#he'd just be like G O A WA Y

[yawarakaizai]

pmzai with an equally miserable s/o fem reader

ⵌ IT'S NOT YOUR FAULT

SENDER Reader (Fem) RECIPITENT PM Dazai Osamu (BSD) CONTENTS You sit and stare and wait for him to return to you. You've been bad and you've been good. There's nothing and no one that gives you purpose like he. NOTE reader+dazai are 17/18, implications of s/h, slight misogyny, death of parent, it's kind of angsty.. , soft couple, miserable couple, sui/cide mention+ideation COMPANY I'm Not Human At All

A/N ʚ₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎ɞ th is wa s har d to make b ecause i h ad sOOO OO m any ide as an d my playli st wa s feelin g good an d kept pla y ing song s th at g ave me diff fic ide as ;; th is is sad ,,, i do nt like sa d fics bu t ,,, this is kin d of a ven t? hehe FEE L FREE TO REQ UEST MOR E!

Your tender heart would care for an injured bunny rescued from a bear trap.

You'd nurse the animal as best you could yet it would always die.

Your father was a hunter. He earned your living costs by selling animal hide and what meat he'd have spare after covering what you'll need. Your mother died when you were a little girl.

You were as sweet as your mother.

Your father would tell stories of how She would gaze out on the winter sky and say to Herself, "My daughter will be as snow. Gentle and graceful, yet freezing to those who demand more of what perfect she is already."

When your Mother died, they put Her in a box full of pink carnations and orchids. Surely to counteract the smell of Her decaying corpse, to display Her flesh as something beautiful before her descent under soil to where Her bones will return and fertilise what surrounds.

Rural life in Japan was not for the weak. Which you were.

You picked up what your Mother left behind.

Tending to the chickens in their coops and shearing the sheep, you'd milk the cows and free the rabbits when Father wasn't looking.

Your hands plush with baby fat would clench around your rosary every night and pray like a good girl.

By the time you reached puberty, your features resembled your Mother more than ever before. Your figure changed and as did your father.

He'd sneer at the dress that fit you perfectly just two years ago. You'd become defiant and bold, a rebellious child.

" Father, but why? "

Your protests and argumentative nature would anger him. And now, you weren't a good girl.

Shouting battles always left you sobbing into thick pillows until your throat hurt.

It was at the age of fifteen did you find out what lies beneath your thin flesh and blue pulse.

You are made of bright crimson and spite.

At sixteen, you ran away.

It was impulsive. You forgot how and what happened. You don't want to remember.

Your calves ached and your feet blistered with pain from trudging up and down hills and farms.

You are a mixture of love and loss.

Everything is a blur, and sometimes you question whether running away was the wisest thing to do.

You had collapsed the moment you stepped foot into the city.

A sad, lost soul who ran away from her father.

You had been a..

" Very bad girl. "

The voice startled you enough for you to spill the batter all over your clean white apron.

" Osamu! " You cried out in disbelief, the boy laughing hysterically. " That isn't funny, knock it off. "

In a way, Dazai reminded you of those bunnies you'd rescue in your youth. He was caught and wounded by the claws of Life. And although you may cup his cheeks into your hands and tell him 'You're alive', he had already died before you were able to cradle him to your chest.

" I told you not to wake up early, Y/N! I should have known to not mention my fondness of crêpes to you. "

You felt untamed, wild hair brush against the bare of your neck before soft lips made contact with your jawline. A soft kiss pressing into what was cold. He was grateful to have you in his sad miserable life.

And even if you two were not perfect for each other, you'd both die to watch the world burn.

" I did it on my own accord. " You lied. " You did not. " He calls your bluff like air. You huff in surrender.

Setting down the metal bowl of paste, you turn to face him. You think of the horrors that his empty, black eye must have seen. His other eye, obscured by bandages, was a mystery to you. You respected him enough to not budge him about it.

" I wished to make you something special. "

You confess, certain he already knew your intention. Your boyfriend was simply smarter than many.

" I don't need anything. Coming home to you is enough, bella. '' His hand stretches to you like death.

Your eyes were not as bright as they were when you were little. They reflected the bad girl that you've become. The one that left her sickly impoverished father in treacherous conditions alone because her feelings were hurt.

" Belladonna. "

He'd pull you back into reality when he'd notice you slipping.

" 'samu. You've barely been coming home anymore, okay? Let me do this, just this once for you. " You snaked your arms around his waist and he mirrored your action, twirling you both out of the kitchen.

