writing-blocked-me

[writing-blocked-me]

Been on a trip to the Scottish Highlands last weekend and saw an actual faerie circle! Inspiration strikes again.

More cruel prince!gojo because I need to escape to Faerie pls and thank you. I got a biiit carried away.

warnings: excessive alcohol, regicide and murder (brief mentions, not in much detail), bit ooc Geto because I wanted him to fit into the role of Locke :)

part 1 part 2

cruel prince!gojo who desperately ignored the mic of relief and excitement that overcame him as you did, indeed, return to your joint studies the following day. He desperately attempted to tear his eyes from you. When he failed to do that, he tried to ensure his face held nothing but contempt and cool arrogance, schooling his features into a cold sneer.

cruel prince!gojo whose eyes you could feel trailing after you, locked onto you in a way that could not possibly mean anything pleasant. You did your best to ignore it, the sneers and stares, but your lip curled and your brows furrowed with every degrading comment he muttered under his breath.

cruel prince!gojo who was far from subtle with his fixation, as much as he would pretend otherwise. With the young prince’s attention drawn to you, it was no surprise you attracted the attention of another member of his little group. As you continued your attempts to pay attention to your lecturer, you, for the first time, felt not one, but two pairs of eyes on you.

cruel prince!gojo who watched from afar with gritted teeth as his so-called friend, Geto, stayed behind to help you up after Gojo had finished tormenting you for the day. The young prince felt a twinge of satisfaction as he watched those efforts to help be rejected by you, observing the suspicion in your eyes as you slapped the dark-haired fae’s hand away.

cruel prince!gojo who witnessed your cautious opening-up to Geto as the weeks passed, smiling at him in a way you never had, and most likely never would, with the youngest prince. Quietly, he seethes as Geto returns to the group, telling him and Shoko about how much fun mortal girls could be, how entertaining they were. It was then that the truth was revealed to him. Geto was courting both you and your sister. It was all some sick test, a way for your sister to prove she could ‘love like the folk’. Bullshit. Gojo knew exactly what it was, another one of Geto’s stories that he’d act out, using people as puppets in his plot.

cruel prince!gojo who was forced to listen as Geto shared tales of his ‘new story’. Icy blue eyes narrowed as the delight in Geto’s own eyes when he mentioned you, your unpredictable nature and boldness, seemed much too genuine. Gojo listened to each event described in excruciating detail, unaware of his own role in the very same story.

cruel prince!gojo gazed at you from afar as you smiled at Geto, only to turn to him and scowl. Surprisingly, you had accepted Geto’s offer to stay for the revel he was hosting at his estate, despite the fact that Gojo was in attendance. Your glare was cutting as Gojo grabbed the pretty pixie girl beside him and pressed his lips to hers, a poor attempt to forget your presence. In response, and what felt like revenge, you felt yourself giving in to Geto’s advances and allowed him to lock lips with your own. For that moment, your lips may have belonged to Geto, yet the youngest prince could not help the pang of satisfaction when he saw your glare on him, directed at him.

cruel prince!gojo who ignored Geto’s antics, instead focusing on antagonising you. Or rather, that had been his original plan, until he realised it only drove you further into his friend’s waiting arms.

cruel prince!gojo decided to switch tactics. The abdication of the High King of Elfhame and subsequent coronation of the new High King was coming up. Such a huge event required the presence of all the Folk. Every court would be in attendance, Seelie and Unseelie, from the Court of Teeth to the Court of Termites. Such a splendid event would require just as splendid attire. Every denizen of the Isles of Elfhame would be commissioning new clothes for the occasion.

cruel prince!gojo who was not planning anything particular, until he caught sight of a beautiful fabric as he was commissioning his own attire. A shimmering ombre, starting as snowy white at the top and moving to the beautiful azure of his eyes, then deepening to a dark indigo. Outlines of trees were stitched into it. Instantly conceiving an idea, Gojo commissioned an outfit to be created, using the seamstress tasked with creating the coronation attire for your family. It was delivered to you anonymously replacing the garment you were going to wear.

cruel prince!gojo who watches smugly as you arrive at the coronation in his chosen ensemble. Gojo 1, Geto 0. He approached you slowly, too slowly, it seemed, as his old friend beat him to you. Prince Gojo observed you as Geto kissed your hand and whisked you off to the dance floor. His eyes trailed the two of you as you waltzed across the room.

cruel prince!gojo who watched as your face turned progressively more sour, nose scrunching in confusion. He wormed his way towards you, weaving through the sea of faeries, all dancing to the tunes of the coronation. Tapping his friend on the shoulder, signalling it was time to switch partners, the youngest prince took your hand. Amused and disappointed, he watched as your features slouched further when he took your hand. Despite your grouchy commentary, Gojo still had the solace of knowing he had managed to keep you from his friend. He felt at ease knowing he had kept you out of Geto's game a little longer.

cruel prince!gojo whose heart pained as you professed your hatred for him. His hands immediately let go of you, needing to escape. Losing sight of you as he retreats with a carefully placed spiteful smile, he grabbed the nearest goblet of wine and downed it. A poor decision really, but he had decided tonight was to be full of bad decisions as he downed another goblet.

cruel prince!gojo who was hammered out of his mind, stumbling aimlessly. So completely unaware of his surroundings as he was, he managed to entirely miss the coronation. Although, it was a blessing in disguise, as he was now one of two members of the royal family left standing after Naoya, with the help of your foster father, launched a coup. Moments before the King crowned Toji, his chosen successor, Naoya whirled on the two of them. One sword pointed to another and suddenly only two royals were left standing, the crown on neither of their heads.

cruel prince!gojo who, still riotously drunk, finds you hidden under a table amongst the chaos. He gave a half-hearted remark on mortals belonging in the dirt as he swayed unsteadily on his feet. He made a second, more concerned comment on your safety amongst the pandemonium. You laughed at that, as though he had said something hilariously stupid, then told him to join you under the table.

cruel prince!gojo who doubled over in pain as your fist met his stomach. Your fingers twisted round his doublet as you tugged him under the table, as he let you tug him under the table with you.

cruel prince!gojo who couldn't tell whether he was dreaming or not as you instructed him to start crawling under tables. You were helping him? Willingly? It seemed as though the world was upside down. It seemed so entirely outlandish that at first he presumed your words to be a drunken hallucination. Wishful thinking. Then, you started crawling ahead of him, beckoning him to follow with a look of exasperation.

cruel prince!gojo who you sit and listened to surprisingly as he rambled about his deceased father and siblings. Never before had you seen him like this, displacing expressions other than cool amusement or annoyance. It disturbed you somehow more than the senseless, horrid slaughter you had witnessed previously that night.

cruel prince!gojo whose hand extended to help you up as the two of you reached the end of the tables you were crawling under. You batted it away stubbornly, not wanting his aid, thinking him to be mocking you. He wasn't. He held his breath as you took out your braids, mussing up your hair to make yourself less recognisable. His eyes followed you from behind his mask, the sleek black one he had stolen from another of the party-goers, before the massacre. Sparkling azure eyes trained on you as you dipped back into the panicking crowd to find a mask for yourself. He fought the urge to down another drink to cure him of the ailment you were causing within him.

cruel prince!gojo who thought his heart stopped for at least a minute as you grabbed his hand. Never had he ever been more thankful for wearing a mask, covering the pink hue that crept up his cheeks. He supposed he could also blame the alcohol, but he'd rather you not know he was blushing at all as you dragged him out of the hall.

cruel prince!gojo whose clever tongue had not been of any use before, especially not to you, who only ever received its snarky insults. Yet, it was that same wit which helped you talk your way past the guards and out of the hall. Once again, he was thankful his mask hid his face because, drunk as he was, he could not hide the pride and satisfaction that arose when he witnessed your expression. Mildly impressed. After years being on the receiving end of nothing but indifference, and most recently your ire, Prince Gojo was more than a little pleased to have gleaned positive recognition from you. Not that he would ever admit it to you, or even himself.

cruel prince!gojo who was completely taken aback when, as soon as you were both out of sight of the guards and any stragglers from the coronation, you pressed your knife to his throat, under his chin. His eyes widened and so did your grin, backing him up against the wall. He blinked as he spoke your name, slowly and carefully to stop himself from slurring.

cruel prince!gojo who would not admit this to anyone, but one of his favourite memories is having your blade at his neck, powerless against you.

[writing-blocked-me]

More cruel prince!gojo because brain goes brrrr and he keeps reappearing in my dreams :3

part 1 part 3

Warnings: unfairly treated human servants, Naoya is an asshole, mentions of physical abuse

Inspired by the Folk of the Air series by Holly Black! Highly recommend, it’s such a good read!!!!

cruel prince!gojo believed he had finally bested you when you started skipping out on lectures, completely unaware of your new role as Prince Toji’s spy. He didn’t understand why the lack of your presence aggravated him so much. After all, he won, so he should be happy, right? Instead, he longed to see your face again, scrunched in stubborn opposition as you yelled at him.

cruel prince!gojo who scrawled your name onto parchment over and over again, a crude attempt to exorcise thoughts of you from his mind. You were a nuisance, nothing but a filthy mortal girl, and yet here you were, plaguing his thoughts, both dreaming and awake. He did not want to think about your soft, round human features. He did not wish to imagine cupping your face in his hands as you gazed at him softly. He most certainly did not feel anything other than contempt as you forced your way into his dreams, gazing at him with an adoration far beyond the love which a subject gives their royalty. Yes, those dreams made him simultaneously want to retch and swoon.

cruel prince!gojo who is taunted endlessly by Naoya about you. Constant are his comments about how a mortal should never get away with humiliating the royalty of Faerie, about how weak Gojo is for allowing it to happen. The youngest prince sat in his room, berated and ridiculed for not being able to put a pathetic mortal in their place, unaware that the ‘pathetic mortal’ in question was hidden underneath the bed, hanging on every word.

cruel prince!gojo who, later that night, caught a faint glimmer of you as he wandered the dark corridors of Hollow Hall. Believing himself to have imagined you, he kept wandering, until his pointed ears picked up the slightest hushed whispers of your voice. Approaching the source of the whispers, maintaining a safe enough distance that he was out of sight, he found you. There you were, dressed in servant’s attire, in befitting of your station along the Gentry (however undeserving of that station you were). Gojo’s eyes roamed over you as you desperately consoled and attempted to quiet the weeping mortal servant at your side, whose glamour had clearly worn off and was panicked and fearful of her unfamiliar surroundings.

cruel prince!gojo who followed you as you led the girl through his home and, if any guards or servants wandered by, and he so happened to distract them with typical antics of the young prince, well that was completely unrelated to your escape. He followed you all the way out of Hollow Hall, past the entrance and to the tree where you had leashed the giant toad you arrived on, watching even as you and the servant girl rode off into the dim evening sun.

cruel prince!gojo who could not understand the immense relief that washed over him as you disappeared from sight, unscathed and unscarred from your brief visit to his home. He could not comprehend why a pit formed in his stomach whenever he considered what could have happened were you caught, almost as if he could not stand the thought of you being hurt, being punished. Logically, he reasoned that he simply did not want your punishment to fall to Naoya, which is what would have happened. Gojo rationalised that he should be the only one to punish you, that he should be the one to break you. After all, there was nothing else it could mean.

cruel prince!gojo who took the blame for the missing mortal servant, enduring the pains of the lashing Naoya forced a glamoured human to bestow on him as punishment. Every lash he took, every mark made on his back, despite causing agony, also came with an odd sense of comfort. For all the aching and soreness and damage he withstood, at least it was not being inflicted on you. The notion sent him into yet another spiral.

cruel prince!gojo who was at war with himself over these slow realisations that maybe he didn’t despise you as he previously theorised. He agonised over the feeling of tenderness when your face appeared in his mind, which was more often than he liked to admit to even himself.

cruel prince!gojo who was certain about one thing. That he desperately awaited your return to lectures.

[writing-blocked-me]

I’ve been rereading The Folk of the Air series and I just can’t get Cruel Prince Gojo out of my brainnnnn🧠 - had to come back from my loonnnng hiatus just to post about it

part 2 part 3

cruel prince!gojo who is the youngest prince of Elfhame and flaunts that status to no end. As the youngest child of the king, he knows he will not be chosen as successor and so, despite his clear power and capabilities, chooses to do as he pleases. That being causing chaos.

cruel prince!gojo who is never seen without his two friends by his side, who only ever encourage his behaviour. Geto, with his quiet, subtle cruelty, who manipulates people as if they were actors on a stage, all for his own amusement. Then there was Shoko, too, relaxed and all too comfortable to simply sit back and amuse herself, watching the calamities the other two caused, occasionally joining in herself.

cruel prince!gojo who you have despised since you first met him. He was rotten and cruel and spoiled and yet everything you wished you could be, a true part of Faerie. You were merely the human foster daughter of the Grand General, given a place in the court only because of his status. Merely a human, plain and unremarkable compared to the ethereal beauty of the Folk, compared to gojo.

cruel prince!gojo who took every opportunity to make your life a living hell. When you were younger, he’d tug on your braids and shove you in the mud. As you got older, he only got worse, torturing you, merely because he saw himself as better, as superior to who he’d call a “dirty, mortal liar”. He’d kick dirt on your food, make snide comments during lectures, generally creating nuisances for you.

cruel prince!gojo who only got worse once you decided to stand up to him. Whenever he was nearby, at revel’s or during lectures, you could feel his eyes burning into you. His ‘pranks’ worsened, too, Rather than simply making comments, or being a general nuisance, he’d actively direct his cruelty towards you. Ripping off charms, feeding you Everapple, he’d do anything he could to make you susceptible to his glamours and make you bend to his will. It’s what you deserved, after all, for defying a prince of Faerie.

cruel prince!gojo who you blatantly defied, over and over again. He could not seem to break you. Never had he ever had to try as hard as he did with you. Most things came easily to him, and the things that didn’t, well, he never had to bother with again. But you, you were a challenge he could never give up on. All of Elfhame cowered and bowed in his presence, but not you. You defied him, even bested him on occasion (a fact that Naoya, the eldest in line for the throne, never failed to remind him of).

cruel prince!gojo whose note you found, sending shivers of discomfort down your spine with each line you read. There was no threat, no purpose to the ink-scrawled page, just your name written repeatedly, almost obsessively. The only thing you could conclude is that he really must hate you.

cruel prince!gojo who cannot get you out of his mind, who is beginning to realise, disgustingly, that it may not be because of hatred.

[writing-blocked-me]

What would the BSD characters smell like?

Got this idea from a Reddit post.

★ ★ ★

Chuuya - cigarettes and and a dark, spicy cologne. Maybe a faint smell of leather too.

Dazai - I think he’d smell slightly damp, like someone who just got out of the shower or bath (or some other body of water). Definitely some whiskey scent. Maybe a little like aftershave.

Atsushi - just like, plain soap. He smells “clean,” however you’d imagine that to smell.

Akutagawa - blood. There’s no way he doesn’t. He’s surrounded by blood, inside and out, all the time. So there’s probably a metallic smell around him naturally.

Nikolai - like the inside of the costumes closet at a theater. Kind of stuffy, smells like fabric and excitement (if that makes sense).

Fyodor - black tea, slightly like wood. For the most part, his scent would be very subtle to make it more difficult to track or identify him.

Sigma - maybe this is just cuz of his origins, but I feel like he’d smell like books. Or like new printer paper.

Ranpo - sugar! And various sweet foods. He always has them on him, so naturally he’d smell like candy or baked goods all the time.

Yosano - those perfume samples inside of fashion magazines. You know, when you open the magazine and flip through the pages and there’s instantly that distinct paper-y, perfume-y smell?

I realized when posting this that I forgot kunikida oops

[writing-blocked-me]

Daffodil

Daffodil - Unrequited love

Number 3 of my flowers drabble/one-shot series

Requests still open for the flowers series! So feel free to shoot me an ask!I

Masterlist - Flowers Masterlist

Pairing: Fyodor x reader

CW: Manipulation, unrequited love, toxic relationship, sadness, angst, Fyodor and his prophet complex, dependency, toxic dependency, I'm not sure what else to write here, Fyodor being OOC, bad writing lmao

A/N: Hiii, back after another few weeks with a thrid addition to my flowers series (requests still open). Uni has been rough these past few weeks, plus writer's block hit me hard, so sorry for the inconsistent uploads. I am trying to get a writing schedule together, so hopefully I'll have , more regular posting soon and I'm gonna try to put out at least on post (even if it's just a drabble) once every week if I can. This time I tried a Fyodor x reader, but I'm still trying to get the feel of his character, so I'm not sure it's quite there yet...

enjoy :)

You had always loved him, ever since the day that he came into your life.  It was as if you had been in love with him your whole life, as if he had always been there, an ever-present being, a constant voice in your mind.  Fyodor Dostoyevsky was like a parasite, eating away at all your thoughts until he was the only thing left in your mind.  Not that you minded; you'd happily only think of him.

He had swept you off your feet, initially.  He'd charmed you with sweet gifts and what he called ‘proper courting’.  It made you feel special, worth something. He had always been special, with his grand plans and his strong faith.  When you were with him, it was as if you were important too.  He was God's servant on earth.  He was so exceptional, brilliant and gifted, cunning and smart, always a step ahead of seemingly everyone.  Being with him made you feel special too, by extension.  Belonging to him meant being a part of something extraordinary.  You liked feeling extraordinary.

You liked being his.  Being with Fyodor was unlike any other relationship you had ever had.  He was attentive at first, sweet and cautious, as if he thought you would run away.  After some time of reassuring him, making certain he knew you were his forever, he had started to let you in more.  He told you about his vision, his plans, God's plan, about ridding the world of sin.  He educated you, taught you what the world should be like, what his world looked like, his perfect picture of what could be.  You liked feeling included, feeling part of that perfect picture.  You liked listening to him, to his dreams.  You liked everything about him.  You loved him.

You still loved him now.  Nothing had changed, not even when his controlling nature had made itself more… apparent.  Not even when he started keeping you locked up, forcing you to suit his needs, to fit into his schedule, leaving you alone for hours, until he felt like speaking with you.  You still loved him.  The affection you had never wavering, never straying from him, despite all the signs, all the red flags begging you to see them.  But aren't all flags red when you're wearing rose-tinted glasses? That's what you told yourself, the justification you gave, because you loved him.  It was all a part of his plan, his vision, it was something special.  You were something special.  Under his gaze, you were something. Without him, you were barely there, a shadow of a person.  

Fyodor preferred you like this.  Dependent on him and desperate to be with him.  It was convenient to have such a willing partner, someone who would bend and break to be what he wanted.  Someone he could control.  Someone who loved him.  Someone who would believe every pretty little lie that fell from his mouth, every “I love you”, every “That's what makes you so special”, every single flowery piece of praise.  So very convenient.   He didn't have to love you, nor did he want to.  He did not love anyone.  He had to be loved, though, had to be adored in the way he saw fit.  He needed to be desired by someone who could slot into his perfect little world.  

It could have been anyone.  It just happened to be you. There was no special person, despite the way Fyodor made you feel.  He whispered words of praise, of being special, of being needed, and you clung to him, desperate to hear it again and again.  He made you desperate for his words, desperate for him.  He kept you that way.  Fyodor was good at that, manipulating others to get what he needed from them, using them as pawns in his game of chess, discarding them after they were no longer of use.  You were no different.  He entranced you with kind affections and over the top appreciation, drawing you in, feeding you bit by bit.  

After drawing you in, he gave praise sparingly, just enough to trap you.  It made you hungry for it, as if you would starve without his attention.  You would die without it.  It felt as though the two of you were attached by an invisible string, or more like an invisible leash, keeping you bound to him.  Still, your devotion never changed, never strayed from him.  

Even now, as the Russian rat ignored you entirely, carrying on with his work, you could not change your heart.  It would forever belong to him.  Despite being strung along, controlled, manipulated, and subjected to all manner of other things, your love for Fyodor did not change.

Fyodor Dostoyevsky was a parasite. He had corrupted you, taken over your mind, body and soul.  He was a disease that left you helpless.  He was your maker and your undoing.  He was the reason you were alone most of the time.  And yet, you could never bring yourself to be any less infatuated with the man.  Never would you ever imagine leaving him.  It was impossible.  It was a thought that simply did not exist.  You could not leave the man you loved, though it was so painfully obvious he did not feel for you the same as you felt for him.  Leaving was not an option.  There was no escape.  There was nowhere to run.

“Content” could be the word to describe it.  You were content.  The love you felt was all you needed. He need not love you back.  You were content for it to be a one-sided affection.  As long as you were there at all, you could be happy.  Fyodor Dostoyevsky was special, a man who was going to change the world, remake it anew.  He was God's servant on earth.  He was the love of your life.  As long as he permitted you to, you would happily remain at his side, answering his beck and call, adoring him in a way that would never be requited.

[writing-blocked-me]

[writing-blocked-me]

it's been decades since you've last seen dazai; your lover & your maker. now that you're finally happy, he's haunting you again with a thousand buried memories.

overall contents. fem!reader, nsfw minors dni, exes to lover, gothic romance, blood drinking, vampire!reader, vampire!dazai, smut, cheating reader, complicated relationships, blood, gore, jealousy, manipulation, religious symbolism, betrayal, reunions — currently at 21k words

PART II ♰ MASTERLIST

For the weeks that followed, Dazai kept his distance, though it didn’t matter where he strayed—you could always feel him nearby. His company was overwhelming, conspicuous, and watchful. He crept behind you when you were in public and remained your shadow until you arrived back home.

Even in the moments that you were in the arms of another, Dazai’s presence remained with you like a malady you couldn’t shake. Within your very home, he lingered, his features behind your eyelids, his voice imbued in the melody of the neighbor’s overwhelmingly loud piano playing.

Dazai may have disappeared from your view, but he was never really gone. It was a theme that continued to plague your undead lifetime.

