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hellooo!! :)
I love the way you write for dazai, especially the smoke fanfics, I think often people forget how cruel he can be in favour of viewing him through rose-tinted lenses.
so in regards to that, I was hoping if I could request a fic with a reader who is personality wise the opposite of him? Like if Dazai is a charming, loud, and flirtatious type of guy who internally struggles with feeling empty and sympathy—reader would be someone who is quiet, resting depressed face, and stoic but a very emotionally intelligent and empathetic person who is a quiet intellectual type. Kind of like Kunikida but more quiet and reserved.
I feel like that combination of traits isn’t very well explored that if you’re a stoic person you have to be emotionally repressed or terrible at feelings. Or if you’re super empathetic then you’re a crybaby-type of persona.
For the actual content of the fic i was thinking them meeting for the first time (reader is an ada member who joined a few months prior to him) and their relationship developing from there…I am a bit of a hopeless romantic so I would like a bit of romance please XD
I’m sorry if this sounds vague or if this request if too long..if you need more of a reference I was thinking of a maomao from the apothecary diaries type of reader, if you know her? If not you can just use the descriptions above, thank you for reading till the end!!
Love your works <3 bye!!
Oml i don't even remember if i answered this (i just checked, i didn't) and i don't even think i saw this?? I'm so sorry and i can do it if you still want me to, again so sorry i had forgotten about this (T_T)
I have a serious love hate relationship with Paul Verlaine, like for one I love his character design, backstory and personality! But... I have a strong hatred for what he did to the flags, like..: I FUCKING HATE YOU, but I love you please give me your hand in marriage. I fucking have him..
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Sometimes I feel embarrased whenever I go to request something and there's not an "ask anonymously" box and especially if it's smut it feels like I'm walking through a public humiliation ╥﹏╥
pm dazai and pm chuuya who constantly fight each other for readers attention... but then someone hurts reader and all of a sudden they work together so seamlessly to kill the mf who dared to touch you (≧▽≦)
ⵌ YOU'RE QUITE THE SAME IF LOVE'S THE GAIN
SENDER Reader (Fem)
RECIPITENT PM!Dazai Osamu + PM!Chuuya Nakahara (BSD)
CONTENTS jealousy, reader+chuuya+dazai are 16/17, reader is an heiress, hostage situation, fluff n cute!! (implied) torture, worried chuuya
NOTE This wasn't the department you specialised in. You wanted to manage finances, and while Mori was more than happy to grant you the role - Dazai would nag for you to join him and Chuuya on missions that didn't concern you in the slightest. There's only so much patience one can have.
COMPANY Tangled Up
A/N THI S WA S RLL Y C UT E !! sorr y this one was l ate ;//; i hav e a scho o l trip tmrw ^^// maybe i'l l t ry sm ut nex t ... i have a l ot of good re qs i ho pe i ca n ge t throu gh the m a ll ꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱
Missions with Dazai and Chuuya always resulted in a thrilling adventure. There was never a time you'd look back on a mission you'd had with both and say to yourself, 'that was a bummer.'
You weren't supposed to work alongside them. Within the Port Mafia, Dazai and Chuuya were always to be assigned missions that were too dangerous for someone ordinary.
And, you? Well.
You possessed no ability. Your purpose in the Port Mafia was your background - your status.
Heiress to your father's wealth in your homeland of France, your parents were part of a certain elite group that made you a walking target should you venture without protection.
That is why you were always thrown as the bait.
With all respects to Dazai, that is, who introduced to Mori the idea of having you be the helpless, dumb damsel skipping merrily into danger.
You weren't happy about this arrangement and that was made clear by your sulking.
" Oh, look at me, I am an unattended woman. "
You sluggishly wandered around the dark halls of the abandoned facility, your voice just barely loud enough for the walls to echo your sarcastic jokes.
" This is serioouuuss! " The earpiece cleverly hidden in your ear crackled into life, you knew the voice belonged to Dazai. " Been chasing this guy for ages now, I think he's got some sort of phasing ability. He might appear outta no where, but Chuuya's trailing behind you, so don't worry. "
As if it could ease your nerves, it only made you regret agreeing to this further. " Great. I'm comforted. " You replied in a snarky manner.
You were dressed in lavish clothing that not even your pompous, arrogant mother would ever think of wearing. You seemed to have a distaste for reminders of the generational wealth you possess and opt to distance yourself from a 'royal' life. It proved impossible when it was the only thing that allowed you to maintain a job in the Port Mafia.
The gloomy and cold atmosphere left you hugging yourself for warmth as you traversed through complicated corridors. Although your earpiece was not connected to Chuuya's, you worried that you were walking off-course and/or Chuuya knew where you are meant to go, but could not blow his cover to correct your stupid mistakes.
Chuuya did a pretty good job at staying hidden. You could not hear a thing other than the clacking of your heels against metal flooring. " Ohh.. I'm so scared. " You pitched your voice higher, this being your best shot at luring out whoever it is the PM were after. You weren't taking this seriously, that was clear to both Dazai and Chuuya.
This wasn't the first mission you three were together, there were a few others that you'd two go through but this was the first time you were thrown a seal to a shark.
Dazai was elsewhere in the building, you weren't sure where and he gave no information when asked. With the affirmation Chuuya had your back, you knew that there was nothing to fear.
You would have appreciated some communication on his end though. You figured it must be his unnatural shyness towards you that made it hard for him to be too forward.
You easily noticed how his behaviour would change around you. And with Dazai around? Oh, boy.
Even if you could be a little air-headed sometimes, you weren't dumb to the hints in front of you.
From the day you were rescued from captivity - a story for another day - Chuuya stood out. You find it funny how he'd be unable to face you for more than a minute before looking away hurriedly. It sprung your new-found hobby of teasing Chuuya whenever you could. Of course Dazai picked up on it pretty soon after too and Chuuya has not known peace since. You couldn't help it! You weren't to blame! You giggled to yourself reminding yourself of Chuuya's little crush, fingers intertwined behind your back loosely, your back straightening from its previous hunched-over stance.
Feeling sudden confidence surge through your veins with the recollection of memories with Chuuya, you were just about to turn on your heel to address the gravity manipulator until a hand grabbed you from behind - before you had the chance to see who it was, you felt cold metal press against your temple that made you freeze up.
In front of you, Chuuya had finally revealed himself, but he too was stood as still as stone.
" Kill me 'n the girl goes too. "
They have never let it get THIS bad. Not ever have you ever even been in the hold or this close to an enemy, and here you were at gunpoint, something that was not planned.
You didn't dare break eye contact from Chuuya. This might just be your final moment. With great trust in Chuuya and Dazai's ability, you weren't sure how they'd proceed with this.
Chuuya might end up being the last thing you see. The look of fear on his face too didn't ease your nerves. They were not in the position to bargain. And funnily enough, you blamed yourself for this.
" Fine, yeah. Let her go. " Chuuya stood up from his mid-offensive position and dropped whatever weapon he had. A gun and a small knife for close-combat, he raised his arms above his head to firmly show his surrender. The hand that was previously on your lower hip raised to roughly cover your mouth, a gloved palm shoving itself in your face and that broke you down immediately. Fear took over and your knees went weak with pure fright, yet the man behind you had his fingers digging into the flesh of your cheek with such a harsh grab that it kept you standing up-right, the barrel of the gun pressing in deeper to your skull, sure to leave indents - that is if you weren't just shot dead. Then an indent would be the less of your worries.
With your back pressed against the chest of the stranger, you could feel the vibration of his confident voice as he spoke loudly, " Don't take me for a fool, Nakahara. You could easily use that ability of yours. " And that was true. You actually forgot about Chuuya's ability. Your mind was too foggy at the moment.
It was the first time you saw Chuuya Nakahara look uncertain in whether this mission would end well or not. He smiled insecurely as he let out a gruff exhale, " Wouldn't do that if I wanted her to live, yeah? Now let her go. "
Even if he kept grinning, you could see how the sweat dripped from his face even through your own teary eyes. With the palm pressing over your mouth and nose, it was difficult to breathe and steady your heart that was already beating fast enough as it is.
" Hmm.. " The gun was lowered slowly, caressing down your cheek and to your chest before being positioned at the pit of your stomach, " But do I really wanna? "
You began to squeal in protest, unable to accept your helplessness but it seemed someone else did your job of retaliation for you.
In the blink of an eye, the man holding you captive fell backwards and consequentially dragged you down with him but ended up tripping you up a bit further. You fell with your head banging on the hard floor, your captors hand slipping from your mouth and allowing you to briefly gasp for air. The clattering of a gun was heard somewhere yet you were too dazed to properly do anything at this point.
The last thing you remember was the feeling of being raised from your underarms and distant shouting.
" -as if she'd be able to do-"
" No, you shut up! You could've done something easily. "
" It was your idea to use her as a fuckin' pawn, don't twist this. "
" Uhh! I'm sowwy~! I thought Chuuya Naka-fucking-hara had some balls to intercept~! "
" Zip it! She's waking up! "
Groggily, you stared at the two of them, sitting opposite each-other on the end of your bed. Judging by the bright white, you were most likely in the infirmary.
Chuuya was the first to lean in, he must have not noticed his hand coming to rest over yours which were folded nearly over your stomach. He had hope in his eyes, contrasting with the emotion you last remember them in. " Y/N? " He called out to you, taking a glimpse at the steady heart monitor.
Testing your voice, you let out a low hum before croaking out a meek, " Heya. "
Dazai was the first to break a laugh at your first words. His and Chuuya's eyes were soft.
" Don't look cute, I'm pissed at you both. " You huffed, turning your head to the side, avoiding them both.
Chuuya held your hand a little tighter, he understood if you decided to be unhappy with him. " Sorry, Y/N. I really fucked that up. Shit, I just didn't know what to do. " He explained himself with such compassion you were urged to look at him again. " I guess I discovered seein' you like that. