#these two made me cry way too much im a loser

[okkotsuus]

selfish saturdays (ryusei s.) !

features: ryusei s.

contents: fluff. shidou is himself. friends to lovers. mutual pining. shidou kind of hoards the reader. shidou threatens someone. shidou half fights someone. shidou is a lil cray cray quirky. highschool au (no blue lock). mature joke (just one). strong language. kissing. kind of making out. lowk suggestive but only a bit. 1.5k words.

@tim-shii this is reason to come to the dark side

saturdays are your favorite day of the week. one, because you don’t have school. two, because it’s the one day you can stay up without having school earlier in the day or the next day. three, because it’s the one day of the week that shidou doesn’t have practice or has to worry about practice.

truthfully, if you asked, shidou would skip practice on your whim. that was just how much he loved you. but you would never let him miss out on his livelihood on your behalf. to shidou, soccer was life. but you were what made life worth living. knowing that he can come to your house drenched in sweat and you’ll still welcome him into your warm embrace, that was what made him play harder.

shidou is selfish, he had been for his entire life. you knew this when you first met him, hiding behind your mother's leg while she talked to his own mother. the moment he laid eyes on you, you were his. he dragged you kicking and screaming from your mother and forced you to play soccer with him, he was literally five and he had you on the tightest leash known to man.

if anything, it was really you who had him wrapped around your finger. because shidou is selfish, selfish for you and soccer. wherever you wanted to go, he took you. whatever you wanted, he got you. whoever you wanted… nah, that was one spot he was especially selfish in.

anyone who got too close to you that he saw as a potential threat, he would actually growl at until they left. being so serious, he audibly growled at a random kid that looked your way on the playground once. shidou ryusei has been a cockblock since five, and he doesn’t plan on stopping anytime soon. 

when you first liked someone, the first person you told was shidou. you came to him with this sparkly look in your eyes that had him sick to his stomach.

“shidou! i like sato from class five, he told me that ’m sweet!” shidou just about stormed off to go rip the guy a new one, but you were so happy. he’s selfish, but if he did that you would never speak to him again.

“get ‘im! you ask him out tomorrow if you like him s’much~” he relished in the flustered expression that you had before you hid your face, he selfishly wishes it was for him instead.

the second you go home, he tells you to go on without him because he needs to talk to his coach. you think nothing of it and walk off, happily humming some love song he listened to while thinking of you. but you weren’t humming it for him.

his fist dents the locker next to a cowering boy’s head, sato from class six. he’s crying with snot dripping out of his nose and shidou just wishes there was a way you could see this, maybe then you wouldn’t like this loser. maybe then you’d like him instead.

“stay the fuck away from y/n, or you’ll end up like this damn locker. got it?” shidou’s leering form feels demonic as his eyes almost glow in unbridled fury. the boy can do nothing but nod and quiver. 

shidou stalks off with his hands in his pockets, going to your home to spend the time he wasted here with you.

the next day you run to shidou sobbing, blabbering, and whimpering incoherently. he already knows what happened, and seeing you like this leaves a twang in his heart that almost makes him regret it. almost.

he takes you into his arms like the hero, shushing you and cooing at you so sweetly. thankfully your face was buried so deeply into his shoulder, lest you see the smug smirk and prominent flush on his cheeks. across the room, sato stands and glares at shidou, but when those blond-lash-laden eyes flicker over to him: he’s gone, like a leaf in the wind.

ever since you have been single. you had lots of friends, and people tended to flock to you due to your kind and selfless nature. they remain only friends because once they meet shidou, they desire to stay at arms-length. and staying arms-length from him meant staying that much from you as well.

but that was the second year of middle school, now both of you are third-years. shidou sits comfortably on your bed as if it were his own. in a way, he felt it was. for one, he’s known you for about thirteen years, and he’s been lazing in your bed for ten of them. two, you were his: so by extension, your bed was also his.

the year was reaching an end, the school year would be wrapped up in the next month and a dull sense of panic was beginning to set upon the blond and pink-haired boy. his entire life has been spent by your side, he has loved you for around six years, but in just a month that could all slip away if he doesn’t finally do something about it.

shidou is selfish. he doesn’t care about the shock in your eyes when he leans over close enough that his nose brushes against yours. he doesn’t care that your heart is beating so loudly that he can hear it. he doesn’t care about the pink tongue that darts out to wet your lips with a glistening sheen of spit. all he cares about is what he wants.

and what he wants is you.

his calloused palm hooks around the back of your neck while his other uses his weight to push you onto your back. your head bounces against the pillows as he just stares down at you. in your eyes is that sparkly look he so vehemently wished would look at him all those years ago. and now, like a prayer being answered, the glimmering gaze rests upon him and solely him.

you can’t hear anything but the rapid beat of your heart, all you can feel is his breath fanning against your lips. his hands leave searing touches in their wake as they move to rest on your hip and cheek respectively.

you’ve loved shidou ryusei since he dragged you out from your comfortable hiding spot behind your mother. for the longest time, you didn’t know it. he was your first and just about only friend, so the fluttery feeling was what you assumed to be friendship. but in the last three years, you’ve befriended many; none of them gave you that sensation.

the dots connected immediately after. in a selfless haze, you didn’t make a single move, lest you act in a way that pushes the one thing that mattered in your life away. but, maybe you could allow yourself to be selfish just this once.

selfishly, you hook your arms around his neck and drag him down onto your lips. you swallow the shocked grunt that comes from him. shidou recovered quickly as if he had just been given a loose ball, he would make that play become his own and devour anything in his way.

his hand squeezes against your hip as he drags his lips against yours, taking you in on all that you are. he selfishly takes everything you give him, every sound, every motion. he takes all you are and then demands more out of you. he needs more, he needs everything you are.

shidou also happens to need air. 

he surfaces in a panting rasp, pink eyes hazy as he looks down at you. his tongue lolls out of his spit-covered lips while he takes in the look on your face.

your lips shine in their own spit-covering, like the best lip gloss he could ever buy. your chest rises and falls unevenly as you heavily intake and output air. but best of all, your eyes. they are shinier than any star or explosion he could ever imagine, and your pupils are so dilated he swears he can see himself in them.

a rumbling chuckle rises from the depths of his chest, his own face is incredibly flustered in his own way. his eyes are curled and foggy while his cheeks are painted the same shade of pink as the strands that fall messily in his face.

shidou ryusei is selfish. but so are you.

you’re selfish in the way that you drag him back down to meet him again. and you’re selfish in the way that you want his heart to be all yours, now and forever.

okkotsuus 23

[worlds-worst-ships]

This will be the last time I explain this.

Hooo boy, am I glad I set my expectations low, because this is really starting to blow my mind. So I'm gonna need you to put down your bubble tea, take your hand off your dick, and pay VERY careful attention.

Its come to my attention that some of you are only SORTA reading my pinned, so you'll probably find this post linked right at the top of it. Turns out most of you skip the last two paragraphs, so I'm gonna repeat what I said there for I believe the tenth time right here, in big bold colourful letters with jingling keys so you get it.

I am the most out of touch person in the world. I didn't grow up online like you did. I didn't start actively using social media until I was about 16-17. I barely watched TV shows. I know NOTHING about most of the characters I post, as such, I DON'T CARE IF ANYTHING ABOUT MY POSTS BOTHERS YOU.

Well, I'm glad you asked, loser. Lemme put it this way...

I talk to a lot of people on this account, and soooometimes they feel a little uncomfortable with certain topics being made the subject of the discussion on my posts. Maybe because of past trauma, or perhaps they just don't like it. I'll give an example...

Ten seconds later...

Face it, guys. You're defending fictional teenagers to a guy who neither knows or cares about the ages, religions, sexualities or anything about the characters he posts. I grew up climbing trees, building forts, messing around in quicksand and playing single player video games. And in the process, you're making my other followers, particularly some of the younger ones, feel very uncomfortable.

So I'm not doing this for me, I'm doing this for them.

Not to mention... they don't even exist. They're drawings. They're not real. Sorry if that hurts to read, but again, I grew up very differently to you. I have an absolutely huge disconnect between cartoons, movies and reality. They're completely seperate for me.

"BuT wHy dOnT yOu rEsEaRcH-" SHUT UP. I'M NOT DOING THIS TO DO HOMEWORK. I FINISHED HIGH SCHOOL AGES AGO.

Oh yeah, and before I get people crying in the comments, "WAaAaAaAh, yOu'Re dEfEnDiNg iT, iM gOiNg tO tElL On YoU"...

No. You're not. Because lets face it, if you genuinely believed it was wrong, you wouldn't be reblogging it to all of your followers too, multiple times. Because deep down, you know they're not fucking real, and that I have no clue about half the stuff I post because I don't revolve my life around it.

I'm not asking you to like everything I post. All I'm asking is that you keep your weird shit to yourself. It makes people uncomfortable. And if it really bothers you that much, find the block button and fuck straight off 🖕

[pipperoo]

just finished the brick satellite and wow wow wow wow wow wow wow wow wow!!!!!!

i’m putting some of my thoughts below the cut

first of all, it was so lovely !!! i don’t know what i was expecting but i really didn’t think it would be an actual satellite made out of bricks. i was very wrong

all the dynamics were so sweet, i didn’t expect to like john and rose as much as i did, but they are such little nerds together. anna was so cool and i really liked how the satellite was being built because of how she lost her father. they just wanted to help people. she’s also so real for wanting to stay in the satellite

i hate charles, who does this guy think he is?? literally stirring up trouble for like no good reason. what are you doing hiring mercenaries bro?? he’s a loser and i was ecstatic when rose brought out her printing press plate again!! i really hope she has a chance to use it again

margaret still has my entire heart, i love her so much!! i can’t wait to get more of her lore, im obsessed with her!! like how is she connected to moon, what even is her magic stuff? i’m so excited to learn! and her forgiving the stratfords and realizing that she has a family through her new friends made me cry. she deserves everything

like all of the songs left me in awe especially, babel, john and the earth, and a world of our own! so many of them made me tear up

i’m so compelled by the ending and everything involving sia (i already know she’s the traveler). what does it all mean??? and sia, why did you send them 30 years into the future?? what happened girlie!

anyway, i can’t wait to listen to the other two, but with each new thing i learn, i grow more scared of the searcher in the shadows (i love samuel too much man, the stratford twins are everything)

(also i’m very happy to be getting into pulp musicals, i’ve been wanting to listen for awhile but didn’t have the time until now. i did find it very funny that most of the reblog on my last post were variants of “one of us!” and i’m thrilled to be one of you guys now!! it really is way too underrated, i’ve been loving it so much!!)

[we-are-maladaptive]

Hey! I was wondering if you could do a nsfw fic for Tokoyami? He's my favorite character and he's lacking in content, especially nsfw. So I was hoping to get something like super soft and slow with him? I hc that he likes wax play so if you could also do something like that that'd be great, your work is great I'm currently binge reading some of them before bed lol

you do NOT have to tell me twice! also ty im very flattered you like my work -///- REQUESTS ARE OPEN.Feel free to send me an ask and I’ll write it for you! Remeber to check the rules first.

Fumikage Tokoyami x Reader

contents: nsfw, waxplay, tooth rotting romantic stuff

“A daisy blooming in a desert is worth more than a rose blooming in a rainforest." That was a good way to describe Tokoyami. Throughout highschool he stuck to himself, watching his classmates socialize with each other, laughing when they could be kids, and fighting when they had to be heroes, just finding themselves, blooming. Tokoyami preferred to stay to himself mostly, he’d talk with his classmates back when they were in highschool together, as he too wanted to be a hero, but unlike his classmates, there was something missing. A problem inside him that needed to be solved, a longing for something, but he didn’t know what he was longing for. Whether it be Bakugo calming his temperament, Todoroki helping to heal his broken family, or Midoriya, which I can’t even begin to explain. All of them had identified their own issues, and were fixing each one so that they could prosper. So from afar, he watched his classmates solve their own problems, while he hopelessly was trying to solve his own, trying to bloom. It’s not like Tokoyami was some type of loser or anything, he’d landed himself a high position in #2 Pro Hero Hawks’ headquarters. Sometimes he’d even cover for the winged hero when Hawks was too weak to patrol normally, as he’d never been the same since the incident about 7 years ago.

Tokoyami didn’t really appreciate the sun, as it got in the way of his job. At least he didn’t sweat as much, the black cloak of his trapping in the heat. The day seemed normal enough, civilians pacing around, some of them being familiar faces. The only thing he couldn’t be pouty about though, was the atmosphere. Summer was approaching, and what could go wrong with summer? Festivals, boardwalks, parties, everyone was free for a few months. Not him though, since he was past school and still had to work. To be frank, I think he hated summer. The everlasting sun doing nothing to help his profession. However, the sight of people skipping around and smiling, anticipating what this year’s summer has in store for them, was nice. A particular laugh however, was delightful to listen to. It sounded like music to his ears, light and genuine, a far contrast to the darkness that always clouded up his mind, practically piercing into his head. So he decided to cock his head at the person who had made such a beautiful sound, that was when he saw you. Laughing at the cat who had fallen off the table at the cafe you were currently at. The poor kitty had tried to get a bite out of the cheesecake you were eating, and was not very successful. The sun was shining directly at you, giving a glitter to your eyes and lighting up your skin, making it shine.

 He was grateful that the sun existed now, and he was grateful that he had found his problem.

Even though the sun shines on your skin whenever you two are together, he still prefers the nighttime, especially for this reason; intimacy.

He liked the expressions that you make, a little too much actually. Whether it be the little glitter in your eyes whenever he gives you something, or the little wobble in your bottom lip whenever you’re about to cry. Currently, he likes when the calm expression on your face starts to falter whenever you feel more wax drip down from your ribs, all the way down to your lower stomach. It was warm, very warm, and it tickled too. Too bad you weren’t really in a position to squirm, with your wrists being tied to the headboard.

It went on like that for a while, until he wanted to see more of you, how many expressions he could pull from your pretty face. So that’s exactly what he got.

He took in and savored everything he could get from you. The way your eyes softened when he curled his fingers right into the soft spot deep inside you. The sound of your voice, pleading with him to just let you cum, how could he refuse?

I think the thing he cherished the most though, was your souls intertwining with each other as he slowly thrusted into you. Nothing had to be done quick or rough, he had time. Your hands freed so you could pull his head down to kiss you, and your legs wrapped around his waist. If you had any focus before, it was gone. Everything is now a flurry of pleasure and emotion, for him too. However Tokoyami could feel something else, the thorns wrapped so tightly around his heart have been torn down, letting whatever was inside finally have enough room to grow. In his heart was a daisy, blooming in the desert, he was finally blooming.

Holding you close in the night when it was all over, watching the moon shine over you both in its divinity.

      The sun was nice, yes, but he still liked the night better, nothing could be better than this.

[crguang]

always love the violinist au lore drops, omg.

so...was their instructor elio? if so thats crazy. always imagined him playing a stringed instrument (like pulling strings, puppeteer-esque bc he's like manipulating the future idk) so i always pictured him playing like violin, or harp. but also maybe bass bc he's sort of setting everything up and he like tells the future, and his v basic instruction (bc lets be honest they're barely following the script, its v lenient) there just wouldnt be stellaron hunters, and usually basses keep everyone on beat, idk.

btw i've been meaning to ask, how does kafka know blade in this au? like very funny to me how the ppl she's closest to in canon are basically her coworkers 😭

also the angst, like damn. them not rlly knowing each other until they meet again, even tho kafka is literally haunted by their presence, omg. and their instructor being a piece of shit and kafka not rlly realizing until later...i can't. and r being insecure and guilty abt it all, im going to implode. and kafka practicing until her fingers bleed ik her fingers are callused af.

also r not being able to recognize that kafka likes them bc of their insecurities, and kafka wearing sunglasses to hide that bc she thinks its so obvious, I'm gonna die. ik they're so annoying whenever kfr hangs out w acheswan. and kafka inviting r to the opera saying "i have two tickets" like blade isnt right there if she rlly needed someone to go with, and she's rich probably and one ticket doesn't mean much, she's so obvious.

but honestly it'd be kind of embarrassing to admit that u like kafka, shes such a loser. could never imagine admitting to liking kafka like that.../s

my finals also didn't start out very well, but im finishing them up this week and then im free for a month. do think i will fail my last one tho. its like my worst subject and im a pretty bad test taker in the first place, but wtv, it'll totally be fine. I'm sure you'll do good tho

-🌠

oh my god i didnt even think that far but i love this a lot. elio playing a string instrument always felt right but the bass especially would be so good… violin and bass sounds right to me it’s added to the lore 😋

kafka and blade…. once again plugging this insane animation about them because while it wouldnt apply exactly to a modern au, this is the vibe they’ve always given me. like no he didnt try to kill himself in front of her but this sort of chance meeting where each of them goes “oh, this one knows emptiness.” is how i want them to find each other every time. to me, blade might be the person that understands kafka the most and his care for her makes me want to die. they obviously care a lot about each other, they’re the best friends ever for me. implicit understanding of how the other works, long comfortable silences, them going through life together… i cant stand kafblade as a ship but i cant even lie like i get it man. blade’s perception of destiny is full of pain bc he’s left to suffer through it while kafka strives to make it her own wow sorry they mean so much to me. im realizing i havent actually answered your question but thats because i havent thought about it too much hejdjfkg i want her to find him on the side of the road or something. but i believe the stellaron hunters understand kafka best that’s why they’re closest to her even if sometimes it’s not the influence she needs

https://youtu.be/EED6XGHX7DI?si=jE7KkuZtSosG0zbB

kafka with calloused hands is so important to me she’s always wearing gloves now but won’t really wear them when she’s playing the violin because it’s much more intimate that way. UGH r tracing her fingers and knuckles and going over the faded marks there… let’s all cry. hanging out with acheswan and blade has made kafka believe that she’s so obvious she has to wear sunglasses around r for her own sanity but the whole time r is thinking “does she even like me 😣😣😣”, ridiculous. they’re both so stupid it’s really insane that it took them almost 15 years to get together like what’s wrong with them.

“i have two tickets” = i want you i want you i want you i want you i want you—

i would never tell kafka i like her i don’t think this is information she needs to have… it’d be obvious tho and she’d manipulate the shit out of me because of it but thats ok this is literally me

hope your finals arent too hard bc mine are definitely not going well so far hdhdjfkg but its fine we’ll live to write gp!kafka smushots during winter break

[miupow]

✨️💛🔮!

about me ask game !!

✨️— out of all of the comments you've recieved on your fics, what are two or three of your favorites?

these four comments i've gotten over my year on tumblr have stuck with me so much. shout out to everyone who's ever sent me feedback on my works, they make me cry (in a good way!)

"if this fic was a dessert, it would be TOO SWEET! u guys i was smiling so hard reading this, my roommate was like “why are you so happy?” i honestly loved every second of this and each kiss was so uniquely beomgyu. the “i’m done with my games; pay attention to me!”, the “so soon you won’t even have time to miss me”…i could go on on about this!!" -- @chasingthatjjunie on five kisses.

#oh my god i’m silent after this one#one so cute to have a summoning circle in a hyperpink room I love it so much#two LOSER VIRGIN INCUBUS#the jokes about god made me giggle#some lines that SOLD me#am I doing good little human?#fuck no i’m not done I need more I can’t stop need to make you cum again and again#if it’s ever too much tell me please 🫠#oh god you’re going to ruin me#you marked me up pretty girl now I have to return the favor I could just eat you wholePLEASE#be a good girl and beg for it maybe i’ll give you that firstborn you want so badly!!!!!!!!!! IM RUINED IM WEAK#AND HOW HE JUST KEPT GOING 🫠#READ THIS NOW PLS -- @biteyoubiteme on under the moon.

If i knew what kind of masterpiece I would experience by reading this I would have cherished every word and sentence a bit better. -- @lowsuga on just like magic.

i just wanna say this might be the best hyuka smut fic ive ever read. me personally i feel like out of five i find him the hardest to write, because he just seems so sweet, but i love how you used that side of him in your advantage when writing this fic. you're literally so smart! this is also my first time reading bdsm, and this fic made me like it. i feel like this sparked something in me and i might just look for more haha! the transition of him being sweet to freaky is really goosebumps! this was so good lia, love your works so much -- @seolis-world on duality. (i miss u sm)

💛— what is the most impactful thing you've learned about writing?

just how much motivation and ambition needs to come from within. to stop writing for others and to write stories that i enjoy writing. how much joy and whimsy will come back to you once you stop focusing on requests and the desires of your following

🔮— any advice for any writers experiencing writers block or burnout?

don't worry about notes or followers. don't compare your works to the works of other people, especially if they're bigger, more popular blogs. don't write about what you think other people would like, write about what you would like. and most importantly, don't ever forget that writing is supposed to be fun. a writing blog is a hobby, not a job, so don't let it become one. don't let your worries make it not fun or exciting anymore.

[clover0101]

I saw a yumeship week on twt so im hoping in even if mine is oc x canon idk the differences anymore

Day 1: first meeting!! I made a drabble and a sketch for this

(click expand to read)

The shouts, complaints, and arguments filled the common area of MILGRAM, which, despite being quite large, seemed to shrink more and more for the blue-haired boy. The footsteps of the other prisoners echoed along with the crying of some, others remained apart trying to think rationally about what was happening, but the only certain thing here is that nothing was rational.

Everyone woke up in an unfamiliar place, wearing prisoner's clothes, assigned numbers and cells, and given a brief explanation of why they were there - they had all ended someone's life, and it’s time for them to get their judgement. One group protested the accusation, another part accepted it and decided to remain silent. Despite listening carefully, Haruka could not fully understand it. The place seemed to function in a strange way, to say the least, and he had always been a bit slow to comprehend strange things.

The danger of the unknown and the nerves that interacting with others bring led him to just take a seat in one corner of the room, watching the chaos come and go in front of him. He hugged his knees, trying to make himself smaller. Sudden movements made him startle, but he couldn’t react in any other way, he didn’t want to leave his precious 'refuge' out of fear of bothering others. After all, he was different, and even if he wanted to contribute, he surely couldn’t do anything...

His thoughts were interrupted by a red-haired boy, who had apparently been arguing with a brunette man; "Hey, the guy in the corner!” he pointed directly at Haruka, taking steps that seemed intimidating towards the younger boy. The other man followed him closely. "This loser here says it would be better to wait and see what’s happening, but I think we should find the guard and kick their ass already. What do you say? We need strong people on our side."

"I don't think we could solve it just like that..." The brown-haired boy scratched the back of his neck, an uncomfortable smile on his face.

"Uh..." Haruka opened his mouth, trying to say something. Someone was talking to him... These two guys were looking at him right now. His heart was pounding from anxiety and he clenched his fists, his nails digging into his already wounded flesh. "I, uh, um... Ah, n-no... I-I D-"

"Pffft. Nevermind," the redhead interrupted before he could even finish the sentence, turning his back and returning to where the rest of the group was. You can't count on anyone here, he thought. Meanwhile, the other boy waved goodbye to Haruka, who hunched over and buried his face between his knees, closing his eyes tightly. He had barely arrived and already disappointed someone? This can’t be happening.

He remained silent for several more minutes, his eyes fluttering open when the argument seemed to calm down. A person was looking at him over their shoulder, their appearance standing out among the others due to an eyepatch and big, bright red eyes that seemed to stare right into his soul. They approached Haruka slowly, almost carefully to not to scare him, which made the boy slowly straighten up a bit, but not enough to make eye contact.

"Hey," their gentle voice made the boy startle even if they tried not to. "I know this can be hard to understand, you see, I'm a little scared too!" they accompanied their attempt at socializing with a laugh, standing beside him and leaning their back against the wall, their hands fidgeting restlessly in front of them.

A few seconds of silence passed, in which Haruka debated if he should even speak. His companion quickly realized, and just continued; "You don't talk much... right? Well, you might be lucky, because people often tell me I talk a lot!" they smiled, extending their hand downwards. "My name is Matsuo Hikaru, but you can just call me Hikaru. What's yours?"

He blinked a couple times, glancing out of the corner of his eye at Hikaru's pale hands, adorned with every color he could imagine, contrasting with the simple and plain prison uniform. He squirmed in his place, looking down again, embarrassed. He wasn’t able to look at them in the eye, fearing disappointing them as he did with the other man earlier. "Uh... My name is Haruka... Haruka Sakurai." he managed to murmur after a while of silence, daring to try to look the prisoner in the eye, but quickly glanced away again. "N-Nice to meet you, uh, Hikaru..." Is this what people say after introducing themselves? He shook his head, chewing on his lower lip.

"Ah! Haruka-kun is a cute name! And your hair is also quite cute, it reminds me of lobelias!" Hikaru extended their hands again, waving them as they spoke. The blue-haired boy ducks his head self-conciously, a faint blush tinting his cheeks at the praise. Why was this person being so nice to him? "Everything that's happening is strange, but I'm sure it'll turn out well... For you guys, at least," Haruka didn't fully understand what Hikaru meant by those last words, but for the first time in their encounter he looked up and nodded. He thought that, at the very least, Hikaru deserved that from him. For giving him some attention. "Ah, of course, Haruka-kun! We must be more optimistic. Not like that idiot over there, he's just giving everyone a headache."

Their complaint made Haruka's eyes open wide. He would never dare speak about anyone like that, much less if they could hear him. Still, he laughed a little, enjoying the conversation, even though the one talking the most was Hikaru. "Hah... I-I guess you're right..."

[permetutotheworld]

LOSER!!! By mckenna grace requested by @fulladeroure Get depressed, blow off my friends then cry about how no one likes me <- okay this somg is so marlene core Scared to get a therapist, what if they crash my pity party? <- insists shes fine while jer eyes are puffy “sad girl autumn lily im just doing my part” I'm self aware and say my prayers <- knows she can bt shitty sometimes and prays so her dad will be proud even though she isn’t religious That's my two redeeming qualities And I'm so good at faking it <- faking confidence and ego Guess that makes it three <- can only name three good things about herself

Rot on my couch thinking 'bout everything I'm not <- thinking about everything her parenrs wanted her to be And I cry about my problems while I know I'm the cause <- she blames herself for everything So much bitterness inside me, all the sweet's wearing off <- growing up and growing out of that sweet little girl she was Put it nicely, pretty baby, you just need to grow up <- grow up to fight in this war marlene, its all youre good for

Eighteen What a waste, what a loser <- ahe feels like she hasnt even made a difference with her life Maybe If she tried she'd be cooler <- maybe if shed been just a little better she wouldnt feel like this She's such a bitch and I'm talking shit about the girl in the mirror (what a joke) Go write a song, just another blonde trying to be a punk rock singer <- music is her life but she cant help but feel like an imposyer

Staring at the walls in my room, honestly, I think I might crack Nine PM tucked in my bed, yeah, it's hard being a teenage dirtbag <- pretends to be the life of the party with sirius and james but really ahe just wants to run and hide Listening to Gwen Stefani (uh huh) 'Cause I'm so original And God, I'm such a genius Singing 'bout how I hate myself <- hates that shes like other people becayse she doesnt know who she is

Rot in my bed thinking about everything I'm not And I cry about my problems while I know I'm the cause So much bitterness inside me, all the sweet's wearing off Put it nicely, pretty baby, you just need to grow up <- her talking to her younger self about whats coming and telling herself to grow up

Eighteen What a waste, what a loser Maybe If she tried she'd be cooler She's such a bitch and I'm talking shit about the girl in the mirror (what a joke) Go write a song, just another blonde trying to be a punk rock singer <- shes twenty now out of hogwarts and hates herself for whay she was, she wishes she could do more but shes stuck on stupid wards

La la la la La la la la La la la la, loser La la la la La la la la La la la la, loser

Nobody likes you when you're eighteen And nobody's felt this way, it's just me The girl at the rock show and the north queen Just another blank one eighty wannabe <- she looks at everyone else and wonders how theyre so put together when shes falling apart, shes sure theyre tired of jer by now

Eighteen What a waste, what a loser Maybe If she tried she'd be cooler She's such a bitch and I'm talking shit about the girl in the mirror (what a joke) Go write a song, just another blonde trying to be a punk rock singer <- shes twenty one now and the war is raging dorcas is dead and she feels like she is too, whats the point anymore it looks like theyre losing

La la la la La la la la La la la la, loser La la la la La la la la La la la la, loser La la la la La la la la La la la la, loser Go write a song, just another blonde trying to be a punk rock singer <- shes spilling her feelings out to her guitar and ahe hered someone knocking at tje door, its 1981 and its peter come to say hi

Go write a song, just another blonde trying to be a punk rock singer <- no one ever heres the song she was writing, shes dead now and what was is all for? What a waste of a life dying before she knew who she was

[shocked-collar]

im so angry and so sad today so unfortunately i am going to curse all of you with my TPOF Mason-Route OC, Missy Fortune, my little babey

only pic im willing to share of him (cause i dont have any good refs of him by me lol) drawn by @corruptfoxarc !!!!

warning this is a literal novel. im just gonna ramble and ramble and ramble, mainly for future notes for myself lol

Mason is the only one who can't keep the MC, and while I agree this is fitting for his character, it pisses me off because Give Me The Bear!!! so i went rogue and made it a reality.

Missy Fortune, a man with a fitting name!!! Misfortune follows him but he pays it no mind, choosing to see the bright side of every situation instead. He's 26 and full of life, working at a large, mostly deadstock toy store to keep his childhood close to him. He is taken by Fox's team while closing up the shop after willingly letting them inside after hours, because it was cold out and they asked very nicely.

Missy is a loser. Plain and simple. He hangs out with people who tolerate his company only because he's been in the friend group for years, but his role is just 'butt of the joke' guy. He accepts this because he's a naive goodie-two-shoes and believes there's no malice behind their gags. He isn't very close to his family and goes months without saying a word to them at a time, making his disappearance mainly unknown. (Not for any reason! They just don't really interact that much.) His life revolves around his job and his friends, thus creating a very unhealthy, if not mentally damaging personal life. He still finds the time to wake up with a smile nonetheless, being mainly clueless to the misfortunes in his day-to-day life.

Missy charmed Mason into bidding a high amount because he seemed intelligently aloof. He was enthusiastic about the wrong things considering his position as a product being sold, often going on nearly irrelevant tangents as responses to the announcers questions. (It's not often someone WANTS to know more about him!) What he spoke about, he seemed passionate, thus cementing him as the ideal prey in the hunters eyes. Someone with motivation and drive! A good, strong-will to carry a good hunt- unlike those miscellaneous hikers he finds from time-to-time.

And so right he was, because Missy kept him busy for two days over a week. Their 9-day long game had a very abrupt end after Mason arrived at his cabin and found the poor thing- cold, weak, hungry, and frail- counting sheep on his bed. Was the easiest thing picking him up for decapitation! Little man was light as a feather!

But then the dork nuzzled into him while waking up, and it struck Mason on a strange level. Missy had survived the longest of any of his previously purchased prey, and it kind of hurt letting him go. He got attached! He found so many sketches on that paper he provided him, was lead straight to him out of Missy's own stupidity from laughing or crying or singing too loudly, would often stalk him from afar as he acted like a fool, and now it's over. Laid him down on his wood-chopper, grabbed his axe, and saw his face. Missy was scared, but accepting, and that little nuzzle earlier reminded Mason of a pathetic soggy rat. He's got more potential in him. He got used to him.

So now he's got his own bed in that cabin! Just as warm and plush, and all he had to trade was his humanity for it. He has MANY chores and responsibilities (including but not limited to minor hunting, going on grocery/supply runs in the city, checking on set traps/setting new traps, preparing fresh catches for consumption, fishing, laundry, bed-making, basic house cleaning (MAINLY in his own room but is sometimes asked to take care of other rooms), isn't allowed to bathe by himself for the first 2 months, needs permission to go outside, speak, and get into Mason's things, and also needs to wait for permission to eat at the dinner table. He is severely indoctrinated into Mason's way of life and almost completely forgets who he used to be, but he never loses his optimistic charm. When he misbehaves he's forced into the 'shoes of discipline', shoes that have 5 nails through the bottom for him to walk on- each 3 to 5 inches long. When he's been good he gets free reign with the colored pencils and sometimes gets to pick himself up a lil' something-something from a supplies run!