Although you rejected the musings of your irrational heart, it became clear to you that your feelings for Dazai had been buried instead of erased, pushed away to protect yourself from the wounds that he had given you.

A singular heartstring had pulled the minute you’d seen the dark-haired man again, and it had reached out, wrapped itself around him, tugged tight until it was drawing you nearer and nearer, desperate to be back with the person that controlled it like a marionette.

It was terrifying, really, to consider that years apart couldn’t diminish the lustful desperation you felt for the older vampire. A need that resembled worship, a desire to be close to the beautiful god that had created you.

Though you rejected it, hated Dazai with every logical fiber within your mind, a bout of guilt still grew within you. The bleak future ahead of you had suddenly brightened with Atsushi’s overwhelming warmth, and the revolting, otherworldly bond you’d once shared with Dazai threatened to steal all of the gentleness away from your existence.

Atsushi’s love was the kind you’d always wanted. It was without stipulations, wholesome, and sickeningly sweet. He gave you everything, and in return, you offered up only the parts of yourself that had stopped belonging to Dazai.

Since the dark-haired man had infiltrated your city, the newspaper headlines had been splashed with visceral depictions of death, gruesome scenes that would make any human’s stomach curl.

Atsushi showed them to you each day, relaying the formulated opinions of the other detectives he worked with. Though they were just as keen as Atsushi about the world of blood-sucking monsters, they seemed more willing to ignore the signs of a new vampire, certain that they’d already snuffed them all out.

When the seventh body had been drained of blood, the signs of a vampire finally recognizable, he asked the question you knew he’d been avoiding.

“Do you know anything about this?”

You looked up from the coffee that he stirred, the newspaper crunching in his other fist. It was dawn—late enough for you to be ready for sleep, and early enough for Atsushi to want just the same. Orange light began in the distance. You would have to retreat to your bedroom soon.

“About what?”

Your fiancé’s features pinched, but he remained patient with you. Always so gentle, never one to be quick to anger. He was different from Dazai—he was kind. That, at least, was a comfort you could hold onto.

Atsushi set the newspaper down, rustling through his drawers before pulling out a dossier of reports that he’d brought home from the agency. There were detailed descriptions of the murders; some had been ferociously torn apart, as if mauled by a wild animal, their organs exposed to oxygen. Some had been tossed into the river, left to decompose, their bodies gray and withered. Others laid naked, pale, and drained of their blood completely, large gashes in their major arteries.

Any rational person would guess that these were the work of separate individuals. There was nothing to link them together, no pattern that would signify that a killer ran rampant on the city.

“You know what I mean.”

You blinked, eyes shifting from the newspaper, back to his purple eyes. Though you tried to spill the truth from your lips, your mouth ran dry, resisting any incrimination of Dazai.

I know who it is, but he’s dangerous, Atsushi. Please stay out of this.

The truth didn’t come.

“If you’re insinuating it’s a vampire, I don’t know who it could be.”

Atsushi’s eyes narrowed, hardly noticeable, searching for any sort of lie. When he was unable to detect one, he exhaled, visibly relaxing.

“That’s good. Everyone said it wasn't a vampire, but I thought...” Atsushi trailed off, as if calming himself, and he was so distant that he didn’t notice your shoulders relax. “Well, it doesn't meatter what I think. This means we can handle it.”

Your smile was weak when he leaned down to kiss you on the forehead, still shaken by the macabre scenes he’d encountered recently. They affected him more than he let on—you could see the way his hands shook, his fitful rests at night.

Atsushi would try to stay upright for the sake of the agency and his duty to the public, though at what cost, you couldn’t be certain. He had seen his fair share of horrors, but it hadn’t been until Dazai had come to town that they’d turned so incredibly gory.

You had no idea what he would do if he found out that you’d once been the same way. That you’d created those same images with Dazai at your side, feeling no shame when you massacred villages just to see a smile on on the older vampire's face.

Sick with remorse, you cleared your thoughts, trying to forget how sweet the blood had tasted, how addicting being in love with Dazai had once been. It was a life you were glad to be rid of, even if you could never let yourself forget it.

“Are you being careful, Atsushi?” you asked, nervously twirling the edges of your skirt.

Briefly, you wondered if you were protecting Dazai or yourself.

In was no surprise, you wanted to keep the agency from calling in vampire hunters. They’d recognize what you pretended so hard not to be, and all your plans with Atsushi would be erased if others caught wind of what you were.

But when Atsushi smiled at you, so gently and completely without the darkness that had consumed Dazai, you knew that all of your precautions were also to keep him safe.

“I’m always careful, love. Don’t worry.” He adjusted his tie and then squeezed your hand once more, leaving you finally to rest. Though, even as the sun rose high in the sky, you remained wide awake, tinged with worry and fear that Dazai would change his mind.

Two days passed without incident. The papers didn’t reveal any more shocking murders, and Atsushi got a day off after working more hours than any living person should.

He’d been staying up late with no one to keep him company but you. When he couldn’t fall asleep, you sat on his lap, peppering his face with kisses, sinking to your knees until you’d relaxed him completely. Although, as much as you tried to help, your methods could only do so much to ease his mind.

Atsushi came home early on the second day without a murder, his eyes puffy and dark with exhaustion.

“Atsushi—” you began, displeased by how exhausted he’d become.

He ignored your rebuttals and tried to weasel his arms around you, pressing gentle kisses up your neck. “We can go out when the sun goes down,” he said, biting a mark just under your ear, the smile soft on your skin. “I’ve got the day off tomorrow.”

You laughed, running your fingers through his thick hair, lifeless heart beating at a thought of a night out with him. Though, when he rested his weight on your own, head drooping onto your shoulder like a child, you knew it wouldn’t be today. “You need a good night’s rest, Atsushi. You’re exhausted.”

“No, I’m fine,” he said, but his dramatic yawn was a better response then words.

“Another night, honey.” you kissed his cheek. “Promise?”

Atsushi frowned, somehow upset with himself for not being up for a night out in the city. Even though you hadn’t gotten much time together recently, Atsushi wasn’t to blame. The agency had been working overtime on these murder cases, and that included him. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” you said, squeezing his hand. “I’d much rather wait until you’re up for it, and…” trailing off, you licked your lips, unable to focus on his curious expression. “I’m sorry we can’t go out like a normal couple.”

Atsushi’s feature shifted, melting into the usual pool of tenderness. His shoulders relaxed. “You know I don’t mind. I love you, my darling.”

He hugged you tighter, and when you stiffened at the sweet name that Dazai had always used for you, Atsushi didn’t notice.

He’d never called my darling before. It felt wrong coming from his lips—the wrong pitch, inflection. It didn’t have the same mocking pull to each syllable, didn't feel like the rush that cam with Dazai's lips.

“I’ve been working so much,” Atsushi continued, unbeknownst to your inner conflict. “We haven’t gotten to see much of each other recently.”

While you hesitated, you recovered smoothly, and pulled back to face him completely once more. “You’re saving the city. I can never be mad at you for that.”

Atsushi smiled, tired and beaten down, before brushing his bangs out of his face. Finally, he accepted his own inability to remain standing, and began to retreat back to the bedroom, letting go of your skin centimeter by centimeter. “I’m sure I’ll be fast asleep when you get back.”

You laughed. “Good night, Atsushi.”

Then, he was gone, and you were left with your oldest friend, the one that sent you a greeting in the dark night sky like a beacon. It was a full moon tonight, cold, and white.

Once, you’d loved the evenings, the calm serenity that came with the blackness of night. Now, all you longed for was the sun, even if the rays burnt your skin to a crisp. It seemed more alluring than the thought of a future with no definitive end.

Despite your hunger, you waited in the apartment for the night to fall completely. Even though you’d spent the entire day by yourself, you had no desire to be around great crowds of people, stumbling around in search of a last-minute meal.

You meandered around your home, vampiric hearing attuned to the tossing and turning that Atsushi did in his sleep. While he made soft noises of displeasure, he didn’t seem to be having nightmares—the only good sign that you could see.

All the books on your shelf were unappealing. The newspapers had been read from front to back already. Atsushi was exhausted, so you couldn’t make any noise, and every inch of the apartment was already clean.

Finally, you grew bored enough to leave, and you sighed as you felt the crisp air, dispelling your existential thoughts. There was still a hope in your future, as long as Atsushi was around. You would no longer have to dread the fear that came with a meaningless immortality.

The night was quiet, even for the city. People had retired earlier than usual, perhaps out of the fear that they’d be the next victims of the murders that rampaged.

You crossed the street, noticing that people kept an unusual distance from strangers, eyeing each person they didn’t recognize like they would stab them in the back. It was an unpleasant sight to witness.

The destination was sharp in your mind as you headed towards the pub at the edge of town, walking without thinking, despite only having been there once. It was in a seedy part of the city, run-down and cheap, but it was full of the kind of people no one would miss.

It was the kind of place a vampire would be certain to frequent.

For the past few days, as Atsushi worked late, you’d scoped out the location, staring through the window into the man you’d been certain would be loitering there. His long, dark coat dragged across the stools; beautiful features schooled into a charming expression.

Every night, he sat with strangers, but none of them had been victims in the paper. They were drunkards, prostitutes, gamblers, addicts—but they remained alive, even with Dazai in their midst. He’d evaded you, time and time again. Even as you watched with a close eye, Dazai killed right under your nose.

For the eighth night in a row, Dazai was there, indulging another man in conversation. You shifted from heel to heel, staring through the foggy window as Dazai lent an ear with attuned focus. You knew he was hardly listening. His nods were practiced, his responses vague, with only a hint of interest in his tone.

You moved your focus to the other customers, though there was no one noteworthy. A few deadbeat fathers, some women searching for their next client. A teenage boy had snuck in with a few older ones, sitting in the corner smoking frivolously. It was all quite boring, really.

There was a pianist there tonight—a pretty young women with dark hair cascading down her back, cleavage spilling out the front of her cream colored dress. She had her eye on Dazai across the room, two deep brown irises blinking at him from under long lashes.

A twinge of fury pinched at you, one that you subdued, hating the unconscious reaction of your body, the way your heart squeezed from the memory of possessiveness. Women looked at him everywhere he went, and he had never tried to avoid their lingering eyes, even when his flirtatious nature bothered you.

He’d always loved to make you jealous.

Now, though, he wasn’t your problem. Who he did or didn’t pay attention to wasn’t something you were to be concerned about. He could fuck whoever he wanted, pay them if he needed, and it shouldn’t leave a bitter taste in your mouth.

You snuck in through the front door, swallowing down that unreasonable emotion and stayed small in the shadows. The man that had been chatting to Dazai left, and you took his place, tapping your nails against the counter.

It was obvious he’d been expecting you. Dazai’s gaze was already on you, his dark smile curling onto his lips. “I was wondering when you’d be brave enough to come in.”

You sat still, staring ahead at the array of liquor, as if mesmerized by the different bottles. “I didn’t think you’d noticed me,” you replied, even though you’d been counting on it.

All you wanted was for Dazai to finally explain his true intentions, instead of lingering in your city with no explanation and a wake of bodies behind him.

Dazai choked out a laugh, setting his palm on his thighs. “You didn’t think I’d notice?” he asked, his eyes wide and innocent. “I was certain this was all a ploy to get my attention.”

You said nothing, shifting in your chair as Dazai’s smile widened, blood red and dripping. 

“Well, you have it now, darling,” he said, gesturing towards you, eyes scanning your body. “If that’s not what you wanted, you must take me for a fool.”

You blinked, and when you turned to face him, Dazai was impossibly close, his knees just brushing yours. “What do you mean?”

“Well, for one, you’ve been spying on me. Two, your fiancée is a detective.” Dazai tapped his nails, the sound irritating and repetitive. “And, three: you want me gone.” He hummed, tracing the edges of the counter, his finger slender and pale. “All signs are pointing to the same thing. You’ve come here to bargain.”

You stared, anger pooling within you until you suddenly remembered how poorly this meeting could end for you. He was much too close, too dangerous to be around; you struggled to contain your bloodlust around him. Dazai’s very presence was a catalyst for your most primal desire, and every second with him just made that more evident.

Meeting with him was a mistake. You needed to leave. “Dazai,” you cleared your throat, placing your hands back on your lap. “I’ve known it was you, all this time, and I never said anything.”

Predictably, that had brightened his mood. “Really?” he said, curious. A part of you preened at being able to shock Dazai. “Now why wouldn’t you?”

You shrugged, grateful that he, at the very least, was curious. “I want you gone without any chaos. I want you out of my life, and I don’t want you to cause a scene.”

The bar was smoky, crowded, and the undeniable stench of sweat and odor overwhelmed your senses. Someone in the corner had vomited. A couple was fucking mere feet away from you, clearly intoxicated, and you balked, disgusted, wondering how Dazai could stand to be in such filth.

“I won’t put myself at risk, and I won’t let you hurt Atsushi.” You held his gaze, your eyes hard, unblinking. "So I won't tell anyone."

Dazai stared back, thoughtful, like these were the last words he expected from you, that your ultimatum was completely out of the blue. “You’re willing to let innocent people die just to keep me away from your fiancée?” He leaned forward, intruding your space, and traced the back of your palm. “Interesting.”

“There’s nothing interesting about it. I’ve learned that I can’t stop you from doing what you want.” You sniffed. “I know better. Even if I told you that I wanted you to stop killing those people, you wouldn’t.”

“I’d do anything for you. You just never asked.”

“Please,” a scoff left your lips. “Spare me that kind of disappointment.”

He hummed, though it was neither a confirmation nor denial, his innocence feigned. “So that’s all you came here for, then? To threaten me into bending to your will?”

“It’s hardly a threat, Dazai. What have I got to threaten you with?” you shook your head, laughing darkly. “If you care about me at all, you’ll leave me alone. I’ll spend the rest of eternity running from you if that’s what it takes.”

“No need for such dramatics. I told you: I’ll leave once I’m certain that you’re happy here.” He looked away from you then, focusing entirely on the actions of the bartender before him. Dazai seemed as if he knew a secret, held it all to his chest with pride. “I’m not yet convinced.”

That was the kind of self-assuredness you’d expected, though it would always elicit an aghast inhale from your lips. “I’m getting married—”

“To a man who will never fully understand you.”

“I love him. That matters to me more than whatever connection you think we still have.”

One of Dazai’s dark eyebrows lifted, barely noticeable. “I won’t leave.”

“Dazai—”

“But,” he held up a finger, ceasing your arguments, “I’ll cover my tracks better. Will that satisfy you?”

Your chest lifted, then fell, and you cleared yourself of any hostility. This was the best you were going to get out of Dazai, and you knew it. “Fine.” The stool screeched as you began to climb out of it. “Then if we’re both in agreement, I think—”

You were unable to finish your sentence, the words falling from your lips as the sharp smell of blood hit you. It was almost immediate, overwhelming, and inebriating. Hunger reacted before your intelligent mind could, the baser of your instincts overpowering logic.

“Shit,” the bartender muttered as a bottle shattered, quieting the room. When you turned, a deep gash had run down on his arm, a vein split open while a dangerous amount of blood poured out. It was dark red, picturesque, staining him so beautifully with an almost smoky tint to it.

The woman who had been carrying drinks rushed over to help him, but your eyes were glued to the wound, two pointy canines slipping over your bottom teeth. Your mind quieted, nothing circulating there but the memory of the euphoric taste of warm blood, so heavenly when it came from creatures more sophisticated than rodents.

It wouldn’t matter if people saw. They were all too drunk to notice anyway. You could pretend to help him, lead him back to the alley, and then—

A hand was heavy on your wrist, pinning you down to the countertop as the world moved slower and slower around you. Then, a tug, sharp as you collapsed into Dazai, your head falling against his shoulder, far too close to the deep purple vein that strained against his neck. You licked his skin, unable to help yourself.

Dazai laughed, theatrically, patting you on the head as he stood with you still in his grasp. “You’ve had far too much to drink, my darling,” he said to no one in particular. “We should get home.”

He led you to the door, and you stumbled over your feet, keeping a hand over your mouth until the hunger subsided, until you could no longer smell the coppery scent of blood. No one batted an eye, even looked your way, unconcerned by the fact that you hadn’t seemed drunk before, nor had you ordered a drink in the first place.

The alley was empty, and the crisp night air slapped you on the cheek, bringing you back into consciousness as you shoved yourself away from Dazai, putting distance between you. You couldn’t risk latching onto his vein, and though depriving yourself of him was proving to be a difficult task, you wouldn’t let yourself stoop to such unfathomable depths again.

Silence was thick between you; Dazai didn’t speak until you had composed yourself. Your teeth slipped back into a normal position and your eyes were no longer luminescent. It was enough for you to get a solid grip on your bearings once more.

“Are we going to continue to pretend like there’s nothing wrong?” Dazai asked from behind you, his presence nothing more than a pestering fly. “You should have more control than that—”

Another minute of silence lapsed. You considered ignoring him completely.

“Now you see why I need you gone, Dazai,” you said sharply, whirling around to advance upon him. He was closer than you anticipated, and your finger dug into the center of his chest, pointed and sharp. “I can’t…” It was humiliating, really, to admit it. “I can’t control myself around you.”

His eyes flashed. First, of mockery. Then, the dark irises melted into honey, and he was sympathetic, loving. “I’ve got nothing to do with it,” he frowned, too caring, too willing to curl himself around you in a safety net. “We’re not meant to live off the blood of rats.”

You snarled, tried to push him away, but he was too strong. His hands were gentle when they grabbed your wrists, stopping you from any further assault.

“I was just fine until you came back,” you said, sniffing. "You made me into what I am, and you use that power against me."

“You weren’t fine, and we both know it.” Dazai spoke as if he knew of your life before he returned to the city. If only he’d seen how free you were without him—how much more relaxed a world without him had become. “I can help you.” His hand drifted up your arm, a thumb tracing your chin. “I want to help you.”

Drawing back, you placed enough distance between you that you could recover from his steely expression. “I’m trying to be a good person.”

“You’re not a person anymore,” he replied, almost amused. Though he didn’t touch you, you knew he longed to. Even when you told yourself that he was a terrible monster, you knew the depth of his emotions. He had once loved you with a passion you’d never known humans to be capable of. Perhaps, he still did. “You’re dead. You’re a vampire.”

“I don’t want to be. I don’t want to be like you.” The words weren’t meant to be cruel. They were factual, unfiltered, and true. There would never be a world in which you wanted to be like him, even if there had been one that you were.

His eyes were cold. “You were worse than me once. I remember it well.” He smiled, and it turned unkind, the same expression that had always confused you. How he could go from the passionate, loving man into a sadistic devil would never be something you understood. “You enjoyed it, and I loved you for it.”

“That’s the worst part of it, Osamu,” you said his name like it was poison on your tongue; it almost hurt for it to cross your lips. It had been a prayer before. Two syllables you’d vowed to never say in vain. “I shouldn’t have to become a monster for you to care.”

A cumulation of emotions crossed Dazai’s face, like he was auditioning for a role, trying to decide which expression fit best. Finally, he settled back on a neutral countenance, his jaw set, dark eyes hiding everything he refused to say. “Don’t blame this on me. I never forced you into anything. You wanted this. I’m not the one who turned you into a monster; you did that yourself.”

The silence crept up on you once more, so darkly familiar. Around you were nothing but shadows, the home you’d begun to know more than the one you’d been born into. There were so many things you’d missed out on because of the allure of Dazai’s charming smile. You’d lost people—you’d killed people—all for him.

Every time he flashed his grin at you, the one that had brought you to him in the first place, you forced yourself to remember that you’d never gained anything but pain and tragedy by being in love with Osamu Dazai.

“It seems we’ll never agree on that point.” You turned away from him, facing the dimly lit streets, the sound of carriages reverberating down the alley. A horse forced a breath of air through its nose, and you wondered if maybe, draining such a large animal would finally be enough to satiate the hunger that hadn’t left you in years. “I’ve no desire to argue it any further.”

“You never do,” Dazai said, and though your back was turned, you knew he was taunting you, his expression dark with satisfaction. “Running away is so much easier.”

You clenched your teeth, scraping the back molars together so tightly they were sure to chip. Once more, you thought of the home you had to go back to, the bed with your fiancée, the light that would threaten you in just a few hours. It was better than this—it was better than the life that Dazai had once shown you, and you’d created it all on your own.

“Good night, Osamu,” you said, walking back into the shadows, and despite your malignant thoughts, it was almost impossible to ignore just how badly you wanted to sink your teeth into him.

His response was lost to the wind as you began your journey back home, across the city, through the destitute neighborhoods, with the kinds of people that could disappear. No one would bat an eye if they were gone.

Starved and with a weakened spirit, you considered how easy it would be to end the miserable life of the drunk homeless man who was passed out on the street. How, perhaps, draining an opium idled prostitute would be doing her a favor.

The moment passed quickly. Atsushi’s kind eyes always brought you back. How horrified they would turn if you crawled into bed that night with the blood of a human as a stain for your lips. It would be so opposite to the way that Dazai would react. He’d be too disgustingly pleased by your fall from grace.

Instead, you settled on a dog, its eyes far too innocent for your demonic instincts. Somehow, it felt worse than killing a human. It had never done a thing to deserve such a life of suffering.

The blood did little to appease you. Miserable, and still hungry, you headed back, feeling no better than before. Atsushi would be long asleep by now, deep in a dream after so many days of exhaustion, and you would be alone with nothing but old memories and the question of what would happen in the future.

Your neighbors were shouting when you walked up to the house. The dark-haired woman waved a hand dramatically as she shoved her husband onto the street. It was nothing you hadn’t seen before. They would argue, he would leave, probably get drunk, sleep with another woman, and come traipsing back home like they’d never fought at all.

She’d accept him, of course, because she loved him. She always would; and somewhere, in his lousy heart, he loved her too. It was a miserable tragedy. You didn’t know her well, but you were certain any woman deserved better than that swine of a husband.

When she met your eye, you smiled sympathetically, hoping your face wasn’t covered in the dark fur of the hound, your teeth smeared with iron. Despite your kindness, she only scowled back, slammed the door on the fool of a man, and crept back into her home.

As you let yourself into your own apartment, you realized how thankful you were that none of your neighbors were observant—they were all too distracted by their own troubles to care about yours. Never once had you seen any of them outside of sundown, but they didn't seem to care. Perhaps, your odd lifestyle wasn’t as suspicious to strangers as you thought.

You supposed that it made sense, even if it seemed too difficult to comprehend. Back when you'd met Dazai, you’d never guessed that there had been anything off about him.

A frustrated exhale left you, and you shook off your thoughts. It didn’t matter, so long as they didn’t cause you trouble.

Upon entering the apartment, your bloodlust doubled, hunger back in full force at the scent of Atsushi’s comforting aroma. He smelled almost as good as Dazai; the blood was saccharine, such a perfect blend of everything that Atsushi was.

You could ignore the scent—usually. There was always something to outweigh it. Atsushi burned candles, left out garlic. He jarred the strongest spices and set them in every room. When you were really desperate, he let animals rot on the porch, hoping the disturbingly strong smell of death was enough to distract you.

It almost always was.

As you latched the door to your bedroom, undressed, you realized you had none of those things to protect you now. The memory of the bar remained at the forefront of your mind. The bartender’s large cut, Dazai’s vein just inches away from your neck, the ache in your body that would never be appeased by an unconventional diet.

It was painfully hard to resist. You couldn’t take your eyes off Atsushi’s peaceful form, his eyelids fluttering softly, light eyelashes fanning against his cheeks. Under the blankets, you could hear the steady thrum of his heartbeat, reliable, unyielding, pumping him full of the very life you were someday going to take away from him.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you tried to recover your composure, remind yourself that this was Atsushi. You couldn’t take advantage of him, and you wouldn’t, but somehow, you’d climbed into the bed.

You were on top of him, your legs on either side of his waist, a position that was familiar, but not like this. He shifted, grumbling in his sleep, and though the alarms were ringing in your head, your fangs were borne, and you bent down over his neck.

You were so hungry. Just a taste, that would be all. It would be enough to fulfill your desire for human blood, and you’d go back to being the perfect saint, the one you’d sworn yourself to becoming.

A hand was on your hips when you kissed his neck, tight and confused. “Honey?” Atsushi’s voice brought you back to reality, raspy with sleep. “What are you doing?”

For a moment, red-hot anger swirled through you before you realized that you were grateful for his interruption, and you’d almost done something you’d regret immensely. The irritation was gone, and you were sick, horrified, flying off of Atsushi before he could say another word.

“I’m sorry—” you said, choking on your words as you cowered in the corner of the room, biting down on your fist. Blood flooded your lips, but it tasted stale, like dead animals that had marinated and rotted in a muggy summer sun. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to...” you trailed off, looking away from him, the thrum of his heart too distracting. “I’m sorry.”

Atsushi was quiet, breathing steadily, in and out like an anthem. Then, he padded over, feet soft against the floor. Close enough to touch you, but never quite getting there. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay,” you shrieked, recoiling, putting enough distance between you that you couldn’t reach him. “Don’t come any closer.”

He didn’t move, though you knew he wanted to, and the wheels in his mind spun desperately for a solution, looking towards the higher beings that he still believed in. “I want to help you.”

“You shouldn’t. You shouldn’t want that at all.” It struck you, then, that you’d been ignoring the gravity of the situation. The fact that at any moment, you could lose the thin thread of control that you’d never really grasped at all. “I’m a vampire. I’m a monster.”

“You’re not,” Atsushi argued, his voice so incredibly soft, even though he’d never known the true horrors you’d committed, your violent acts that had destroyed cities and ruined families.

His foot moved closer, and you bared your fangs, menacingly, as if to show him that another step could put his life in danger. Though, he was unfazed, not a single muscle in his features twitching. “Tell me what I can do.”

“Get away, Atsushi.” You were pleading with him now, eyes sad as you covered your mouth once again. Perhaps this was a mistake. You never should’ve let yourself fall in love with him. He deserved so much better than the eternal pain that you succumbed to. He wouldn’t survive a life as a vampire if it depleted his humanity. “Please.”

“If you need,” he said, pulling down the collar of his shirt, ignoring your cries with a frown. “You can—”

“No!” you shouted, much louder than you meant, and Atsushi stumbled back, for once, startled by your outburst. “I’ll kill you. I—” You stopped, swallowed. There was so little you’d told Atsushi about your past, your past with Dazai, that it seemed shameful to admit it now. “I won’t be able to control myself. I’ve never been able to stop once I start drinking from a human.”

Atsushi blinked, his mouth forming words that almost didn’t come out. You’d never told him that before. It made you seem much more dangerous, the reality of what you were more obvious than ever. “You killed someone every time?”

“No.” You couldn’t look at his blank eyes, unsure if he was curious or filled with contempt. Perhaps it was a mixture of both. “I was with another vampire. He stopped me when I went too far. Most of the time.”

“But… you did kill?” Atsushi asked, uncaring about the elusive figure from your past. Someday, you’d tell him everything. It just wouldn’t be now.

You sighed, your gaze hard on the bouquet of roses beside the bed, a few of them already wilting. Something about the vision was incredibly foreboding, like your rampant thoughts about Dazai would continue to lead to deplorable actions, just as one beautiful rose would die after the other, until your relationship with Atsushi was strained and fragmented.

“You know I did, Atsushi.”

The silence was sharp, unbearable. You longed to hear any sound other than his shallow breaths and aching heartbeat. “It’s hard to imagine you that way.”

You met his eyes once more. They were naively kind, like any fearsome action you’d committed could be forgiven because your heart had been cleansed, scrubbed raw of all your previous sins. “Perhaps, but that’s how I was.” You smiled sadly, twisting a finger in your hair. “There’s still a chance for you to run away from me.”

Atsushi shook his head, his eyes wrinkled in the corners, the moonlight glinting off his bright pupils. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m foolishly in love with you and I can’t help it.” Despite yourself, you melted, the hunger overpowered by a pure love for the kind soul before you. “I’ll sleep in the other room for tonight.”

“Atsushi—”

You protested, but Atsushi leaned forward, kissing you deeply, with finality. “No, you need this room,” he said, pulling away before your body could even comprehend his proximity. “I can’t ask you to be around me if you’re suffering.”

“I’ll be okay,” you promised, eyes despondent as you watched him retreat into the living room.

Though when he turned around, hand lingering on the doorknob, you both knew that that wasn’t true.

You didn’t sleep for the rest of the day, and locked in a room with no light, there was nothing for you to do but watch the single beam of sun flick under the door. Bright yellow rays taunted you, and you missed the heat with every fiber of your being, like a friend you would never reconnect with again.

Staring, eyes empty and hollow, you rested against the pillow and resolved yourself to a decision that could prove to be a mistake. You had no other choice but to find other ways of satisfying your hunger, and while it certainly wasn’t optimal, you reminded yourself that your future husband was the most important person in your life. If this would save Atsushi from your malevolent impulses, you would gladly go back to the devil and sell your soul another time.

Atsushi came home that evening at the same time as usual, just as tired, but not without a gentle smile. He was strong, and he was kind. You hoped that even as a vampire, he wouldn’t have the same urge to kill that you always had.

That fact alone made you ache with adoration for him, the innocence that he’d always been able to keep, through every struggle that he endured and continued to face. He was a good person, and you couldn’t imagine a world where he didn’t stay that way.

Though you rarely slept through the day as normal, you often grew tired of the same routine. By the time the sun had gone, you were itching to leave the house, and kissed Atsushi briefly before rushing out the door.

You couldn’t linger close to him for long, for a starved and weary vampire was no match for a human, even one as physically capable as Atsushi.

Once you’d ejected yourself into the bustling evening, you sped through the crowd, trying not to focus on a single person’s heartbeat. If you lingered too long, you were certain it’d become too much for you, the taste already infiltrating your consciousness, the desire of another person to make themselves a part of you too.

Humans were naturally drawn to vampires, your looks otherworldly and appearance so mystifying that it was hard to resist. That made it all too easy to steal prey away, feast on them until there was nothing left but a hollowed-out corpse.

A headache had begun in your temple, the tell-tale sign of your desperation. Finally, you reached the beaten-down pub, no livelier than the previous nights, and more calmly than you felt, let yourself in through the door.

As suspected, Dazai was back at the bar, the usual glass of liquor in front of him, even if only sipped. The effects of alcohol only worked on vampires if ingested through the blood of an intoxicated human, and you couldn’t remember the last time he’d let himself indulge in that.

Dazai was alone, this time, but the pianist from the previous night still eyed him, ironically, like he was her very own prey. He was smiling softly to himself, already aware of your presence as he rolled the glass around in his slender fingers. The ice clinked against the sides, an unceasing rhythm.

Steadying yourself, you pushed away the warm smell of his blood, how deeply you craved it, the underlying affection there. Instead, you steeled yourself for conversation, stole some sort of inhale, and took a seat.

Dazai’s sharp features were on you the moment you were within his orbit, pink lips curling up with satisfaction. “I thought you didn’t want to see me,” he said, leaning towards you, his expression unguarded and curious. “This makes two nights in a row.”

You opened your mouth, then shut it, flushing with shame. To admit that you needed him was foolish and humiliating. You’d let him win at his own game, and as hard as you’d thought, you couldn’t come up with another solution.

This was for Atsushi’s sake, you reminded yourself, and you were no longer sure that the solution to your bloodlust would be remedied with Dazai’s exit from the city. Your hunger had been festering for centuries, and spending all of your time with a human had weakened you, leaving you incapable of resisting such a small drink.

If you continued on this path, you’d kill him. That was something you’d never be able to live with.

Dazai continued to watch you, tilting his head as if deciphering your thoughts as they gathered in your mind. “What’s the matter?” he asked, and you realized your panic was just as evident on your face, the sick conflict of need and disgust clashing against one another.

Your mouth was sour, tasting like whatever kind of acids lingered within you as a vampire. You forced the words out before you could regret them. “I need it, Dazai.”

Dazai blinked and was silent for a mere moment before he laughed loudly. The sound was mocking and cruel, and far too obnoxious in the miniscule space. “How ironic,” he said, leaning back on his stool. “Just yesterday, you wanted me to leave, and now you’ve come crawling back, so beautifully desperate.”

Your skin burned, and you refused to look at him, disgraced and remorseful. There were two options: leave and see if he took the bait or plead with him and risk more embarrassment. One seemed better than the other.

Standing, you took the former, hoping that Dazai was telling the truth about his affection for you. If he really cared as much for you as he once had, then maybe, he would crave the high of sharing blood. A vampire as old as him wouldn’t open his vein for just anyone.

“I still want you to leave. I just thought, perhaps, we could talk about this like we’d once been lovers instead of enemies.”

