MY HONEST REACTION TO THE ENDING OF THIS CHAPTER
ᥣđŠ I, CARRION
FEATURING: beast dazai osamu
SUMMARY: the day of the event has arrived and dazai is second guessing everything, but it's too late for him to back out now.{wordcount: 12k; fem!reader; romance & tragedy}
AUTHOR'S NOTES: PART FOUR wow guys we're really getting into the meat of the fic now. HAHAH this is the chapter i had to split into two parts, initially it was going to be one big one but then it would've been a whopping 23k words and that's a bit much even for me. i didn't want to cross the 20k realm HAHAHH. anyway, this chapter really was a pleasure to write, the second scene was my favorite but the ending was SOOOO close to usurping it
GENERAL WARNINGS: again, i'll just leave this warning on every chapter - dazai struggles a lot with disassociation/derealization & losing himself in the pages of the book. as always please let me know if i forgot any warnings
SEE: UNREAL UNEARTH SERIES MASTERLIST
READ: BADLANDS SIDE A
âGin-chan, Iâm so nervous.âÂ
You pace around Dazaiâs penthouse anxiously, twisting your fingers in front of your body. The event is taking place tomorrow night. You still donât have an outfit for itâDazai told you not to worry about it, youâre still worrying about it because what does that even mean? You donât know what to expect from the event, and Gin is evasive when you ask her about what will happen, just keeps telling you that itâll be fine as long as you stay with Dazai.
âThereâs no reason to be nervous,â Gin says, as she always does, still tapping away at her laptop. Glasses hang off the bridge of her nose and there are dark circles beneath her eyes. You feel a bit ashamed about constantly going on about your nerves when you know damn well she, Dazai and all of the other executives of his company have been working nonstop the past few days trying to finish preparations. âDazai-san will be with you the whole time, and if he has to talk business, someone will sit with you until he can get back so youâre not feeling awkward.â
Somehow, you think that might be even more awkward because you doubt a random person is going to want to babysit you while Dazai is busy, but you donât voice your thoughts, instead just withering as you circle the large room for the sixth time in the past five minutes.Â
Youâve hardly seen Dazai all week. You donât really mind, you know heâs swamped with work and youâve been keeping yourself busy going out cafe hopping and shopping. Gin comes with you when she can, but itâs usually Nakajima Atsushi or Tachihara Michizo that joins youâGin had introduced you to the two security guards a week ago when sheâd been too busy to come with you to a cafe downtown. You donât mind the company but you canât help but wonder why Dazai is so insistent that someone comes with you.
Well. You canât help but wonder about a lot of things, really. Youâre pretty certain that Dazai is still hiding something major from you. You donât know a lot about business, and you especially donât know anything about his business, but something isnât right. Youâre not stupid and everyone is not as slick as they think themselves to be, you see how tense and anxious people get when you mention him to them, more so than the average worker would be at the mere mention of their boss, and everyone in the entire damn building is armed, even though they clearly try to hide it whenever youâre in the area.Â
You and your friends have joked about the uber wealthy before, and how no one above a certain tax bracket obtains their wealth without some sort of blood money; youâre about 99% sure thatâs whatâs taking place here too, and it would certainly explain all of the secrecy. More so than trade secrets at least, you feel a bit dumb for that to have even been an explanation in your mind. You just donât know the specifics. You donât know if you want to know the specifics, you think youâd prefer to remain ignorant because 1) you definitely donât want to have any sort of culpability, not when youâre on path to graduate school and hopefully a very prestigious job with the government, and 2) ⌠you donât want to face the reality of what that would mean.Â
You like Dazai. More than like him. Youâve been slowly coming to terms with the fact that you really, truly care for him, and if you end up learning the⌠specifics of his job, then youâre going to be forced into making a decision you donât want to make: preserving your future and morals or risking them for him. And youâre not going to sit around and claim to be some upstanding, virtuous person. Youâre not. But you are ambitious, and youâve had your mind set on your future since you learned how to pick up a pen and write. Youâve worked your entire life to get where you are now, slaved your way through a prestigious undergraduate school in Japan and spent months preparing for the entrance exams for graduate school, only to what? Throw it all away for some man?
God, you almost feel sick. Distantly, you wonder how awful of a person you must be for the threat to your future success to be the main reason why youâre questioning yourself, and not the fact that itâs very likely that Dazai and his conglomerate have some sort of business with Japanâs underground, maybe even direct dealings with the mafia itself.Â
You pause from where youâre pacing around the room, eyes widening a bit as another realization hits you. You had thought it was odd that Dazai and Gin and all of the executives of the conglomerate have been so stressed and anxious over an event that theyâre not even hosting, but what if⌠Your throat spasms a bit as you swallow, wondering if Dazai is about to bring you not to an event hosted by their rival, but to an event hosted by the mafia. You donât think he would put you in danger like that, you donât want to think he would put you in danger like that and you wonder if youâre just sending yourself down a spiral of unnecessary paranoia.Â
But it doesnât make sense. Dazai is enamored by you, and you donât think youâre being conceited by saying that because he has made it abundantly clear. Thereâs no way he would ever put you in danger like that. Not unless⌠you feel a bit green remembering his reaction to you saying that youâd go out on your own and stay with your friend the weekend of the event. You could feel the anxiety radiating off of him for a split second before he asked you to come with him. You also remember how he always makes sure someone is with you when you go out, and god, you swear youâre not a conspiracy theorist but nothing is making sense when you look at it through your rose-tinted lenses but looking at it through these lenses. The lenses of a man who is obviously smitten with you, and who might have dealings with the mafiaâof course he wouldnât want you to go out on your own because heâd be scared that you might be targeted as a means to get to him.
Oh, you feel dizzy. What have you gotten yourself into?
âAre you okay?â Gin is looking up at you, brows furrowed in concern. âYou look a little sick.â
âIâm fine,â you say, but the words sound pathetic even to your own ears and you know Gin doesnât believe you from the way she tilts her head to the side to study you.
Luckily, youâre saved by the bell. Literally.Â
Your head snaps to the side as the elevator dings, and ordinarily, you would be ecstatic because who else would be coming up to the penthouse besides Dazai and while youâve certainly missed him over the past week with how busy heâs been, youâre not sure if youâre ready to see him right now with the way your thoughts have just spiraled, because you think you might blurt something out that you canât take back.
But, for better or for worse, it is not Dazai that enters the penthouse.
âGood morning, ladies,â a familiar voice croons as the elevator doors slide open. Your eyes light up as you whip around, eyes falling upon a face you havenât seen in almost two weeks. âI come bearing gifts.â
âAlbatross!â you say, excited, a smile splitting your face, because yes, even knowing about the possible affiliation with the mafia, youâre still excited to see the blondeâheâs never been anything but sweet to you, and heâs really the only one besides Gin and Chuuya who doesnât treat you weirdly because of your relationship with Dazai.Â
âDâaw, look at it, Lippmann, told you the doll would still remember me,â Albatross grins, dark glasses hanging on the bridge of his nose as he tosses you a wink and then looks back toward the elevator.
Your gaze follows his, and your eyes fall upon a vaguely familiar person stepping out of the elevator and into the penthouse, carrying a few boxes. Pale hair cut into a bob, a pretty, androgynous face, dressed to the nines in a light purple waistcoat and matching pantsâwhere have you seen him before? Wait-
âYouâre-!â you begin, eyes wide and lips parting in shock.
âWalter Lippmann,â the man greets you with a kind smile and soft eyes, you feel a bit flustered, you can hardly meet his gaze. âEverybody just calls me Lippmann though.â
You try to speak, but youâre a bit starstruckâthe last thing youâd expected was for a movie star to step into the penthouse. Youâre looking between Albatross and Gin and then hesitantly back at Lippmann as you try to figure out whatâs going on.Â
Albatross cackles. âLooks like sheâs gotta crush, Lippmann. Better not let the boss find out, heâll get jealous.â
âAlbatross,â you complain, hands flying to cover your hot face. âNot true, Iâm just surprised. Am I allowed to be surprised?â
âYeah, sure, doll, thatâs it,â Albatross says, clearly not believing you at all as he throws himself onto the couch next to Gin, looking up at you. âThe boss asked us to pick up a dress for you. Go try it on, Iâm going to raid his liquor cabinet while you doâif he asks, you better take the blame.â
You see Gin roll her eyes. âYou will not raid his liquor cabinet, Albatross,â she says firmly, but the man only winks at her.
You turn your attention back to Lippmann, whoâs carrying the dress in a garment bag, a shoe box tucked under his other arm. He gives you a small smile and then motions for you to follow him; youâre still starstruck as you follow him into Dazaiâs bedroom, pointedly ignoring the way Albatross snickers.Â
You watch as Lippmann hangs the garment bag up on the closet, placing the shoebox down on the bed. He turns toward you after and says, âTry it on and make sure it fits properly. And make sure you like it.â
You nod, lips parting to speak but no words leave your lips. You look up at the garment bag, down to the shoes, and back to Lippmann and then you ask, âHow do you⌠how do you know Dazai?âÂ
Lippmann gives you another gentle smile, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. You notice, a bit curiously, that he seems to take a moment before he speaks, as if choosing his words carefully.Â
âI knew Dazaiâs father,â he says after a few seconds. âI work with the Mori Corporation sometimes regarding press and political matters. Like a spokesperson when Dazai is unable to.â
Hm, you think to yourself before nodding, a movie star as a spokesperson for a corporation, thatâs a bit odd, isnât it?
Your brows furrow slightly as you try to fit the new knowledge in with all of the rest youâve put together over the past few weeks but itâs just another jagged puzzle piece thatâs not fitting in anywhere.
âIâm a huge fan of your movies,â you finally tell him, rubbing the back of your neck as you toss him a sheepish smile. âLike, no joke, almost cried when you had your discussion panel for The Good Society three months ago because it was two days before my entrance exam to grad school so I couldnât go.â
Lippman laughs, pale cheeks flushing as he looks down at the ground before back up at you. âHonestly, you didnât miss out. The whole panel was a mess, and the AC broke twenty minutes before, so it was ridiculously hot.â
You donât really know what to say to that, cursing the fact that you are 1) still half dazed on top of 2) already being naturally awkward, but Walter Lippmann is Walter Lippmann, so of course he knows just what to say and do.
He nods to the dress that he hung up on the closet. âTry it on and then give us a show,â he says, winking at you before he makes his way out of Dazaiâs bedroom back into the other room with Albatross and Gin.
