudden urgency to clear up the misunderstanding and you rush to explain. “it’s not you, i swear. in all honesty… i don’t like coffee.”

suo’s lips part in understanding and he straightens up to nod his head. your confession is enough to heal suo’s bruised ego, but it raises another question that comes as easily as his first. “why order it then?”

you gesture to the work set up at your table with a sheepish smile. “have to stay energized in some way.”

suo breathes out a laugh through his nose as he connects all of the dots—your sudden turned frequent visits, the glances at your phone, the materials scattered about, and the fact that you continued to come back despite your obvious distaste. he has to give it to you, you’re much more committed than he’d ever imagine himself to be.

“i admire your work ethic,” he tells you with a grin. for some reason, it makes your heart jump. “but, i think i can help you out with the whole ‘not liking coffee’ thing.”

you raise your eyebrows in interest. “how so?”

“it’s called a matcha latte—no coffee involved.” you can feel the passion in his voice buzzing in the air as he explains the recipe. it makes you want to reach out and grab at him so you can feel the sensation first-hand. “i’ll make one for you next time.”

“what?” you ask.

suo bites back a laugh. he knew you’d be special when he first saw you walk through the door. “you’re coming back, aren’t you?”

you nod hesitantly and then more confidently. “yeah, i’ll be back.”

whether it’s for the matcha latte or the company—well, you suppose you’ll figure that out then. 

thanks for reading! if u enjoyed, pls consider reblogging or commenting ���︎

[takes1]

Some fluff w Koushi maybe?🫶

koushi realizing barista!reader is pretty cute

thanks for the request! this was a cute and refreshing prompt for me <3 much love!!

warnings. none info. sfw / fluff / college!au / coffeeshop!au / simple but cute / suga wears cardigans / timeskip!suga / like imagine english teacher suga pulling a stretchy cardigan over himself ugh so cute / 630 words links. haikyuu collection. masterlist. requests open. my ao3

"Good morning!" A gentle voice blessed your ears.

You smiled without looking up from the register.

Mr. Cardigan's ritual began. Glance over the menu, top-right to the espresso drinks, consider getting a decaf-- of course he won't go with the decaf, it was 7:40 and he was already tapping his foot to get to his 8 a.m class. Then he would decide on his tried and true as if it were a brand new idea:

"Double espresso, steamed milk, sweetened with honey."

He was wearing a face of mild shock, a touch of embarrassment, when you looked up from the order you already input.

"Oh, shit--," You laughed, warm at your slip-up, "I'm so sorry."

"Nono, it's- it's fine," He sported a similar color.

After a moment's hesitation, he chuckled and gave you his card.

Your Monday, Wednesday, Friday shift lined up with everyone who had a MWF 8 a.m (+9, 9:30, 10:00, and 10:30, regrettably). He was one of the few you cared to remember since he was such a cutie and he usually tipped you well.

"It's been a long morning, I get it," He graced you with a smooth forgiveness.

You sighed, relieved, and agreed wholeheartedly.

Spring semester was right at the close. Most were coming in to the Business building's little ground-level cafe early or late to cram for finals. He stayed consistent throughout the past few months, though, with his 7:40 sharp arrival.

7:44 if there was a line, but that was Mondays. Fridays weren't as busy because so many people skipped. But reliable Mr. Cardigan never missed a class.

"Almost done, though," You handed him his card back and spun the tip screen around for him, expecting nothing this time.

"Thank god," He tapped for No Receipt and closed his wallet.

He stood at the counter with his hands crossed in front of him to wait for his drink.

He never noticed how pretty your hands were before today. He looked down at his own kinda stumpy fingers. Then he watched -careful not to come across as creepy- at how gingerly you held the mug to the steam wand while screwing the filter in place.

The urge to talk to you nudged at the back of his throat, but he fell silent when you flipped the switch on.

The espresso machine was always a little too loud to talk over.

It was a graceful background noise to those who studied in this lobby, and a good backdrop to stay quiet to.

This time, he didn't feel as though your usual exchange was natural anymore. He wanted to talk, but didn't know quite how. The usual 4-minute wait felt like ages, but today he wasn't keen on leaving until he spoke to you again.

Your eyes flitted over his when you turned towards the lobby side for the honey.

His broad shoulders tensed and he turned his head to take false interest in some of the artwork on the walls. He didn't realize he was staring so hard.

He wondered how long you had been paying attention to him. If was just habit, or maybe a fondness had been growing and he was always too tired to notice anything other than how well you made his drink.

Now it was impossible not to overthink your friendly customer-service smile, or the smiley face you always put on the side of his cup.

Say something!

He repeated it so many times that his mind had been made unintentionally blank when you held the cup up for him to take over the counter.

"Good luck with finals," You said softly.

When he reached for his latte, your fingertips brushed for the tiniest moment. An intense heat crept up the back of his neck.

A shaky, "You, too," was all he could manage.

masterlist.

requests open.

[chuubian]

Let the light in

Tags Beast Dazai x gn civilian reader, secrets, obsession (kinda), kidnapping, Dazai just needs to be loved, pathetic wet cat Dazai

Summary Your boyfriend, Dazai, has been acting weird. You suspect he's been seeing other people, but the reality is worse than you could've imagined.

A/N This one is rlly long again but i didn't feel like splitting it up into parts I'm so sorry

A loud ring cuts through the pleasant atmosphere of the cafe- dragging you out of your thoughts. You turn your head to look at the source of the interruption. There's a tall man at the door. The bags under his eyes are dark and heavy, pulling the rest of him down with them, hunched over, slowly making his way to the counter. Taking in the rest of his appearance, you notice the darkness of his eyes, and the dullness of his skin- stretched over fragile bone, giving his face a gaunt, hollow appearance. He seemed to be on the verge of death.

“What can i get-”

“Get me a regular coffee.”

Rude. He didn't even give you a chance to finish. Your eyebrows furrow, fingers tapping on the counter impatiently. Blood boiling, you decide not to start anything, instead turning to prepare his drink. There wasn’t anyone else in the shop so you could take your time. Grabbing a pour-over brewer, you set it down with a loud clunk. Making coffee was something that usually relaxed you. Warm steam rose up, washing over your face, cleansing your body of the irritation flowing through your veins.

From the corner of your eye, you could see the man settle down, taking a seat on the stool in front of you. You pour scalding hot water over the grounds, watching them bloom and bubble. Golden liquid circulates through the coffee, dripping down into the glass container under it. The see-through jug turns foggy and opaque- filling the entire brewer with not only freshly brewed coffee, but hot water vapor. The scent of a fresh brew is loud- filling the room, sticking to the walls and your clothing. It's hard to miss it.

You pour the man's coffee into a white mug, setting it down infront of him. His gaze had not left you the entire time, it was unsettling. A freezing cold shiver traveled down your spine. What was with this guy? You had never met anyone that was so ominous. So haunting. His lips stretched into an unnatural smile. It looked off. Like he had never done it previously.

"Thank you."

His voice was softer, not as freezing or rude as he had treated you only a few minutes ago. You set down a little jug of creamer and some sugar cubes. He didn't seem like the type to like sweet coffee, but you didn't like to make assumptions. His slender fingers reached out to pick five sugars, putting them in his coffee and so much creamer that it turns into a light beige color. Seriously? What is wrong with this guy.... He tips the mug back, chugging like its water.

"It's delicious."

"It's basically just milk and sugar with everything you put in it."

His dry lips quirk up into a small grin- genuine this time.

"Still tasty."