They live in quiet, stern harmony together. Quiet, stern, ass-splitting harmony.

[mandalhoerian]

bruh my comment was too long to post under the new chapter so i’m sending an ask. saw the ao3 notif and scheduled to read it this fine evening, good thing i was like “lemme scroll on tumblr and see what’s up” because SJFKDJLXBZB the face i made when i saw i was tagged and followed BY YOU? also ma’am 🤚🏻wdym nobody comments like i do. like what do you mean. i have a concerning relationship with receiving praise so i advise you to stfu (affectionately).

my poor girl vera can’t catch a break, loss after loss after loss in such a short period. i just want to give her lots and lots of hugs (consensually). on another note i love that she clocked ada’s intentions right away bc capcom wtf is that writing. one person taking down a whole organization is like sending only one person to save president’s kidnapped daughter (laugh track). let me tell you i have been waiting for this 🤌🏻 vera and ada interacting 🤌🏻 leon being there all charming and naive and trusting people easily 🤌🏻 shai you just get the dynamics of all the characters *so right* 🤌🏻

sorry for the excessive amount of parentheses and emojis let me just find another obnoxiously annoying emoji to spam about the intimacy between leon and vera. 🤧 it’s this one but i’m wiping my snot away from crying about it. the small touches between the two are so tender in this fucked up world 🤧 vera’s hand on his forearm… leon collecting her in his arms, comforting her 🤧 his arm on her shoulder 🤧 i could cry and get a headache from thinking about them. i’m so serious.

(gnawing at the bars of my enclosure) JILL VALENTINE MENTION???? VERA KNOWS HER? WHAT IS THE LORE? I NEED TO KNOW.

how does one end a delirious comment. uhhh. so yeah. i love nttd and vera so much and i’m so happy that it’s back babyyyy.

Ofc I followed!!!! I don't remember why I didn't in the first place like but like ???? ur making it sound like I'm some big shot but like pls im a loser who's writing oc fanfiction on the internet and is so lucky and grateful to get people invested in it!!!!! AND YES nobody comments like you do! You're the dream of a fanfiction author ON GOD. THANK YOU SO MUCH

ramble below to keep your dashboards clean:

I think we talked about this over on ao3 but honestly re2r's ada just doesn't make sense to me. The FBI cover is logical (when you first think about it), but the way she's immediately pulling a gun on Annette the minute they see her and DECLARING her intentions isn't. She then proceeds to reveal her target is Annette, and then her going with the FBI thing becomes less logical, bc why would Annette hand over the G-Virus sample to the feds, either? It's entirely a shock factor thing revolved around Leon, she's only fooling him -- or maybe, she's fooled Ben like this, too, and was forced to stick to her cover when shit went down, we don't know 😭 why did they do my girl ada like that... (ngl re4r ada supremacy. period.)

But either way, un-truths she would throw as a bone to a "civilian" like Leon would of course be caught by Vera, nugget by nugget, while still making her think "mayhaps the FBI is misinformed????" -- I didn't want to ruin that fine line by Ada going on about Annette making the virus and her being the most dangerous of all "g-virus g-virus g-virus" or whatever because 1) WHY WOULD A SPY DO THAT???? 2) it would surely make Vera go "yeah NOPE" 💀💀

it's so much fun for them to try sussing each other out, Light and L mind games over there while Leon is happily frolicking. not one thought behind those eyes 😭

ALSO LIKE YES THE TOUCHES!!!!!! It's Leon initiating all of them for me 👹👹👹 physical touch taking over when words can't. my favorite thing of all UGGHHHHHHHH THANK YOU FOR JOINING ME IN MY MISERY

ALSO totally not going "actually 🤓☝" as I'm saying this because it's been HALF A WHOLE YEAR + the fic is over 100K words -- Vera knows Jill from post!mansion incident - pre!outbreak, in that ephemeral "investigation" phase of Jill's. I do mention it in the fic that Vera supplies information to Jill (as around that time she's trying to get rid of the weight of all she knows and trying to pass on the "hero's job" to someone else) and they exchange their findings while trying to be careful not to get caught by ppl Umbrella put on Jill's tail. I think I wrote it in passing that Vera was disguised as a secretary and sat back-to-back with Jill on a booth in one of those occasions? She's loosely connected to re3r by having a brief appearance in carlos' police station section in my head, entrusting Jill to him and all and promising to meet up with them in the station once she talks to her dad about it ☹

"delirious comment" WDYM ITS MY LIFEBLOOD THANK YOU 😭

[taexual]

it is beautiful, absolutely so beautiful, how jungkook and oc talk to each other. im in ch8 now and i love the amount of consideration and meaning you put into their dialogue and i can never get enough. i don't know, it's just beautiful to see two people in love talk to each other, there's so much that reveals itself in the things they choose to speak about and the way they listen to the other. i can tell from this alone just how much love exists between them, regardless of their circumstances, reservations or denial, and i applaud you for that. i can see the level of thinking and planning that may have gone into making it this way. ALSO! i love the scenes of jk with his loser friends or oc navigating work around the stage, because all those interactions just contribute so many important aspects to who they are on their own, and that also helps put into perspective who they are with each other. arggh i mean, just the amount of work that has gone into this!!!!!

and i cant help but mention your writing has made me cry twice already. first was the chapter in i'd love you to stay but that's simply insane when they both talk about the years they didn't talk. second was the whole scene at the brige in ch8. wow. youve done such a good job with this i don't even know what else to say! thank you!

my love, thank you so much for your beautiful message, i don't know if i can ever express how much this means to me 🥺

i always get far too invested in the stories i write, especially if they're long. and they turn out to be nothing but love letters to the characters and the people that have inspired them. and, okay, maybe it gets very banal and overly detailed sometimes? but i've never been able to do it any other way 🥴

you've made my little heart very happy, my love. thank you so much!!! 🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍

[daedalusdavinci]

jason tell me about dove for that ask meme. because i lvoe him too. i miss him :(

well. i asked for this.

hi guys welcome to my batman blog where today im going to be talking about niche silver age dc character that absolutely no one gives a shit about but me: don hall! i read all of his comics in the span of like two days and i havent stopped crying about him since

send me a character and ill tell you...

- What made me like them in the first place

pictured: the precise moment i fell head over heels in love w don. he is just so..... yknow??? hes just such a kind fucking person and i love him so much

- Who I ship them with

no one </3 he literally doesnt talk to anyone long enough. if i shipped him w anyone it would probably be lilith tho they were kind of cute in that single fucking panel lol

- Random headcanon I have about them

he taught an art class he MUST paint i refuse to believe anything else hes definitely an art boy <3

- My favorite moment of theirs

see the above panel but also when he fuckin.g embarrassed himself in front of the girl he lieks and teargassed a bunch of cops and then tripped chasing after a criminal and got called a crybaby and then the comic just ENDED LIKE THAT. dons horrible no good very bad day alkjsndfssdf hes such a loser i love him so much

- Plotline/story I want to happen

if dc hadnt been a bunch of cowardly losers they could have leaned more into dons investigative tendencies and the way he talks to victims about what happened which would have been rad as fuck, just btw. also i wish there had been MORE comics w don and hank working w the teen titans. yes we had a few but what about more. i want don to have friends. fuck you dc

- Any issues or insecurities I think they have

that boy should be more insecure than he is bc wow. he is jsut the biggest loser. i think hes obviously insecure about a lot of things bc hank only picks on him all the time (and he picks back! iconic.)

- Favorite quote

see the above panel (again), but also i think its really funny when he snips at hank, and you KNOW i love all his panels where he defends his pacifism. hes so iconic

- Kiss, marry, hug, or kill

i am kissing him right on the mouth hes so <33333

- Random thing that reminds me of them

just really predictable shit. but yknow i promise you every time i think about the teen titans my brain is always gonna jump straight to him, and thats probably not the case for most people

- Any talents I think they might have

well he knew enough about art to teach a class and apparently hes a pretty good swimmer. i feel like hed probably be good at other things hank would think r super lame, like sewing

- On a rate from 1 to 10 how much I love them

10/10 hes so <33333

- What I think about their family

hank can go fuck himself <3 their dad makes for an interesting contrast to the two of them but i wish both of their parents had gotten the chance to be expanded on more. tragedy of all times

- Who I think should be their bff

i really would have liked to see don and hank become better friends w the other titans who were sidelined, like lilith, and mel. id kill for that actually.

- What animal they would be

.............................i dont need to answer this question

- Three songs that remind me of them

no <3

- Favorite episode/issue/thing centered around them

definitely the cringefail comic where he just fucked up absolutely everything but im also really fond of the hawk and the dove #2

- How badly they need hugs

so badly.

- Favorite thing about their personality

i love that hes every bit as headstrong and snippy as hank is, even tho hes a pacifist. like, yeah, he doesnt believe in violence, but he still gets pissed as hell all the time, and thats so fucking real tbh. ik part of the juxtaposition is bc dc wanted him to seem wimpy and cowardly but it is really fun to see him get humiliated and then STILL whip around and call hank a neanderthal like alsjdlfsndsdfnjsf

- Favorite thing about their appearance

sobbing. crying. hes so cute i love when they give him curls

the dove costume is BUTT UGLY but i do like the color scheme

- Why I love them so much

he had so much potential. it wouldve been so fascinating to see how dc handled a superhero who was a pacifist and believed strongly in criminal reform and peace. dc tried so hard to make him seem weak and unmanly that they would up creating a guy who didnt fit into the usual hypermasculine superhero archetype and that was just. fascinating, honestly. refreshing. i also just loooove a good angry leftist so you know me. hes just. SUCH a cringefail losergirl its impossible not to fall madly in love w him im going to be mourning what could have been for the rest of my fucking life

[jinkicake]

Today is the day🙂( well in like an hour and 45 mins) i see they posted his birthday art and he’s so precious🥹 like he’s funny af too “ i don’t really care about birthdays but if you’re gunna bother me all day🙄 you can stay” bitch do you want the present or not😒 making up at sunrise to tell him he looks very nice in blue, like im making his outfit rn and i forgot he had his shoulders out!! Like its a body suit w the ARMS CUT OFF. He really said if imma have a rebrand im gunna be the sluttiest character here😭 clearly took insp. from kaeya to have his chest out like that🙄like i want to kiss the lil electro mark on the back of his neck. About to shower this little bastard is so much love and affection😈 going to suck his dick bc side by side his blue outfit does look nicer; i saw a thing saying he probably doesn’t need to breathe so he just makes moaning noise for fun😭😭 the thought of him being a slut bc “this is fun” is HILARIOUS since he’s just along for the ride so we can go to the most secluded spot in mondstat-bc i would celebrate my birthday there first for sure- and and ride him until he’s crying😊 just whispering how proud i am of him and how pretty he is. Now then for ANNOYING SCARAMOUCHE i would sleep in too much effort bc he’s gunna wake me up ANYWAY like as soon as his eyes crack open he is planning how to be annoying for a full 24 hours bc tomorrow is a wrap. DEFINITELY they type to me like “it’s my birthday you’re not gunna let me do what i want🥺(😈)” when he keeps getting handsy all day. You’re out on a romantic date? His hand is stuffed in your pants and he literally could care less, its you who’s trying to make sure nobody notices. Strolls into inazuma like he owns the place🙄 just to fuck you in the shrine; me and him will be petty to that fox until we both die��� def takes you to some hidden cave in sumuru w pretty plants and is like look at what i found; fails to mention they’re like sex pollen plants tho😒 so hes checking his watch as everything gets fuzzy and only then do you realize this place is very isolated🤨 nobody would hear you let alone be in this area. Fucks you like his life depends on it, he is using the day to be as sadistic as possible; probably tell you to ding happy birthday like you can talk😭 he has blankets and everything set up like i thought this was a picnic🤨the only thing he eating is you😔the type to get overstimulated easily but holds longer bc hes holding on by sheer willpower and to also make a huge mess. Like to him if he not light headed he’s not done. Fucking like 3 loads back i to you bc hes obsessed w watching you gush around him like he never does anything halfassed hes gunna make you scream every-time, biting you bc why thats how cats show affection and degrading you like hes doing any better “look at you making a mess and cant even help it”! And he only pulled out to not cum

scaramouche is so annoying T T like just say you want to spend time w us you loser! but he's so cute,,, so cute... I had a little party for him in my teapot keke

((two second side note... speaking of kaeya... did you see his new skin? when i heard about it i literally exploded like nothing from this game has made me happier than my meow meow getting the pampering he deserves! and the braid- the braid in his new skin im going to cry))

something in my brain shifted at the thought of kissing scaramouches electro mark... youre making me a scaramouche appreciator,, stop! smh his mark that probs hasnt been washed since it got put there LOL

O.M.G.... i never thought about him not making noises bc he doesnt breathe- yeah he's a slut through and through and i love it.. i love it T T my favorite puppet (raiden look the other way this is NOT about you.... not yet </333)

sharing a birthday with scaramouche is so cute bc i know he would do everything that you want to do and would prioritize your feelings over his because he's such a softie... what an angel. okay that's enough sweet scara im going back to crazy!scaramouche bc if you dont share a birthday w him then he would so take advantage of it like (aside from insecure scara who would hate his bday) he would so make you do everything that he desires since it is his day (and i wont fight him on it!!!!)

YOUUUU ARE FUCKING CRAZYYY IF YOURE GOING TO THE NARUKAMI SHRINE AND NOT FUCKING MISS YAE MIKOOOO- like howww could you pick scaras short ass over her?! hell no! (but fine since it is his birthday smh)

awww scaramouche fucking you everywhere (unlocked lol) in teyvat for your birthdays is so sweet ,, who knew he had a kind side? (i did)

[haretic]

recently i've come into a predicament. my sobriety seems to be causing issues. that or my friends are terrible people.

since a few months ago, i've tried calling quits on drinking and drugs. it is tough, i always feel like an eternally lame teenager, but i'm better off for it.

i don't like who i am or how i feel when i get drunk or high. it makes my dissociation worse, my psychosis worse, and it sends me into these massive spirals.

my friends know this. i've talked to them about it.

since summer break started all they've done is plan hangouts i very distinctly cannot go to. all where drinking and smoking is the main event. i've brought up my sobriety before, they know full well i can't make events like that, but they refuse to do anything that isn't directly centered around intoxication.

i feel utterly and completely alone. only about three of them care enough to plan events with me without intoxicants. everytime i try to make plans in our groupchat, everyone else completely ignores me, leaves me on read or talks over me. they simply do not care if they have to be sober. its no fun for them if they arent sober.

recently, they've all started getting meaner, too. it started with snide comments, then just straight up making fun of my autism, making fun of who i am, making fun of my sobriety, telling me to shut up and find somewhere else to hang out, etc. its hurtful. its really really hurtful.

i don't see why they do it - i try to not bring up my sobriety often, unless it applies. if they're making plans and they ask me to come, i'll just say no thank you, and wish them to have fun. ask them to send me a few pics! i never make myself seem better for being sober, infact, i feel the complete opposite. i feel like a total fucking loser for it. but i know its for the best. when i try to make plans, i try to make sure itll be something fun for everyone. going to hang out at a park when the weathers nice, seeing a movie, stuff like that. they don't care unless theres drugs or booze.

now, on to the topic of tonights cry session, long overdue: they made plans to go on a roadtrip during an event i begged them to attend for me.

they completely ghosted me while i was asking them to come, expressing interest in the event, practically begging them. i looked so pathetic, and they still didn't care about it. so they made plans for when i very specifically couldn't go.

immediately, everyone responded. when i couldn't even get a response from more than two or three of my closer friends at a time. now all the people i had tried to make plans with without a single text back were talking about how fun it would be.

i really wouldnt mind if they said no to my event, thats very much not the issue. i know it isnt for everyone, but i wanted to share my interests and introduce them to the friends i made through it. my issue was that they were entirely ignoring me. i havent gotten to see most of them in a month, maybe longer. i havent even gotten dignified answers from any of them in ages. they act like i dont exist

i dont want to have to break my sobriety just to have friends, but it feels like at this point its the only way i can get people to want to be around me.

i have friends that do care, but i always feel like the people i want to care the most simply don't. not even my own mom cares. she spent the entire time while i was sobbing to her about it defending them. saying it was my fault i got treated this way. made me feel bad about my own sobriety. i feel like im not even liked by the guy i like. i invest a lot of time and energy into him, but i feel like he just doesn't like me to the extent i like him. it kind of sucks.

i just really, really want to be cared for. i want to be cared for and liked and i want people to want to spend time with me. i hate having to bed. i hate having to make myself weak just for people to reject me over and over and over again. i feel pathetic and sad

i just want anyone real, anyone tangible, who can reach out and touch me, to care about me.

i'm done trying though. if they don't want to care about me, they aren't getting that effort back. i officially resign from my position.

which is a total fucking lie. i can't just make myself stop caring. but i've reached a new low point in my depression about it. i feel useless and lost. i have so many friends online who say they care, but that only goes so far. they cant reach out and touch me. they cant force me to leave me house and hangout. and as much as i love them, as much as id want to, i feel like i waste my life away spending it all online.

i want something real. something i can touch. just for once, please. someone who cares unconditionally. someone who will take care of me the way i take care of them. i want someone to be there for me. im tired

i dont know how much longer i can do this. i feel crazy rambling about it. im crying again and i feel totally dead. like someones already hollowed me out like a grapefruit, blended all my insides then shoved them back in the skins like a pate or something then started eating it spoonful by spoonful

ill find a way out soon, i guess. ill find someone who actually wants to care about me soon, i hope.

[euthymiya]

ok im putting my comments under the cut:

“Wowwww,” an unfortunately familiar voice croons from a nearby table. “Look at those bags. Someone didn’t sleep well last night.”

HE SUCKS LOL

“Genuinely, what the fuck is wrong with you?”

IM CRYING AT THIS SKJDHF

“You remembered.” Dazai stares at you with stars in his eyes, face lighting up. “I thought you weren’t paying attention.”

asjdhf he definitely has low standards. you remember his bday 3 days late and he's like "u know the date!!! ur my soulmate!!!!"

He seems to notice your judgment of him and looks offended

I giggled sdhfg

you find yourself making your way over to him.

This is so funny bc she said she would flee if she ran into him again LOL liarrr

For a second, Dazai looks flustered. You watch as his eyes dart from the chairs and back up to you, the faintest pink hue spreading across his cheeks. His lips part to respond, but no words leave then, and he finally pushes out, “Yes.”

notttt him lying like a loser sdjkhfsd

“I was in an exceptionally good mood,” you amend smugly.

The expression on Dazai’s face is nothing short of bitter and withering. “The next time you’re in a good mood, you should pay for my tuition and rent,” he says snidely. “Well, my next project is a zoo,” you say, and you can tell from the way Dazai’s eyes narrow that he knows he’s not about to like what you’re going to say. “We can fit you in with the rest of the baboons, I suppose. That’ll be your new apartment.” “Haha. Very funny.” “I thought so.”

THIS WHOLE INTERACTION HAD ME GIGGLING

Dazai isn’t particularly liked by the other students in his year—they think he’s odd. Which, he is odd, but they could be more discreet about it.

the good thing is he is self aware HAHA

“Fine,” you say before you can stop yourself, which he clearly doesn’t expect from how his eyes shoot open, and you don’t expect from the way your heart rate spikes as soon as the words register.  What the fuck?

omg I was like :O when she said fine

Dazai: hi (＠＾◡＾)

HIS KAOMOJI KILLED ME

Albatross: not ur personal chauffeur 😒 i’m busy

I feel him on a deep and personal level I too am everyone I know's personal driver

 “‘s a ten minute drive. I’ll get there in three.”

he is so meeee as a driver hahaha

Two years ago, an organization called the Serpent’s Tongue targeted a girl Chuuya’d been talking to trying to get him to turn himself in—a civilian girl, actually, one that he dragged into this life just like you’re unintentionally doing with Dazai. He turned himself over for her; they killed her anyway, and the whole organization paid for it with their lives. So did all of their families. You don’t think Chuuya’s ever gotten over it.

aw man this made me sooo sad for him :(

Sensing his discomfort, he watches your eyes track down to the bandages peeking over his collar and sleeves, and then you pointedly turn around to face the wall, sighing as you pull out your phone.

this made me clutch my heart it was so oddly sweet in a way awww

Kido slaps his hand to get him to stop when it messes up the measurement of his hips, and Dazai promptly stills. “I prefer free verse. It’s my favorite style of poetry.”

I got a good giggle at the image in my head of him getting his hands sternly slapped kjdfh

Oh. Dazai hesitates, throat bobbing as he swallows, lashes fluttering as he averts his gaze down toward the floor. “My friend… he passed away a few years ago. Right before I was about to enter college, actually. He asked me to finish his book for him—I told him I don’t know anything about writing and that it’ll turn out bad if he had me do it, but he insisted… and I mean, I can’t really say no to my dying best friend, can I?”

eating a rock as we speak. here she comes with her killing everyone off streak. even though this is canon but still

A smile tugs at the corners of his lips and he’s positively vibrating at your words until Kido lets out a heavy sigh. “Dazai-sama, please stop moving so much.”

he is just a puppyyyyyy

"Cao Xueqin will have him chopped into pieces and send you on a fucking treasure hunt across the city to get all of his limbs together for a proper burial."

😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

“I’m not you,” you spit out, a low blow, you know. To Chuuya’s credit, he doesn’t react beyond a sharp inhale, nostrils flaring briefly. “No, you’re not,” he agrees. “I wouldn’t be so fucking stupid to make the same mistake twice.”“That was your mistake,” you hiss. “Not mine.”

oh shitttt the girls are fightingggg and its heatedddd

ᡣ𐭩 YOU'RE TOO SWEET FOR ME

FEATURING: dazai osamu

SUMMARY: one chance encounter at a bar and suddenly you're seeing dazai osamu everywhere you go. you must have truly done wrong in your past life for you to run into him at so many places so frequently. you can't let this go on—for his sake and for yours—but the stupid civilian is worming his way into your life, blissfully unaware of who you are and what you do.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: AHHHHHHHH GUYS I HOPE UR EXCITED BECAUSE I AM, i've been obsessing over this literally since the idea first came to me, i'm rlly hoping you guys enjoy this half as much as i've loved writing it. civzai is truly becoming my roman empire. please leave a reblog! always appreciated!

GENERAL WARNINGS: fem!reader, port mafia executive!reader, civilian!dazai, dazai's struggles w suicide & sh, reader partakes in mafia business, dazai isn't dazai without a bit of obsessiveness and possessiveness (the possessiveness doesn't come til later but the obsessiveness starts from day 0).

SEE: WASTELAND, BABY! SERIES MASTERLIST

If you had known stopping at some random bar in the southern part of Hodogaya-ku would lead to a fucking college student attaching himself to you like a goddamn leech, then you would have gone to a different bar. You should’ve known better; this area is close to YNU, but you figured it was lowkey enough that most of the college students wouldn’t know about it. 

It’s just your luck that the most irritating one just so happened to.

Your eye twitches as you take another sip of your whiskey, pointedly ignoring the brunette who’d made his home on the barstool next to yours. He’s talking about something—an assignment for his creative writing class that you could hardly give half a shit about—and your head hurts. You’d been hoping for a quick drink before having to go back to headquarters and give Mori the rundown on the negotiations with Mishima.

You don’t want to go back. Mori pissed you off by scheduling this meeting without notifying you of it until literally thirty minutes before. But you also think that if you stay here any longer, you might murder this kid—and that’s saying a lot for someone who usually refuses to get her hands dirty.

“... but you see, I just have no inspiration,” the student—he said his name, but you ignored it—complains loudly, slumping over dramatically onto the bartop. “How am I supposed to write with no inspiration? I have no muse, no drive, no will to live. What do I do, bella?”

You side-eye him heavily before turning your attention back toward the bartender, Kobayashi, a man who knows who you are and what you do since this is a place that the lower ranking Mafiosos frequent, and is watching the scene taking place with an expression that’s nothing short of concern. You recognize some of the other bar patrons as well—one is an informant of yours that you’ve been meaning to get in contact with, two of Chuuya’s subordinates are here, and one of Kouyou’s.

“Luckily, I’ve run into you, bella,” the man sighs dreamily, big brown eyes peering up at you from where he’s draped across the bar. “You’ll be my muse, won’t you?” 

For the first time since you’ve arrived at the bar, you address him, “I think I would rather die.”

He blinks once. Twice. And then he laughs so loud that it draws half of the patrons’ attention. “Would you allow me to die with you?” he pleads, hands clasped together as he leans in closer to you. “I knew you were the one for me—it could be beautiful, a double suicide on the banks of Tsurumi. I-”

“Okay,” you say more to yourself than him, placing your wine glass on the bar and rising to your feet. “I’m leaving.”

He pushes his lip out as he watches you rise to your feet. You tell Kobayashi to put your drink on your tab before turning on your heel and making your way out of the bar. Much to your extreme displeasure, the student seems to follow you, scrambling after you.

“Wait! Won’t you give me your name? Number?” he cries. 

You slam the door to the bar in his face, but he’s unperturbed, yelping and pushing it right back open. You grit your teeth when you realize Albatross is the one who came to pick you up and bring you back to base, which means you’re never going to hear the end of this from him or any of the other Flags. You can already see him peering out the closed window, trying to figure out who’s chasing you.

“No.”

“How will I find you again then?” he laments, and to your horror, he catches up with you, trying to grab your wrist to stop you from leaving. You toss him a flinty look before snatching your wrist back. 

“That’s the point.” You smile sweetly. “You won’t.”

You get in the car and slam the door shut, pointedly locking it before turning your attention to Albatross, who’s already chewing on his bottom lip, trying not to laugh.

“So,” he starts with a tone that lets you know you’re very much not going to like whatever he’s about to say.

“Albatross, shut the fuck up.”

Dazai stares after you curiously, watching as you slam the door shut to a car that probably costs more than everything he’s ever owned in his entire life. He doesn’t think he’s ever met someone like you before, and he doesn’t even know what it is about you that’s drawing him in. 

You’re beautiful but cold, aloof but magnetic. He hadn’t been the only one affected by your presence—he’d noticed the lingering stares of other men in the bar, the way the bartender always rushed to ensure that your glass was full, hardly able to meet your eyes. Something itches in the back of his head, a gut feeling that maybe he’s missing something, but Dazai disregards it, leaning against the brick wall of the building behind him, tilting his head up to look up at the vast night sky. 

He does know one thing for sure, and that’s that he thinks he’s found his muse. After four years of the worst writer’s block he’s had in his life, Dazai’s fingers finally twitch for a pen.

He finds a smile curling onto his lips—a genuine one—and the muscles of his cheeks strain from the unfamiliar stretch.

For the first time since Odasaku’s death, the emptiness that has been endlessly plaguing Dazai’s chest is pushed out by a warmth that he hasn’t experienced in years. Letting out a shaky breath, giddy and excited in a way that leaves a skip in his step, Dazai makes his way back to his apartment rather than the bridge as he planned, intent on trying to figure out a way to find you again.

Maybe another day, Odasaku.

The gods are sick and cruel. You’ve known this since you were a child—seven years old and sitting in the center of piles of corpses after your village got caught in the crossfires of the Great War, rescued by a man who promised to send you right back if you couldn’t prove your worth to him. Your entire life, you feel like you’ve been the laughing stock of whatever higher beings there are, which is why you’re aggrieved but not surprised when that boy from the bar shows back up in your life.

You don’t even notice him at first. You’re exhausted—you’ve spent the past forty-eight hours awake and on comms for Akutagawa Gin and Tachihara Michizou as they infiltrated one of the low-rung gangs trying to move into the northern wards of Yokohama. It took longer for them to get to the leader than you thought it would, you were confident that it would be an in-and-out, less than twelve hours, but here you are two fucking days later, and you can’t even go back to your apartment and sleep because someone is demanding your immediate presence.

You wonder, sometimes, if death would be easier.

A part of you wants to just straight up ignore Mori and go back home to sleep. You personally think you deserve it, considering the mission went off without a single issue besides the unexpected length of it, but you also don’t want to hear the man bitch and make snide comments about insubordination, so you give your coffee order to the barista—your voice a bit too harsh, so you make up for it with a generous tip and then go wait for it at the opposite counter.

“Wowwww,” an unfortunately familiar voice croons from a nearby table. “Look at those bags. Someone didn’t sleep well last night.”

You think maybe death would be easier.

“As if my night couldn’t get any worse,” you say tightly, lips pressed together in a strained smile as you stare ahead, refusing to even turn to look at the irritating college student.

“It’s actually morning,” he says astutely.

“Find someone else to bother.”

He ignores you, naturally, and you let your eyes slide shut as you will yourself some patience when you hear the chair scrape against the ground, signaling him rising to his feet. You keep your gaze trained ahead even as you hear him approach you.

“Do you believe in fate, bella?” he hums, leaning over your shoulder to look at you.

You squint as you stare forward, rushing desperately for the barista to hurry up with your coffee, and you pointedly step away from him. “No.”

Well, you don’t actually know the answer to that question. Do you believe in fate? You don’t think you do. You like the idea of being able to carve out your own future without the meddling hands of gods trying to interfere, but can you really believe that everything in your life that’s happened to you is just by sheer chance? You’re not so sure.

“Well, I believe in fate,” he begins, and you already know you’re not going to like where this is going. “If I didn’t before, I certainly do now. What else could have led me to you again so soon? The red string tied around our fingers is demanding our love to finally bloom; it no longer tolerates the distance between us. My fated, no wonder I’ve evaded death for so long; it refused to embrace me because it knew I belonged in your arms instead!”

You almost don’t even register what he says, blinking a few times as the words process. 

“Genuinely, what the fuck is wrong with you?”

You turn to face the brunette, appalled, and he gives you a sweet smile before saying, “You’ll have to be more specific. There’s a lot of things wrong with me.”

“Clearly,” you scoff, shaking your head and taking your coffee from the barista.

You can already feel your phone buzzing incessantly in your pocket. You don’t even have to look to know it’s Mori asking where you are, probably Chuuya bitching about having to cover for you too. You can’t waste any more time lingering around, so without another thought or word, you promptly leave the cafe.

“Hey! Hey, wait!” he calls after you. Much to your displeasure, he scrambles to grab his over-the-shoulder backpack before, much to your displeasure, chasing after you. “My name is Dazai. Dazai Osamu.”

“Did I, at any point, ask?” you ask irritably, making your way down the street in the direction of the headquarters, hoping that he leaves you alone before you get there because the last thing you want to do is get there with him trailing you like a lost puppy. Albatross already saw him following after you once. If he catches the kid around you again, he’s going to start making assumptions, and that’s the last thing you need because he’ll immediately go gossip to Chuuya and Lippmann about it.

“Well, no,” Dazai says, “but won’t you give me your name in return?”

“No,” you say, giving him a smile as equally sweet as the one he gave you before. You roll your eyes as you take a sip of your coffee. “Don’t you have more productive things to do than bother me? Like, I don’t know, finishing that assignment you spent two hours bitching my ear off about a few nights ago?” 

“You remembered.” Dazai stares at you with stars in his eyes, face lighting up. “I thought you weren’t paying attention.”

“It’s hard not to pay attention when you’re babbling in my ear,” you say dryly, a bit put off by how surprised and pleased he is over you remembering what he’d been talking about. “Why are you still following me?”

“I want your name,” Dazai pouts, words drawn a bit long as if to make a point, but it only makes your eye twitch. “Your number, if you’re feeling generous.”