You sigh when youâre alone again, tilting your head up to look at the ceiling for a moment, wondering what your life has become before you make your way over to the dress. You unzip the garment bag, curious to see what Dazai had picked for you, and your eyes shoot open when you see the red gown within the bag. Smooth and silky, off-the-shoulder, itâs probably the most expensive thing youâve ever laid your eyes upon; you feel like you shouldnât even touch it, much less put it on.Â
But Lippmann and Albatross and Gin are out there waiting, you can hear them talking through the door, so you force yourself to gingerly pull it off of the hanger, careful to not be too rough with the material. It doesnât take you too long to get your clothes off and the dress on, but when you do, you can hardly bring yourself to move away from the mirror.Â
You look beautiful. You do. The dress is a perfect fit, it compliments your skin, it compliments your hair. You look beautiful, but you feel like a fraud, like a clown in a ball gown, hoping that the beauty of the dress would draw attention from the fact that itâs not meant for someone like you.Â
You donât know how long you stand there, staring at your reflection. Too long, evidently, because you hear a sharp knock at the door and Lippmanâs concerned voice asking if youâve gotten the dress on.
âYeah,â you say quietly. âIâm dressed.â
You hear the door to Dazaiâs bedroom creak open but you donât turn to look.
âI think this costs more than my student loans,â you breathe out, staring at yourself in the mirror. You smooth your hands over the silky material, eyes catching the way it clings to you perfectly. âGod, where the hell did he get something like this? Itâs like it was made for me.â
âProbably was,â Lippmann says from where heâs leaning against the doorframe, lips quirked up into a half smile as he tosses you another wink. âPerks of dating one of the richest men in Japan.â
You let out a noise caught between a whimper and a laugh, suddenly feeling very, very out of place.
Lippmann clearly catches your sudden change in attitude and his brows furrow. âDo you not like it?â he asks curiously. âThereâs plenty of time for him to send for something else.â
âNo, no,â you hurry to say, voice catching. Although youâre unsure how twenty-hour hours constitutes âplenty of timeâ, but you digress. âItâs perfect. It is.â
âWhatâs the issue then?â
âI justâŚâ you trail off, eyes lingering in the mirror. âI feel silly, I guess. How obvious is it that Iâve never worn anything like this before?âÂ
âSilly?â Lippmann asks, amused, peeling off the doorframe to make his way over to you. You swallow thickly as he straightens your posture and then uses two fingers to make you raise your chin. âYou look stunning. Like a woman who belongs on the arm of the most influential man in Japan⌠Like a woman who doesnât need to be on the arm of any man.â
Your face feels a bit hot as you let out a puff of laughter. âNow youâre exaggerating.â
âI certainly am not,â Lippmann says firmly, taking a step back. âYouâre only getting in your head. From what Chuuya has told me about you, youâre more than suited to outwit and outclass anyone in attendance at that event.â
Your face feels hotter now, smiling as you roll your eyes. âFlatterer,â you say, but you feel a bit better, chest lighter as your gaze turns back to look at the mirror. â... Do you-â
A sharp whistle from the door draws your attention from Lippmann; thereâs a lecherous smile on Albatrossâs face as he leans against the frame and looks at you, glasses hanging off the bridge of his nose. âDamn, if you werenât the bossâs girlâŚâ
Gin slaps him hard on the back of his head, glaring at him before turning a small smile to you. âYou look beautiful,â she says softly. âHeâll be speechless when he sees you tomorrow.â
Your throat feels tight as your lashes flutter, a smile on your lips as you look down at the ground. Even though the concerns of your realizations from before still weigh heavily in the back of your mind, you canât help but feel a bit giddy at the thought of seeing Dazai tomorrow.
The giddiness is long gone.
You still havenât gotten dressed.
Youâre sitting at the edge of Dazaiâs bed in your bra and panties, staring at the wall with your knees pulled to your chest. Your dress is hanging on the closet on the far side of the room, heels sitting on the floor beneath it. Youâve done your makeup and you put your earrings on alreadyâpretty, dangly diamonds that are the most expensive thing you own, the last thing your brother gifted you before he cut you off entirely. You need to be getting dressed, Dazai will be up here any second to pick you up to leave for the event, but you just canât bring yourself to put the dress on, anxiety eating away at you.
Itâs not even because of the realization youâd come to yesterday, itâs because you think youâre about to make a fool out of yourself. Even if youâre wrong about the theory that you might be heading into an event hosted by the mafia and their associates, youâre still heading into an event thatâs going to be attended by people who are much wealthier than you, and you already feel out of place and youâre not even there.Â
The dress is beautiful, but you think youâll look like a clown in it, everyone will know that youâre not from the same sector of life as them with a single glance. Lippmannâs words from yesterday are in one ear out the other now that youâre closer to the actual time of the event.
Youâre so lost in your thoughts that you donât even hear the bing of the elevator arriving at the penthouse, and you donât notice Dazai until he pushes open the cracked door to step into the bedroom. And you feel like you should be embarrassed sitting half naked on his bed, rather than being dressed and waiting for him, but you canât muster it, eyes dragging up from the wall to land on his concerned expression.Â
And heâs a sight, you think. Heâs so handsome. Absently, you think he might be more handsome than the last time you saw him but you think thatâs a bit ridiculous because he hasnât changed at all. Heâs wearing the same long black coat and burgundy scarf, but the sleek, dark suit he wears beneath it is different, more expensive than all of the others that heâs donned the past few months youâve known him.Â
His lips are turned downward as he approaches you, placing a blue box down on his dresser, dark eye soft with concern, and you also canât help but notice that he still wears the bandages around the upper left side of his face, covering his eye. You want to know whatâs beneath them desperately, but you canât bring yourself to ask, hoping that heâll show you on his own terms.
He stands in front of you, and you rest your chin on your knees as you stare forward, staring at his abdomen instead of looking up at his face. But he doesnât let your gaze linger there, bringing his right hand to cup your cheek so he can gently lift your face upward, forcing you to meet his eyes. You can feel the rough edges of his bandages scraping against your skin, and you instinctively lean into his touch. You try to remind yourself of all of the realizations youâd come to yesterday, tell yourself to not be as at ease with him, at least have some semblance of your guard up, but you fail.
âWhatâs wrong?â he asks you softly, letting you lean into his touch as he brings his other hand up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. âAre you okay?â
And you feel selfish, you realize, as you try to figure out what to tell him. You canât even fathom the amount of money he spent on your dress and the shoes, and here you are being a baby because youâre self conscious. You donât even want to reply to him, so you try to turn your face away but he doesnât let you.
âTell me,â he says quietly. âIâll fix it, whatever it is.â
âItâs silly,â you finally breathe out, averting your gaze to the ground as you let your eyes flutter shut, turning your face in his hand to kiss his palm before leaning back into it. âIâm being a baby, Iâm sorry.â
âItâs not silly if it has you upset,â Dazai tells you, and he kneels down in front of you to catch your gaze again and briefly, you think itâs absurd that you have such a powerful man at your whims like this, kneeling before you, willing to do anything to make sure that youâre content and happy. It makes your throat swell a bit, those inferior feelings rising back to your chest with a vengeance, because what the hell did you do to deserve this? Thereâs nothing special about you. âTell me whatâs wrong, let me help.â
âI just donât understand.âÂ
Oh my god, your voice cracks, you can feel your eyes go a bit misty, and instantly, Dazaiâs concerned gaze is narrowing, as if trying to calculate what exactly is the source of your distress so he can remove it, and it only makes you want to cry more because what did you do to deserve all of this?Â
If youâre right about all of the assumptions you made the other day, and Dazai is bringing you to this event even though by all means he should not because thereâs likely going to be a lot of shady business occurring that could incriminate him and all of the other people at this event, then why? Why would he risk that just for a girl he met a few months ago? You canât fathom it.
God, you know better than anyone the effects imposter syndrome can have on a person in school, but the last thing you expected was to be dealing with it in love too.
Love, the word makes your stomach churn because you do love him, you realize, as he stares up at you desperately trying to figure out whatâs wrong so he can fix it. And how scary is that, considering only twenty-four hours ago you came to the realization that heâs very likely involved in the underground, in some way or another, and you had to come to terms with the fact that youâd have to choose between your future and a man. But heâs not just a man, heâs a man that you love in spite of everything youâve put together.
A tear spills over your cheek and Dazaiâs gaze becomes alarmed as he instantly wipes it away with his thumb before caressing your cheek gently.Â
âWhat donât you understand?â he presses quietly. âTalk to me.â
Where do you fucking start?
You want to cry even more but you force yourself not to, you canât afford to let your makeup get anymore messed up than it already is. Instead you sniffle a bit and try to blink away the tears.Â
âThis,â you finally say, and your voice cracks again, you take a wet breath. Dazaiâs lips part a bit, as if he wants to speak but heâs not sure what to say, brows furrowing. âThereâs nothing special about me, Dazai, and I donât understand why youâve gone to the lengths that you have for me. Meeting me at that club every Friday as if youâre not always swamped with work, indulging me whenever I want to do things. You gave me a place to stay after only knowing me for a few weeks, gave up your own room, your own bed, so I could be comfortable while you slept at your desk. Youâve made sure people are always with me so I never get bored or lonely. Youâve given me literally everything I could possibly ask for and Iâve just been freeloading off of you for two and a half weeks now. Now, Iâm going to go with you to this event and end up embarrassing you because Iâm going to stick out like a sore thumb compared to everyone else there. Theyâll know I donât belong there and I just-â
You cut yourself off, and you want to avert your gaze from Dazaiâs but you canât bring yourself to. Instead, you watch as something akin to amusement flashes through his eye. He takes one of your hands into his and brings it up to his lips, eye sliding shut for a moment as he kisses your knuckles. You let out a shaky puff of air as his lips linger for a moment before he looks up at you again through his lashes.
âLet me help you get dressed,â he murmurs, and you look down at the ground now as you nod, letting him help you to your feet and lead you over to where the dress is hanging up on the closet door.
He pulls it off the hanger and guides you into it, pulling it up and adjusting it so that it covers you properly. He steps behind you, and you realize that he also has you standing in front of the floor length mirror set up on his closet door. You sniffle a bit again as you look at yourself in the mirror.Â
Your makeup looks a bit smudged beneath your eye from the tears gathering at your lash line, but somehow, you still look beautiful. You think itâs only because of the dress, the way it clings to your body so nicely and brightens all of your features. You take in another shuddered gulp of air when you feel Dazai begin to zip up the back of your dress slowly, each brush of his fingers against your skin lights your nerves on fire, and once he finally has it zipped to the top, he kisses the nape of your neck, hands falling to your hips to caress them gently. Your eyes flutter shut as you lean back against him, his comforting hold settling your turbulent emotions.
âI met you at the club every Friday because you were the only relief I had from reality,â he finally says, resting his forehead on your shoulder as he holds you. âI indulged your requests because I was indulging in you myself. Every moment I spent with you, I allowed myself to be Dazai Osamu, the person, and not the⌠Not what Iâve had to become to keep this organization running.â
Your breath catches, lips parting at his words but no sound escapes them. He kisses the nape of your neck one last time before he moves to stand in front of you, kneeling down again as he grabs one of your heels and undos the buckle. You watch with bated breath as he lifts your left foot from the ground to kiss your ankle before sliding the heel on, deft fingers fasting the clasp.Â
âI gave you a place to stay because I was selfish and I wanted you around more,â he sighs, resting his forehead against your knee now as he lingers there for a moment before moving on to repeat the process with your other foot, kissing your ankle and slipping the heel on. He continues, âLikewise, I have kept you surrounded by people because I have been desperately afraid that youâre going to get bored and want to leave because work leaves me little time to be around. Unfortunately, Iâm not the generous person youâre making me out to be, Iâm horribly self-serving and greedy, especially when it comes to you.â
He looks up at you now from where heâs kneeling in front of you, gaze searching your face. You want to reach out and cup his cheek, so you do, and immediately, heâs turning his face to kiss your palm just as youâd done to him before letting his eye slide shut as he leans into your touch, as if basking in it.
âI would give you anything you want,â he admits softly, keeping his gaze shut as he holds your palm against his face. âAnything. And if it was something outside of my reach, I would make it in my reach. Thereâs nothing I wouldnât do for you, no lengths I wouldnât go to and no lines I wouldnât cross.â
You think your lungs might be burning, you donât think you can breathe as you stare down at him, heart thudding in your swelling chest, tears building in your eyes again but this time not out of insecurity. Dazai finally rises to his feet after placing one last kiss upon your knuckles, and he doesnât say anything as he makes his way over to the dresser where heâd placed the blue box.Â
You donât move, watching as he opens it and pulls something out before making his way back over to you, standing behind you. He looks at you through the mirror as he lifts his hands to place a glittering diamond necklace upon your collarbone. You canât breathe again, you realize, itâs cool against your skin and you think it might be the most expensive thing youâve ever laid your eyes upon, dozens upon dozens of white diamonds shimmering in the mirror in front of you. Your skin feels like itâs on fire as his fingers brush the nape of your neck as he clasps it onto you.Â
âYou are beautiful,â he says, voice so raw that you almost shiver at the intensity of it. His fingers brush your hips as if heâs afraid to touch you. âYou are beautiful, and intelligent, and everything I have ever wanted. You deserve so much more than me, more than youâll ever be able to understand, and Iâm sorry that Iâm not a good enough man to do whatâs right and let you go. The last thing you should ever be doubting is this.â
His eye slides shut again as he lets out a soft puff of air, the warmth fans across the back of your neck and you think you could spend forever in this moment with him, wishing that you could freeze time.Â
âYou said that you thought it was fate that brought us together,â he finally finishes, voice quiet as he references what you told him the first time you met. âDonât ever doubt your place with me. Wherever I am, you belong, whether itâs a club, or an apartment, or an event.â
âI thought you hate the idea of fate,â you say, voice a bit choked as you try to force the tears back again.
âI do,â he affirms, âbut if fate brought us together, then far be it from me to deny the one thing in this world that has ever made me happy.â
You love him.
You feel sick to your stomachâbe it from butterflies or the implications of the realization. The words threaten to burst from your lips but you swallow them, instead, another tear trails down your face and he sees it through the mirror, lifting his hand to wipe it away before leaning a bit over your shoulder to press his lips to your jaw.
âIâm ruining my makeup,â you rasp, letting out another shaky breath.
He smiles against your skin.
âYouâll be beautiful still,â he murmurs before pulling back, admiring you for a moment before he asks: âAre you ready to go?â
You nod. âYeah,â you say, a bit breathless. âIâm ready.â
âEveryone is staring at us.â
Youâre not wrong, exactly. As soon as the two of you had entered the room, all attention was sent your way, and though the music was loud enough to drown out most chatter (intentional, of course, so unsavory ears canât overhear even more unsavory dealings), Dazai couldnât help but notice the hush that spread through the room at the sight of you. The boss of the Port Mafia with a date on his arm was certainly a sight to behold to all of the rest of the occupants of the event hall,.
âCan you blame them? You look beautiful,â he says, voice laced with a teasing edge that is certainly not matched in his expression. Dazai knew people would be looking at you if he brought you here. Still, he wants to gouge their eyes out.Â
His arm tightens around you as he tucks you into his side, cold gaze sweeping across the massive event hall. At least two hundred people are attending Nabokovâs eventâan even mixture of pharmaceutical tycoons, technology barons, politicians and mafiosos.Â
At first glance, he recognizes four different mafias in attendance.Â
Mishima Yukio of the Sun and Steel stands by one of his associates, the president of Mitsubishi Chemical Group; the manâs dark eyes card over Dazai with lazy interest, before his head tilts to the side as he studies you.
Dazai thinks that the Sun and Steel might be the Port Mafiaâs only allies in attendance, and even then, allies might be taking it too far. The extent of Dazaiâs dealing with Mishima was a general agreement to not encroach the Sun and Steelâs monopoly over the narcotics industryâwhich Dazai never intended on doing anyway because the industry is far more trouble than it's worthâand an unspoken promise to protect Japanâs underground from foreign mafias.Â
Dazai wonders if that unspoken promise still holds or if the Russians have cut a deal with him.Â
Nabokovâs Pale Flame, obviously, is in attendance, along with the remnants of Leo Tolstoyâs Three Deaths. Tolstoy himself is sitting at the bar, a glass of whiskey in hand as he leans back on the stool, gaze focused on you. Nabokov is off to the left, making his way across the room to greet Dazai, a curious expression on his face. Dazai recognizes Cao Xueqin of the Red Chamber sitting near Kitazawa Michihiro of Fuji Electric, one of the Port Mafiaâs closest associates; and Dazai thinks that might be a bit foreboding, both because of the presence of the Chinese and the company heâs keeping.
Dostoevskyâs House of the Dead is nowhere to be seen, but Dazai knows that theyâre here. Somewhere. He just has to find himâand he will.
More eyes are on you than him, and although that was to be expected, Dazai canât fight the doubt that suddenly swirls in his chest, wondering if heâd made the right decision. If you hadnât been on peopleâs radar already, you definitely are now, and the thought makes him a bit sick to his stomach. He tries to console himself with the fact that this was the lesser of two evilsâthe mere chance of you being on the radar of any of the mafias in this room, no matter how slim it might be, was not something he could gamble with. There was no way he could let you go out alone and unprotected. People like them, people like him, would jump on the chance to take advantage of the weakness and he couldnât let that happen.Â
But is this really any better?Â
Heâs thrown you into a pit of snakes, and youâre ignorant to all of the threats around you. His gaze drifts back down to you, catching the way your brows are knit together slightly, the way your lips are pressed in a thin line. Thereâs an indecipherable look in your eyes as your gaze shifts over the room, and Dazai wonders if you know more than youâre letting on. Thatâs another scary thought, but he can at least find comfort in it for now because itâll have you keeping your guard up around these people. Heâll just have to deal with the consequences later.
He dips his head down to your ear, speaking quietly before Nabokov finally reaches him: âJust follow my lead, youâll be fine.â
The look you shoot at him is nothing short of withering, and Dazai canât help the smile that curves at the corners of his lips as he lifts his head back up to subtly brush his lips against your temple. He catches sight of movement from the corner of his eye and any softness that mightâve been visible in his expression washes away instantly.
âDazai,â Nabokov greets, beady eyes flickering between you and Dazai, partially curious about you and partially nervous about Dazai. Dazai tilts his head to the side, becoming increasingly more unamused the longer Nabokovâs gaze lingers on you. âIâm glad you came. I wanted to apologize for not being able to attend our planned meeting a few months ago.â
âSo I heard.â Dazaiâs voice is short and distant, more focused on the feeling of you tucked into his side than the conversation at hand. He has to force himself to keep his gaze steady on Nabokov, wanting to look down at you, but he contents himself with letting his hand slide down to your hip, rubbing absent circles against the silky material of your dress.Â
Nabokov fumbles over Dazaiâs clipped response, a bead of sweat gathering at the corner of his forehead. He wishes he could peer into your head and see what youâre thinking, about him, about this, about everything. He doesnât know if heâll be able to get through the night without you realizing who he is, what he is, and that thought scares him because he thinks that maybe he should have been the one to explain it to you, so he could at least try to paint himself in a better light. Although, heâs not sure what sort of light would make anything about him look better.
âWho is this?â Nabokov finally asks, turning his attention toward you. Dazai doesnât like the way he looks at you, eyes raking over you like youâre a piece of meat.
âMy partner.â To Dazaiâs credit, his voice is much smoother than the turbulent emotions in his chest would suggest. âWhere is your wife, Nabokov?âÂ
Nabokov doesnât even respond to the question, laughing loudly. âNever thought Iâd see the day you found yourself a lover, Dazai,â he chuckles and then holds his hand out to you. âVladimir Nabokov.â
You shift a bit to take his hand, but Dazai is faster, lithe fingers wrapping around Nabokovâs wrist in an agonizingly tight grip. Nabokov winces, Dazaiâs face is cold as he stares down at the man.
âKeep your hands to yourself,â he warns, keeping his voice low.Â
Vladimir Nabokov. Invitation to a Beheading. An ability that grants its user to draw a target into an interdimensional space through physical touchâDazai isnât sure what the space entails because no one has ever left it alive.
Nabokov tries to laugh it off, weaker this time as he takes his hand back and shakes out his wrist. âMy, Dazai, possessive, arenât you?â
âVery,â Dazai agrees idly. âBe sure to remember that.â
Nabokov gives him another wavering smile, and Dazai canât help but wonder how Dostoevsky could have possibly thought anyone would believe the man could head the tripartite alliance of the Pale Flame, Three Deaths, and the House of the Dead. Anyone with half of a brain would know that Dostoevsky is behind their union. Maybe thatâs what he wanted, Dazai notes absently as he watches Nabokovâs gaze flicker to the upper left corner of the room. Dazai follows it to where a camera is positioned, encompassing most of the event hall.Â
The smile on his lips is nearly as chilly as the air-conditioned room around him.
There you are.Â
Dazaiâs gaze cuts back to Kouyou, whoâs standing a few feet behind you and Dazai with Chuuya, Ace and Piano Man. The woman inclines her head in recognition of his silent order as she fans her face lightly, taking a step away to make a call to Hirotsu, who should be stationed around the building with the rest of the Black Lizards by now, prepared to move in at the first sign of danger.
Nabokov looks as if heâs going to speak again, which inclines Dazai to believe that heâs seeking something out in particular for Dostoevsky, and from the way he keeps glancing at you, Dazai assumes it has to do with you. So as the man's lips waver, eyes darting as he tries to formulate another conversation opener, Dazai speaks before he can get the words out.
âIf you donât mind,â he says, voice cold and clipped as he all but dismisses Nabokov, who flushes a bit, nodding and apologizing before stepping away.Â
Dazai realizes that he probably has not prepped you enough for this event, but in his defense, heâs been swamped with his own preparations and how is he supposed to prepare you when he canât even fully explain all of the dangers? But now, itâs making him anxious, because at some point tonight heâs going to have to step away from you to meet with Nabokov in one of the backrooms, likely with Tolstoy, Cao, and Mishima. Dazaiâs executives will have to be there with him, and Tachihara is supposed to slip from the shadows to join you while you wait for his return, but thereâs likely going to be at least a good two to three minutes where youâll be alone until Tachihara can get to you. Thatâs assuming he doesnât get caught up on the way over.
He needs to talk to you, at least warn you about the ability users attending the event so you donât accidentally stumble into a potentially lethal situation without him around.
If he goes to the bar, Tolstoy will take advantage to try to sweep you into a conversation, picking up right where Nabokov left off. If he goes off to the left side of the room, Cao will make his way over to interrupt. If he goes off to the right side of the room, Mishima is there. The only place⌠Dazai inhales as his gaze focuses on the massive dance floor of the event hall, dozens of couples are spinning around already, and it will be loud enough there for the music to drown out his conversation with you from unwelcome listeners.Â
He turns his attention to you, holding his palm up and tucking one arm behind his back as he asks lightly, âMay I have this dance?âÂ
Your eyes widen a bit in surprise, seemingly hyper aware of all of the hungry, curious glances of the other attendants directed your way, but heâs only focused on you, and the way your eyes glitter beneath the chandelierâs lights, and the way your dress clings to your body, and the way a soft smile tugs at your lips. He thinks that even if you hadnât entered the event on his arm, all of the roomâs attention would be on you still, because youâre beautiful, and captivating, and Dazai doesnât think heâll ever understand how he managed to pull you in one lifetime, much less all of them.Â
You place your hand in his and Dazai guides you across the floor, intent on finding the perfect space. Itâs hardly obvious the way that the other people on the dance floor would inch away as the two of you passed by, intent on staying out of Dazaiâs way and letting him have whatever space he wants, but you pick up on it, he thinks, seeing the curious look in your eyes as your gaze sweeps around the people around you. He bites back a sigh, because heâs sure that youâre tallying everything up in your head trying to put it all together, and once you get that final puzzle piece, everything will be over.
His chest sinks at the thought of losing you, but he forces it away. He has to focus on the situation at hand because even a single slip up could be fatalânot only for him, but for you too. As soon as he reaches a suitable spot on the dance floor, he tugs you a bit closer to him, hands sliding down to your waist. Your own arms instantly come up to loop around his neck as you look up at him through your lashes and Dazai suddenly feels breathless, vision tunneling and heartbeat stuttering at the way you look at him.
God, how is he supposed to focus with you around? He can hardly concentrate on anything but you. Heâs flying too close to the sun. Has been since the moment he met you. Drawing you into his life and keeping you there, now bringing you here, so many gambles, too many gambles⌠the heat is scorching, and itâs only a matter of time before his wings burn. If he was smart, heâd let you go so that you donât burn with him, but his fingers only bite deeper into your waist at the thought.
The music is slow, and the two of you sway in tune to it. The other couples give a wide berth, some casting wary looks at Dazai, ones that heâs sure youâre catching. He doesnât know where to start, or how to start; what does he tell you that doesnât condemn him? Luckily, he doesnât have to start the conversation because you do, for better or for worse.
âWas that man the rival that Gin mentioned?â you ask curiously, and Dazai canât help but notice thereâs a strange look in your eyes as you ask it, one that he canât place.
He hesitates, but then says, âNo. He wasnât. I havenât seen him yet.â
You hum lightly, fingers toying with the hair at the nape of his neck in a way that makes him shiver. But his eyes narrow when he realizes that you donât look the slightest bit surprised by his answer.Â
âYou knew that already,â he accuses lightly, and he forces himself to swallow the lump that suddenly forms in his throat because if you figured that out on your own already, what else have you figured out? God, he knew this was risky, youâve always been ridiculously perceptiveâhe just needs to get through tonight without you putting everything together, then heâll be fine.
âI suspected it,â you finally affirm his accusation, gaze searching his face. âHe was nervous talking to you. If he was your rival, Iâd expect him to be a bit more⌠assured. And he kept looking up toward a camera, like he knew someone was watching that heâd have to answer to.â
Oh, you did pick up on a lot more than he expected. He doesnât think that the smile he gives you quite meets his eyes, if the way your brows furrow have anything to say about it, but he distracts you by bringing his hand up from your waist to cup your cheek, thumb brushing over your bottom lip as he murmurs, âThatâs my girl, always so smart.â
Your lashes flutter as you avert your gaze, a tell tale sign of you being flustered. His lips quirk up into a more genuine smile, hand dropping back down to your waist. He can do this, he tells himself, he just has to be careful, tell you enough to make sure your guard is up and you know to at least some extent that the people in this room arenât to be trusted.
âThere are a lot of ability users in here,â he finally warns, careful to keep his voice low even with the music covering his words. âDo your best to keep your distance from people. Iâll stay with you as much as I can, but Iâm going to get pulled away sooner or later. Chuuya or Piano Man will stay with you when they can, and if theyâre pulled away, Tachihara is going to come down to stay with you.â
â... Thatâs why you didnât let him shake my hand,â you say, realization flashing through your eyes, another puzzle piece fitting behind your eyes and Dazai has to be careful because itâs only a matter of time before youâre given that final piece and everything comes together. âWhatâs his ability?âÂ
â... Nothing good,â he answers after a few moments of silence, but youâre not content with that, brows furrowing. He sighs. âNo confirmation on it, we only know itâs lethal. Many are in here.â
Your eyes widen and then you look a bit skeptical. âAnd you think they would use it here? In public?â you ask slowly.
To Dazaiâs horror, it is not skepticism tainting your tone, but rather, youâre fishing for information, trying to put more pieces together, and he doesnât have much choice but to give you answers because he canât risk you setting your guard down even for a second.
He chooses his words carefully. â... There is little they wouldnât do to get ahead in our business.â
âHm,â is all you say in response, something akin to understanding flashing through your eyes and Dazai dreads to know what his answer has just told you. He feels distinctly like heâs playing chess against an opponent he did not anticipate and heâs at a disadvantage because the opponent is you. He can feel your shoulders slump suddenly, an unfamiliar expression crossing over your face; you look tired, as if youâd aged twenty years in a matter of seconds. âWhat did you get me involved with, Dazai?âÂ
You say it so softly that Dazai barely hears it himself, and he knows. He knows that youâve figured something out, he doesnât know what and he doesnât want to know what. He wants to evade it as long as possible, because the moment he has to have this conversation with you, he knows heâll lose you. He canât think about that now, itâll throw him off and this is the last place he can allow himself to be thrown off.
Instead, his grip on your waist tightens again, gaze averting down toward the ground.Â
âIâm sorry,â he murmurs. The words weigh heavy on his tongue, not just an apology for tonight but an apology for accepting your offer for a drink two months ago, knowing he wouldnât be strong enough to let it be a single night of indulgence; an apology for seeking you out again afterward, knowing that he would be sentencing you to death.
He feels sick.Â
What is he doing?
Why are you here?
What has he done?
âDazai.â
You say his name but Dazai hardly hears you. God, he can feel it happening, where his fingers are pressed against your body, the skin suddenly goes cold and stiff, his surroundings are blurring, the people fading into the background. This isnât the place. Nabokov. Tolstoy. Mishima. Cao. He canât lose himself, not now, but his grip on reality is starting to waver, the pages pile around him.Â
âDazai.â
What has he done?
Everything heâs planned for, seven years of careful calculations and planning gone down the drain. How does he even fix this? Can he fix this? His mind races, but heâs not even sure heâs thinking coherent thoughts, trying to ground himself to the present because he needs to stay here, he can figure out how to fix it later, when youâre not in danger but-
His vision swims. Not now. He can see itâhe can see you. Still on the ground. Sometimes thereâs blood, so much that he can hardly recognize you (but he can, of course, he can always recognize you, even when your body is littered with more gaping wounds than not). Sometimes it looks like youâre sleeping, so much so that Dazai kneels next to you, begging you to wake up (he knows in his heart that itâs futile. he canât stop himself from trying). His head spins, he loses track of where he is and then-
âOsamu.â
His breath catches, gaze zeroing in on you. You. Alive. Your brows are furrowed in concern, searching his face to try to draw him back to reality. He thinks his grip on your waist must be painful but he canât bring himself to loosen it at all. He stares at you, still desperately trying to keep himself grounded because although youâve brought him back mostly, the corners of the pages still linger in the edge of his vision, threatening to consume him again.
âYou canât leave me,â you tell him quietly. âYou brought me here. I need you here with me. Donât go off somewhere I canât follow.â
Oh.
He lets out a breath, slow and maybe a bit more shaky than he wouldâve liked, but he tries to focus on the situation at hand. He loosens his grip on your waist, rubbing a gentle circle over your hip in an apology.
His gaze drifts around the room, Nabokov is in deep conversation with Cao, hardly paying attention to anything going on, but Caoâs sharp, dark eyes are pointed over Nabokovâs shoulder, scanning the dance floor. Heâs looking for someoneânot Dazai, which is a bit worrying, and he becomes all the more attentive to everyone in the vicinity, trying to make sure none of the Red Chamberâs assassins made it through the security. If any organization would be able to pull it off, it would be them.Â
Once heâs decided the coast is clear, he turns his gaze back to the bar. Tolstoy is looking at himâblue eyes sharp, blonde hair hanging in them, a curious expression on his face as he sips at his drink and watches as Dazai dances with you. As soon as Tolstoy notices Dazai has caught him, his lips curl up into a smirk and he raises his drink. Dazaiâs expression is cold as he looks away, seeking out Mishima only to find the man nowhere to be found.
Hm.
Chuuya and Kouyou are entertaining idle conversation with two executives of the Sun and Steel, both keeping a sharp eye on where you and Dazai sway on the dance floor. Piano Man is entertaining several politicians, doing a good job at ensuring that none of the other foreign executives get any chance to get their ears. Ace, Dazai notes, is in deep conversation in the shadows with one of the executives of the Three Deaths.Â
Interesting.
He finally draws his attention back to you, a small smile on his lips as he recalls what youâd said to drag him from his spiral.
Osamu,
âYou called me Osamu,â he murmurs, a warm feeling spreading through his chest as he focuses on that instead, trying to ease himself back into reality. Technically, heâs heard you say his given name before. Well. Not technically. It was never you and it was never him, rather it was vague memories of other yous and other hims, but it was nothing in comparison to hearing you actually say it.
You look embarrassed, averting your gaze. âI didnât know how to get your attention, Iâm s-â
âSay it again,â he whispers, lifting his hand back up to your chin to tilt your face back up, forcing you to look at him. His eyes search yours, watching the way you can hardly hold his gaze. You look hesitant, so he continues with, âPlease.â
â... Osamu,â you say again, breathless, and god, Dazai wishes the two of you were anywhere but here. He wants to press you back against his bed, run his lips up and down your body, map out all of your curves with his hand. He wants to watch you come undone on his tongue and on his fingersâhe wants you, he wants you more than anything else in the world. Every time heâs tried to take the next step with you the past few weeks, he either got interrupted by work or he ended up getting cold feet, nervous about making a mistake.Â
Before his thoughts can spiral even more, the music picks up to a faster paced waltz. Your eyes widen, watching as all of the other couples shift into the respective dance. You look up at him, a bit panicked, clearly not sure what to do, and his lips curl up in amusement, beckoning you to lace your fingers with his to take the stance the other couples were taking.
âI donât know this da-â you begin, voice hushed.
âJust follow my lead,â he repeats the same words he spoke to you when they entered the hall. âYouâll be fine. Trust me.â
You exhale, studying his face for a moment before sighing and mimicking the stance the other women took with their partners. He can feel your fingers wavering against his as he interlocks your fingers and he rubs his thumb over the back of your hand soothingly.
âKeep your eyes on me,â he tells you, just as the music finally picks up for the dance to start.Â
He thinks youâre worried for nothing. You moved smoothly in line with him and in tune with the music, gliding across the dance floor as if youâve danced with him hundreds of times before, your body so in sync with his that the two of you put all of the other couples to shame. Not that any of them matter, of course, youâre all that Dazai can focus on. Your eyes never leave his, not even for the sparest of moments, and Dazai feels like heâs caught in a trance, lost in your eyes and the feeling of your body so close to his, hyper aware of the way your your hand rests on his shoulder and the way your fingers are wrapped tight around his.
God, thereâs something so otherworldly about you. Doesnât know if itâs heavenly or supernatural, if youâre his angel sent to lead him to salvation or his very own siren singing a sweet melody to lead him to ruin. Doesnât think he cares either wayâsalvation, damnation, none of it matters as long as he has you.
âNot so bad, hm?â he murmurs, sweeping you out into a spin before pulling you back to him, closer this time. He can feel your chest brush his and he prays you canât feel the way heâs lost control of his heart, painfully cognizant of the erratic thumping. His hand slides from your hip to the small of your back, holding you close to him. He could stay in this moment forever, surroundings drowning out; all he can see is you, all that matters is you.
âYeah,â you say softly. âNot so bad.â
His lips part to respond but heâs interrupted when he sees movement from the corner of his eye, freezing.
âDazai.â
Dazai stiffens as a familiar voice speaks from behind him, shifting to stand partially in front of you as his gaze cuts to the side to see Mishimaâs familiar figure standing a few feet away. Turning to face him, he asks, âDo you need something?â
âIâd like to speak to you before we meet with Tolstoy, Nabokov and Cao.â
Mishimaâs voice leaves no room for argument, dark eyes absent of any emotion as he waits for Dazai to follow him. Dazaiâs jaw tightens, eyes drifting back to you as he tries to figure out what to do. He canât leave you here, not with Caoâs hawk-like gaze trained on the dancefloor and Tolstoy waiting for the opportunity to make a move. But he does need to talk to Mishima, have some idea of where he stands with the Sun and Steel before facing all of the foreigners.Â
âMay I have this dance?âÂ
Dazai hadnât even heard Chuuya approach, turning to the side to watch as he holds a hand out toward you expectantly, quick to step in to take Dazaiâs place so that youâre not alone. You shoot Dazai a concerned glance, brows furrowing a bit, before you place your hand in Chuuyaâs.
Chuuya leads you back onto the dance floor, Dazaiâs gaze lingers for a few moments, a bitter feeling spreads through his chest because that should be him, and itâs wholly unfair that he has to deal with all of this unsavory business when he should be spending time with you.
He should just kill them all here and be done with it.
The words ring through his head, echoing, tempting. He inhales and forces himself to look away as you loop your arms around Chuuyaâs shoulders, swaying in tune to the slow song playing. He turns his attention back to Mishima, voice cool and expression void of emotion:
âSpeak.â
Dancing with Nakahara Chuuya is awkward. Awkward is even being generous. Itâs not like heâs a bad dancerâin fact, itâs clear that heâs a very good one. Heâs smooth on his feet as he spins you around the dance floor, but heâs so stiff. Heâs careful to keep space between the two of you, hands never dipping lower than your sides, lips pressed together. He hardly even looks at you, his attention is more on where Dazai had stepped to the side to speak with the dark-haired man whoâd interrupted the two of you, but youâre grateful for it, because itâs giving you a chance to gather your thoughts.
You think Dazai mightâve inadvertently confirmed your suspicions from yesterday. You donât know who these people are, but thereâs no way any ordinary business event would be dangerous enough for Dazai to genuinely worry that someone might kill you in a room crowded with two hundred people. A part of you wonders if itâs just different for ability users, that theyâre not scared of committing crimes in public because they have an ability that prevents them from getting caught, but you know youâre just trying to make excuses at this point.
Your gaze drifts back over to the older, light-haired man with dark eyes whoâd approached you and Dazai when you walked in. Heâs off to the side talking with a Chinese man dressed in a red suitâyour gaze lingers, trying to piece together the puzzle in your head desperately, but all of the edges are jagged and confusing, you canât seem to figure out where they each fit with each other.Â
Youâd thought maybe that Dazai and his business was somehow affiliated with the mafia, because no one with the amount of money and success that he has gets it cleanly, but now you canât help but hesitate, reconsidering your original theory. Vladimir Nabokov had been scared of Dazai. And itâs not like you havenât noticed the effect that Dazai has on people. Whenever youâre around people with him, they get tense and on edge, but itâs different seeing the effect he has on someone who doesnât even work for him, a foreigner supposed to be one of Dazaiâs associates if you understood what he meant about not showing up to a meeting.Â
Who are you, Dazai?
You donât even know if you want to know. You love Dazai. You do. You knew it earlier in the night. You know it now. Itâs something you can no longer hide or deny. You remember the concerned look on his face when he saw how upset you were. You can feel the way his lips brushed the nape of your neck as he explained why he kept meeting you at the club, the way he kissed your ankles as he knelt in front of you and told you how he was selfish for keeping you around, how he kissed your palm and leaned into your touch as he promised you anything you want. God, you love him, you donât think anyone has ever looked at you the way he does; no one has ever spoken to you the way he does.Â
You love him, and it scares you because youâre realizing you still donât know anything about him, not really, and youâre also realizing that thereâs a high chance heâs been lying to you about what he does. It scares you even more that your first instinct isnât to run. Because you should run. This should make you run. He brought you to an event with people so dangerous that heâs afraid they might try to hurt you, or worse, but you donât want to run, because youâd be running from him and you donât want to run from him.Â
Could you sacrifice everything for him though?
Fuck your moralsâeverything youâve worked for, all of the years slaving away to put yourself on the path to success. Youâve told yourself your entire life that it would be all you would focus on, that it would all be worth it in the end. You convinced yourself that maybe if you proved yourself enough, your brother would return to your life; heâd be proud of you and heâd come back to you. You know heâs still out there somewhere, you get letters with no return address every monthâthe only thing in the envelope is a check with a dubious amount of money, but itâs in his hand writing, so you know itâs him.Â
A part of you wants to cry, frustration clawing at your chest: the future youâve worked so hard for, or love? The question youâve dreaded since your epiphany yesterday is finally thrown right in front of your face, and you need an answer. The two are mutually exclusiveâyou will not be able to pursue the career you want with Dazai Osamu, not in the way you want at least. And you donât want to do all of this work to just end up being another shady politician.
âPenny for your thoughts?âÂ
Your gaze snaps up to Chuuya, whoâs suddenly looking at you, and you donât really know how to respond.Â
Iâm pretty sure you guys are part of the fucking Mafia and youâre all hiding it from me, but also I donât want to know if you are because thatâs going to force me to make a decision that I donât want to make so Iâd rather live in ignorance.Â
âMy thoughts are only worth a penny?â You deflect with a grin instead, hoping it meets your eyes.
It doesnât, evidently, because Chuuyaâs eyes narrow a bit, and then he tilts his head to the side and hits you with a more direct: âWhatâs wrong?â
âIâm just worried,â you finally say, not entirely lying but also not telling the truth.Â
âAbout?â Chuuya presses and you sigh, exhaling a bit.
âHe mentioned that there were dangerous people here,â you tell him quietly. âIâm just nervous for when you guys go to your meeting⌠Iâm guessing itâs going to be soon.â
Chuuyaâs brows furrow and you can see the thoughts racing behind his eyes before he speaks again. âYouâll be fine,â he tells you. âWe have people all over the event hall, and Tachihara is going to sit with you until you Dazai can get back. Dazai shouldnât have worried you with all of this. He shouldnât have even-â
He cuts himself off, jaw tightening, but you know what heâs going to say: he shouldnât have even brought you here.
âI donât know what heâs thinking,â Chuuya says quietly, and you think he might be talking more to himself than anything else now, but you listen anyway. âHeâs always been hard to read but this isâŚâ
He stops speaking out loud, as if heâs realized that youâre there again, and instead he shakes his head. âYouâll be fine. Back at the headquarters before you know it.â
You arenât so sure.
Your gaze drifts to the side as you watch Nabokov and the Chinese man make their way over to Dazai and the man heâs talking to. The blonde at the bar that Dazai kept looking at also stands up, drink in his hand as walks in the same direction.Â
Chuuya spits out a curse under his breath and gives you an apologetic look. Your heart sinks and your throat feels a bit tightâhe doesnât abandon you right away though, pressing his hand to the middle of your back as he guides you across the dancefloor to the bar, all the while keeping a keen eye on whatâs happening on the other side of the room.
He pulls the barstool out for you, eyes still trained on where Dazai is standing with Kouyou, two men that work for him you havenât met yet, and the four men you assume are business associates of his. Dazai is looking at you, an indecipherable expression on his face. Youâre looking at him, suddenly anxious at the thought of being left alone, a bad feeling sweeping over you.Â
âTachihara will be over here soon,â Chuuya finally says to you, tearing his gaze from his coworkers to look back down at you. He flags down the bartender to order a drink for you. âYouâll be fine. Knowing Dazai, the meeting wonât last long anyway.â
Your shoulders only slump a bit as you nod, thanking the bartender quietly for your drink as he hurries to bring it back to you, taking a sip of it. Chuuya doesnât say much elseâonce youâre settled in your seat and have your drink, he squeezes your shoulder before making his way back over to the intimidating group of people standing on the opposite side of the room.