The only sound resonating through the cafe is soft classical music and the man's quiet drinking. You hadn't realized before but... he was so handsome. Dark hair framed his thin, pale face. His eye is big and dark, like a black hole, swallowing up all the life around him. Did he lose his other eye though? Why is there gauze covering it? His features were small and delicate, nothing like his demeanor. There was something so captivating, so uncanny about him. He almost seemed like he was half-corpse. Everything about him was so cold.

When he finally finished his drink, he asked for the check- pulling out a black metallic credit card from his wallet to pay with. You looked him up and down. Was he rich? You wouldn't doubt it. His clothing seemed to be good quality. Signing the bill, he slides the receipt back to you.

"Have a good day!"

You wave him off but he doesn't respond. As he disappears out the door, the tension from the room dissipates, only leaving a churning sensation in your lower stomach. Like your belly is eating itself. You look back down at the check. He left a huge tip. 45%. And his number.

Call Me :p

It wasn't uncommon for customers to try and hit on you, but they had never been like this guy. And none had been as bewitching. Something in you urged you to call him. To not let him slip away. You punch his number into your cell phone, a prickling sensation spreading over your skin. When your phone asks for a name, you don't know what to put. Fuck. Why didn't you ask?? What are you supposed to call him?? Suddenly, a realization comes over you, the fog clearing from your mind. You were fucking stupid. You pull the crumpled receipt back out from your pocket, looking over the messy signature. Dazai Osamu.

—

In the few weeks you had known Dazai, he had completely overtaken your life. He frequently sent you gifts, called you everyday for hours at a time, taking you out on beautiful dates every week. He always came back to your apartment after, but for some reason, you were never allowed in his house. Any time you would bring up the subject, his face would turn impassive, voice growing frigid. What could he possibly be hiding?

"Don't worry about it. We can always go to your place anyways right? What's so important about mine?"

"I guess... but why can't I? It's just weird that you won't let me."

He presses a small kiss to your forehead. Immediately, all your muscles seem to even out, relaxing.

"It's just... not somewhere you want to see alright? You trust me right? I have your best interest in mind."

When he puts it that way, it makes sense. Why are you so suspicious? He hasn't done anything wrong. He's been perfect in every way so far. Maybe it's just new relationship anxiety. Things have been moving quickly but that doesnt mean Dazai can’t have boundaries. You sigh, wrapping your arms around his slender waist. Solid bone digs into your flesh painfully, sharp aching throbs lighting your nerves on fire. It always hurt to be so close to him, but you couldn't stop going back. Being with the brunette was too addictive. You wished you could have all his attention to yourself.

"Let's go back to yours."

You nod, taking his cool bandaged hand in yours, leading him through the streets towards your apartment. As you two walked hand in hand, you noticed something that never happened previously. It was noon, but the street was relatively empty. This is a big city, why is it so still? Everything is so peaceful. The few people that are walking, are looking down at the floor, seeming humiliated- almost distressed. Men refuse to even look in your direction, deciding the wall is much more interesting than anything else.

"It's so empty..."

Dazai hums quietly, looking straight ahead, not answering. It's uncharacteristic of him. He usually can't shut up. He pulls you closer, arm wrapping around your waist, pressing you up against him. You walk back home with him, an awkward silence fills the air. You took a long deep breath, eyes darting all over. Moisture beads on your forehead. It's far too warm. You step away from Dazai, taking hold of his hand again. It's uncomfortable to be too close right now.

When you arrive at the door of your apartment, the pressure weighing on your shoulders lifts. It's home. You stick the key in the door. A jangling noise fills the air- metal against metal, clinking and working to unfasten the padlock. Once the door opens, cool air rushes towards you, refreshing your overheated skin. A shiver runs down your body to your fingertips. The feeling of tranquility descends over your muscles.

Before you can take a step forward, Dazais slender fingers wrap around your wrist.He pulls you inside, going through the doorframe- his shoulders sag forward, letting out a breath he had been holding the entire walk home. The scowl that had carved its way between his eyebrows finally evened out, leaving only smooth skin between them. He takes off his coat and scarf. He hands them to you, already anticipating you'll do everything for him.

You grab hold of his stuff, taking off your coat too. When you reach up to hang your stuff up, you feel thin arms wrapping around your waist- smooth plaster grazed against your clothing, his nails biting into the fabric, keeping you in place. Warmth radiates from his body. Overwhelming and stifling. You wanted to push his arms off of you. To free yourself from his crushing restraint. Maybe you shouldn't have let him come over. It was difficult to behave normally around him. What is he hiding?

Dazai rests his chin on your shoulder, pressing a soft kiss to your jaw. His dark hair brushes against your cheek. You don't want to do this right now. Not like this. He needs to go.

"Dazai..."

You grab his wrists, prying his arms off you.

"Hm? What's wrong, darling?"

"It's just... I've told you everything about myself but I barely know anything about you. Why?"

His arms tighten around you. He stretches his lips into a tight smile.

"We went over this. You need to trust me, honey. What do you want to know anyways? I'll tell you anything."

"Well for starters... I don't even know where you work. Where is your family? Are you close with them? You never mention your mom or anything."

His eyes blacken. Absorbing all light. Empty and chilling. It sends a shudder down your spine. The skin crinkles around his eyes, teeth flashing, smile widening. It seemed forced.

"Well... I work in marketing, and my family lives in Osaka. I moved away for University and i've been here ever since. I call my mom every day, i love her dearly and even though we dont see eachother often, were very tightly-knit."

He sounded like he was telling the truth... Maybe the reason he never mentioned his family is because they're far away, but something in the back of your mind was nagging at you. Did his explanation even make sense?

"Where did you study? What company? How can you afford all the gifts with just a marketing job?"

You shoot out questions as fast as you can, trying to catch him off guard.

"Yokohama city university. Mikatsu group. I have a good position. Money isn't something I need to worry about."

He answered without hesitation. Expression giving nothing away. He must be telling the truth. He seemed so sure of himself.

"...Really?"

"Really."

He looked into your eyes, maintaining eye contact until you decided to look away. Dazai gave you no reason to doubt him. He just wanted trust. But there was something telling you he was lying.

"I believe you."

You lean back into his touch, melting under his ministrations. He leans down. Pressing his lips to your temple, he starts walking you back to your room.

"Come on... Let me help you relax, yeah?

—

Stillness seems to follow you around. In the cafe. In the street during rush hour. Even in shopping centers that are supposed to be overflowing with people. Whenever you stepped foot anywhere in public, the floor cleared and your surroundings were drained of people. They didn't even look up as they stream past you, rushing out like water that's been repelled by oil. Oil that for some reason just can't get the harrowing feeling that their boyfriend is lying to them, to stop.

So you decide you have to investigate. Maybe it's absurd. Dressing up in all black and dark sunglasses, you head out- making your way down the stairs, up the sidewalk to Dazai's supposed place of work, and hiding in the alleyway beside the old building. Waiting for three hours, from seven to ten, just to make sure you can see him if he comes in late, proves to be more uninteresting than anything else you've ever done. Why didn't you just ask what time he goes in?

Now you have to spend too much time in this dirty alleyway. The smell of grease and trash permeates the hard concrete of the buildings and sidewalk- it would be unthinkable for them to ever be apart, especially when the ground is covered in decaying food and random black stains you would never want to know the origins of. You don't dare to touch anything around you, deciding to just stand. Even if it hurts your legs.

It's been at least an hour. Where is he? People have been filtering in and out, unaware of the person observing them in the shadows. This is ridiculous. You should call and find out. The fluorescent glow of your cell phone blinds you, making you squint as you scroll down your contact list and press on Dazai's name. A ring circulates through the air. You look up, startled out of your trance.

Of course he's there.