“Well, I’m in a decidedly bad mood, so you’re getting neither,” you say, giving him a faux sweet smile that makes him push his lip out even further. “You look ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously cute?” 

“No. Ridiculous.”

“Your beauty blinds me to your cruelty,” Dazai sighs dramatically. “I will not be driven away.”

“You should have more self-respect,” you say flatly, giving him yet another facetious smile before letting it drop and giving him a side-eye. You look him over once as you do; he’s dressed casually in a cream sweater and corduroy pants, a brown bag slung over his shoulder. Cute, but sickeningly… civilian. He seems to notice your judgment of him and looks offended—you speak before he can complain. “I have to go to work, so it’s time for you to leave.”

“To work?” Dazai blinks as if he hadn’t expected that from you, brows furrowing. “You look dead on your feet. You should be going home.”

I wish, you think mournfully. Even just the thought of your bed makes your body heavy with exhaustion. You just want to sleep, but Mori won’t even allow you the relief of that. You can’t help but wonder if you pissed him off because you have no idea why he’s being such an asshole. You don’t even think you did anything this time; you disagreed with him at one of the executive meetings last week, but you weren’t even rude while doing it. And you thought your idea was good. 

You realize that Dazai is still waiting for a response from you, and you try to recall what he’d said, rolling your eyes when you do.

“Wow, thank you.” Your voice is dry and sarcastic. You give him a withering look that he meets with a stupid smile. “The longer you hold me up, the longer it’ll take for me to get home and sleep, so kindly fuck off.”

Dazai sighs. “The things I do for love,” he says mournfully, stopping in his tracks and giving you a downcast look, brown eyes wide and sad and lips curled down. You’re actually a bit surprised that he gave in, letting out a hum of appreciation—you almost didn’t think he would. “The next time we meet, you have to give me your name.”

“We’re not going to meet again,” you say firmly, and you mean it this time because if you see this guy again, you’re going to flee in the other direction. For his sake and your dignity because it’s only a matter of time before unwelcome eyes catch you with him.

“We will,” he sings. “Fate demands it of us. Goodbye, bella. Have a good day.”

You don’t respond to him when you walk away. Dazai is still undeterred. He’s hardly stopped thinking of you since that night at the bar a few days ago. Every time his mind drifts off, he finds himself picturing your face, longing to talk to you again. He thinks maybe it’s a bit weird for him to be so enamored by you after just two brief meetings, but there’s just something about you that’s drawing him in like a moth to flame.

His eyes linger on you until you turn the block and disappear from view. He’s a bit put out over the fact that he still doesn’t have your name, but he thinks that the meeting is still a win in his eyes. First at the bar, now at this cafe, you must live or work somewhere in the eastern part of the Kanagawa Prefecture—Hodogaya-ku or Minami-ku, maybe Nishi or Naka. He’s leaning toward the latter, considering you’re heading eastward to get to wherever your work is.

And it would make sense. Naka-ku has all of the high-end corporations, and you must work for one of them. Your outfit the other day, your outfit today—not gaudy wealth, but wealth for sure. He thinks the black suits you wear cost more than his tuition, and the rings adorning your fingers cost a liver or three. You can’t be much older than him if you even are, so you’re probably just a nepo-baby—father owns one of the big corps and gave you a high-up position right out of school. Probably never had to work a day in your life, he thinks bitterly of all of the time he’s spent working odd jobs just to afford rent in the area, surviving off cheap ramen and canned crab.

But it’s a bit odd, isn’t it? You look like you haven’t slept in two days, maybe longer. Dazai almost felt bad for badgering you just because of how exhausted you seemed. Dazai can’t imagine any type of business demanding that type of energy from one of its workers—especially a nepo-baby.

Dazai finally shakes his head, glancing down at his phone to see the time, sighing when he realizes it’s time to get to class for his poetry workshop, a bit more pleased because, for the first time since classes started three months ago, he actually has something to give to the professor.

The next time you run into Dazai, you see him first. Despite vehemently telling yourself that you would run in the other direction if you happened upon him again, you find yourself hesitating. You don’t even know why you’re hesitating; you shouldn’t be hesitating. 

You’re stopping at one of the libraries at YNU to meet with an informant of yours—the son of the leader of your political opposition in the House of Councillors—all it took was a few sweet words and teasing smiles to have the boy wrapped around your finger, giving you all of the dirty details of his father's dealings for you to use against him when trying to sway the swing votes to your side.

It’s supposed to be an in-and-out meeting, and you don’t want to spend more than 15 minutes in this building if you don’t have to. You still have to meet with one of the oil barons from Venezuela that Mori is trying to get in bed with, and you’re hoping to meet with Mishima before the new military bill passes through the House of Representatives in two months—you suppose you can do that tomorrow, but you’re pretty sure he’s leaving to go deal with some issue with his narcotics trade in western Europe in a few days so you don’t want to leave it to the last minute.

The kid—you don’t even remember his first name, you only know that he’s Kimura’s asshole son, and he cares more about getting his dick wet than the sanctity of family secrets (not that it bothers you considering you’re benefiting from it, but you digress)—is surely already upstairs in one of the private study rooms waiting for you, but your feet are rooted to the ground.

Dazai Osamu sits at one of the study tables in the back, brows furrowed as he reads whatever textbook is in front of him, dressed in a cozy brown sweater. He looks distinctly displeased, tongue poking out between his lips as he scribbles away at his paper—you can’t tell what he’s reading or writing, but it notably does not look like creative writing.

He also looks distinctly lonely. He’s sitting alone at a table meant for four, and there are dozens of groups of students around him, chatting and laughing in their study groups. There are tables for one person lining the walls, so you can’t help but wonder if he chose the larger table specifically to spite the people coming in groups so they have to cram at a smaller table or if he’s meeting people here.

Before you can stop yourself—because you should stop yourself—you find yourself making your way over to him. He doesn’t even notice you at first, not until you’re right in front of the table and peering down at the textbook he’s reading: Intro to Engineering.

“That doesn’t look like creative writing,” you say dryly, lips quirking up in amusement when Dazai physically startles at your appearance, looking up at you with wide eyes and parted lips. Almost cute, if he wasn’t so annoying—you think maybe if he was one of Kouyou’s girls, you might’ve given him a chance.

For a second, Dazai looks as if he’s going to make a quip—you expect a loud comment about fate and love, but instead, his expression softens after a minute as he looks down at his textbook, making you tilt your head to the side curiously at the change in demeanor.

“Intro to Engineering,” he finally says with a wry smile, motioning toward the book. “A required class, much to my extreme displeasure.”

“Sounds terrible,” you say absently, gaze flicking around, noting all of the prying eyes now not-so-discreetly eyeing your table. 

You’re used to people staring at you, you have eyes on you pretty much at all times, and a bunch of nobody college students are nothing compared to the eyes of politicians and foreign mafiosos, half of whom want your head piked. Dazai, on the other hand, doesn’t look quite as comfortable beneath the stares of so many of his classmates, which is surprising to you, considering how bold he was with you at the bar and in public the other day. 

“Are you meeting people?” you ask curiously, glancing at the empty chairs around him.

For a second, Dazai looks flustered. You watch as his eyes dart from the chairs and back up to you, the faintest pink hue spreading across his cheeks. His lips part to respond, but no words leave then, and he finally pushes out, “Yes.”

A lie. A blatant one at that, and he can tell how poorly it came out from the way he winces. You blink, curious as to why he doesn’t want to admit he’s at the library alone, but then shrug because you don’t really care.

“Why are you here?” You raise your eyebrows at the sheer attitude in the question, almost caught off guard by it. Dazai clearly did not intend for it to come out that way, so he immediately shrinks and then adds too quickly, “You don’t go to school here, I mean.”

“Yeah… okay,” you say dryly, a bit offended, wondering why you even came over here. Dazai looks remorseful at his words but only averts his gaze down to the table. Finally, you sigh, choosing your words carefully because you don’t want him—or anyone—to know you’re meeting someone because if anyone finds out Kimura’s kid is feeding you information, you’d be in a shitty position. Instead, you go with, “I own this building. I come to check on it from time to time.”

Any remorse on Dazai’s face is gone as he stares at you flatly. “You… own this building?”

“I donated the money to have it built, yes,” you say, unsure of why he’s giving you such a deadpan expression. 

And it’s the truth: you did it three years ago when you first realized Kimura’s son was attending YNU as a freshman. You needed an excuse to come to campus and ‘run into him,’ so you decided to just have a library built with the reasoning that your deceased father attended the university, and you wanted it in his name. 

Did your father attend YNU? You have no idea—hardly even remember the man—but you had Piano Man forge some records to show that he did.

“Why?” Dazai asks.

“I was in a good mood,” you say sarcastically to evade the question.

“You were in a good mood, so you decided to spend hundreds of millions of yen on a library for a university you don’t even attend?” he questions doubtfully.

“I was in an exceptionally good mood,” you amend smugly.

The expression on Dazai’s face is nothing short of bitter and withering. “The next time you’re in a good mood, you should pay for my tuition and rent,” he says snidely.

“Well, my next project is a zoo,” you say, and you can tell from the way Dazai’s eyes narrow that he knows he’s not about to like what you’re going to say. “We can fit you in with the rest of the baboons, I suppose. That’ll be your new apartment.”

“Haha. Very funny.”

“I thought so.”

As you banter, there’s something sharp and calculating in his eyes that you don’t like—you vaguely noticed it in the past two meetings with him but are only really catching it now as he stares steadily at you, trying to figure you out. Which you can’t let happen, obviously, so you give him a faux-sweet smile instead and lift your hand to wave your fingers in a goodbye, preparing to make your leave and go find Kimura’s kid upstairs. 

“I have to go,” you say, and then add belatedly, “hope this never happens again.”

Dazai pushes his lip out into a pout reminiscent of the one he gave you the other day outside of the cafe, but his heart doesn’t seem to be in it this time. His eyes are distant as they flick around the vast library again, disappointed almost. Lonely. You don’t know why you’re still standing there and you especially don’t know why you find your lips parting to speak.

You very much don’t know why your name comes out, and when Dazai looks up at you, eyes wide and with a shine in them that wasn’t there before, a question ready on his lips, you almost hesitate. Almost find yourself at a loss for words. Something that hasn’t happened to you in… years, actually. 

What the fuck?

You play it off quickly. “You wanted my name, didn’t you?” you drawl, looking down at him unimpressed as if you’re not entirely horrified with yourself right now.

Dazai looks at you as if you’ve handed him the stars, sun, and moon on a silver platter, and you decide it’s time to leave before he can say anything else—more importantly before you can say anything else—lifting your hand lazily to wave at him over your shoulder without looking back. 

Once you’re well out of sight—all the way up the stairs leading to the private study rooms with the one-way glass windows looking down into the main section of the library—you finally allow yourself one last look.

Dazai still sits the same exact way you left him, staring at where you’d left with a stupid smile on his face and a starstruck look in his eyes. You roll your eyes, and you firmly choose to ignore the faint smile curving at the corners of your lips.

Your name rings through his head on repeat, a giddy feeling spreading through his chest. His whole body feels light and his fingers thrum across the wood of the table he’s sitting at, unable to stop the smile that rises to his lips. You approached him this time and you gave him your name—progress, good progress. In his exhilaration, he can almost ignore the dozens of curious eyes lingering on him wondering who you were and how you knew Dazai of all people. 

He supposes he can’t blame them for being curious—you’re someone who’s clearly not cut from the same cloth as the rest of them; if your clothes didn’t make that apparent enough, the way you hold yourself does. And to approach him… Dazai isn’t particularly liked by the other students in his year—they think he’s odd. Which, he is odd, but they could be more discreet about it.

“Hey, Dazai-kun, who was that?” one of the third-year boys asks, leaning over from his table to try to get Dazai’s attention, intrigued gaze pinned on where you’d disappeared to.

Dazai pointedly does not acknowledge him. Partially because he’s not about to encourage competition, you’re Dazai’s muse, and Dazai is not keen on sharing you, but mostly because he doesn’t even know the answer to that question. 

Who are you? 

Dazai knew you were wealthy just from the way you dressed, but the way you so casually mentioned that you’d donated the money for this library to be built a few years ago was absurd. You can’t be much older than him, so what? You were eighteen or nineteen, donating hundreds of millions, billions of yen to have a library built? And for what? It doesn’t make sense. Dazai prides himself on his shrewd mind and ability to read people, but he just can’t figure you out. 

He must be missing something

He pulls out his phone, clicking on the safari app before hesitating. You only gave him your first name—he doubts that he’ll actually find anything on you, but a part of him holds out hope because you clearly have more money than god, and anyone with that much money must have some heavy sway on politics and society. Rich people have the media following them like dogs looking for a bone.

So, he tries, and he’s sorely disappointed when only websites about name etymology and pronunciation pop up. He sighs as he flips to a new page in his notebook, giving up on trying to figure out these engineering formulas for now. 

Instead, he writes your name at the top of the page, tapping his pen to his lips as he tries to figure out who exactly his new muse is. 

You don’t see Dazai for two weeks after that. You don’t have the chance to—you’re busy getting ready for the gala the government is hosting to honor some agency based in Tokyo. An excuse so they can gather all of the House Representatives and Councillors in one spot for both sides to advocate for or against the major military bill passing through the National Diet in a month and a half. You’ll be attending to represent the Mori Corporation, as always, and you’re hoping Mishima sends Kiyomasa on behalf of Age of Blue Co., his own front for the Sun and Steel. You think with the two of you taking on the burden of convincing the swing votes, you’ll get it done.

Now, though, you’re in a foul mood because you have to waste time you don’t have out of your day to deal with one of the landlords the Port Mafia is leasing property to. He’s been skimping out on payments owed and, evidently, has grown balls that he certainly shouldn’t have, considering he had the nerve to turn away two of your subordinates when they came to collect. He obviously thinks he can get away with it because it's a low-priority issue compared to all of the other things going on with the military bill and developments in China and Russia with Cao Xueqin and Vladimir Nabokov. You have half a mind to stuff a 24 in his mouth and pull the trigger just to show him how low of a priority he really is. 

You might, honestly, depending on his decisions in the next ten minutes.

You get to the complex in Hodogaya-ku half-past six in the morning, wanting to get this done and out of the way well before Tolstoy arrives in the city at ten to meet with you about the rising issues in the mainland. For once, luck seems to be on your side because when Albatross pulls up to the complex, you see Mado on the phone outside, in a heated conversation with someone.

“Have fun,” Albatross sings as you push open the car door to make your way over to the older man.

Mado catches sight of you instantly, eyes widening and pallor taking on a ghastly color as he hangs up on whoever he is talking to so he can take a step back closer to the front doors of the complex. You tilt your head to the side, pointedly shifting your suit jacket so he can catch sight of the gun holstered at your side before hiding it again.

“I wouldn’t do that,” you say with a thin smile as you draw closer.

“You’re-” Mado begins but cuts himself off quickly.

“Mado-kun,” you greet, hands clasped behind your back as you watch the man carefully. “I hear you had an issue with two of my subordinates.”

“I-”

“Or, well, there was no issue because you quite rudely turned them away,” you amend dryly. “I’d love to know your reasoning. I’ve got a few running theories of my own.”

“You misunderstand-”

“The most plausible theory, in my opinion, is that you think you can slide under the radar because there are more important things going on right now. You think you can make quick money by shaving off the money owed to us to keep for yourself,” you continue, smile falling off your face. “If that’s the case, I’m afraid you’re sorely mistaken. The Port Mafia always repays its debts, and we always collect upon them.”

Mado takes in a stunted breath, then steps back again. “N-No. No, you misunderstand-” he tries again, and your lip curls up in frustration, eyes darting around the complex. 

It would be risky. Very risky. The Mafia controls all of the cameras in the complex, and you’re not in sight of any of the windows, but it’s broad daylight, and there’s always the off chance someone walks out while you’re in the process of putting a bullet through his skull. You’re just so fed up, and Albatross is right there…

You let out a puff of air, almost amused, as you take a step back and nod to yourself. Whatever, you think to yourself. It’s better than listening to him stumble over weak excuses, wasting even more of your time. Just as you’re about to reach for your gun, the door to the apartment complex slams open, and you halt.

“Really?” A familiar voice says, loud and frustrated. “You’re going to hang up on me now?”

You blink, head snapping to the side for your eyes to focus on Dazai Osamu, dressed in gray sweats and a black-tshirt, bandages wrapped all the way from his wrists disappearing under his shirt. He’s angry, brows furrowed as he glares at Mado, doesn’t even notice you standing there. Your irritation instantly fades, replaced with mild curiosity and entertainment.

“Dazai,” you greet easily, an amused smile curling at the corners of your lips. You ignore the stunned look Mado casts between the two of you. “You live here?”

Dazai freezes as soon as he hears your voice, brown eyes wide as looks at you, finally registering your presence. “You-what are you doing here?” He sounds caught off guard, in disbelief.

Almost the same question, almost the same tone as the way he asked why you were at the library two weeks ago, the smile on your lips now is decidedly mocking as you repeat the answer you gave him back then. “I own this building. The whole complex, actually.”

“You’re joking,” Dazai says flatly.

“Hmm,” you say, as if you’re thinking to yourself. “No, I don’t believe I am. Ask Mado-kun here, I’ve had to take time out of my day to come speak to him because he refuses to pay for the property we lease to him.”

You give Mado a faux-sweet smile, watching as he looks even more aghast as he looks between you and Dazai.

Dazai looks incensed by your words. “So not only do you refuse to fix my water problems, but you can’t even pay for the property?” he says snidely. “Somehow, I’m not surprised.”

You raise your eyebrows, glancing at Dazai and then back to Mado. “Is that so?”

“Dazai-san,” Mado laughs nervously. “Don’t be hasty now-”

“Hasty?” Dazai demands. “I’ve gone two weeks without water. Every time I call you about it, you blow me off.”

“How fascinating,” you say lightly, giving Mado a cool look. “Well, the complex will have a new landlord soon. Mado-kun, please head to the car so we can work out the details of terminating the contract.”

Mado stares at you as if you’ve just signed his death sentence. Which you suppose you have. Terminating the contract is a gentler way of putting terminating his life. You raise your eyebrows and lift your hand to shoo him away, making eye contact with Albatross who had stepped out of the car as soon as Dazai had come outside.

Albatross tosses you a wink and nods toward Dazai; you give him a withering look, directing your attention back to Dazai as Mado walks over to the sleek black car you’d arrived in.

The look Dazai gives you is akin to a kicked puppy, and his words are drawn out long as he speaks, a quiet whine that shouldn’t do something to you but it does. “I was suffering in your building for two weeks,” he pouts. “I should be compensated.”

You roll your eyes. “I’ll send someone to fix your water,” you say dryly. 

“You should give me your number,” Dazai says sweetly. “Just in case this happens again.”

“I’ll get you a new landlord and I’ll give you his number,” you say just as sweetly, relishing in the way he pushes his lip out even more.

“But what if it’s another bad landlord? I should have your number so I can call you just in case,” Dazai presses, tilting his head to the side and batting his lashes at you so blatantly that you have half a mind to snort and walk away.

Instead, you find yourself letting out a huff of laughter as you shake your head.

“Fine,” you say before you can stop yourself, which he clearly doesn’t expect from how his eyes shoot open, and you don’t expect from the way your heart rate spikes as soon as the words register. 

What the fuck?

You justify this by telling yourself that Mado’s inability to properly run the complex has, in turn, made the Mafia look bad, making it seem as if you’re unable to manage your own properties. It’s better to have someone who will instantly start complaining as soon as things go wrong so you can fix it right away.

Dazai scrambles to pull his phone from the pocket of his sweats and your lips quirk up a bit when you see the way his fingers are just barely trembling. 

Cute.

You can see him watching you anxiously from the corner of his eye as you type your number into his phone quickly with your first name and hand it back to him. A bit embarrassed by how quickly you gave in to him, you make up for it with: “Don’t bother me unless it’s urgent.”

“Mhm,” Dazai agrees as he takes his phone back from you, looking down at your contact information with bright eyes. Then he suddenly pouts, “You didn’t even give yourself a cute contact name. Just your first name. That’s so boring.”

You watch as he immediately starts typing and squint at him, “What did you change it to?” you ask suspiciously, trying to look, but he pockets his phone before you can, tossing you a saccharine smile.

“You should waive my rent too,” Dazai adds, voice soft and honeyed.

The fucking audacity of this kid, you think to yourself, almost laughing in disbelief. You just gave him your number against all better judgment—he has to have more than a few screws loose, maybe all of them. The worst part is, you think the more time you spend around him, the looser yours become, too, because somehow you’re actually considering it.

You shouldn’t even be having this conversation with him. He’s a civilian. You’re an executive in the Mafia. You shouldn’t have given him your number, you shouldn’t have given him your name, you shouldn’t have entertained any of this at all. He’s a civilian, and you can’t be giving him special treatment because he is a civilian. A normal guy going to university to live a normal life. The more time you spend around him, the more likely he is to become one of the nameless bodies dumped in the abandoned shipping container yard by the ports, caught in the crossfires of an underworld conflict that he shouldn’t be anywhere near just because he was seen with you.

This shouldn’t bother you. It shouldn’t. You’ve been the reason for countless deaths, pulled the trigger yourself on most, so why is it when you think of Dazai Osamu’s stupid big brown eyes glassy and empty—body forgotten and rotting in a pile of corpses in that dumping ground—do you find your mouth dry and your chest tight?

It’s an effort for you to force out a laugh and wave him off over your shoulder as you turn to leave. 

“Yeah, as if.”

There’s a skip in Dazai’s step as he makes his way back into his small studio apartment, fingers curled around his phone. As soon as he shuts the door, he flings himself onto his futon, pulling his phone out of his pocket and smiling at the new contact in it.

My Muse is what he’d changed the contact to from the boring name you’d entered it under as if you were only just an acquaintance to him and not his muse, his inspiration, his will to live. He clicks the message button on your contact and quickly types:

Dazai: hi (＠＾◡＾)

Instantly, it pops up that you read the message, and he waits anxiously for the three dots to appear, signaling that you’re typing a response, but they never come. He pouts to himself when he realizes that you’re not going to respond. A part of him wonders if maybe you gave him a fake number, but he doubts it. Still, Dazai wanted to get more information on you anyway, so he quickly pulls up a different contact. Dazai might not have a lot of friends, but he does have a lot of people who owe him favors.

Dazai: kataiii, remember when i helped u get a date with that brunette at the cafe? :P Katai: What do you want?

Dazai types in your number and promptly sends it to him. 

Dazai: tell me whatever info u can find about the person who owns this number.

Katai doesn’t respond, so Dazai figures that he’s already on the hunt. Instead, he grabs his notebook and flips right to the page where he’s been listing all of the things he’s noticed about you. 

Rich. Nepo baby?

Demanding job? What type of nepo baby has a demanding job?

REALLY rich? Built the nice library on campus, donated hundreds of millions of yen at 18/19 to build it—weird. Evaded answering when asked why.

Dazai taps his pen to his lips, trying to figure out what he wants to add on the next bullet point, and just as he thinks he’s formulated his next observation, his phone buzzes again.

Katai: No information. At all. Not even a name. Dazai: really? Katai: Yeah. Kind of weird, honestly. Usually I can find at least something small to go off of. It’s like this number doesn’t exist.

Interesting, Dazai thinks to himself, even more intrigued now as he sits up in his futon and starts making his next note. Wealthy, distant, cold, and apparently a ghost to even Katai Tamaya, who can usually find anyone and everyone with the smallest bit of information. 

Who are you?

You’re in a meeting with Mori, Kouyou, and Ace when you get the text. It’s from an unsaved number, but one that you already have ingrained in your head, considering you get several dozen texts a day from it. You don’t even know why you bother to check this time—you usually just ignore them until you have nothing better to do than see what he’s yapping on about. Maybe this time, it’s because it’s only a single message; you’re used to getting them en masse, eight or nine messages in a row, unnecessarily split up when they could’ve been combined into one message.

As Ace drones on about whatever issues he’s having at his casinos, you spare a glance down at your phone, unlocking it to click on the message. You halt when you see that the only thing Dazai sent you is a ping with his location. Your eyes flit back upward to make sure no one is looking at you, and then you type a quick message back.

You: ?

You wait, tongue scraping against the roof of your mouth as the three bubbles pop up on your phone. His response is quick, and your stress levels skyrocket when all he sends is a “help.” Your mind races as you try to figure out what to do—if you leave the meeting now, you’re bound to draw Mori’s attention, but…

You shouldn’t care. What are you doing? You should not care. He’s a random kid that you happened to run into a couple of times, who has somehow managed to convince himself that the two of you are fated. He’s delusional and annoying, and you’d probably be better off with him gone and unable to bother you. His existence puts you in danger as much as it does him, and the fact that you’re sitting here actually contemplating going to this location to see what’s wrong is proof enough of that.

Shit.

Once again, you’re forced to justify your own actions to yourself as you find yourself rising to your feet. You tell yourself you’re only heading there to put an end to this, to tell him that he has to stop bothering you, to stop texting a dozen times a minute, several times a day. To tell him that he has to forget about you and go back to whatever he was doing before he ran into you at the bar that night.

With all eyes on you, the cogs in your mind turn quickly for an excuse. You only come up with a vague and weak one, one that you know Mori will question later on.

“Something urgent just came up,” you say, smiling thinly at the three other executives at the round table. You pointedly ignore the curious look in Mori’s eyes, knowing nothing good ever comes from drawing his curiosity. “I have more important things to do than listen to Ace whine about his own failings.”

“You-” Ace spits out, face going red as he stands up, but you’re already leaving the conference room.

You: Have the car outside in 2 minutes. Albatross: not ur personal chauffeur 😒 i’m busy

You roll your eyes at the response as you make your way into the elevator, clicking the button to bring you down to the first floor. Each second in the elevator feels like an eternity, and you find yourself glancing back down at your phone frequently to see if Dazai sends another message, but he does not.

What are you doing?

You find yourself shaking your head, a bit lost and taken aback by your own actions, as the elevator doors slide open to the first-floor lobby. You ignore your subordinates and the other Mafia underlings as you make your way to the front doors of the headquarters. 

Albatross is dutifully waiting outside for you.

“Not my personal chauffeur, huh?” you say sarcastically as soon as you open the door to sit in the passenger seat. “What happened to being busy?”

“You take me for granted,” Albatross complains, head lolling to the side against the headrest to toss you a side-eye. “Where we goin’, doll?” 

You show him the location sent to you, and you pointedly ignore the knowing look Albatross gives you at the unsaved number in your phone. He takes it in his hand to zoom into the precise location and raises his eyebrows.

“The hell is he doing on that side of the city?” Albatross says more to himself than to you, putting the phone down and shifting the car into gear. You also pointedly ignore how he immediately knows who you’re rushing off to help. “‘s a ten minute drive. I’ll get there in three.”

Oh god. It’s not like you haven’t been in car chases with Albatross before, but you don’t think anything can prepare you for the lurching in your stomach as he takes off. They’re fun usually, but you’re also usually with Chuuya, and you’re also usually distracted trying to gun down whoever is giving chase, you’re not paying attention to how dangerously he’s weaving in and out of traffic to get from place to place.

Albatross looks entirely exhilarated. There’s a wide smile on his face, pupils blown wide, sunglasses hanging off the bridge of his nose as he leans forward. He lets out a wild laugh as he takes such a jarring turn that your shoulder slams against the car door. You toss him an angry glare, but Albatross is entirely unperturbed, doesn’t even notice as he lets out a whoop.

That side of the city. You hadn’t even noticed while in the meeting, sparing a glance back down at your phone. Dazai’s up in Tsuzuki-ku—all of the city is under the Port Mafia’s control, all of the city and well beyond, really, most of Japan is under the Port Mafia’s thumb, but the northern wards are frequently tested by lower-rung gangs hoping to try to sliver some of the Mafia’s heartland away from them. They always fail, but sometimes it can get messy, and recently, there’s been another making moves in Aoba-ku.

Your chest tightens in a way that it definitely shouldn’t. It wouldn’t be the first time a wannabe rival to the Mafia targeted someone close to an executive to try to get their hands on one, and you hadn’t exactly been subtly approaching him that day at the library. Two years ago, an organization called the Serpent’s Tongue targeted a girl Chuuya’d been talking to trying to get him to turn himself in—a civilian girl, actually, one that he dragged into this life just like you’re unintentionally doing with Dazai. He turned himself over for her; they killed her anyway, and the whole organization paid for it with their lives. So did all of their families. You don’t think Chuuya’s ever gotten over it.

You’re not trying to start a gang war for a civilian that you’ve met a handful of times, but…

“Should we call for backup?” Albatross asks you, uncharacteristically serious, as the two of you draw closer to the location sent to you. “What if it’s a trap? That Yakuza syndicate’s been pretty active up here in Aoba and Tsuzuki,”

“No,” you say, because you’re not fucking calling in the Black Lizards for this civilian. That’ll make this a whole operation, and then Mori will find out, and then everything will go to shit. “... I’ll text Chuuya.”

You: Where you at? Chuuya: Checking in on the ports in Kanagawa. What’s up?

You: Be on standby?

Chuuya: ??? Ok. What’s going on?

You don’t respond, slipping your phone back into your pocket and resting your head on the window. If Chuuya’s at the ports in Kanagawa-ku, then it won’t take him more than three or four minutes with the Tainted Sorrow to get to your location. You don’t need him barreling over here now if this is something you can handle on your own. The less people that know about Dazai fucking Osamu, the better.

“Uhhh,” Albatross begins. “I don’t think your boy’s in trouble, doll.”

Instantly, your blood pressure spikes.

You follow Albatross’s gaze to where he’s looking at a strip of shops, pulling to a stop in front of an affordable men’s warehouse. You stare blankly. Albatross looks like he’s about to start laughing.

“I’m going to kill him,” you breathe out, stepping out of the car and slamming the door shut so hard that you hear Albatross cursing at you from inside, even when you get all the way to the door of the store.

Your phone is buzzing incessantly, so you pull it out before you go into the building.

Chuuya: Hello?? What’s happening? Where are you? 

Bitterly, you type out a response.

You: Forget it. False alarm.

As soon as you open the door, you’re met with the overwhelming scent of shoe polish and cheap dye. A store attendant comes up to you to ask if you need help with anything, but you’ve already spotted Dazai in the back, looking lost as his eyes card between three black suits.

“You,” you spit out loud enough to get his attention. Dazai’s eyes widen as he looks up at you. “You have some nerve.”

“Bella.” Dazai ignores your ire, a smile lighting up his face. “You came!” 

“You said help,” you accuse angrily. “You said help and sent me a location with no explanation.”

“I do need help,” Dazai pouts. “I don’t know anything about suits. You wear such nice ones all the time, I figure you can help me pick one out.”

“Do I look like a goddamn stylist, Dazai?” You raise your voice, livid, blood still running hot from the panic you felt when you saw the text, how you’d exposed yourself in front of Mori, from the anxiety of trying to figure out if you needed to bring in the Black Lizards if this was a trap.

Dazai draws back a bit now as if only just realizing that you’re genuinely pissed, and you think you should take your gun and stick it in your own mouth because why are you feeling guilty when he’s the one in the wrong? You haven’t felt guilty for anything a day in your fucking life.

A sick part of you that you want to carve out and throw away defends him. How is he supposed to know the implications of what those messages could mean to someone like you? He’s a college student whose biggest problem of the day is working out the answers to his class assignments, and he has no idea who you are and what you do. He doesn’t know that the first thing that comes to your head is the sight of Chuuya’s girl’s head rolling on the fucking ground, watching him scream over her body. Doesn’t know that there are people out there with blood that runs as black as tar that are trying to hunt you down, would jump at the chance of any weakness to exploit.

You force yourself to calm down. You take a breath, take a step away, look up to the ceiling, and pray to a god you don’t believe in to give you the patience to get through this day.