Dazai stared, knowing that you were manipulating him, but trying to decide if he cared. “What a silly thing to say,” he smiled, eyes raking over your body like it pained him to do so. “I’ve never been your enemy, sweetheart.”

Maybe not, but there seemed no other word to describe the animosity you felt for him. The stool screeched as you pushed it away from the counter, making your way to your feet. “It was a mistake to ask you this.” You held his gaze one last time, waiting for him to decipher whatever message you thought you were sending. “I’m leaving.”

He stopped you, a hand on your wrist as he licked his lips. There was a softness to his features, the hard lines of mockery bleeding into sympathy. “I’ll go with you.”

You glared for a moment longer before, finally, you shook him off and went outside. Dazai trailed behind you in the shadows like a cat, and you wondered if he’d been fated for this all along. Perhaps he’d been born only for an immortal existence; a human life was never in the cards at all.

It was a foggy night. The feet ahead of you blurred into nothingness, and Dazai stood close to you, just to be able to see your features clearly. The smell of him drove you near the brink of insanity, and without thinking, you let your fangs slip down over red lips, face falling at the acknowledgement of your aching need for him.  

Dazai smiled.

“What changed your mind?” he asked, staring at you like he’d never seen you before, beautiful, and dangerous and once his.

You debated telling him. Dazai didn’t deserve your honesty, but it would be much easier to put this behind you, pretend that your reasons were entirely heroic, if you told him outright. One way or another, he would uncover the truth.

“I almost drank from Atsushi,” you said, looking at anything but his knowing brown eyes, the ones that had never been able to hide his adoration for you. “I would’ve killed him.” Your teeth were sore, and your jaw clenched with the insatiable hunger that never seemed to ease. The blood of animals was no more nutritious to you than candy was to a human. It made you feel bogged down, weary, and so much weaker than you wanted to be.

“You still don’t have any control.” Dazai’s eyebrows drew together, so tightly that his face marred into something akin to anger. It was a statement, not a question. One you were senseless enough to answer.

“No.”

“That’s why you haven’t turned him. Not because he doesn’t want to be turned, but because you know you’ll kill him.”

“Yes.” You hated being so known by Dazai, but you were liberated by it at the same time. Never once were you forced to pretend with him, and though that had sometimes been a blessing, it wouldn’t allow you to slip anything past him either.

Dazai was inches away from you in an instant, his speed otherworldly and graceful. There was a slight flush to his skin—he’d fed recently. Had he spared their life, or would another death make the headlines? “Why do you continue to punish yourself?” he asked, thumb grazing across your cheek. “Is killing so different from humans slaughtering animals?”

Disgusted, you tried to push him away, but the smell of his skin, his blood, was too appetizing to pass up. Instead, you let his hand remain on your cheek, nuzzled it even further, and frowned. “You know it is. You’ve known for centuries, and you delude yourself into thinking it’s not.”

Dazai sighed, but a weary smiled pulled onto his lips, satisfied that you’d not run away from him. “Perhaps,” he said, unbuttoning the collar of his pressed shirt, exposing the smoothness of his neck. You traced the skin, mesmerized, all at once, by his centuries of existence. “Perhaps I just don’t care.”

You swallowed, unable to remove your eyes from the vein, your hunger flourishing and expanding into something all its own. You indulged yourself in the moment of bloodlust, let yourself feel every moment of desire, so when you finally tasted his blood, it would be that much sweeter.

“But I care,” you admitted, mind hazy with need. “You’ve spoiled me, Osamu. Your blood is better than anything I’ve ever tasted.” The words were outside your lips before you could stop them, unretractable, but true, nonetheless. “Everything pales in comparison.”

He exhaled, and you were surprised to find that it was stuttered, breathless from your proximity. You rested your head on his shoulder and closed your eyes, tilting his jaw away.

“And your fiancé?” Dazai asked, kissing the thumb that rested on his chin, his voice deepening, almost dangerous. “Will his blood satisfy you when he’s all you have?”

You opened your eyes, contemplative. “I don’t know,” you answered truthfully. “How can anyone compare to the vampire that made me?”

“They can’t.” Dazai laughed, and then he tipped his head, exposing the vein completely with a hazy grin. “Drink, my sweet angel.”

It was a request that you couldn’t refuse. You were upon him, tearing at the flesh like an uncontrollable beast, inhaling the blood with the need of a starved man.

The taste of him was heavenly, otherworldly. It was a drink bestowed upon you by the devil, luring you into a life of sin with something you couldn’t resist. That’s what Dazai was, of course. He was something that you, in all of your strength, were far too tempted by.

Dazai’s fingers curled into your back as you lapped at the vein, bringing yourself closer and closer to him until you were pressed so completely against him. His body was cold and hot all at the same time, like a burn, dangerous and compelling.

Too distracted by your own hunger, you hardly registered his sharp moan, loud and distracting in the alley. “Taste so good, Osamu,” you said against his neck, barely a whisper before you dived in again, curling your sharp nails into his shoulders.

Dazai made a sound in the back of his throat, and then his hands were in your hair, rough and forceful as he pressed you closer towards the delicate skin under his jaw. You smiled, full of lust and desire and the lingering scent of his blood.

“You’re so beautiful.” His voice was faraway, hushed by the roaring of the ocean in your ears as you focused on indulging yourself completely. “I’ve missed you more than I want to admit.”

The last statement was not meant for your ears, but you heard it all the same, and you preened from the praise that came so sparingly. Fisting your hands tighter in his collar, you sunk your teeth deeper, mouth pressed against his skin delicately, a kiss more than a bite.

If anyone had walked into the pathway, it would’ve seemed like nothing more than a loving embrace, not the threat of murder, two vampiric beings caught in a dance of death within the moonlight.

You stumbled forward, trying to crawl deeper within him, but there was nowhere to go, and Dazai hit a streetlight with a quiet laugh, curling his fingers against your scalp. “You’ll make yourself sick if you keep going,” he said, but he let you carry on for another minute, until his skin had grown impossibly pale, and he staggered with light-headedness, drained and once again, starving.

“Okay.” Dazai’s blood squelched salaciously around your lips, and he finally stopped you, disappointed. “That’s enough, my love.”

Although you heard him, you were unable to pull yourself away, and the sweet liquid from his vein continued to pour into your lips.

Dazai tugged you back by the neck, sharply, ripping his skin open wide in the process. He was stronger than you—older and wiser and much more powerful, but a part of him always let you take from him. For better or worse, Osamu Dazai had never been able to deny you your simple requests. “Enough.”

“Sorry,” you said, licking the last droplets of blood from your lips, blinking into eyes that were full of affection and pride.

“Don’t apologize. I’d give you more if I could.” Dazai smiled, the blood loss weakening him just enough to look sentimental. “How do you feel now?”

Your cheeks grew hot, and you felt the effects of his blood taking hold, intoxicating, and stupefying. You’d forgotten how much it was like a drug, an addiction that you’d spent years of your life living off of.

It hadn’t been so harmful, then. Only an aphrodisiac that paired nicely with your unconditional love for him. Now, you felt that you were playing a dangerous game. You risked a lot of things by letting yourself remember him.

“Less hungry,” you admitted, frowning, unsure how you could possibly walk away from him with an appetite still rampant, if only subdued. In the years away from him, you’d undeniably weakened. It was as if now, it was catching up to you at once, your immortal body trying to compensate with proper nourishment. “Stronger.”

This wasn’t how this conversation was supposed to go. Your mind was telling you to seal your lips shut and walk away, leaving Dazai where he was without so much as an explanation. You should kill him, end him—whatever it took to live a long and happy eternity with a man who truly deserved your undying affection.

Though, when those brown eyes softened, two pools of melted chocolate, you knew why you had loved him so deeply. “I’m glad.” He was gentle as he caressed your skin, your fragile collarbone, every touch a sin.

I miss…

You ceased your thoughts, looking back at him, at the affection that mixed in with years of malice and vindictiveness. A perfect summation of every day that you’d loved him.

He’d never looked at anyone like that before, had he? Like the entire world was a blur around him except for the beautiful work of art that stood in front of him. At least, not the fleeting affairs he’d had with artists, nor the women he’d fled to when you argued over nonsense.

Had he even looked at you like that before?

With years and years of built-up hatred, it was, truly, hard to remember. So hard, in fact, that you weren’t quite sure what it was about him that you’d been missing.

“It’s near sunrise,” Dazai said, like the fact wasn’t painfully obvious. You could see the beginnings of a glow beyond the horizon. “Do you need a place to stay?”

Whether that was a caring invitation or manipulation tactic, you couldn’t be sure. What you did know was that you needed to get away from him before you did something mindless—something you wouldn’t otherwise do if you weren’t dopey from his blood.

“I’ll manage,” you choked out, grateful only when his wound closed, and you could release your inhale once again. “Don’t worry.”

He seemed hesitant, looking around like there was a creature more dangerous than you lurking in the night. “I’ll walk with you.”  

“Osamu, I’m fine.” You went for a softer approach, knowing that he’d be unable to deny the subtle blink of your lashes, the seductive smile that plastered your painted lips. “Thank you.”

He nodded, smiled, and then took your hand within his own, kissing the back of it chastely, like you were courting for the first time. As if you hadn’t once had him deep inside you, hadn’t shared every ounce of blood from your vein, your life reborn from the very taste of him.

It was a moment doomed to expire once you were reminded that you had moved on. This wasn’t the person you were supposed to be anymore.

“I’ll be here tomorrow,” he said. “If you need me.” 

Regretfully, you squeezed his hand, knowing that you would.

tag list: @cerberels @thateldribitch @hauntedsol @hannzai @cha0thicpisces @kissesmellow21 @sukiischaotic @hinata7346 @scinclaitnoir @mimimimiminanana @yolkyuyi @xxoolii @zephoncocaine @sookisaurus

[writing-blocked-me]

Sometimes I wonder if Dazai would have survived had he not met Chuuya. Because people often write Chuuya off completely to raise Oda's value to Dazai but would Dazai have even survived long enough to meet him had it not been for Chuuya?

[writing-blocked-me]

This is so cute I can’t 😖😖

Dating dazai osamu, as in officially (which means he likes you a whole whole lot), means he will be using a lot of sappy sickly sweet pet names that makes everyone else cringe

Its dramatic, its stupid, its gag worthy. Shouting "Ah~ schnookums, I dont know which brand of bandages I should get~! Help~~~" in the store. Calling you his "pookie bear", "cara mia", "snuggle bun", "cutiepie", "angle cake", "sugar pie", etc etc

Again if you are officially an item, dazai is incredibly serious about you. You have somehow wormed your way into his inhuman heart and he has decided that he is going to let you stay there. So while these over the top pet names are using in public, when alone or in a serious situation dazai uses just your name. Only your name, no 'love' or 'darling' or 'baby'- only your name in a soft whisper.

He doesnt really have any nickname preference for himself, call him whatever you want and he will respond to it. But it is his absolute favorite when in the dark you look at him say "osamu". It sends shivers up his spine everytime. The intimacy makes him melt, which means he doesnt want anyone else but you to ever say his name again.