You see him dig his phone out of his pocket. He looks at the screen, thumbing at the buttons and holding it up to his ear. You do the same.

"Hello?"

"Dazai... uh...where are you?"

Fuck. Does that sound suspicious? You definitely should have planned better.

"I'm going into work right now. Why? You miss me?"

He's smiling, earnestly, stopped in front of the door to the building. His suit is finely pressed, his bandages are clean and neatly arranged. He looks so good.

"No.. uh... I just wanted to see if you wanted to come over afterwards? Do you usually go to work at this time?"

"I do. Are you suspicious of me again darling? Is that why you're watching me right now?"

His voice had flattened. Dazai turns his head slowly to look in your direction. Your blood runs cold and your heart hammers in your chest. His gaze was piercing, seeing right through you and into your very core. Past all the deceit. You felt naked. Stripped of all the pomp and frills.

As he steps closer, his sharp features become clearer to you. His lips are pursed together, hands clenched so hard his knuckles are turning white. A prickling sensation shoots up your spine. You try to look around frantically for a place to hide but it's a pointless endeavor. Sooner than your shaky legs can move, you feel a heavy hand gripping your shoulder tightly, forcing you to turn and look at the offender.

Dazai was grinning.

"Why do you look so scared, darling?"

"How did you-"

He cuts you off.

"You're so obvious... But seriously why are you following me? I thought you trusted me. Did you think I was lying?"

Your hands reach out for Dazai, curling in the fabric of his suit jacket. Taking a long, slow, deep breath, your eyebrows pinch together.

"I-i'm sorry I don't know... I just had this feeling..."

"Don't listen to your feelings, listen to me."

His grip turns gentle, boney hand traveling up to your scalp, petting your hair lovingly. You look up at his handsome face, eyes shining with amusement. A tremble runs up your body.

"You're not mad?"

Dazai holds your face.

"Of course not. I just think you're crazy and a little silly, but I'm not mad."

He leans down. His warm lips press against your forehead.

"I'm not crazy-"

"You are. Don't deny it. You figured out where I worked and stalked me."

His voice is sharp, reminding you of the severity of your transgression.

"Sorry..."

A low chuckle rumbles in his throat.

"Why should I forgive you huh?"

Your eyebrows pinch together. Really? You're not begging for his mercy.

"Are you serious?"

"Yes. Go on, tell me how much you love me, I'm listening!"

He puts his hands on his hips, stepping back and puffing his chest out. You could feel the blood simmering under your skin.A displeased sound leaves your lips without your permission, unintentionally encouraging Dazai to keep going.

"Don't be shy, I know how much you love me."

Has he always been so irritating? You swear he wasn't like this when you first met.

"Look.. I'm sorry for following you but I'm not saying that."

Sighing, he looks you up and down. His eyes are downcast. Disappointed.

"You dressed up for this? You're not in a spy movie you know."

You push him away lightly, cheeks heating up.

"It helped me get in the mindset."

"I'm sure."

Dazai steps forward, arms coiling themselves around your shoulders. His rigid, skinny sternum presses against your chest. It's ice cold and sharp.

"You look stunning."

Dazai noses at your throat, a fluttering feeling nudging at the walls of your stomach. Pushing the limits of your anatomy. Your knees are on the verge of collapsing. He keeps going, pressing soft kisses to the sensitive skin of your neck- his dry lips scrape against the surface, sending small sparks of pleasure down your spine. Bandaged hands migrate down to your lower tummy, lifting your shirt and gently caressing the small bit of flesh there.

"Ready to eat, really."

A breath catches in your throat. Your hands shakily grasp onto his arms. Before you can lean in to kiss him, he drags himself away from you.

"I'm gonna be late, I should get going."

You cross your arms, feet tapping against the concrete.

"You're such an asshole."

"Hm? What did I do? You know I have work right now."

You huff, shoving his shoulder away softly.

"You knew what you were doing."

His lips stretch into a sleazy smirk.

"Yeah, I did. But I really do have to go."

Dazai pulls you closer, hands on your waist.

"Do you want me to come over later?"

You can't bring yourself to make eye contact, nodding.

"Fine."

He snorts gleefully, kissing your cheek before bolting into the building. His feet slam against the floor as he calls out to you.

"Get ready for me!"

You're left there, again. All alone. It happened so fast you could barely process everything that happened. Your brain was scrambled- whiplash blurring your vision and filling your ears with cotton. You don't even get to say a proper goodbye when Dazai is gone, inside the building and presumably hard at work.

Gathering what little remains of your pride, you drag your feet across the pavement, slowly making your way down the empty sidewalk. The minute amount of people around you, refuse to look up. How can they even tell where they're going honestly? Were you that ugly that they couldn't bear to, even briefly, glance over at you?

Despite the fact that no one was looking up at you, there was still a persistent feeling of being watched. No matter how fast you ran, how furiously your lungs worked to keep oxygen in your lungs, Or how strenuously your heart worked to pump the blood though your arteries- you could not escape the penetrating gaze. You whip your head around, hoping to catch the freak in the act, but nothing was there. Only a vacant, silent street.

Was it just your imagination?

It couldn't be.

You stand still. Glaring at the deserted sidewalk behind you.

"Come out! I know you're there!"

Nothing happens. The bird's morning songs fade into hushed, uneasy chirps. Even nature can sense the impending crisis.

"I don't have all day! Why are you following me?!"

A small shuffling noise comes from the alleyway behind you. As soon as you turn around you're greeted with a short man who has white hair and a bizarre haircut. The collar around his neck looks heavy and painful. What's wrong with him? He's hiding his face, peeking up at you almost... scared?

"You. Why are you following?! Who are you?!"

You don't dare to get closer. He could be dangerous. Who knows if this stalker would get violent.

He doesn't answer.

"My boyfriends a cop! You better answer me!"

It's a complete lie. But he doesn't know that.

"No he's not."

You're taken aback. How the fuck would he know.

"What?! Yes he is! How long have you been stalking me? You don't even know basic information about me. You're bad at this! Find something else to do!"

"I'm not stupid. I know what I'm doing."

The man's voice was soft- weak and meek. You slowly make your way over to him, arms crossed in front of you.

"Then you should know my boyfriend can beat you up."

He stays deathly silent, hunched over. Almost like he's an animal- ready to attack or make his escape.

"You better give me one good reason not to call him up right now."

"It's pointless."

Your eyes narrow.

"Why would you say that? You don't know anything. You're a degenerate freak. He'll kill you."

He stares at you, eyes boring into your soul. He seems confused. The white haired man's head is tilted curiously- looking at you like youre a dumbass.

"He's the one who sent me."

What.

Dazai??

"Huh?"

The man steps forward.

"You didn't know? He just wanted you to stay safe... I swear it's not me being a creep, but with his work, h-he's worried about your safety."

This man is delusional. His work? What could a man in marketing be trying to protect you from?

"You're crazy."

"I'm telling the truth!"

Does he truly think you'll believe something so ridiculous? Your hands clench, face heating, breath picking up. You're seriously in the mood to put him in his place yourself.

"Stop lying."

He senses that you're getting angry.

"I have proof!"

"Show me. It better be real."

The man pulls out a flip phone with unsteady hands, snapping it open, and pressing a few buttons. When he turns the phone over to you, you are horrified by the amount of pictures taken without your knowledge. It's hundreds. Pictures taken through the cafe windows, from behind while you're walking, of you out with friends. It's only been a few weeks. How are there so many?? Your eyes widen, blood draining from your face. A dreadful feeling forms in your stomach.

This can be true. You frantically take hold of the device, holding the radiant screen close to your eyes, uncaring of the damage it could cause to your sight. Pressing a few buttons you go to the contact information. It's his number. You would recognize it anywhere. But what if it's fake?

"What's your name?"

"Atsushi."

You look back down at the phone, thumb hovering over the keys.

"Atsushi. Okay... you better not be lying to me."

Before you can overthink it, you press the call button. Your hands are shaking as you bring the phone up to your ear. You hardly have to hear the rings when a deep voice comes through.

"Atsushi. What is it?"

Chills run down your spine. It can't be him. Why does he sound so distant? Like when you first met him. You quickly hang up, handing the phone back to Atsushi. Your abdomen feels like it's eating itself. Churning and swirling. A hollow vortex swallowing you up.

"W-what does Dazai work in again?"

Atsushi's face gives nothing away.

"Management…?"

You roll your eyes. He knows exactly what you mean.

"Where."

"If he hasn't told you, I can't either."

Your eyebrows pinch together, scowling.

"Fine."

You toss the phone back to him.

"If you won’t tell me, I'll figure it out myself."

The despair in your gut turned into burning white hot rage coursing through your veins. This time, you couldn't even enjoy the empty street on your way back home- stomping past the gardens you usually visit when you're out alone. Your entire body was trembling, both with anger and anguish. How dare he? He made you feel like you were crazy! He lied to you this entire time?! Why?!? Brass keys rattle loudly as you try to unlock the door.

The door unlatches and swings open. Emptiness is the only thing you can discern when you walk through the threshold. Dazai, the person you once trusted isn't here. Even when he does finally make his way back to you, the lies he told can never be untold. The walls shake as you slam the opening shut- anticipating the storm that's about to come, quivering nervously.

Time goes by faster than expected as you wait for Dazai. Your mind is racing- trying to process everything you knew and everything you didn't. What was he thinking? Why? What else had he lied about? It's been hours and your brain still can't figure it out. Why? It can't be that bad... He could be on the verge of bankruptcy and it wouldn't have mattered to you. Maybe he was just a pathological liar.

Your head is spinning in circles, exploring any path it could, trying to find its way to the truth. That's the important thing. Your blood is boiling- bubbles of frustration rise up to the surface, bursting in vicious outbursts. The resounding scream you let out make a  dryness and pulsating throbs echo through your esophagus. Your ears ring horribly. 

You're dizzy. And there's no other choice left but to confront him.

The echo of a knock on the door reverberates through the room. Your legs feel sluggish, you have to force the muscles to work. Force yourself to go to the entrance. Your skin heats, and small drops of sweat start forming around your hairline. Quickly, you wipe your forehead and hands off. When the door swings open, you're met with the face you dreaded the most. Dazai.

He doesn't even wait for you to let him in before he lunges at you. His skinny arms are surprisingly strong, squeezing your waist and pulling you closer.

"I missed you so much honey."

He buries his face in the crook of your neck. Warmth engulfs you, dragging you in. Your head knows you should push him away. You should be confronting him- but your body wants to give in, to give it up and just forget about everything. After all, did it really matter? It's just his job, he isn't a bad person.

With great effort, you managed to separate his hands from your midriff.

"Dazai. We need to talk."

He smiles, pulling you right back in.

"No we don't, come on you seem tense. I'm already staying up all night. We’ll talk after."

He insists, hastily pressing gentle kisses to your jaw and neck. You thoughtlessly tilt your head back, giving him free reign. Dazai doesnt waste a second, nipping at the delicate skin. Your heart is pounding against your ribcage, blood rushing up to your head. It's hard to keep your composure. A soft gasp escapes your lips.

"See? You need this."

Dazai is merciless- when you try to get him away, he dives right back in. He’s relentless.

"D-dazai, I'm serious!"

After wrestling with him for a few minutes he finally backs off.

"What is it?"

His voice is flat, eyes darkening- he sighs and steps behind you, chin resting on your shoulder. It's a drastic change from his former appearance. He definitely knew more than he let on.

"Tell me the truth."

He doesn't answer.

"Please dazai... Why is this such a big deal for you? I don't care where you work, I just can't be with someone who keeps lying to me."

He tightens his grip on you.

"I can't tell you."

"Really. Why not?"

Dazai turns you around to face him. His fingers dig into your sides.

"Because it's just not important. I thought you loved me. This shouldn't be a big deal if you truly do."

That was so unfair.

"Of course i do. But I don't want you to keep lying to me... please."

He stares at you for a few seconds, judging your expression.

"I work as a programmer."

"Nope."

"I do!"

You give him a pointed look.

"Fine, I'm actually a lawyer."

"Dazai."

"Doctor."

"Don't make me laugh."

"Sanitation."

"No."

"Barista."

"Seriously? How long are you gonna keep this up?"

Dazai runs his hand through his hair, clearly stressed out.

"You really want to know? You're not gonna like it."

"Dazai... come on, you know I'm not like that. I wont stop liking you so easily."

He looks away from you, squinting, deep in thought.

"I work somewhere dangerous."

"Where. Specifically."

He shakily takes hold of your hands. The old bandages are unraveling slowly- revealing more and more of his pale skin. It's littered with scars and scabs. There's a few spots with discoloration, and you can practically see his veins through his skin.

"Promise you won't hate me first."

You raise his hand up to your face, pressing a soft kiss to his knuckles.

"I promise."

He takes in a large lungful of air- releasing the tension from his shoulders.

"I work for... a criminal organization."

You lower your head. A hollow feeling grows in your chest. It's like a huge weight has been plopped onto your shoulders. Your ears stop working for a second as the sound of water rushing resonates through your head- washing in fear and outrage.

"Like.. a gang?"

"Slightly bigger."

You pause.

"How much bigger..."

"Like... Port Mafia sized."

Your body stills. There's a loud ringing in your ear. Scenery of horrible new stories flash past your eyes- destroyed jaws from biting the curb, and hundreds of poisoned civilians as a way to achieve their depraved objectives. What?? You can't find it in yourself to speak up, your voice is weak and cracking.

"A-As a cleaner or something... right? Something that doesn't i-involve..."

Some things were better left unsaid. You couldn't imagine him doing something so cruel. He's not capable of killing someone... right?

"As the boss."

Dazai can't seem to look directly at you. His hands tighten painfully. You try to step away, to process everything, but he won't let you. You just wish the ground would swallow you whole.

How naive of you to ever think Dazai could genuinely be good after lying so much. The small flame of hope that your heart fostered, was blown out within seconds. It left your body freezing to the touch. No longer does the love for him blaze on. Even if it did, it was your duty to extinguish it. You couldn't be with someone so cold-blooded.

"Please say something."

It's like your body is not your own anymore. Like your soul has escaped its bodily imprisonment. You wish it had. Then this would be none of your problem. What could you even say?

"Leave."

He stammers over his words, shocked.

"W-What?"

"I said leave. I don't want to see you any more."

Desperately, he starts shaking his head. The one eye that's exposed widens. They're no longer than deep empty black, but something more ardent. Something frantic.

"No. No. You can't do this to me. I won't let you!"

You lightly squeeze his fingers.

"You can't stop me. It's not your choice to make Dazai... If one person says it's over, it's over."

"I can't be without you. Please."

Abruptly, he drops onto his knees. Hard. Dazais body presses against your leg, fingers sinking into the flesh of your thigh. He holds on urgently. It's like he's climbing a mountain. He's hopelessly struggling to hold on to the last remaining ledges, trying to make his journey up to the top. It's something he knows is futile. The cliff is too steep, there's nowhere left to step, he's tired and starving after all his effort. But he can't help it. He has to. What else is there to do? He can't go back now- it's too late.