“Well, since you’re here already…” Dazai tries, giving you a sweet smile and batting his long lashes.

Your eye twitches.

You drag your gaze from his face to the three suits he’s considering. Your lip curls up a bit in disfavor as you reach out to pinch the material between your fingers—it’s stiff and scratchy to the touch, surely uncomfortable to wear.

“What do you need this for?” you finally ask, glancing at him.

“I’m going on a date,” Dazai says proudly. You snort and look him over once. His jaw drops in offense, “That was so rude, what does that mean?”

“What do you really need it for?” you ask dryly. 

Dazai withers, shoulders slumping. “My journalist professor is having me attend some event with him. Told me to get something nice to wear so I don’t look out of place.”

“And you think this will do the job?” you ask distastefully. “This looks like something a high schooler would wear to a school dance.”

Dazai looks helplessly at the suit you’re judging. “How can you tell?” he whines. “It’s just a suit.”

“The material and the color. It’s washed out.”

“Why are rich people so pretentious?” Dazai mutters, more to himself than you, and you raise your eyebrows as you watch him pout, clearly taking in the differences between the suit he picked out and the one you’re wearing. Still, he continues bitterly, “It’s just a suit.”

“You’re going with a journalist. He’s going to want you to blend in so people aren’t careful about what they say around you,” you note offhandedly, tilting your head to the side as you look over him. “The more you dress like them, the less likely they’ll be to notice you and the looser their lips will be.”

This is your field of expertise, you learned all of this when you were thirteen and fourteen, just learning the ropes of mafia politics. The first lesson you learned was that of the importance of being able to camouflage yourself in any crowd—the importance of not only acting and sounding like you belong but looking like you belong. If one thing is even a little off, you’ll be sniffed out by bloodhounds. You don’t even notice how you’re absently lecturing him on it until you catch sight of him from the corner of your eye.

Dazai’s looking at you, curious and taking in your words. You don’t like the sudden intense attention from him, so against better judgment, you sigh and change the subject. 

“Come on,” you say. “I’ll take you somewhere else.”

Dazai’s mouth is dry as he trails after you into a luxury boutique in Nishi-ku. Everything about the place makes him feel uncomfortable and sorely out of place, from the way even the store attendants are dressed in suits that Dazai couldn’t dream of affording to the way he catches them casting looks toward one another as their eyes drift between you and Dazai.

“Yeah, uh, maybe we should go back to that warehouse? I can’t afford this,” Dazai says hesitantly, nearly tripping over a stand because he isn’t paying attention to where he’s walking.

“Obviously,” you say flatly, and Dazai would feel offended, but when he tries to peek around for the price on one of the suits near him, he finds, to his mortification, that there’s not even a price tag to look at. “Kido-san, can you get the backroom set up to take his measurements?”

Measurements, Dazai mouths to himself, feeling a bit lost.

An older man, who must be Kido, nods his head in acknowledgment. “Of course, hime.”

Dazai’s head snaps to the side, watching as your eye seems to twitch at the honorific. 

“Hime?” Dazai whispers urgently, growing more confused by the second. He thought he had a general idea of who you are but finds that every meeting with you leaves him more and more bewildered.

“Don’t call me that,” you scowl before turning to look at him. 

Dazai feels strangely seen under your stare, shifting on his feet from side to side as your gaze trails down from his face to his waist. You squint and then reach out, pinch the fabric of his cotton shirt, and pull it to the side; Dazai bites back a surprised yelp, which you seem to catch from how you give him a distinctly unimpressed look.

“I-” Dazai starts to say, but he doesn’t even know what he wants to say, so he just trails off awkwardly. 

You don’t seem to notice either way because whatever you’re looking for, you seem to have found, letting out a pleased hum as you make your way to the back of the store, leaving him alone with two female store attendants who are observing him like he’s some unknown specimen.

“So, how do you know her?” One finally approaches him with an excited gleam in her eyes, eager for some gossip. “Hime has never brought anyone to us before, not even Nakahara-sama.”

Dazai doesn’t know how to respond to that. Partially because he’s still caught on the way they address you as hime and partially because he’s caught on whoever ‘Nakahara-sama’ is and why they’re so impressed that you brought him here and not them. He feels smug about it, actually, so smug that he entirely forgets to respond until the woman draws back.

“Oh! We won’t tell anyone,” the woman rushes out, shaking her head as if thinking that’s why Dazai isn’t answering her question. “We have a completely confidential policy with our clients, and hime is our most important. We wouldn’t ever risk betraying her trust.”

Dazai’s mind is whirling, trying to store all of the information he’s receiving so he can put it down in his notebook when he gets home. Hime, the reverence in the store attendants’ voices when they talk about you, going to a boutique with a confidentiality policy… that’s all a bit weird, isn’t it? Dazai isn’t sure—rich people are weird in general, maybe it’s not unheard of for high-end boutiques like this to have policies in place in case clients come in and have to talk about their business. Nobody would want to go somewhere where attendants leak trade secrets for a quick buck. 

Hime, though, why-

“Stop badgering him.” Your voice rings through the small boutique as you step out from the backroom, arms folded across your chest as you give the two attendants a sharp look. “Dazai, come.”

Dazai feels like you’re treating him like a pet dog, but he does dutifully follow after you. You motion to a pedestal in the middle of the room and Dazai makes his way over to it, feeling a bit embarrassed as he stands on top of it. You lean against the wall, and Dazai isn’t really sure what to do when Kido waddles over with a measuring tape, so he holds his arms out.

You instantly snort and look away, Kido flattens his lips.

Dazai is embarrassed, but lowers his arms.

“Take off your clothes, Dazai-sama,” the older man snaps his fingers together.

Dazai freezes, hardly even taking note of the honorific because he’s mortified by what’s being requested of him. He does not want to do that because he doesn’t want you to see that he covers his whole body with bandages. He’s had more than enough people see the bandages and immediately cringe away, imagining what monstrosity must lie beneath them for Dazai to hardly even allow an inch of visible skin. Sensing his discomfort, he watches your eyes track down to the bandages peeking over his collar and sleeves, and then you pointedly turn around to face the wall, sighing as you pull out your phone.

Dazai’s lips part a bit in shock, not expecting you to immediately recognize the issue and move to try to fix it. He thinks maybe only one person ever in his life has been able to read him so easily, and he’s been gone for four years. 

For the first time since Odasaku’s death, Dazai feels like someone is actually seeing him.

“Shirt, Dazai-sama,” Kido urges impatiently, and Dazai swallows thickly as he pulls off his sweater, noticing the man pause when he sees the bandages wrapped around Dazai’s whole torso and chest.

“I don’t ever go without them,” Dazai says awkwardly, “I-”

“Take the measurements as is, Kido-san,” you say sharply from where you’re still facing the wall.

Kido doesn’t argue with you, immediately getting to work on measuring Dazai’s waist and hips. As he does, Dazai feels particularly uncomfortable with you still standing there facing the wall, so he finds himself talking.

“The day we met at the cafe, I was going to a poetry workshop,” he says suddenly. “For uni. It’s one of my classes this semester.”

“Yeah?” you ask, and Dazai is almost surprised that you’re indulging his conversation, a stupid smile twitching on his lips. “What’d they have you doing?”

“Our professor had us write free-verse,” Dazai continues, fingers thrumming against his thigh as he speaks—a nervous habit that he can’t seem to break. Kido slaps his hand to get him to stop when it messes up the measurement of his hips, and Dazai promptly stills. “I prefer free verse. It’s my favorite style of poetry.”

Dazai doesn’t really know why he’s rambling about this, but he can’t seem to shut himself up. He can feel his cheeks getting hot, realizing this probably isn’t a conversation you’d be interested in partaking in, and just as he’s about to awkwardly change the subject, you speak up.

“… I prefer sonnets,” you tell him after a few moments of silence.

“You read poetry?” Dazai asks, a bit too doubtfully, from the way you click your tongue in irritation.

“Not often. I don’t have the time for it, but I am not uncultured,” you say, and Dazai smiles a bit—he can practically see the scowl that’s on your face. “Il Canzoniere. Francis Petrarch. That’s my favorite.”

Dazai tilts his head to the side, considering you in a new light. “Huh,” he says more to himself than you. “I didn’t expect that.”

“Put your shirt back on and remove your pants, Dazai-sama,” Kido orders and Dazai nearly jumps, almost having forgotten about the man in his conversation with you. Dazai quickly does as asked, feeling a bit uncomfortable standing there in his briefs with his bandages wrapped around his legs. “I’ll be quick.”

“Why is Il Canzoniere your favorite?” Dazai asks curiously when Kido gets to work measuring each of Dazai’s thighs and calves.

You hum to yourself and then answer, “I think the Petrarchan view of love is very… accurate. How it’s so coveted despite how painful it may be. Among all of his other ideas, of course, but that I think is the most meaningful to me.”

Dazai’s lips part to respond, but for a second, no words leave them. Finally, he clears his throat and forces out, “Yeah… Yeah, I agree with that, too.”

“You’ve read?” you ask.

“Of course, I’ve read.” Dazai is almost offended by the question. “It’s Petrarch.”

“Have you really read it, though? The translations don’t do it justice.”

Dazai blinks. “You can speak Italian?” 

“Several languages,” you drawl, as if it’s nothing. “Useful for business.”

Before Dazai can respond, Kido rises to his feet and motions for Dazai to pull back up his pants, noting down the measurements on his pad. “The rest I can do with your clothes on. You’re free to turn back around, hime.”

You do, and Dazai’s breath hitches at the unreadable expression on your face as you lean back against the wall and look over him. “What made you choose to go into English? Not exactly a useful major unless you plan on going into law or publishing.”

Oh. Dazai hesitates, throat bobbing as he swallows, lashes fluttering as he averts his gaze down toward the floor. “My friend… he passed away a few years ago. Right before I was about to enter college, actually. He asked me to finish his book for him—I told him I don’t know anything about writing and that it’ll turn out bad if he had me do it, but he insisted… and I mean, I can’t really say no to my dying best friend, can I?”

He thinks this might be the first time he’s talked about Odasaku out loud since his death. He didn’t go to the funeral, hasn’t talked to Ango since it all happened. He’s emotionally isolated himself from everyone for years, and Dazai is feeling more than a little vulnerable because he doesn’t even know why he’s telling you all of this. He just can’t seem to shut his mouth.

“I think you’ll do it justice,” you tell him after a few moments of silence.

Dazai looks up at you, dark eyes wide and imploring. He searches your face to see if you’re just fucking with him but only finds sincerity—you immediately look away, focusing on the wall instead. A smile tugs at the corners of his lips and he’s positively vibrating at your words until Kido lets out a heavy sigh.

“Dazai-sama, please stop moving so much.”

Dazai stills immediately and instead focuses on trying to help Kido finish up the measurements as quickly as possible. Dazai’s only been to this part of Nishi-ku a handful of times, but if he remembers correctly, there’s a cafe two blocks down, and this is his chance. 

This is his chance to ask you on a date. He has to take it. He hasn’t felt this giddy, this happy, this hopeful since before he lost Odasaku. Dazai hasn’t looked forward to the future like this in years, just surviving each day, wishing each passing one was his last, but not wanting to disappoint Odasaku by not fulfilling his last request. He’d been at his breaking point that day at the bar, but then he met you.

Then he met you. And yeah, you hadn’t shown much interest in him that night. Not at all, actually, but Dazai had never been drawn to someone like he’d been drawn to you before in his entire life. He’d known something was there, even if that did make him a little delusional. His heartbeat is erratic in his chest, and he’s clumsily trying to help speed things up, but he thinks he might be doing more harm than help. 

When Dazai looks over to you again, he finds himself flustered by the expression on your face. Your head is tilted to the side as you observe him, lips curved up, and a look in your eyes that can only be described as fondness. You don’t notice that he caught you staring, so Dazai tries to burn this image in his head as quickly as he can. He’s used to contemptuous, judgmental looks, he doesn’t think anyone has ever looked at him so affectionately before. It makes him feel warm, like he’s someone who’s capable of being loved. 

The look disappears as soon as you realize he caught you—Dazai misses it instantly. He watches instead as a flurry of conflicted emotions crosses over your face, and he wishes he could read your mind, know what you’re thinking, but he does know that he doesn’t like the painfully neutral expression that settles there, a dreadful feeling growing in his stomach that makes him feel as if something is wrong.

“Are you okay?” Dazai asks, trying to figure out what had changed so quickly.

You don’t respond to him—rather, you look at Kido instead, making his stomach drop.

“Is that all?” you finally ask as Kido rises to his feet.

“Yes, hime,” Kido tells you. “I’ve finished with the measurements.”

“Good,” you say, and then turn on your heel to leave without even sparing another glance toward Dazai. Caught off guard, he readjusts his shirt and nearly trips over his own feet, trying to rush after you. “When do you need this by, Dazai?”

Dazai doesn’t like the sudden distance in your tone, a far cry from the easy conversation the two of you had just been holding, but he forces himself to respond. “Uh, by the end of the month, I think?”

“Kido-san will have it done for you by the end of the week,” you say, tapping something into your phone, hardly paying attention to him. “Come back and pick it up then. Charge it to my card when you’ve figured out the pricing for it, yeah?” 

“Of course, hime,” Kido agrees and Dazai feels a bit unsettled.

“You’ll come with me to pick it up, bella?” he prods, nudging your shoulder and trying to peek over to see what you’re typing, trying to figure out if something is wrong, if he’d done something to cause the abrupt change in attitude or if you’d gotten a text about work or something instead. He feels a bit nervous, his tongue swollen in his mouth, watching you carefully.

You stare at him, and for a terrible, terrible second, Dazai thinks you’re about to tell him no. But then the tension in your brows disappears, letting out a soft puff of air as your expression smoothes out.

“Yeah,” you say quietly. “Yeah, I will.”

When Dazai smiles, feeling light and relieved, hopeful that maybe for the first time since Odasaku’s death, he won’t have to be alone, he misses the way your expression drops as you look away from him. 

“This needs to stop.”

You stiffen at the sound of Chuuya’s familiar voice coming from the door of your bedroom, your shirt half-unbuttoned as you get ready for bed. You raise your eyebrows, turning to look at him over your shoulder, a bit thrown off because you hadn’t even heard the elevator come up to your room.

“Please, enlighten me as to what has you so worked up that you’re barging into my bedroom while I’m half-dressed,” you say dryly, giving Chuuya a cool look as you turn to face him, crossing your arms over your chest.

Chuuya looks uncharacteristically angry at you, lips curled down, eyes cold. It almost makes you draw back, mind racing to try to figure out what you might’ve done to piss him off. You can’t remember the last time he’s been mad at you like this—you’re not sure if he ever has been.

“Dazai Osamu. Fourth year literature student at Yokohama National University. Graduated from Kanagawa Sohgoh High School four years ago. Currently living in building number 10511898050 in the residential area of Iwaicho in Hodogaya-ku, unit number 409. He has an eight am class Mondays and Wednesdays, a two pm class Tuesdays and Thursdays, a-”

“Enough,” you cut him off, voice clipped and heartbeat thudding in your ears as you stare at Chuuya, watching as he gives you a sharp look. 

“It took me less than ten minutes to get all of that information on him,” Chuuya says, voice low, “and no, I didn’t have Albatross help me. What the fuck are you doing?”

“I’m not doing anything,” you say, jaw tight. “He’s just some random fucking kid who I bumped into once and won’t leave me alone now, that’s-”

That’s a lie, you know it, and evidently, Chuuya knows it too from how he scoffs at you and shakes his head. Your expression twists, throat spasming as you swallow. You’d known you were in trouble since you left the boutique—when you’d caught your gaze lingering on him as he fumbled to help Kido with the measurements, only making more work for the poor man, a warm feeling spreading through your chest when you saw how he gradually became more and more comfortable as you entertained his conversation, rambling about poetry and literature, the solemn look that crossed his face when he spoke about his friend.

“I think you’ll do it justice.”

You hadn’t even noticed the way you instinctively made an effort to reassure him, not until he looked back up at you and you saw the pretty flush spreading across his cheeks, gaze flitting to the ground, too flustered to meet your eyes. It’d been like someone tossed cold water right over you, drawing you from your thoughts and smacking you right back into reality.

You had every intention of rebuking him as soon as you finished finalizing the details of the order with Kido—you did. You were going to tell him not to contact you again, that if he did, you’d block his number. You were going to tell him to forget about you and go back to whatever he was doing before he met you that night at the bar—you were. But when he looked down at you through his lashes, unsure and hesitant, as if he knew what you were about to say to him but had the slimmest hope that maybe he was wrong, and-

And you couldn’t do it.

Fuck.

Who even are you anymore? You’re so bitter that you can taste it in your mouth, it’s an ugly and uncomfortable taste. You don’t even know where this is coming from—the reluctance to hurt this kid, the weakness. Because that’s what this is, it’s a weakness, one that you know better than anyone that people will exploit, and you are still putting him in danger.

“Yeah?” Chuuya lets out an unamused laugh, taking a step forward and pulling something out of his pocket. His gaze is challenging, and you have a pit in your stomach, one that tells you you’re not going to like whatever he’s about to say. “The fuck is this then, huh?” 

He slaps a copy of your own credit card transactions down into your hand. Your blood boils when you see the red circle around the recent payment you made to Kido; above that, the 50k yen wired to the new landlord of the complex.

“You’re going to get this fucking kid killed,” Chuuya tells you, leaning in close. “You must realize that by now. You’re going to get him killed. If I could get all of this information so easily, it’s only a matter of time before one of our enemies does. That syndicate in the northern wards. The Red Chamber. Cao Xueqin will have him chopped into pieces and send you on a fucking treasure hunt across the city to get all of his limbs together for a proper burial. And for what? You’re bored? Is that it? You’re gonna have this kid tortured to death because you’re bored?”

You don’t answer, glaring at him as you try to calm yourself down, but you’re unusually rattled by Chuuya’s words. You find your mouth dry, your fingers shaking in your pockets. The sharp, snide words you would usually smack him back with die on your tongue, and you feel like a fool staring at him.

Your lack of response seems to trigger some sort of realization in Chuuya and you watch as his eyes widen briefly, leaning back.

“You actually care about him,” he says quietly, and now he’s the one who looks uncertain, averting his gaze to the side as he thinks.

“No, I don’t,” you correct immediately, shaking your head. “I don’t, Chuuya.”

“You do,” Chuuya murmurs. “It doesn’t matter. You can’t continue this. Cut it loose now, before it gets any further, before you end up getting him killed.”

“I’m not you,” you spit out, a low blow, you know. To Chuuya’s credit, he doesn’t react beyond a sharp inhale, nostrils flaring briefly.

“No, you’re not,” he agrees. “I wouldn’t be so fucking stupid to make the same mistake twice.”

“That was your mistake,” you hiss. “Not mine.”

Chuuya laughs, a huff that’s more mocking than amused, as he takes a step away from you. You’d think you’d prefer anger or hate more than the thinly veiled pity within them now. 

“It’ll be your mistake too soon,” he warns, stuffing his hands in his pocket as he turns to leave. “You’re smarter than this.”

You are. You are smarter than this. You know this will turn out the same way it did with Chuuya. You can picture it sometimes. Dazai’s body in place of hers, bruised and beaten, lacerations lining his cold body and his head severed from his neck—a trophy to be taken by your enemies. His blood stains your hands and clothes, no matter how much you scrub your skin raw and no matter how many new outfits you buy. Whenever you look down, you see his blood dripping off of you.

“I’m not reaching out to him again,” you finally say, ignoring the way your chest tightens. “Get the fuck out of my apartment, Chuuya.”

Chuuya looks back at you, not even bothering to hide the pity this time. You have half a mind to slap it right off of his face.

“For your sake and his, I hope you don’t.”

“Dazai-kun, are you even paying attention?”

Dazai startles out of his own head, blinking rapidly as his gaze focuses on Professor Ui, who’s watching Dazai with a disapproving frown. Dazai gives the older man a sheepish smile, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Sorry, Ui-sensei. I was distracted,” Dazai apologizes, glancing once more back down at his phone, smile softening a bit when he sees you read his messages complaining about such a late meeting on campus. You don’t respond, naturally, but Dazai can practically picture you rolling your eyes at him.

“Please focus,” Professor Ui says tightly. “It’s essential that you understand our plans going into this event. We have two weeks left to prepare.”

Dazai sighs as he puts his phone down, looking up at Professor Ui and the two other students who are going to be working this event with him, both of whom look irritated by Dazai’s lack of focus.

“The event we’ll be attending is going to be hosted at the Tocho for a special agency in Tokyo that handles violent crimes associated with criminal enterprises. They made huge progress in pushing the Scarlet Gang out of the Asakusa Ward—the government wants to celebrate them for it,” Professor Ui explains, for the second time clearly, seeing how the two other students share a look with one another. “The whole event is pretty much just a mask for Representatives and Councillors in the Diet to gather and advocate for and against a major military bill about to pass through the Lower House.”

Dazai can already feel himself losing focus again, itching to text you yet another update that you won’t respond to, but he knows you’ll read. He wonders what you’re doing right now—whatever rich people do at seven on a Thursday night, he supposes. Probably out drinking with people, he thinks, jealous that he’s stuck on campus getting the rundown on this stupid assignment. He pouts a bit to himself, wondering if you’re with other guys right now, listening to them ramble on in the same way Dazai did to you, but before his thoughts can spiral too much in that direction, Professor Ui clears his throat.

“Our goal during this event is to find viable proof to move forward with an exposé on a crime syndicate known as the Sun and Steel,” Professor Ui says, and Dazai suddenly straightens, interested in what his professor is saying. “We’ve received a tip that one of their executives is going to be attending this event under the pretense of being an interested party—invites have been sent out to a lot of major corporations who have stakes in the bill. We believe that the Sun and Steel is using a company called the Age of Blue as a front for its criminal activities—if we can find proof and expose them for what they are, it can be a major stepping stone to taking down some of the bigger organizations in Japan.”

“Ui-sensei,” Hinami says, leaning forward in her seat. “The government wouldn’t really let some mafias attend an event for an agency that’s dedicated to taking them down. That’s a bit…”

“Ironic,” Ayato snorts, folding his arms over his chest. “I mean, if there’s no proof of their front company being involved in shady shit—oh, uh, sorry, sensei—shady stuff, it’s not like they can just pick and choose which to invite. Or, well, they can, but it won’t be a good look.”

“Exactly,” Professor Ui says, “and the government can’t do anything about them until they have due cause.”

“That’s what we’re for,” Dazai notes, “... but why us? You’re an adjunct professor—work for Ivory Eagle, that newspaper company that everyone’s been talking about. You have a whole team, why do you need a bunch of college students?”

“Does it matter?” Ayato says with a sharp grin. “Imagine if we pull this off? Our careers would be set. We’d have helped with the takedown of a mafia.”

Dazai thinks it does matter, eyes settling on the unreadable expression on Professor Ui’s face. His two classmates might be giddy with anticipation over such a ‘cool’ assignment, but mafia business is dangerous. Dazai might be fond of the idea of death, but he’s got a final wish to fulfill before that—plus, the idea of being tortured to death isn’t exactly appealing to him. He’s not sure that it’s just a coincidence that Professor Ui chose three students who have no family to help with this assignment. Otsuka Ayato, a second-year student who was orphaned during the Dragon’s Head Conflict six years ago; Koda Hinami, a third-year student who's been in and out of the foster system since she was a baby; and Dazai, whose mother killed herself when he was seven and whose aunt abandoned him, whose only guardian died four years ago.

No one would come looking for any of them if things went poorly. 

“You won’t be in danger,” Professor Ui assures them. “Just think of it as a way to test your skill in information gathering while in a conversational setting—go in there, observe, make small talk, and see what you can find out. They’ll have their guard up around my fellow journalists and I, you three are new faces. All you’re going to do is go in there and talk. No danger.”

Dazai isn’t convinced.

“Ui-sensei, you said this is meant to be a stepping stone?” Hinami asks curiously, changing the subject before Dazai can press any further. “A stepping stone for who?”

Professor Ui smiles thinly. “The Port Mafia.”

[asahicore]

sorry this is a rather small than my usual ones. work has drained me too much (atleast im gettting that bag)

the way you described in the first paragraphs make him sound a like a psych major

sorry BUT HEE SOUNDS LIKE A CUTE LOSER RIGHT NOW (in a good way ??)

Sigma Sigma Pi Made me laugh sm.

Even though he hadn’t seen you in months, you were still on his mind all the time. To say he missed you would be an understatement, and it was a weird feeling, considering you were barely friends. But he missed taking the bus with you and hearing you laugh, even if it was at him, even when you were teasing him. He missed getting a glimpse of you in the hallways or seeing your shoes at the entrance of his house when he came home from school. He daydreamed about those hours you had spent together working on a puzzle together more often than he’d like to admit.

hes so me frr i even acted like that over my crush ( i miss seeing them in the school hallway and going home together <\3)

its so CUTE AND THIS BEING IN HEESEUNGS POV IS SO AHAHSBISJSKS CUTE AHHH IM SO EXCITED LIKE ITS MY FRIEND HITTING ON THE CRUSH. FRR

Since that fateful party, you’ve unconsciously started seeing your life as pre-Heeseung incident and post-Heeseung incident. 

vERY REAL 🗣🗣🗣🗣

tmi ; now i read this while i go shopping for some stuff. and tey to keep my cool update there's police there?? a ROBBERY??? im ok and good. moving on...

“What’s serious is this crush you’ve been harboring on him all these years, and that now that something has finally happened and you might be going somewhere with him, you’re running the other way.”

me 🤝 yn

running away from our problems fr

Your friend’s doubt only makes you feel even worse, and you drop your head into your palms with a groan. “I hate everything about this.”

omg yes also no ?? i feel like im on both sides for this trope. On fiction yes its 💯💯 but irl its ?? really IDK DEPENDS ON THE PERSON. one of my old friend dated our frienfs brother they didn't really end on good terms (friend A and the brother) so it got awkward at one point for her. Since we usually to friends B s house mostly. idk friend B has told us pls don't date your friends older brother or just sibling in general. but i also lnow ithers who are in great relationships too. yeah OKAT OFF TOPIC BACK TO THIS

“So that’s it then! Let’s not think about any of the possible bad outcomes for now, and just focus on getting you and him together.”

EXACTLY FOCUS ON YOU BOTH YES.

“Girl! He somehow manages to make it even more obvious than you. Also, Jake told me that Heeseung told him that he likes you. Can’t get much more reassurance than that.”

we love idots (affectionate) in love

“Really. And you, I’ve noticed how you pay more attention when his name is mentioned. And you were always a bit cheerier on the days you came back from school after riding the bus with him. Don’t even get me started on the way you’ve been this summer. You couldn’t get more obvious. It screams ‘I can’t handle being around this man for more than a minute so I’ll just run away,’ and I mean that in a good way.”

shes so :(( 🥺🥺🥺 <\3 i love them too. love this friendship wtf im going cry over this too

“I’m not completely sure. Maybe because you and Heeseung were both such losers, I thought that even if I told you I knew, nothing would happen.” You scoff, slightly offended, but more because you know she’s right than anything. “And I don’t know, you two were just so cute with your crush on each other. I wanted to let you figure it out on your own, but now it’s taken so long and it’s right in your face but you’re still doing nothing about it, so I got fed up.”

me too man me too. they are bunch of losers sm in love. need a little push (to a private space they can talk it out)

Your favorite movie is on the list, and you can’t help but wonder whether it’s a coincidence or whether it’s something you’d talked about during high school and that he’d somehow remembered.

STOP THATS SO AHHH IM GOING TO CRYDVDIJSSB AHHH

“O-oh, hey, Y/N,”

my cute little loser (love him and literally rooting for him)

Neither of you says anything more, letting the silence do its job. You look back up at him as he sighs deeply, almost contentedly, it seems. He smiles at the glasses as if they told him the right thing to say. He looks at you, smiles wider, looks away, looks back, looks away again, scratches the back of his head. You watch the whole time, small giggles bubbling up your throat and out of your lips. 

fiNALLY FUXKING FINALLY WVERYONE CHEERED 🗣🗣💯💯😌😌

He’s taken a comfortable seat indeed - he’s shamelessly manspreading, thighs almost taking up the whole space as if inviting you to find your own seat there.

HAHAHAHAH YEAH HE WOULD

You mumble at him to scooch then sit down next to him, knees bent close to your chest so your legs don’t touch his too much, but that plan is quickly thrown out of the window when you feel his hand sneaking behind your back until it reaches your waist, settling there. Even with a layer of fabric between his hand and your skin, the contact sends a shiver down your spine, and you have to keep yourself from audibly gasping. Conscious of the drink in your hand, Heeseung pulls you gently towards him, making your bent knees fall to the side and rest on his thigh. So much for keeping your distance.

SCREMAIBG THROWING UP AHHH YESS FUCKING FINALLY YES. THANK YOU.

Feeling bolder, you squeeze Heeseung’s hand once then bring it to rest on your knee. You sense his gaze on your face once again, but you avoid it and keep your eyes fixated on the TV screen, unable to keep yourself from smiling even though one of the side characters is getting brutally murdered. Your smile only gets bigger when he squeezes your hand back.

they are so cute. Ill eat them.

“But I’m more scared of letting you go now that I finally have you,” you say to the ground.

yeS FUCKING YESS BABE YES.

stop ITS HAPPENIVG LET THAT SEXUAL TENSION OUT (in thatvmoment)

“You finally did it, man! I’m so proud of you,” he exclaims, and actually sounds really excited.

me too, I FEEL YOU HOON A PROUD MOM

the practice part HAHAHAH VERY REAL HAHAHAHA IM

“Okay, if you say so,” she says, not sounding fully convinced. “But, you know, if there was, I wouldn’t- I wouldn’t be mad. A little weirded out, maybe, but not mad.” She’s looking at you so intently as she says this that you think she must know, otherwise she wouldn’t be saying all this. It’s like she’s asking you to just tell her, but still, you can’t bring yourself to do it. As if you’ve dug your own grave and have to lie in it.

OMG. BRO PMG. DHE KNOWS SHE FUCKING KNOWS PLS TELL SHE KNOWS

All he knows about sex, he’s gathered from porn, conversations with his guy friends, and Yunjin’s “spicy” romance novels. He has enough critical thinking skills to know that none of these are a hundred percent reliable sources, but he figured that the novels would be the closest to what women actually like.

HAHAHAHA I LAUGHED 4TH WALL WHERE ME TOO HAHAHA. THIS IS SO FUNNY.

FUCK THEY ARE SO CUTE ILL JUST LOSE IT URGH AHHHH

“Heeseung? Y/N?”

no NO NO i mesn i saw it coming so....

“I have to talk to her,” you whisper as you wrench your wrist away from Heeseung’s hold. 

OH GOD WISHING YOU THE BEST

update; stop i just realized i never said i came back from shopping lmao

i think this became longer than i said at the beginning. Take a shot everytime I say real.

one and only 🍓anon 😌💪

strawb anon are u okay .. an armed robbery happening right next to you while you were reading my fic? 😭 congrats on getting ur bag though !! get lots of rest and dw about whether ur ask is long or not im happy receiving anything at all so ty for sending this <33

sigma sigma pi i have no idea what fraternities are actually called i just went with my imagination 😭

i miss having hs crushes sm omg !! and yeah the bfb trope irl is not ideal.. i dont think i'd mind one of my friends dating one of my brothers but if they break up it'd be so awkward 😭 but if they don't and they get like married or something then it'd be fun to have my friend become my sister-in-law ig lol

seeing u react to heeseung is fo funny lmaoo calling him a loser one second and then screaming about him the next 😭😭 im the same though... also the huge skip in the quotes ur commenting on is taking me out and yeah seeun x yn in shambles 😣 tysm for ur ask strawb !!!!!! hope u had a good time shopping