Dazai was inexplicable to you. He was a man your father wouldn't like. A man your Mother would hate. A man your younger self would despise.

You willingly moved into a shared apartment with the mafia executive after a few months of living in Yokohama. It was him to have picked you up from the streets. Sensing you were worth more than the muddied appearance you showed at that time.

Your one-time use turned into a second-time use, and your second-time use blossomed like a flower in Spring. You interested him.

You both intoxicated each other. Dazai was able to make you feel light. You felt weightless and as fragile as a butterfly. Weak, small and at his mercy.

" Then don't hide yourself away from the kitchen when I'm right here, love. "

By the time your spinning head focused on what was around you again, he had toppled you both onto the living room couch. He loomed over you, fully dressed in his mafia uniform, his stupid tie obscuring your vision until he tucked it between the buttons of his revere blouse.

" What would you do if I were to die? "

" Osamu. Stop that. "

You muttered.

You feel his life. The warmth of his body, the tender flow of blood heating his body as his finger traced patterns into your cheek. Your heart keeps beating.

" Answer me, Y/N. "

You didn't enjoy thinking of your partners demise. You wouldn't mind if you were to die.

The problem was, you didn't want to be alive for your boyfriends funeral, yet you didn't wish for your boyfriend to be alive for yours.

You loved each other to the point it became hate. Hate for how the other made living seem worth it.

Dazai had an eventful life. You did not.

You had no education whatsoever. According to the government, you did not exist. You had no birth certificate. You were no one. You lived hidden in this cramped apartment.

When Dazai was away, it was only you and your thoughts. Your thoughts were a dangerous thing.

" I think I would kill myself too. "

Your voice caught up on an unexpected crack. You were puzzled until your vision became glassy.

" Pretty baby. I'm sorry. " His apology was belated as you'd already begun to sniffle, he lowered his weight on you, turning to lay on his side as he pulled you in close, coaxing you into silence.

" Don't die, 'samu. Not here, not now. " Your sad little beg mused him.

Dazai was all you had left. You were most certain that if you were to part, you would die.

With Dazai, you were still inadequate. Without Dazai, you truly were nothing but a walking corpse.

He thinks that you are something weak and soft, with a fire raging in you that cried to be extinguished before it could spread.

You hush yourself to enjoy the feeling surrounding you. You feel Dazai's ribcage rise with each steady breath he takes. The beating of a heart is somewhere far deep in, and yours is jumping in your throat.

" Not now. " He repeated after you, and part of you wished to believe it.

There was something mystical about Osamu.

Something that warned you to not feed coal to the flame.

And that if you reached your hand in, you'd burn yourself on what was forbidden.

©yawarakaizai 2023 ﹒﹒ reblogs appreciated! requests open :3

[heyitsdoe]

Hello, Can I request a headcannon with Katakuri and Marco with an s/o that grows up with them? How do they realize that they had fallen in love with the s/o? If so, how do they court their s/o? Thank you!

Thank you for the request, anon! <3 I'm loving all the Katakuri attention today. And Marco is growing on me more and more, the beautiful phoenix he is. I'm assuming when you say grew up with them to be something along the lines of a childhood friend. I hope I'm interpreting that right, and that I do your ask justice!

(These turned out to be longer than I expected, but I hope that's alright! And, I'm not too familiar with Marco and when he joined Whitebeard, so it may not entirely be accurate to canon.)

G/N Reader

Charlotte Katakuri

Katakuri wasn't a popular child by any means. His attitude and penchant for aggression when his appearance was mocked left few people willing to interact with him in a friendly capacity. He spent most of his time with his siblings...and a select few friends who didn't mind how he looked.

You were one of those few. The child of one of Mama's soldiers, you grew up on Whole Cake Island alongside many of the eldest Charlotte children.

Katakuri liked having you around. You were always kind to him and never said anything negative about his scars or teeth. The two of you would share stories under the shade of the trees in the park, eating donuts and other sweet confections. And, even better, you enjoyed sparring with him since you were also training under your parents for military service.

He thought you were strong, brave, and someone he could depend on. He'd be lying if he claimed not to have been infatuated with you to a small degree at the time.

As you grew older, he became distant and started wearing a strange scarf to cover his face, choosing to train alone instead of with others. While he still saw you on occasion, you both began leading lives apart from one another. Years would pass, with most of Katakuri's attention shifting to protecting his family and establishing a fearsome reputation. The stronger he became, the more responsibility Mama would drop onto his shoulders.