The relationship will never be the same. You know it. He knows it. But is it so wrong to want it back? His eyes keep darting around the room, looking for anything to help him. It's... unsettling. You've never seen him like this. He's usually so much more composed- so much harder to read.

"Y-You can't just break up with me. Not like this... I can't live without you."

"You have to find a way.”

Dazai pulls you down to his level, holding your body against his slim sternum. He's trembling.

"Never. I won't go back! I can't!"

You shake your head.

"It's over Dazai."

—

It's been a month since you left Dazai. You haven't dated for long but he's the kind of person that's hard to forget. The little time you spent together left a huge impression on you. Everything felt... oppressive, unfulfilling without him.

Coming back home from work with nothing to look forward to- boring white walls stare back at you. The quietude was ear-piercing. When he was here, the air was filled with laughter and Dazais ominous jokes. They always made you laugh even though they weren't funny. Only the noise of the air conditioning, working tirelessly, was present.

The scent of his cologne had long since faded away. He took back all the clothes he'd left over the weeks. When he was over at your apartment, he'd always start making coffee. But the aroma of those stupid beans made you feel sick now. The taste had turned bitter- and not in the acidic way that was characteristic of the scalding hot golden drink. Within the first week of your break up, you were forced to throw away your coffee machine. In the second week you could barely even handle your job at the cafe anymore.

Working at the cafe is a bleak affair. The coffee shop has too many memories. Coffee in general has too many memories. It was still as peaceful as ever in the shop, but you found yourself rushing through your work- trying to get the customers out as fast as possible. You didn't want them to stare. You didn't want them to see the tears forming in your eyes, or the tremors wracking your body.

Dazai never failed to be the first one in the cafe, even before it opens. Not a single morning would pass without him there. How he gets in you'll never know. The door is still locked and it doesn't seem like he broke anything to get in. You set up for the day, not sparing him another glance. He doesn't speak anyways.

You quickly make him a coffee.

"Thanks."

You don't respond, turning away and cleaning up. Soon, customers will start pouring in. Dazai will be gone by then.

"I miss you."

Your chest tightens and your eyes start to sting. It never seems to get easier.

"Please leave, Dazai."

"No. You need to hear this. I can't sleep. I can't eat. I cant concentrate on my work. Please... You don't have to be upset at me, just imagine I'm someone else, it's fine!"

Why did he have to be so difficult to be with? Part of you wanted to just give in. To feel him close to you. But you couldn't forgive him for something like this so easily.

"Dazai... don't make this harder than it has to be... please..."

When you glance up at him, you notice the small teardrops clinging to his eyelashes. It's a pathetic display of vulnerability- something he would never allow himself to do in front of anyone else. He sees you viewing his pitiful state, hurriedly turning away, hiding his face from sight. It's odd that a man who has been begging you every day to get back together with him, begging you to believe that he'll change, still refuses to be open with you.

"I have to go."

Before you can protest, he's gone. He, of course, leaves an absurdly large tip.

The rest of your shift isn't much better. You were already having an awful day, full of overthinking and longing- but angry business men in a rush to get to their office jobs also had to add onto the pressure. Hopefully they don't notice that you spit in their coffee.

At the end of a long eight hours, your coworker eventually comes to relieve you. As they take over, you clock out and start your journey home. Interestingly, nothing had changed since Dazai and you broke up. The people in public still avoided your gaze, and you altogether.By this point it was obvious they only did that because of your ex-boyfriend. But is it really still necessary? You're not together anymore.

Atsushi's gaze is piercing. He's likely been watching you all day, even when Dazai was with you. His footsteps behind you grew heavier and heavier. He must be tired. A wave of remorse hits you like a tsunami. Your chest throbs painfully for him. You should probably make it up to him- it can't be easy working for Dazai.

Without a second thought you turn around, ready to offer Atsushi a bottle of water at the very least. But what you’re met with isn't the familiar face and uneven bangs of Atsushi. Instead, it's a tall man, completely dressed in black pants and a black hoodie, face shrouded in darkness. Your heart stops. Cautiously, you step back. It's like you're drowning and unable to breathe- water impeding your ability to scream and call for help. What?? Who is this? Where's Atsushi?

"W-who are you?"

The dryness in your mouth and throat make it hard to form proper words. Instead of responding, the man springs forward, arms reaching out to grab you. Instinctively, you try to run, but your legs feel heavy. They won't move no matter how much you try. Strong hands restrain your movements and pull you against him. His nails dig into your waist and arm, making you cry out in pain.

In a frenzy, you try anything you can to at least run- kicking and screaming. With everyone on the street avoiding you, there's no one noticing what's happening. They're all gone. It's just you and the strange man. It's an impossible feat. He's bigger, stronger, taller. Without delay, he holds up an old white rag to your nose and mouth. The last thing your mind recognizes before your vision goes black, is the syrupy scent practically gushing from the cloth.

—

Your eyes flutter open, vision hazy, head inflamed. Your body is completely covered in a cold sweat and begging at you to go back to sleep. Metal chains hinder your ability to move. The solid wood bars of the chair dig into you cruelly. Adjusting your posture only makes the wrists tied behind you pull against your bonds more- you are sure your bones are going to break.

It's impossible to escape. Everything around you is dark, you couldn't see your hand waving in front of your own face if it was free. A constant ear splitting vibration resonates in your head. Where are you? What's going on?

"Ahh... you're finally awake."

A deep voice speaks up from behind, startling you. A fist clamps onto your hair, pulling back brutally. Your scalp was burning.

"Ahh! That hurts!"

The man chuckles, letting go of your hair and putting his large hands on your shoulders.

"Now... Since you're awake, we can get started."

You can hear the sound of his heavy boots slamming against the floor, stopping in front of you. The gleam of his bright phone screen stings your eyes. His face is now visible to you- illuminated by the fluorescent light. He looks dirty. There's muck stuck in the crevices of his wrinkles. An unevenly shaven beard has left behind a green-hued 5 o'clock shadow over the lower half of his face and red inflamed ingrown hairs. A thick layer of oil covers his skin, sealing the filth and grime between his skin and itself.

It's like a bucket of cold water is poured over you. Your muscles seize, freezing, unable to move. But at the same time, your body is trembling- as if expecting something. Why are you here? Is he planning to... No. You shouldn't even think of that.

"Just sit there and look pretty for me okay?"

He raises his phone. The man is pointing the camera towards you, flash on, his grimey hand coming up to graze your chin. He doesn't even speak to you, instead he decides to address the camera recording.

"See what I got here?"

He tightens his clutch on your face.

"If you don't get me 300,000,000 yen by tomorrow at 6 pm, I'll make sure you never see them again... alive, at least."

The man lets go of your cheeks, alternatively opting to bring down his open palm on your face. A gasp emerges from your lungs. Your cheek stings and burns. The blood rushes to your face, overheating your skin. Your jaw clenches. A scorching heat travels down your body. Anger makes your blood boil. You couldn't do anything if you tried at this point. If you could just get out....

"Fuck you. I'll get out of here soon.. and I'm going to kill you."

He howls. As if it was just a silly joke.

"You really think you can do that huh?"

The man's face twists, like he just tasted something bitter. He knees you right in the stomach. You double over. Air rushes out of your lungs, they throb and heave- yearning for another breath. White spots dance in your vision. He ignores your cries of agony.

"You have until tomorrow. Osamu."

He spits out that name. The dirty man pulls your head back, recording the miserable look on your face for his camera before he shuts his phone off and slips it into his pocket again. The noise of his steps fades away. The hinges of the door creak and echo through the empty room. You once again are left in the shadows. Deserted.