The little secret is that in public he has these over the top gestures and pet names. But in private he is somber, slinking like a shadow to graze against your body, and whispering your name like a ghost against your lips.

In public he is clingy and whiney. Finding any excuse to fling himself onto you. Pet names are an important part of this facet of your relationship. It ups the drama and gives dazai the giddy rush of having a partner "Cookie pop, save me. Kunikida is trying to kill me :((" "wow kunikida thats kinda fucked up :/ leave him alone hes just a lil guy"

In private he is touchy and quiet. A hand lingering in your leg, his shoulder pressed against yours, his chest draped over your back. And all he says is your name. All you do is hum back, or say his name in response. Thats all he wants. He has no questions of demands in moments like this, he just wants to call out to you and hear you call back.

[writing-blocked-me]

Probably what he does on his

"day offs"

[writing-blocked-me]

Hi!!! I just wanted to say I really like your writing! Especially your Chuuya fics! I was wondering if I could request from your flower series? Could you write a Ranpo x reader for number 4? I just need some clingy Ranpo fluff right now :)

Thank you so much! :D

Also yesss! Clingy Ranpo supremacy! The affection would just be immense :)

Jasmine

Jasmine - Attachment

Number 9 of my flowers drabble/one-shot series

Requests still open for the flowers series! So feel free to shoot me an ask!

Masterlist - Flowers Masterlist

Summary: Clingy Ranpo cuddles you on the agency sofa and the narrator (me) goes into a disgustingly sappy rant about how in love you are.

CW: Tooth-rotting fluff <3

Pairings: Ranpo x Reader

A/N: I still can't write dialogue, so excuse the poor quality of the spoken word. This one’s a short one, just a drabble, but I’d be happy to expand it if anyone wanted that :)

Enjoy :)

“Closer.”

“...”

“Closer!”

Ranpo whines as you sit beside him on the agency's couch.  His arms are wrapped around tightly, a clear sign you won't be allowed to leave any time soon.  You shuffle closer and closer, pressing into his side, until it is physically impossible to move any closer.  And yet…

“Closer!” He whines again, arms squeezing you tighter.

“I literally cannot get any closer to you.”  You roll your eyes at the detective's antics as he clung to you, pouting.  You were used to his ridiculousness.  As the World's Greatest Detective, Ranpo had special privileges within the agency.  He could pick and choose cases, spend all day slacking off, but, most importantly, he was entitled to, as he put it, 'unlimited affection' from his significant other.  On the daily, he would demand cuddles, kisses, any and all affection he could get.  

Today, however, Ranpo Edogawa was particularly attached to you.  He had spent the day attempting to get you to slack off with him, much to the chagrin of your other colleagues. With the president away on business, the responsibility to keep Ranpo on track ultimately fell to you.  Needless to say, this was a huge problem when you were also his biggest distraction.  The entire day was spent with Ranpo being assigned a case, him finding a way to ditch it or pass it off to another member of the agency, then Kunikida complaining and you having to shove the Greatest Detective back to work.  Rinse and repeat.

That was, until the end of the day, when Ranpo went on strike, making it clear he would not be doing anything else for the rest of his working hours.  He had sat himself on the agency couch, dragging you down with him and pulling you close, insisting on having your affection all to himself.  You were helpless to do anything but indulge him, offering apologetic looks to your coworkers. 

This led to your current situation, with Ranpo aiming to pull you impossibly closer to him, unsatisfied with your current position.  Despite you quite literally being squished up against him.

“Cuddles.” A demand more than a question, as it always was from Ranpo and, though you were exasperated with his earlier behavior, it was a demand you could never bring yourself to refuse.  You wrapped your arms around the detective, feeling his own arms tighten around you in turn.  It felt nice.  Comforting.  Warm.  It was an emotion that only reared its head when the World's Greatest Detective was around.  An emotion that reminded you why you were willing to entertain all these ridiculous antics. An emotion you were certain would never fade.

[writing-blocked-me]

Dan and Phip comeback, Merlin return.... Jensen Ackles you have the opportunity to be the funniest mother fucker alive

[writing-blocked-me]

Eglantine

Eglantine - I wound to heal

Number 4 of my flowers drabble/one-shot series Main Masterlist - Flowers Masterlist

CW: Mafia dealings, mentions of violence, trauma, angst?, spoilers for the light novels 15 and Stormbringer, episode 61 spoilers, a bit OOC methinks, no dialogue (tell me you can't write speech without telling me you can't write speech lmao), idk what else to place here.

Pairings: Chuuya x Reader

Author's Note: Haven't uploaded in SOOOOO long, which is my bad.  It was exam season, then a lot of stuff happened and uni is a lot - shoutout to everyone interviewing for placement years right now.  Anyway, hoping to write a bit more this time around.  So, yeah, this is just a short thing I wrote after ep 61 aired, because I love Chuuya.  There may be some vamp!Chuuya content coming soon too lmao.

Enjoy :)

Many tragedies had befallen Chuuya in his life.  He had been a lab rat, tortured and trapped.  He had been betrayed, his first friends, his family, being the ones to stick the knife in his back.  He had met Dazai.  Just when things were looking up, he bore witness to the murder of his closest friends.  He had lost control, almost dying and taking everything with him, succumbing to his singularity.  Multiple times.  

For all the tragedies he had endured, Chuuya was certain he had also caused plenty of tragedy for others, both deserving and undeserving.  Hurting people came with the territory as a Port Mafia member. Delivering calamity was his role, ever since he pledged himself to the mafia.  Chuuya Nakahara, executive of the Port Mafia, former King of the Sheep, bringer of the storm awaited by Verlaine, was capable of so much destruction. 

Sometimes it brought him joy.  Sometimes he felt as if it was a way to get back at the universe, hurt the world back, devastate it as he had been devastated.  It was a way to let out his rage and anger for everything that had happened.  The pain of all he had endured was overwhelming, unbearable at times.  If Chuuya could return even a fraction of that pain, he felt as if he would find some relief.  Sometimes it worked, only temporarily, but, for a moment, he felt as if the scales had been balanced.  Sometimes, most of the time actually, there was no such feeling.

Sometimes he hated it.  Sometimes he hated himself, hated that he enjoyed it, that it didn't fill him with guilt.  It made him feel inhuman, reminded him of how he would never know whether he was truly real, or a copy of someone else, designed only to be a vessel.  It drudged up the memories of his past, the violence and horror and sorrow.  His power, the reason he was capable of such destruction, was the result of an experiment.  He was the result of an experiment.  Sometimes he felt that was all he ever would be.  Sometimes he hated that he had to use what made him feel so inhuman.

Chuuya had endured many tragedies.  He had caused many calamities.  He hurt and he healed, over and over. A cycle of pain and sorrow and acceptance.  Chuuya had resigned himself to it, finding small moments where he felt fine.  Never happy, but okay enough, and he had come to terms with that.  It was manageable, the cycle repetitive.  Tragedy, hurt, heal.  He knew what was coming.  

That was, until you came along.

You, who smiled at him and caused an explosion in his chest.  A blossoming warmth that gave him comfort and unease in equal measure.  He wasn't a stranger to caring for others, yet he had never cared for someone like this.  You had consumed his heart, filled his thoughts and given him hope for his humanity.  After all, how could someone be capable of such intense love if they did not have a soul? If Chuuya was so inhuman, how come he had such capacity for love?

At first, he wasn't sure if this emotion was love.  When he had first met you, there had definitely been attraction, but nothing more than that.  Chuuya wasn't stupid.  He didn't believe in things like 'love at first sight', or anything like that.  He knew he didn't love you from the moment he laid eyes on you, as nice as that would have been.  After spending several months getting to know you, spending evenings drinking wine and laughing together, and spending nights in each other's embrace, Chuuya knew it must have been love.  One day, there was a warmth in his chest, felt only with you.  Chuuya loved you.  He was certain.

It was the certainty of his own love that proved your reciprocation.  Chuuya was loyal and, once he'd tied himself to someone (or some people), that was it.  He was bound forever.  It was that way with the Sheep.  He stuck with them, despite their betrayal, inevitably giving Dazai the leverage to induct him into the Port Mafia.  His loyalty was a defining trait, something that never wavered, but it had to be earned.  You had earned his love, through sharing affection, trust and care of your own.  Showing him the love you felt for him solidified his own feelings. Chuuya knew that he loved you, because you loved him.  The devotion you had for him matched his own adoration for you.

Chuuya loved you.  It was why he would collapse into your arms after every tough mission, every rough day at work.  It was why he could relax around you, spending hours in your presence.  It was why he knew that, after every moment he spent apart from you, he could always count on finding solace and respite in your arms.  Even when he was miles from you, in another country, he knew.  As soon as they made their way back, Chuuya, Dazai and the rest of team Meursault.  As soon as he set foot back in Yokohama, his city, he knew you'd be waiting there.

He was right.  The transport Mori had sent for them had only just landed, Chuuya had barely set foot on the ground, when you jumped on him, arms wrapping around his neck, knocking him to the ground.  He felt his arms wrap around you in response, face burying itself in the crook of your neck, collapsing in the comfort of your embrace. He watched as you smiled and laughed and joked, your joy bringing a grin to his own face.  Even as you giggled with Dazai, the bandaged man regaling you with the tale of his prison break, Chuuya's face was the picture of fondness.   His eyes held a softness reserved only for you as you leaned into him, arm wrapped around your waist.  

Many tragedies had befallen Chuuya in his life and Chuuya had been the creator of many tragedies.  He had wounded and healed and wounded again.  However, all of that ceased to exist when he was with you.  Chuuya was able to finally feel more than okay, he was able to feel at home.

[writing-blocked-me]

Flowers Masterlist

Return to main masterlist

Requests:

Want to request a flower? Send in an ask! :)

Send the flower/number prompt and the pairing (E.g., Character x Reader, Character x Character, etc.).

You can also add an optional summary or any specific details you want included!

Prompts:

Alyssum - Worth Beyond Beauty

Pink Camellia - Longing for You

Daffodil - Unrequited Love -> Fyodor x Reader

Eglantine - I Wound to Heal -> Chuuya x Reader

Flora's Bell - Without Pretension

Ivy Geranium - Your Hand for the Next Dance

Purple Hyacinth - Please Forgive Me

Yellow Iris - Passion

Jasmine - Attachment -> Ranpo x reader

Purple Lilac - First Emotion of Love

Lotus - Estranged Love

Magnolia - Nobility

Marigold - Jealousy

Motherwort - Secret Love

Olive Branch - Peace

Peony - Happy Marraige

Primrose - I Can't Live Without You

Rose - I Love You

Peach Rose - Immortality

Red Salvia - Forever Mine

Snowdrop - Hope

Yellow Tulip - There's Sunshine in Your Smile

White Tulip - I am Worthy of You

Venus Flytrap - Caught You at Last

Viscaria - Will You Dance With Me?