And then one day, there you stood before him, taking your father's place in the palace. By now, you were a decorated soldier, reliable, fierce, and loyal to the bone. Katakuri couldn't help but compare you to the young child he knew so many years ago.

But what surprised him the most was the smile you sent his direction, just as kind as it had been when he was 10 years old. You greeted him like a close friend, rather than someone you used to know. It...shook him.

You were assigned to his command, and through many battles and skirmishes, you proved to be a reliable and capable combatant. Katakuri grew to appreciate your input and experience in battle as time went on. And in some ways, it felt like the two of you had rekindled the friendship from your youth, though in a much more adult setting.

Katakuri found himself seeking your company out. He might not always have had something to say in your presence, but you never seemed to mind, filling the silence for the both of you as you told him stories of your family and your many battles before you'd been assigned with him. He could listen to you talk for hours, if he had the time.

He realized that he was developing more serious feelings after you became severely injured on a mission with him. Seeing you fall to the ship's deck, blood splattering on the wood around you, gave him an incredible fright. How had his future sight not seen this? Disgraceful. When the battle was won and you returned to Whole Cake Island, Katakuri saw to it that you were treated by the best doctors they had available.

When sitting at your bedside, listening to you tell him that you were relieved he hadn't been injured, he knew for certain. He loved you. And after almost losing you earlier that day, he realized he didn't want to risk you never knowing how he felt about you.

"Y/N...I'm sorry it took so long to understand that I want you by my side. I've cared for you for as long as I can remember, whether we were beside each other or far apart. Know that I love you, even if you could never love someone like me."

Marco The Phoenix

You and Marco joined Whitebeard's crew around the same time, welcomed on as pirate apprentices. And at first...you didn't get along very well.

So eager to prove your worth to Whitebeard and his trusted Commanders, the two of you butted heads and vied for the old man's attention constantly. Bickering, sparring, competing in silly challenges that had no real purpose. You name it, you engaged in it with him.

He saw you as little more than an annoying rival, an obstacle in the way of being recognized as a true pirate and one of Whitebeard's sons.

He couldn't deny that you were strong and resourceful. You went toe to toe with him, and the spar typically ended with a stalemate. You thought quickly on your feet, never tried the same thing twice, and could shoot back witty comebacks as fast as he could.

And he thought you were sort of cute, too. Damn him to admit such a thing. You were supposed to be someone he disliked. It would make triumphing over you all the sweeter.

But something changed. There was no defining moment anyone could point to as 'the moment.' The crew only noticed it because they had known you two since the get-go, that looking back, they could see the difference. It was so gradual, it was easy to miss.

Your interactions progressed from bitter insults to patronizing acknowledgement as young teens. Then from there, begrudgingly impressed compliments and amusing jokes around the age of 18. Conversations shifted to something much more light-hearted and friendly in your early 20's, and flirtatious connotations began to surface a few years after that.

You knew so much about one another, but the label between you two was never defined. Rivals or friends, companions or comrades, nakama or pining lovers...the crew honestly had no idea either.

The two of you have been damn near inseparable for years now. You still sparred, but the malice that had driven your attacks as children was long gone. Now, you only wished to see the other become stronger and improve.

When you were both in your 30's Marco realized that he thought you were attractive. Hell, that was an understatement. Some days, he couldn't look away from you. The sun would catch your face at just the right angle to make your eyes glow in the light. He trusted you on such an intimate level.

He didn't want to jump the gun and call it love, but damn did it sure feel something close to it. The crew kept nosing their way into his business, urging him to do something about his feelings, but something held him back.

When the 1st Division Commander passed away, leaving a vacant position once the grieving and funeral were attended to, Whitebeard naturally looked to the two of you as candidates. You'd been with the crew so long, there was no one else he trusted more to take up some an esteemed and difficult position.

And when he ultimately chose Marco for the responsibility, he saw the pride in your face, knowing that he had been chosen. The crew celebrated that night, and everyone drank late into the evening.

When you congratulated him in private, saying that you supposed the answer as to the strongest one between you two was indeed him after all, that there was no one else better for the 1st Division Commander, Marco felt something pang in his chest.

You looked at him with such wonder, such happiness and pride...he found himself speaking the words that had been on his mind for months now. Maybe even longer than that.

"When I leave Pop's ship to command my own, come with me, yoi. Please, Y/N, don't say no. I've had you by my side so long, I can't think of leaving you behind. Even if he says no, I'll make him understand that I love you and can't do this without you, yoi."