So that's what this was about. That bandaged asshole. Resentment and outrage fills your entire being. If he had never gotten involved with you, this never would have happened. It's all his fault. You could never forgive him.

Time flows by slowly. The things you see, the things you hear, become hazy. A tide of seclusion rushes in, polluting the little cognizance you have. The edges of your memory blurr and muddy. All that is left is the bitter taste in your mouth. The ire towards that man. That man who could have avoided this if he just never came into the cafe.

Your head hangs low, unable to hold itself up from the weight. Wood chips invade the space under your nails as you scratch at the arms of the chair. They poke at your sensitive nail beds, drawing out small droplets of blood. Saliva could no longer soothe the cracking of your dry lips. The taste of iron in your mouth was sickening. Every muscle in your body is sore.

In the distance, a faint buzz of excitement tears through the deafening silence. They must be thrilled. It's a lot of money to squeeze out of the boss of the port mafia. It must have taken a lot of planning. The noise becomes stronger and louder. As you pick your head up, your ears can discern the muffled sounds of screaming. There's loud banging against metal, creating a sort of disorienting wobbly noise. You flinch as there's an intense explosion, followed by gunshots. Your entire being vibrates with the force of the blast.

After a few minutes, the thundering clamor vanishes, leaving behind an eerie tranquility. Is everyone gone? Did they leave you here alone? To starve? Eyes darting around the room, you try to find anything you could use to break out, but the room you were currently held captive in is too dim. You're practically stuck in a black hole- consuming everything around it, all light and sound, letting nothing evade its unforgiving clasp.

Heavy steel chains clatter noisily. Your head whips around to look towards the source of the sound. A piercing ring and clash resonates through the room. Soft leather crashes against the concrete floor before stopping right in front of you. Freezing, slender fingers brush against your jaw. It's... familiar. You could recognize that bandaged hand anywhere.

"D-Dazai...?"

Searing hot agony spreads down your throat. You could barely recognize your own voice. They had given you no food, no water, no mercy. A deep voice hums softly.

"Yes.. It's me, I came for you."

Fury and panic stop you in your place. Your heart feels like it's jumped into your throat. He's here. His nimble fingers are undoing your restraints, he's helping- but you can't help wanting him to get as far away from you as possible. He's the reason you're here to begin with. Unfortunately, your body won't let you fight back. Uncontrollable shocks attack your nerves- your skin feels raw and delicate, on the verge of splitting.

"Get a-away from me.. I-I can handle myself."

"Shhhh."

Boney hands reach out for you. He gently reaches out for you, lifting you up with no problem, and pressing your chest against his.

"Relax... you're okay now."

The hardness of his body isn't even uncomfortable. It's... calming. You don't even realize when your eyes slowly flutter shut, shutting out the world, cascading into a tranquil slumber.

—

Only aching pains and drowsiness registers in your mind. The sun is too bright in your eyes, and it's far too cold in this room. Actually... where are you even? You whip your head around, puzzled. There's red silk curtains draping down the floor-to-ceiling windows, and lavish persian rugs. Everything was luxuriously decorated in reds and black- only the highest quality fabrics and furnishing were allowed.

You rip off the fluffy warm sheets. Freezing cold air rushes towards you, attacking your body and etching goosebumps onto your skin. The sensation of spines pricking at the soles of your feet when you step onto black tiles is agonizing. Your legs tremble with effort- carrying you out of the lush bedroom and into the large, just as extravagant living room. Dazai lives like a king.

Dazai is sitting silently on the couch. He's leaning forward with his hands clasped under his chin. As soon as the door opens, his head whirls around.

"You're awake."

He stands, running over to you and helping you over to the sofa.

"Are you okay? Does anything hurt?"

The bandaged man tries to sit next to you, invading your personal space. but you scoot further down.

"I'm fine. I don't need your help."

The hopeful look in his eye dims.

"Honey-"

"Don't call me that. You lost the privilege to call me that the moment you lied to me."

An anguished, guttural noise spills out of his lips.

"Look... I'm sorry, I shouldn't have lied, but I saved you didnt i? I care about you. I didn't mean for you to get involved like this. I have a lot of enemies and i know i shouldn't have kept things from you-"

"So you admit you were a horrible, deceptive boyfriend?"

His skin is flushed, hands shaking and fumbling- he's clearly frustrated. He scurries closer. A slim thigh presses against yours, his bandaged hands dart out to grasp yours. His touch is frigid, but somehow it makes a heated feeling develop in the pit of your stomach. You can't deny that you're still attracted to him.

"Yes. I know I was, but I love you... We don't even have to date anymore i just- "

He stumbles over his words. A breath catches in his throat.

"I just want you in my life."

Your brain is spinning. You don't know what to do or say.

"I need time to think-"

"That's fine."

Dazai answers immediately- far too eager.

"I'll wait however long I need to. For you."

The delighted expression on his face sends a pleased trickle down your vertebrae. You almost wanted to believe him. Your skin tingles where he's touching you. It's been much too long since you were this close.

Questions you had been pondering for your entire stay pop into your head again. He must know right?

"If you're truly sorry, prove it. The people who took me... Who were they? What happened to them?"

Surprise flashes in his eyes.

"You want to know about them? huh... Well, they were just a small-time gang. Nothing special. And we did with them what we do to all people who oppose us."

Your blood freezes.

"You killed them."

He nods. There's a hardness in his eyes- a deep, dark look. He clearly doesn't regret it.

"I had to... I can't let them get away with something like that, especially not if it's you."

Despite the heavy sensation in your stomach, you're glad. It's horrible, it makes a guilty feeling settle into your bones. You shouldn't be glad someones dead. But what they did was heinous. It's a relief to know they can ever do that again. That Dazai crushed them with all the power of the Port Mafia behind him.

The organization was a hurricane, destroying everything in its path that dared to challenge it. Nothing would be left if they could help it. Everything would bend to their will, whether they want to or not. Everyone in Yokohama knew about it. How that tiny gang figured they could get the boss to fold, was beyond you.

"Are you upset about it? It's not the most savory method... I know you don't like unnecessary violence, but to me it was crucial."

You nod.

"I get it. To be honest, I'm glad."

His lips curl up into a creepy grin. He's clearly not used to smiling but it looks... cute. Unnatural, but cute. You can't help but smile back.

"What about Atsushi? He's not in trouble is he?"

Dazai chuckles.

"No he's not. The only reason he wasnt there is because I called him into my office. Any other time, he would have fought those guys off himself."

"Good. I feel bad for the kid. He has to deal with you."

"Hey! I'm a pretty easy going boss!"

You roll your eyes, waving him off.

"Whatever you say."

His skin is brighter. It doesn't seem to have that dull, gray tone any more. The gauze that used to cover even his fingers, has receded back down to his wrists. Redness paints the fragile skin of his pale knuckles. He stands up, putting his hands on his hips.

"Did you want something to eat? Drink? You must be tired."

"Some coffee is fine. I feel like I'm going to collapse from exhaustion."

He races to the kitchen, like his life depends on it- way too excited for something like making coffee. Never in your career as a barista had you been that excited to serve customers. Within a few minutes, he's back. A cafe latte stares back at you when it's placed on the table. Your favorite, and he knew it. You beam at him.

"Thank you."

"Anything for you."

He's always too greedy for any sort of affection. Too eager to please. Dazai was almost like a child sometimes. A child that had never felt the warm embrace of a lover. Who would forever yearn for more. To pine for someone, anyone to keep him company. It was obvious from the moment he begged you to stay with him just a month ago. It almost made you feel.. pity for him.