Your gaze meets Dazaiâs conflicted one one last time before heâs forced to turn away and disappears down a side hall deeper into the building. You sigh as you twirl your drink around, the clear liquid sloshing dangerously close to the brim of your glass as your eyes twist around the event hall, seeking out Tachihara, or Atsushi, or anyone that works with Dazai because youâre feeling distinctly vulnerable alone. You find none of them. You can feel eyes on youâmost youâre sure are harmless curiosity, wanting to know who exactly came in on the arm of Dazai Osamu, but you know some arenât nearly as harmless, you can feel the hungry stares of vicious opportunists directed at your back and you donât feel comfortable sitting alone.
You donât even get five minutes to yourself.
âIs this seat taken?âÂ
Youâre startled by the unfamiliar voice, head snapping to the side. Your gaze focuses on a pretty man with soft features, shoulder-length black hair and gentle purple eyes. Your lips part to speak, but no words leave them, caught off-guard by his sudden appearance. He looks harmless enough, but thereâs something about him that has you on edgeâsomething simmering beneath the surface of his deceptive eyes that you canât quite place but you know you donât like.
âI mean no harm,â he says smoothly, lips curving up into an amiable smile. âIâm an old friend of Dazaiâs. I only want to talk.â
An old friend. You donât buy it, but you donât want to risk antagonizing him, Dazaiâs warning about the many lethal ability users prowling the event ringing through your head. You just hope that Tachihara shows up sooner rather than later as you finally shake your head.
âItâs not taken,â you say quietly, motioning to the stool as you take another generous sip of your drink.
The dark-haired man smiles at you as he takes a seat at the bar next to you, teeth glimmering like knives beneath the lighting of the chandelier. Instantly, you feel like youâve made a mistake, a chill running down your spine as your eyes meet purple ones that are not quite so gentle anymore. Sharp and shrewd instead. Calculating. Dangerous.Â
âFyodor Dostoevsky. A pleasure, truly.â
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WORST BEHAVIOR . . . dazai gets turned on watching you fight and just canât help himself.
ft. pm!dazai + f!reader, pm!reader, possessive behavior, physical fighting, dazai is a little pervy, one use of âgood girlâ, semi-public & unprotected sex, choking (m!receiving), 2.5k w.câŚmdni !!
p.s.! ⚠࣪ Ë i know iâve been promising this one for a while :< thank you for being patient with me !!
dazai already knows you indulge him; you let him get away with more than anyone else ever would. even outside of work, when heâs stripped of the authority that comes from being the youngest port mafia executive, the unspoken next in line for the throne of yokohamaâs underworld, you always give into his whines of five more minutes or just one more kiss, i swear.
if you asked him, it was your own fault that he liked you so much; you were addicting. if the port mafia was a black hole where all light escaped, you were a twinkling star, falling from the sky right into dazaiâs blood-soaked hands, and he loves you more than he ever thought he could. you werenât quite an executive yet, but you were good at what you didăź fighting.
there were only a few things in his meaningless life that made him less than bored: drinking with odasaku after work, harassing chuuya to tears, and watching you train, or better yet, getting to see you on a mission. his favorite part was that you always looked so, so hot while you were doing it.
he tries to act surprised when youâre both sent to take care of some low-level group, threatening to leak information that they definitely didnât have. he didnât really have to come with you on this assignment, it was below his level as an executive, after all, but he went through all of the trouble of leaking the address to one of the mafiaâs âhideoutsâ, ensuring theyâd show up at the dingy warehouse. it looms before the two of you, weathered from the salty air of the port, glass windows splintered and broken.
his coat flutters behind him with every giddy step, happily following after you and your little black skirt; maybe if he was lucky enough, heâd get a peek beneath it.
âare you sure you donât have somewhere else to be right now?â you turn to look over your shoulder, reaching your hand out for him and intertwining your fingers loosely.
âthereâs nowhere else iâd rather be.â he swings your arms between the two of you loosely. you only drop his hand to pull the rusty door open, greeted by three men, all expectantly waiting for you.
âmy, my,â he whispers against the curve of your ear. âlooks like weâve been caught.â
âwhat do we have here? a little girlâŚâ one of the men grins, looking at you in a way that made dazai want to kill him himself. the way his eyes drag up your body stirs an instinct to pull you behind him. ââŚand her guard dog?â
of course, heâd never put you in any real danger. this group was pathetic, and even at three to one, they didnât stand a chance against you. dazai can predict all of their moves flawlessly anyway, and you have a implicit understanding that he never gives you more than he knows you can handle. his gun remains heavy against his side, always within his reachăźÂ just in case.
his fingers instinctively twitch towards the grip as one of the men reaches to grab you, but you donât let him, seizing him by the forearm, leg sweeping him from behind and tossing him onto the ground. he falls to the concrete with a groan, looking up at you with a dazed scowl. the heel of your foot connects with his jaw before he can make another move, and he falls still against the ground.
one of the other men comes from the side, but youâre still too quick, catching him out of the corner of your eye and dodging with ease. you hit him hard enough for him to stumble, and you take the opportunity to grab him by the throat, knocking him backward. dazaiâs eyes widen, the hair rising against the bandages wrapped around his arms and neck; he was almost jealous. the man chokes as you slam his back against the wall hard enough for his eyes to roll back and his body to crumple to the ground.
thereâs only one man left, and your lip splits when his fist connects with your face. dazaiâs eyes narrow, and the manâs glaze over in frustration as you recover quick enough to dodge his next hit, crouching low. you curl your leg around his waist from behind, pulling him down to the ground by the back of his shirt until heâs pinned beneath you.
youâre quick to get up, and when youâre far enough away for dazaiâs comfort, he aims his gun and fires once, twice, then again before the man falls still.
the only thing heavier than dazaiâs presence is his gaze, and you feel it prickle against your skin like the sharp edge of a knife from where heâs still standing in the doorway. when you meet his eyes, theyâre red and glowing, and locked onto you.
he walks towards you, only the heavy sound of his shoes against the cement and your quiet breaths filling the warehouse. you swipe your thumb across your lip, breaking his gaze to look at the blood smeared into the crevices of your fingertip before dazai grabs your chin, tilting it upward. his tongue is warm as it traces along the cut before he presses it past your lips. your noise of surprise is muffled as he kisses you, the taste of your own blood permeating your mouth.
he walks you backward until the back of your heels hit the edge of the cold, concrete wall. his mouth never leaves yours, tracing the roof of your mouth and the edge of your teeth as if he doesnât already have every part of you committed to memory. his cock strains against the fabric of his trousers, poking against your thigh as he presses himself flush against you.
âdazai,â you try to warn, but it isnât very convincing, breathed out like a hymn; god, his name has never sounded so sweet. he sings your name back with a smile, groping you through your shirt with one hand as the other unbuckles his belt. he slides his fingers down your stomach until he pulls your shirt out from where itâs tucked into your waistband, flipping the hem of your skirt upward to expose those cute little panties. âweâre stillâŚweâre here. in a dirty warehouse.â
âwhatâs wrong? thereâs no one else around. you made sure of that, didnât you?â he cups your chin between his fingers again and turns your head towards the enemies, bloodied and unconscious, chests heaving shallowly. he presses a kiss to your jaw, trailing up until his lips rest against the curve of your ear. âdid you already forget? when their bloodstains havenât even set into your clothes yet? i didnât know you could be so cold.â
he unbuttons your shirt with the flick of his thumb, just enough to expose the curve of your tits, sitting oh so prettily in your bra. he skims his fingers against your panties, stroking the soft fabric where your most sensitive spot is covered. he pulls them aside, giggling against your ear when youâre already wet as he slips his middle and pointer fingers inside of you. your frown falters as he curls them with expert precision, eyelids fluttering in bliss as something achingly sweet ignites in your stomach.
âyou know what i was thinking while i was watching you?â he drops his voice low, watching the way you sink your teeth into your bottom lip when he finds your clit, grinding the heel of his palm against it in pressured circles. ââi wonder how itâd feel for her to choke me like thatâŚto wrap these pretty little fingers around my neck and squeezeâ.â
the lingering adrenaline of a fight and dazaiâs body pressed so close to yours makes you feel dizzy. you part your lips to reply, but his hand is back on your jaw before you can respond, brushing his mouth over yours teasingly.
âdo you have any idea what you do to me?â the pad of his thumb is cold against your warm cheek. he strokes himself with the slick collected on his fingers, pressing into you with the tip of his cock. his bangs fall over his eyes as he hangs his head and watches you stretch around the shape of him, disappearing inside your warm cunt inch by inch.
your nails dig into his arms, feeling his lithe muscles tense through the expensive fabric of his coat. he pries your hands off, fingers wrapping around your wrists as he pins them against the wall, holding them in place with one hand. his grin bites against your neck as you throw your head back and arch your hips instinctively.
âmy good girl,â he breathes, sucking the skin beneath your ear between his teeth, soothing it with a kiss when you whine. âmy sweet, perfect girl.â
âmhm,â you exhale, your own breath getting caught in your throat. your back is pressed against the cool cement behind you, with dazaiâs firm chest flush against your front. the broken window above you pools sunlight over your half-dressed bodies. âyours.â
you feel his uneven breathing against your skin as he presses his lips against your jaw. his cock rubs against you deliciously, velvet walls fluttering and clinging to him each time he pulls his hips back. itâs so easy to melt into him like this, with the security of his hands against your skin, his soft hair tickling your neck, and his cock filling you perfectly, like you were made for him to take.
he lifts your leg, fingers squeezing the plush of your thigh and supporting your weight. he thrusts inside you at a new angle, hitting the slightest bit deeper, but itâs just enough to make you gasp as your belly flutters and your knees nearly buckle beneath his palm as he holds you up. your hands clench around nothing, nails digging into your palms in a desperate need to hold onto something.
âthe way you threw that man and pinned him to the ground,â he whispers. âwould you do that to me?���
âno,â youâre breathless, words lost on you as your mind clouds over with pleasure. his hips grind against yours, the head of his cock kissing the deepest part of you as your eyes roll backward. âi donâtăź iâd never hurt you.â
âbut iâd let you,â he rasps. âyou could do whatever you want to me.â
he lets go of your wrists, and you bend your leg around his waist, trying to press him even deeper. you balance on your tip toes as he thrusts into you harshly, curling your arms around his shoulders, as if his cock nestled inside you wasnât close enough; it was never enough when it came to dazai.