Wisteria - Welcome

Witch Hazel - Spellbound

Yarrow - Healing

Zinnia - Thoughts of an Absent Friend

White Zinnia - Goodness

[writing-blocked-me]

Welcome!

Hi agin! I'm Liv, she/her, and I am a multi-fandom writer. I’m just getting back into writing so expect irregular updates and unfortunately no requests atm :/

But feel free to send me asks or just chat!

This is my writing side blog, my main blog is @livlikesstuff so feel free to follow that too! Though it’s mostly just reblogs aha (:

Masterlist

[writing-blocked-me]

I fully back the hc Natsu believes they are already dating

Dialogue credits to parks and rec

[writing-blocked-me]

HIT THE ROAD JACK!

PM!DAZAI X FEM!READER X CHUUYA

"Even during a car chase, I think I just fell in love with you harder."

GENRE: Romance

WARNINGS: Guns, shooting, car chase, profanities

SUMMARY: Getting caught in a relentless car chase with an enemy ambush wasn't what you had planned, but it makes a fun ride.

I wrote this while listening to too many nights-metro boomin, highly recommended to listen while reading :)

The blaring sirens sliced through the darkness of the city, filling the air with urgency. The sound of screeching tires and the distant shouts of enemies shattered the tranquility you had hoped for. It was clear that things were not going according to the original plan.

Chuuya's expression hardened as he surveyed the chaotic scene unfolding around you. "Looks like we've got some unwanted company." he muttered, his voice tinged with frustration. The anticipation and excitement that had filled the air just moments ago now gave way to a sense of urgency and unease.

You exchanged a quick glance with Dazai from the rear mirror, the unspoken understanding passing between you. This was not the time to linger or indulge in further conversation. It was time to act swiftly and adapt to the unexpected turn of events.

Chuuya occupied the passenger seat, his focused gaze scanning the surroundings, ready to provide directions and spot any potential obstacles. His sharp instincts and quick reflexes made him an invaluable asset in navigating the chaotic streets.

Meanwhile, Dazai reclined in the backseat, a nonchalant expression on his face as he observed the unfolding situation. Despite his seemingly relaxed demeanor, his mind was undoubtedly analyzing the circumstances, calculating the best course of action.

With a frustrated click of your tongue, you forcefully applied the brakes, sending the car into a wild frenzy as it careened through the bustling streets. Chuuya's startled shriek filled the air, his grip tightening on the handle, while the abrupt maneuvers jostled him against the car door.

"What the hell?! Can't you drive properly?!" Chuuya exclaimed, a mix of exasperation and fear evident on his face. His words dripped with sarcasm as he struggled to maintain his composure.

"Who are you to talk, you passenger princess!" you shot back, your voice strained as you fought to keep control of the vehicle. But before you could fully engage in the banter, a chilling realization struck you.

Your heart skipped a beat as you caught sight of one of the pursuers sliding down their window, their gloved hand ominously gripping a gun. Time seemed to slow down as fear gripped your chest, your gasp punctuating the air. The stakes had just escalated to a deadly level.

As the tension in the car reached its peak, a low chuckle emanated from the backseat, drawing your attention to Dazai. His eye, dark and enigmatic, pierced through the tinted window, fixated on the unfolding chaos outside. The faintest hint of amusement danced across his lips as he spoke.

"This is quite interesting." Dazai hummed, his voice carrying a mix of intrigue and detached curiosity. His nonchalant demeanor in the face of danger only added to the unnerving atmosphere within the car.

Chuuya shot a glare at Dazai, his irritation evident. "You find this interesting? We're being chased by armed goons, and you're amused?"

"So, you fucking predicted this and didn't say a word to us about it?!" You groaned out, focusing your eyes on the road.

Dazai's smirk widened, a glint of mischief gleaming in his eyes. "Well, it certainly spices things up, don't you think?"

"You and your stupid predictions..." Chuuya grunted, frustration evident in his voice, as he ruffled his hair in annoyance. However, his irritation quickly turned into alarm when his gaze fixed upon an enemy car rapidly closing in on yours. His eyes widened in a mix of panic and urgency, and he shouted a warning.

"Watch out!" Chuuya's voice rang out, filled with urgency and concern, snapping your attention back to the perilous situation. In a split second, you instinctively swerved the car, narrowly avoiding a collision as the enemy vehicle sped past, their desperate pursuit undeterred.

"Keep your eyes on the road, princess."

Dazai teased from the backseat, his voice laced with amusement as he observed the unfolding chaos. His gaze remained fixed on the pursuing enemy, assessing their movements and intentions. The playful taunt, however, did little to ease the tension that gripped you.

Cursing under your breath, you gritted your teeth, your focus intensifying as you maintained a steady grip on the steering wheel. The streets blurred past, your mind calculating the best routes and strategies to outmaneuver the relentless pursuers. "Fuck it!" you cursed out, making Chuuya jolt at your sudden outburst. "Wha-"

"Do you know how to drive?"

Chuuya scoffed, his pride momentarily wounded by the situation. "Of course I can! But I'm way better if I'm driving my bi-" Before he could finish his sentence, you interrupted him, your frustration seeping into your voice. "Well, there's no fucking bike, so shut up and take the wheel!"

The ginger yelped in surprise as you forcefully grabbed his wrist, redirecting his hands to the steering wheel. "Now you be the driver." you declared firmly, determined to take charge of the situation. With a swift movement, you unbuckled both of your seatbelts, allowing Chuuya to maneuver into the driver's seat from his awkward position in the passenger seat.

As you climbed into the back, creating enough space for Chuuya to take control, he quickly settled into the driver's seat. His cheeks were slightly flushed, a combination of the adrenaline rushing through his veins and your unexpected assertiveness. "Tsk, you better fix your attitude, lady." he grumbled, trying to regain his composure.

"Dazai, do we have guns in this car?" you asked urgently, your eyes darting between Chuuya and Dazai. The male chuckled in response, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"Thought you'd never ask, dear." he replied, his hands reaching out to rummage through the pocket behind the driver's seat. After a moment, he pulled out two handguns, presenting them to you.

"There are two guns here." Dazai confirmed, his smile widening. He handed one of the firearms to you while keeping the other for himself.

"Can't I just use my ability?" Chuuya murmured, his voice filled with frustration. His suggestion earned a sharp glare from you, while Dazai couldn't help but let out a sadistic giggle. "If you want to destroy the entirety of Yokohama, sure." Dazai retorted, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

You sighed, realizing the implications of Chuuya unleashing his ability in such a densely populated area. "We need to find a more controlled approach." you insisted, trying to steer the situation towards a safer solution. "We can't risk collateral damage or innocent lives."

"I don't think shooting in the middle of the streets is any better but whatever you say."

Dazai nudged you playfully, his fingers deftly pressing the button to unroll the windows. The rush of wind and sounds of the city flooded into the car. "You ready, princess?" he asked, a lopsided grin forming on his face.

With a steady hand, you raised your gun, your fingers deftly disengaging the safety mechanism. Dazai mirrored your actions, his own firearm poised and ready.

"If either one of you gets shot, I'm drifting this car into the ocean and leaving you two to die." Chuuya threatened, his voice filled with a deadly seriousness.

Dazai's smile widened as he locked eyes with one of the enemies, "You'll be doing me a big favor if you do that." he remarked, his voice laced with a hint of dark humor.

Chuuya rolled his eyes at Dazai's remark, his focus unwavering as he squinted ahead. With a sense of synchronized determination, he counted down the seconds, his voice steady and resolute. "In three—"

"Two—"

"One."

In perfect harmony, the car surged forward, the acceleration propelling you into the heart of the unfolding conflict.

Gunshots echoed through the air, punctuating the intense chase. You and Dazai leaned out of the car window, your upper bodies exposed as you took aim at the pursuing vehicles. With expert precision, your shots targeted their tires, windows, or even the individuals themselves.

The sound of shattering glass and screeching tires reverberated, the chaos intensifying as your well-aimed shots found their marks. The enemies' vehicles swerved and spun out of control, their pursuit disrupted by the disabling blows you inflicted.

Amidst the adrenaline-fueled chaos, you and Dazai remained focused and coordinated, each shot bringing you one step closer to eluding your pursuers.

"This is so much fun, don't you think?" Dazai's laughter rang out, his voice cutting through the chaos. Unfazed by the sight of blood splattering across the road or the deafening gunshots, he found exhilaration in the adrenaline-fueled pursuit.

Beside him, you took a quick glance, your expression a mixture of horror and disbelief. "Fun? Are you insane?" you shouted over the noise, your focus returning to the target ahead.

Dazai's grin widened as he skillfully fired his weapon. "Oh, come on! You have to admit, there's a certain thrill to all this chaos. It's like being in our own little action movie!" His laughter carried a twisted sense of enjoyment, as if he found pleasure in the unpredictable nature of the situation.

Chuuya, gripping the steering wheel tightly, glanced at Dazai with a mixture of annoyance and concern. "You're enjoying this a bit too much, mackerel! We're being chased by armed criminals, in case you forgot!"

Dazai chuckled, his eyes shining with a hint of mischief. "But that's what makes it exciting, don't you think? The danger, the adrenaline, the sheer unpredictability. It's moments like these that remind us we're alive!"

Chuuya shook his head in disbelief, his focus returning to the road ahead. "You're unbelievable. Just focus on taking them down so we can get out of this mess."

Lost in the exchange of words, you were abruptly jolted back to reality when you noticed a bullet hurtling towards you. The world seemed to slow down as your instincts kicked in, but before you could react, Dazai swiftly intervened. His hands encircled your waist, yanking you away from the path of the bullet just in the nick of time. The projectile grazed the car window, shattering it with a resounding crack.

Your breath caught in your throat as you realized how close you had come to harm. Startled, you turned to face Dazai, a mixture of gratitude and surprise etched on your face,

Dazai's lips curled into a playful smirk as he whispered in your ear, his voice laced with teasing amusement. "You're getting distracted, dear. Can't let anything happen to my favorite partner in crime, now can I?"

Though his words carried a light-hearted tone, the underlying concern in his actions was evident. His quick reflexes had protected you from danger, a testament to his unwavering presence in moments of crisis.

"Stop flirting, you asshole!" Chuuya grumbled, his irritation evident in his voice. The comment caused a faint blush to tinge your cheeks, caught off guard by the playful banter between Dazai and Chuuya.

Dazai, his signature grin still present on his face, raised an eyebrow at Chuuya's remark. "Aww, are you jealous?" he teased; his voice laced with amusement. "Jealous? Of what?!"

"That I got to hold her fi-"

Chuuya slammed on the brakes abruptly, causing Dazai to lurch forward in his seat. "You know what, maybe I should just throw you out of this car and let you be their shooting dummy."

Chuuya turned around, his brows furrowing as he locked eyes with you.

"You, in the front seat, now."

Dazai coughed a few times, his body jolting from the impact with the center console. Ignoring Chuuya's presence, he composed himself and readjusted his position in the backseat.

"You be the passenger princess and leave this shit to us."

A/N: Fun fact, this was a scrap for a wattpad fic I was going to make but gave up after not knowing how to start the chapter😔