A part of you still loved him. He's not easy to forget. Does he even have any friends? Your thoughts are swirling. It's dizzying. You don't know what to do. Maybe it would be best to try again...

Bringing the mug up to your lips, you take a sip. Your tongue burns from the freshly made coffee. It's pleasant.

"Do you like it?"

"Yeah, it's smoother, not so sour. It's way better than last time. Did you practice?"

He nods enthusiastically.

"I wanted to win you over... so I was practicing a lot while we were apart."

That makes you stop in your tracks. It's so sweet but so disheartening to hear. Was all he did the past month simply working towards the goal of getting you back?

"Really?"

"Yes. I was serious. I can't live without you."

You sigh, putting the mug back down.

"Dazai... You can't just revolve your entire life around me. It's not healthy."

He sits right next to you. Personal space is a foreign concept in Dazais mind- he does what he wants, and what he wants now is to drape himself over you, to feel your body against his.

"I know. I can't help it. You're everything to me. I've ever met anyone like you."

"You really feel that way?"

"Yes. Absolutely."

He was crazy. He was definitely completely insane. But he looked so angelic. It shouldn't be possible. If anything, he would be a demon. Something evil that can only be found in the deepest pits of hell. But here, where he's being so genuine and honest for the first time, he's heaven sent.

Without noticing, your face starts leaning closer to his. What would his lips feel like on yours? Would it be the same as last time? You can't turn away from him- your eyes are locked on his moistened lips. Dazai was the same. His eyes darted down, longing for you. a gasp catches in your throat. Anticipation fills your whole body. Time seems to stop. His breath brushes over your skin.

He closes the distance. It's as if he's consuming your entire being. Taking you all for himself. It's difficult to not get completely swept up in him. You thrust yourself against him, deepening the kiss. He responds positively, hands tangling in your hair, practically trying to possess you- mind and body.

When you pull away, craving fresh air, Dazai pulls your right back in. He's greedy. Selfish. He can't stand to go on another second without you by his side. After a minute of him trying to kill you by asphyxiation, Dazai finally manages to feel satiated enough to tear himself from you. Your lungs are on fire, begging for air. He isn't much better- if the heavy breathing and flushed skin is anything to go by.

"So... you'll stay...?"

His inflection is higher than usual, hopeful of what's to come.

"Sure… I'll stay."

[hollewdz]

Quinn and Jaz - Ch 1

word count: ~2.1k

_______________________

Quinn sometimes wondered if she was cursed. 

Not with a big, life-altering curse; she didn’t believe she was important enough for one of those. She wondered if someone, somewhere, decided she was worth fucking with, and decided, every day, to do little things to make her life just that much harder. Right now, she was wondering if this mystery-being decided to make her bus late. 

Pacing a circle into the snow at the bus stop, a flash of ice bit at Quinn’s heel. Looking down, she saw a pathetic old winter boot, ripped at the seam and gulping in muddy ice slush.

“Because the bus being late just wasn’t fun enough, huh?” she griped, trying and failing to shake the ice from her boot. She hated this. Hated these long, exhausting days of classes and overtime shifts, which would have been bearable, if the damn bus was even half as efficient as she was.

A long, forced sigh shot into the air in a dramatic cloud. Instead of standing around for 20 minutes in the cold for a slimy bus, she could walk for 15 minutes back to her apartment. It would suck, but at least she could choose the suckiness she had to deal with. Briskly trudging her way through the slush and muck on the cracked sidewalks home, chunky snowflakes began drifting through the air around her. Quinn wanted to cry, but refused to permit herself the catharsis. She’d been through so much worse; and heavy college textbooks, a long shift at Shelly’s, a late bus, a broken shoe and walking in the snow was nothing compared to that. 

This isn’t for forever, Quinn’s calming mantra surfaced in her mind. It’s not even for the next 20 minutes. Get home and you can take a steaming hot shower and have some soup.

Slowing to a stop at a crosswalk, Quinn nearly tripped on a wet heap of something piled right next to the crosswalk button. What the hell? After mashing the button a few times, she used her good boot to shove some of the snow away. A pile of soaking wet clothes, some sneakers and an expensive-looking bag stared back glumly at her.

Who would strip in this weather? Crouching down to balance sitting on her ankles, she unzipped the bag and rummaged through it. Tugging out a heavy metal clip wallet, tapped out the cards to see that this bag -and presumably outfit- belonged to…

“...Jasper Ross” she breathed absent-mindedly. Why does that sound familiar? Quinn was hardly a socialite, and she only knew the names of the people she had to deal with for projects and such. There was a sudden stirring from the pile of clothes. With a yelp reminiscent of a scared chihuahua, Quinn splashed clumsily from her half-perch-half-crouch into a slush of muddy ice. Oh God, a rat?? Not even caring that her backside was now soaking wet, Quinn tried and failed to push herself away from the nest of laundry, her old worn boots refusing to grip the ice. Then, she heard the most peculiar noise that gave her pause- an almost unhearable, muffled shout came from within the pile of clothes. “What the fuck?! Where am I?” 

Quinn’s eyes grew wide as she saw a… a… tiny guy.  There was a tiny guy, emerging from the pile in front of her. Frozen in place, Quinn couldn’t tear her eyes away, she needed to download every bit of information about this new phenomena in front of her. 

He looked proportionate, and fit. Even, golden-brown skin with a mop of dark brown hair. He seemed to be assessing his surroundings, hands exploring the fabric around him. He could have been muttering something, too, but Quinn wasn’t close enough to hear. Miniscule eyes finally swiveled towards Quinn, and for a moment Quinn thought he looked quite a lot like an action figure with how still he went. His face slowly traced from her boots to finally meet her bewildered gaze. 

A long silence yawned between the two- Quinn had no idea how to approach this situation. Usually she’d blame her awkward personality, but she figured most people would be struggling for words right about now. Thankfully, she didn’t need to worry about what to say.

 “Oh hell no,” the man said with an exasperated groan. He began to rub his eyes vigorously. Quinn blinked. “Excuse me?” “Hey, lady, um, I think my vision is fucked. You look absolutely massive,” the man stated plainly. He righted himself and offered another comment, “And not in, like, a fat way. It’s like, a sky-scraper, ‘massive’ way. You think you could call an ambulance for me? That bitch from last night probably drugged me.” She ignored anything that could have been implied. Quinn’s throat had gone dry from the cold, but she managed to force out a response.

“Your vision has nothing to do with it. You’re, like, a borrower, dude,” Quinn half laughed. She had no clue how to react to this. The laughter built into a chuckle, then a full-blown fit. “W-what the fuck!” She managed to say between laughs of disbelief. She slapped her gloved hands firmly clasped over her mouth, failing to quell her convulsive laughter. She felt a heat begin to rise in her face, and darted her eyes along the street, head on a swivel. Thank god there’s no people around. “Lady, you’re a total psycho,” the diminutive man offered, going back to scrubbing his eyes.

A lazy snowflake slowly drifted down and planted atop the man’s head. Quinn steadied her breathing, watching him reach up and break a bit of the snowflake off in a crystal shard and then melt in his doll-sized hand. 

“Hm.” He started shivering then, enough for Quinn to notice. In fact, her own jeans had been soaking in ice-water since she slipped, and it was becoming very clear she needed to take control of the situation before things got worse. 

Drawing in a deep breath and loosing a cloud of fog into the chilled air, Quinn composed herself as well as she could manage. Chill out, he’s just…some guy. A very, very small guy, but still, she thought. She closed her eyes and breathed, then looked back to the doll-sized man. “Are you Jasper Ross?” she asked, holding up his wallet and sliding out his ID for him to see.