âfuck,â your voice is breathy and broken, and it echoes throughout the gutted warehouse. the heat building in your stomach is already overwhelming, rushing to your head until you feel drunk on it. your muscles are taut, toes curled as you feel him throb inside you, his hips stuttering. âosamu.â
his grip on you tightens, and he whines; itâs just barely audible, and you wouldâve missed it if he wasnât right next to your ear. your eyes are hazy, half open as you look at him through your lashes as he watches the way your tits bounce against the fabric of your bra in time with his movements.
your hand trembles as you lift it, closing your fingers loosely around his neck and pulling his gaze back to yours. you canât help but grin, lips curving up into a drunken smile as you watch his cheeks flush a pretty pink and his eyebrows furrow in pleasure. dazai rarely expresses his emotions so openly, and you commit it to memory as best you can through the fuzzy feelings of bliss blurring the edges of your mind. he lets out the prettiest noise, something between a moan and a cry vibrating against your palm, his cock throbbing inside you as you squeeze his bandaged neck.
his thrusts grow sporadic, breathy moans growing in volume. his nails dig into your hips, and you rub your clit desperately, quivering in his grip as you feel him stall and cum, warm and deep inside you.
everything fades to static as the sweetness in your belly burns brighter and brighter until it finally explodes into white, hot, sparkling pieces that pierce your vision. dazai pants and hangs his head, but his eyes snap to yours as you mumble something close to âcummingăźâ, always so desperate to take in the pretty way you fall apart for him, because of him.
he whimpers when you draw your hand from his throat to his face, brushing his bangs away from his eyes. you cup his cheek, smoothing your thumb against the tape holding his small patch of gauze in place as you breathe in one another.
your legs ache, tensed muscles finally relaxing as you lower your foot back to the ground unsteadily. your head falls against the wall with a final sigh, chest heaving. dazai is beaming at you when you peek your eyes open after a few moments, looking irritatingly adorable with his messy hair and crooked tie.
âi canât believe we did that here,â you glance towards the pieces of shattered glass that litter the ground.
âyou loved it,â he smiles, brushing the tip of his nose against yours. âyou love meăâ
he pulls out of you carefully, snapping your underwear back into place. you grip his tie, wrapping it around your hand and pulling him in to press your mouth to his before straightening it and sliding the knot back into place.
he pouts as he watches you start to button your shirt back up, squeezing your waist softly.
âcanât you leave some open?â
your glare is weak, and he meets it with a smile. he slides his coat off his shoulders, draping it over your own to hide your wrinkled clothes.
âiâll call a car to get us,â he hums, slipping his hand into your own as he guides you outside the warehouse. âiâll even give you the rest of the day off for a good performance!â
you rest your head on his shoulder, sleepy and sated. the breeze is cool on your warm skin, carrying the scent of the sea as it gently brushes through your hair.
âyou know,â he starts, typing away at his phone, still as happy as ever. âyou still owe me lunch from losing that bet last week.â
he has another tease on the tip of his tongue, but he falters when he sees the red splotch of blood staining your pouted lips. he slips his hand beneath your chin and tilts your face towards him. he frowns at the cut, visible eye narrowing as he brushes his thumb against the corner of your mouth.
you wrap your hand around his wrist loosely, pulling it back to press your lips to his palmăźÂ iâm okay. he sees one of the mafiaâs black cars pulling in from the corner of his eye, and presses a lingering kiss to your foreheadăźÂ i know. he pulls the lapels of his jacket tighter around your shoulders before he slips his hand back into yours, and when he walks you to the car, his coat flutters behind you.
BSD MASTERLIST
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TRASH SUGAR MAGIC
â á´Ęá´á´á´á´Ę 1: á´á´ĘĘá´á´á´
â nikolai gogol x fem!reader
â cw: mature content, dark content, kidnapping, age gap, manhandling | words: 3.9k
â ao3 | spotify | main menu
Your lips are muttering numbers.
It is hard to count the cash in your hands while they are covered with worn-out gloves. Slowly but surely, you total up all the notes, smiling to yourself that you have surpassed a personal goal for tonight. You stuff the cash notes into your small baby blue pouch, zipping it up before you focus on your route again.
The pavement is covered with a sheer layer of snow, which is piling up as more snowflakes are pouring from the cold night sky. Your boots clack onto the cement. Tap, tap, tapâthey go.
You just finished your shift for the night, which is considerably later than usual. You are an escort in a local bar that is quite infamous in the town. You entertain guestsâusually lonely old men who seek faux comfort from a pair of gentle hands of a young woman. Sometimes you make a small performance in the local bar like tap-dancing or singing. Sometimes you are just sitting with a customer, listening to their problems, swallowing their drunken confessions.
But nothing sexual has ever happened to you. Sure, you do get invitations to sleep with your customers, but you always refuse itâit is just a personal choice, really. And you do not like to kiss and make out with a drunkard anyway. The furthest that has ever happened was when a middle-aged man slept on your lap after dunking three bottles of beer into his system and you had to let him suckle on your hand. Old people do have the wildest fetishes, sometimes.
Besides, the other senior escorts advised you to not get too sexual with the customers eitherâso you can keep selling the idea of how unapproachable you are. So, they can keep coming and coming, just to see you and to indulge in their fantasy of having a chance to dip into your pants.
You are not opposed to the idea of sexâthe feeling of being desired has long been brewing in you. But you are already fine with the attention these customers give you, no matter how perverted and dark the true nature of their intentions.
Attention feels nice.
But too much attention makes one feel like killing themselves.
You walk at a slow pace. The snow is piling up, covering the pavement and the road with a thin blanket of white particles on the earth's surface. The wind feels drier as ever, colder. But it is not so strong that it blocks your sight. It is dark. The sky is covered with a veil of navy blue, with dots of faint sparkles scattered over it. The road lacks any sight of humans, though it is not even late. But the emptiness is purely because of how dull it is for a small townâwell, what is to be expected from a suburban area?
You are too used to loneliness. It is the back of your hand. You are accustomed to such environmentsâwhere your personal space is never barged, never wanted. Which is why, you are too aware of the asynchronous slow footsteps behind you.
You glance at the reflection of the windows on each car you pass by. It is hard to see properly, but there is indeed a dark figureâtaller, biggerâfive feet away from your back.
Must be going in the same direction...
That's what you want to think.
You keep walking and keep your calm. Panic will only get you to nowhere. Best to not provoke anyoneâespecially in this suburban area. The bus stop is just fifty metres ahead. The road lights are flickering. You are almost there. Your blue heels clack on the pavement as you fasten your steps.
However,
Your body is swooped back harshly and you are about to scream before a strong arm wraps around your body and a big hand covers your mouth with a weird-smelling white cloth. Your scream is muffled beneath the napkin as you struggle against the man.
But his hold on you is obviously stronger.
âShut your mouth.â He says as he drags you to the other side of the road, forcing your feet to follow his wide strides. You harden your legs, to make it harder for him to drag you but the substance you have been inhaling makes your vision worse. The orange lights are spiralling, the sky is falling, and the stars are crumbling.
âMmmh!â You groan one last time as loud as you can as your head is dizzying away into a maze of incoherent thoughts. You grip your kidnapper's arm tightly as your eyes are threatening to close. And once your consciousness gives up on staying with you, you only feel your weak body being tossed onto a rough surface.
The last thing you see is a sight of tall pale man, with his hair as white as the snow falling from the night winter sky.
â
âWhat?! So soon?â
âQuit screaming in my ear, you dipshit.â Nikolai sighs as he leans back to his car seat. He taps the ashes of his cigarette out of the window before placing it between his lips again. He glances at the young woman who is unconscious right beside himâyou.
"Dude, I gave that work last night and you got the girl... not even 24 hours later!â
Nikolai snorts. âWell, what can I say? I'm too good at this.â He says before he huffs the smoke from his cigarette. âBesides, this girl lives in a small town. It's not hard to figure out where she is and what she does.â Nikolai adds before he throws the cigarette out.
âAlright, no need for cockiness. But you hafta keep the girl with you for a while.â
Nikolai's jaw hangs. âWhat? Why? I got the girl. Why can't we just give her to those loan sharks and move on? I need money.â He protests. He hears his friend sigh loudly and Nikolai could practically see the rolling eyes of annoyance.
âI'm not saying that you'd keep her for a long fucking while. I need to consult with the loansharks again so we can arrange a meeting to give the girl to them and get our payment.â
âYouâre so horrible at managing, I swear to God,â Nikolai grunts. His friend laughs and it irks Nikolai for some reasonâhe knows a mockery when he hears one. âStop laughing, Viktor Pavlovsky. I'll kick your ass for forcing me to take care of a child.â
âOh, heavens, my brother Kolyushka! She's not even a child! Just make sure she doesn't die!â
âI am not a babysitter, Viktor...â
âAlright, bye, lovely! I'm gonna do my part to satisfy our clients too, m'kay?â
Nikolai does not even get a chance to curse out Viktor before the man ends the call. Irritated, he tosses the phone to the cup holder in front of him. Nikolai glances at his sideâyou are still sleeping, or passed out, so quietly, so peacefully.
He seizes your jaw roughly, shaking your headâbut you remain asleep, limp. Nikolai sighs. The substance must be too strong for you and he does admit that he did press the napkin too hard on your mouth and nose. Well, it's better to have you unconscious instead. Who knows if you dare enough to put up a fight? He does not mind killing you if you are being such a big problem, but you are the starshine of this whole ordeal.
Yesterday, Nikolai received word from Viktor about a new job. He had to kidnap a girl, needed as a hostage for a group of dangerous loan sharks. Apparently, your father is too deep in debt with those loansharks and he is having a very hard time paying back. The man keeps evading and running away, dragging you along with him.
Nikolai already knows some stuff about you. You are working in a bar as an escort, which explains your current clothes right nowâa baby blue dress, white stockings, blue heels and a white cardigan. You do look adorableâNikolai knows that many men in the bar you worked at would really love to have you on their bed.
Hells, if you are not a target, perhaps Nikolai would flirt with you as well.
But now you are asleep soundly in his car and he has to keep you with him because he is just too good at his job.
Nikolai sighs again before he leans towards you, taking the seatbelt to buckle you up. Then he yanks one of the ribbons on your hair, causing your head to tilt as well. He uses the ribbon to tie your wrists together, as tight as possible that the ribbon practically digs into your skin.
âNow, how do I 'take care' of this girl...â He murmurs as he holds the steering wheel, beginning to drive off the place. Nikolai is thinking hard. Should he get you to his humble apartment? Should he just drop you at Viktor's place? Should he ditch you somewhere he only knows and he will come and take you shall his clients finally need you?
But since this is a kidnapping, he should not let you be in the public's eyes. Especially your father. The whole point of kidnapping you is to keep you as a hostage, not a guest.
Nikolai is about to turn his car in the direction going to Viktor's place, but he remembers that Viktor lives with his girlfriend. He knows how possessive can Viktor's girlfriend beâNikolai has heard enough stories from Viktor about how his girlfriend hit other people just because of her own jealousy.
And the last thing Nikolai wants is to have you tainted with bruises or dirt. You must remain flawless for the loansharks once they retrieve you in the future. He aims to get the most money out of this jobâhe is already desperate for them.
Reluctantly, Nikolai drives his way to his apartment complexâa worn-out building containing house units. It is an old building that constantly gets renovations and repairments just to keep it functioning for people to live. It is basically for the lower class to live.