“First of all, looking through other peoples’ things is pretty invasive- but yes, that’s me. Secondly,” he pointed at her, “no one calls me ‘Jasper’. Ew. It’s Jaz.” He ran his hands over the folded cloth in front of him to dry his hands, and started rubbing his arms sharply. “Seriously, it’s too fucking cold out.” 

Quinn started feeling a bit bad for Jasper- or, Jaz, despite him being all sorts of rude. He was the size of a hamster, of course the cold would be biting at him hard. “Do you have any place I could take you to-”

“No,” Jaz shot, slumping into a grumble. “No I don’t.”

“For real?” Quinn furrowed her brow. “I would offer to take you to, like, the police, but I don’t think you’d like it there, either.”

“So you’re abducting me?”

“I’ll take you to the police station if you want.”

Jaz thought for a moment. “Yeah, I’d rather not be a lab rat. Do you have a place?”

“Wuh- me?” Quinn sat back again, but this time in shock at how forward he was being. A gust of icy wind made her shudder, and the cold concrete was making her legs go numb. “I-I mean, I do have a place, but-”

“Perfect, take me there.”

“I’m not ready for, uh, company-”

“Lady, I’m about to freeze to death, that doesn’t matter.” 

Quinn pursed her lips, holding her breath. He does look like he’s in the early stages of popsicle… And, realistically, what’s the worst that can happen? Pinching the crease between her brows and sighing, she shifted and replaced the wallet in the bookbag. “Fine. Just let me plan out how to carry everything, alright?”

“Roger that, Goliath,” Jaz shot back, gathering fabric to cloak himself, making him look even smaller than before. “What is your name, anyway, lady?”

Quinn was unamused by Jaz’s nickname. “What a skill, you guessed it right on the very first try. People usually say I look more like a Gulliver, though.” She finished packing up Jaz’s bag and swung it over her vacant shoulder. How should I tackle the clothes?

“I think you look like a perfect Goliath. Same stature, and all,” Jaz quipped. 

“Quinn. Is my, uh, name,” she offered lamely, rolling her eyes. “So. I assume you’re naked. And you’re standing in the middle of the clothes. I dunno what to do, champ.”

“You can’t just grab everything all at once?” 

She gave a huff, “All of that shit is like 20 pounds, it’s soaked. Maybe I can shove it in your bag? I don’t want to ruin anything-”

“Just do that, then, I can get a new bag.” 

Quinn’s eyes went wide at how wasteful of a thought that was, even if he could have been joking. She was slightly angry on behalf of the bag. “Whatever, it’s your shit. You want to go in the bag too?”

“You literally just said it’s freezing and soaked.”

“Well then I guess you’re walking,” Quinn huffed, growing tired of his less-than-pleasant attitude.

“Can’t you just…” Jaz trailed off, eyeing her gloved hands. He lingered there, and… gulped? Quinn couldn’t really tell. “What if you let me have your glove?”

“You’re naked.” 

“And freezing.”

Quinn looked down at her left hand for a long, disgusted moment. The gloves were the only things she had that were actually high quality- a gift from her younger brother. Her eyes scrunched tight at the thought of them being treated the same way this guy treated his bag. She summoned her courage, “You have to be clean. If you get them dirty you own me new ones.”

“God, is that not obvious? Anyway hurry it up, this isn’t funny anymore. It’s getting actually painful to be this cold.”

Quinn was surprised by how quickly he offered to pay for the gloves, and would have been suspicious he was lying if not for how disinterested he seemed by it. She pushed a finger under the cuff of her left glove, got it halfway up her hand, then pinched and tugged the glove off from her middle finger. She quickly went to lay it down next to Jaz, but stuttered when she saw how her hands truly dwarfed him. 

Quinn had never felt big, compared to anything before. Even though she was taller than average, her nature was to minimize herself; withdraw until no one could tell she took up any space at all. So much of her life was dedicated to remaining unseen, that she might have convinced herself that she didn’t even exist. 

Maybe that was why she grew queasy at seeing the truly baffling difference in size between them, why she felt more than ever that she had to shrink smaller than this finger-sized man before her. She basically lost sight of him behind her hand, as if there wasn’t a tiny person in the heap of clothing at all. 

She ripped her hands back from the glove as if it had burned her, “Whatever, don’t worry about the glove. Just get in and yell when you’re good to go.” She slouched and waited for him to call out, shrugging his bag back to the ground and unzipping it. She heard a muffled Okay let’s get a move on, and she pinched the opening of the glove to hover it above the clothes, then used her free hand to quickly and clumsily shove the sopping outfit into his really nice bag. 

She was able to ignore that queasy feeling with Jaz out of sight, thankfully. She tried to be as careful as she could standing up, figuring the best way to keep her gloves clean was to give Jaz a steady ride so he wouldn’t blow chunks, and she slipped the glove gingerly into one of her winter coat’s inner pockets. Still, the thought of Jaz spilling his guts didn’t stop her from basically jogging home- the promise of soup had never been so desirable.

__________ Chapter 2

This drawing is from like, 2020 and is definitely more of a concept image than 100% accurate X] I'll have to redraw it! I've actually been sitting on this story for so long, and I've gone back and forth about whether or not I wanted to do a comic or not, I just decided "fuck it write the damn thing and go from there" so here we are! :3

[rottenpumpkin13]

Sephiroth: quiet midnights, gleaming steel, faint incense smoke, the scrape of a whetstone, books lined perfectly on a bookshelf, cold rain against bare skin, polished black leather, bitter ginger tea at dawn, weighted blankets in winter, sharp ice crystals, scratched classical CDs, weathered angel statues with missing wings, sharpened pencils in neat rows, morning fog over empty streets, delicate frost patterns on windowpanes, steel-gray skies before snow, silent films in empty theaters, cat footprints on documents, mathematical equations, unopened mail, clean sword oil, abandoned chess pieces, mint tea leaves.

Genesis: spilled red wine on white papers, chipped maroon nail polish on piano keys, gold bangles clinking against wine glasses, vintage vinyl at dusk, steaming mulled cider with cinnamon sticks, smudged eyeliner after theater rehearsals, leather-bound books with gilded edges, dark chocolate with sea salt breaking under his teeth, dog-eared poetry collections, playing cards scattered across silk sheets, cherry candy staining his tongue red, cologne bottles on antique vanities, melted red candle wax on love letters, fresh ink bleeding through parchment, caramelized apple pie, packed jazz bars at 2am, velvet curtains, stage makeup, worn dance shoes, red leather gloves, theater tickets.

Angeal: petrichor on summer mornings, fresh ground coffee beans, sunrise training sessions, polaroid cameras with worn straps, mismatched lucky keychains, pencil sketches in margins, old photos in cracked leather wallets, soup simmering on stovetops, buzzing radio stations between cities, dappled sunlight through garden leaves, evening cicada songs, autumn leaves crushed underfoot, soft worn flannel shirts, pressed flowers, acoustic guitars, wrinkled maps with coffee stains, soil under fingernails, homemade bread, herb gardens, worn pottery, recipe books, wooden spoons, patched jeans, morning dew, pocket knives.

AGS: loud laughter, discarded pizza boxes, arguments dissolving into jokes, snorted milk, tangled legs under a blanket, whispers in a packed room, empty mugs littered around a table, quiet yawns, bitten apples, ring tones, a half-finished puzzle scattered across the floor, a messy kitchen, heads on each other's shoulders, rock-paper-scissors, scattered dice, sour candy, bumping elbows, the glow of a tv screen, borrowed hoodies, stolen phone chargers, dirty dishes, arms around shoulders, inside jokes.