He parks his car by the building and gets out. He gets to your side and unbuckles your seatbelt. Nikolai sighs, scratching his neck as he contemplates how to get you inside without raising suspicion. He knows that there are security cameras planted in the corridor for each floor. He doubts the owner of the building pays that much attention though since Nikolai had gone back home with a bloody shirt before and nothing was reported.
But at least he needs to be careful.
Nikolai takes off his jacket and drapes it over your bodyâor to be exact, your tied wrists. He then gently carries your body in his arms, kicking the car door close. He brings you inside the building and gets to his designated floor by the stairsâthe elevator is barely functioning well anyway.
Nikolai gets to the sixth floor and walks to his unit quickly. He realizes he needs to get his keys from his pocket. Grunting in dissatisfaction, Nikolai lets down your legs, so you are leaning against his body instead. That way, he could hold your limp body while opening the door with one hand.
He wraps his arm around your body, pressing your body closer to him while he unlocks the door to his unit. Once he gets it, Nikolai practically drags you easily into the house, slamming the door close before unlocking it. He drags your limp body before tossing you onto the old couch.
âFucking wake up already... Why do I need to babysit this girl?â He sighs loudly before he gets to you, taking off your heels and taking away his jacket from your body. He stares at your unconscious figure for a momentâleering his darkened gaze over your curves.
Nikolai swallows nervouslyâsomething stirs in his chest but he decides to ignore it. He proceeds to carry you again to his unkempt bed and once again tosses you onto the uncomfortable mattress. He takes a rope beneath the bed and ties your legs together before making a tight knot to the footboard railing, just so you cannot escape easily once you wake up.
âAlright, now what?â He asks himself as he looks at you againâtied and asleep, on his bed. He does not want to stay close to you, let alone sleep in the same space. Knowing he has little to no choice, Nikolai pathetically walks outâthere is no door to his bedroom and he actually does not know where the fuck it is because it has always been that way since he lived here.
So he settles himself on the sagging couch. Nikolai places his arm over his eyes, shutting them close. The clock is ticking, approaching the deadest of the night. And after the trouble he went through today, Nikolai succumbs to his exhaustionâsleep.
But it is hard to fall asleep in this horrible condition he has to live with.
Nikolai stares at the ceilingâthe dried paint is peeling off. The ceiling fan is creaking whenever it finishes a circle. Some unknown wires are hanging from the lamp. The fabric of the cushion beneath him is no longer soft and aromatic. He is basically lying on a piece of future garbage.
Despite the miserable fate that has fallen upon him, Nikolai feels quite nostalgic about it. Somehow, this poor condition reminds him of his childhoodâor the oldest memories of his past. He was lucky to have a taste of luxury and comfort when he reached the age of twentyâbut it was not for long.
After the incident in that prison, he decided to disappearâhis mind wandered into a whole tangled mess of confusion and lost. His best friend was just killed. He was supposed to feel liberated, happy, relievedâbut instead, he found himself cornered into the dark, again.
You wanted to kill him, didn't you?
Yes, I did.
Err... I didn't...
No... I did.
Remembering that piece of the past feels as if God mocks him.
When he was finally so far away from the scene of the crimeâafter two years, he almost threw up when the truth was dispensed right in front of his eyes. The sight of his friend being alive and well standing right in front of him after he lamented over that friend's horrible death and his horrible freedom.
You tried to kill me. I'd like to return the favour.
Lovely.
Nikolai should have expected that the Fyodor Dostoyevsky would not be direct when it comes to tormenting.
He did not expect that a whole squadron would besiege him, in an attempt to arrest him. Nikolai knew he could have run away but perhaps the shock of seeing Fyodor got into his head. He felt like he was not realâas if he was watching his body living by itself, without his own mind controlling himself.
For a long while he felt unrealâand he snapped out of it during his second day in prison.
And that was when he realizedâhe was too doomed.
For six years, he spent his days in prison with whack-ass jackasses. It was fun. Prisoners feared him somehow. But when he almost entered his seventh year in prison, he was released from prisonâno parole, no bail. It was weirdâas if something, someone, had interfered with the laws in order to get them to be on his side.
Nikolai still does not know who and how, but once again, he became a free man.
Except, he was bombarded with countless misfortunes.
His house, his documents, his treasures, money, relationships, peopleâeverything.
He was arrested with his overcoat, and he got out with it. That is the only thing he still keepsâthe only piece of himself that stays since years and years ago.
Nikolai was already on the verge of giving his life up, but he kept going anywayâanother determination was brewing and is still going. He wants to find Dostoyevsky and return the favour to himâafter all, that man caused Nikolai to get arrested and lose everything.
After all I did for your plans...
Bit by bit, Nikolai is attempting to climb againâhe committed paid crimes. He admires those who are in the light of justice, but he is more intrigued with those who are lurking in the shadow of evilâso that is the path he decided to walk on. He knows his way to find people who want to commit injustice but do not have the balls to do so. The pay is always goodâhe manages to get a humble house for himself and a car within three months. But money is not always static. The money he gets from his crimes is always shared with Viktor, bills, rent and himself.
He needs to be strategic with finance. One wrong move, Fyodor could get him into the deepest hell of poverty. He is already saving money for his trip to St. Petersburgâthe first place he wants to go as he believes Fyodor might be there. Nikolai's passport is also seized and Viktor has confirmed to him that he is blacklisted from even applying for one.
But Nikolai believes he can still go through with this vengeance. After this kidnapping is done and you are finally taken by the loansharks, he will get to other jobs and the cycle will repeat, until he can get to St. Petersburg comfortably.
And once he sees Fyodor again, no amount of guilt shall cage his heartâhe hopes.
â
Nikolai squirms and groans hoarsely. The couch is hella uncomfortable and it feels like his back was stomped by a crowd of people. He gets up and stretches, yawning while he is at it. He looks at the clockâit is already ten in the morning. He takes out his phone, checking whether there is a new message from Viktor regarding the job. There is oneâViktor just said he will come to Nikolai's place and figure things out together. Somehow he also mentioned that he was excited to meet the kidnapped girl.
And it concerns Nikolai. He does not want Viktor to have his hands on you. Viktor is trustworthy... but only that much. He is not a nice guy to be aroundâbut well, when Nikolai thinks again, he is not a good person to be around too.
Nikolai replies shortly to the message before he gets to his bedroom. He is nervous for some reason but he swallows it as he approaches the room. He enters.
âOh, shit!â
Nikolai flinches when he sees you are already awake and sitting up straight on the bed, hugging your knees together. Your baby blue appearance made you look like a ghost in this dull houseâlike a white flower in the middle of an abandoned building.
âHello...â
What?
Nikolai blinks confusedly. Why are you not thrashing around and struggling and spouting curses at him? He was pretty sure that you saw him when he kidnapped you last night. He frownsâis this a trick? Well, if that is the case, Nikolai is the wrong person you are trying to trick for sure.
âDo you realize the situation you are in right now?â Nikolai interrogates you as he approaches you, grabbing your tied wrists. You flinch at his roughness and yet you are not backing away. Your wrists already have a thin line of bruise due to the tight ribbon. One wrong twist and it makes you wince in pain.
âI asked you a question, girl.â
âM-My name isââ
âI already know your name.â
âOh...â
Nikolai sighs. âHey, if you're trying to play nice just to get on my good side, drop it. I know how to detect a liar, alright? Drop it.â He says harshly as he points his finger at you, nudging your head hard. You turn away, using your hands to shield yourself from his assaulting finger on your head.
âI-I didn't mean it...â You say slowly.
âHey, hey, don't look away,â Nikolai says before he grabs your jaw, turning your head to face him roughly. âYou're in my house now, so we have to establish some rules until you get out of here.â
âO-Oh, I'm not staying...?â You ask, almost like a whisper. Nikolai raises his eyebrowâthis girl is weird. He shakes your head roughly again.
âOf course you're not staying. Who the fuck you think you are?â
âI-I thoughtââ
âWell, clearly you don't think smart enough.â He shoves your head away before he stands straight. You whine, rubbing your jaw with the back of your handsâit is hard to move when your ankles and wrists are being tied like this.
âIs it... because of my father?â
âSmart girl! So you can think after all!â Nikolai claps his hands with his mocking voice echoing in the room. âWhy, yes, that's exactly why. I think you can catch what's up with your dad already, right? If you want to blame anyone, blame him. I'm just a courier.â
âI don't think this... will work to get to my father though...â
Nikolai shrugs his shoulder. âOkay? And I don't care. You'll be given to the loansharks very soon and that's it for me.â He says. He looks at you, noticing the strange stare you are giving him. Nikolai narrows his eyes, baffled by the calmness you are projectingâhe wants to think that you are just trying to be brave, but this silence, this obedience, this calmness... They throw him off.
âCan I go to the toilet?â You suddenly ask.
âWhat a good girl, huh? Asking permission to go shit.â
âD-Don't say nasty things like that.â
âAnd who the fuck do you think you are to police my tone, huh?â Nikolai grunts before he unties the rope around your ankles. Then he grabs one of your ankles, gripping it hard. âDon't think of kicking or attacking me. You're not that strong, girlie.â He says. You nod slowly before your eyes waver to your legs, to him and then your tied wrists.
You bring your tied wrists towards him, quietly asking him to untie them. Nikolai looks at you and then your wrists. He internally sighs before he unties the ribbon that is binding you. You wince when you are finally free. Your hands have a ring of darker shade and it stings when you rub itâyour hands feel numb and your joints are straining as you try to move your arms.
Before you could even make a stretch to warm up your body, Nikolai yanks your arm, pulling you out of the bed. His grip is strong and hard and he easily drags you out of the bedroom and to the small bathroom located just by the kitchen.
He pushes the door open and then shoves you into the bathroomâsmall and just enough for one person to occupy it comfortably. Nikolai knows you won't escape easilyâhis unit is on the sixth floor and even if you could make your body small enough to slip out from the window in the bathroom, you would not know your way out.
âMake it quick.â He says before he pulls the door to close it. However, your hand holds it right before the door connects to the frame. Nikolai turns to you, seeing your adorable eyes staring back at him between the gap.
âT-Thank you for... letting me sleep on your bed... It was the most comfortable sleep I've ever had.â
And you close the door yourself, locking it.
Nikolai is stunned.
Did you just thank him? For letting you sleep on his bed?
He leans right beside the bathroom door, gazing at the worn-out ceiling. Nikolai pinches the bridge of his nose, pursing his lips. He knows something is wrong with this girl he just kidnapped.
He feels like something is going to happen to him too. Nikolai huffs and gets his phone quickly, messaging Viktor so he will come and figure out what to do with you. Especially when you just said that 'this' would not work with your fatherâwhatever that means.
Šcherikolya 2024 â do not copy, plagiarize and repost my works to any platform, reblogs are very appreciated
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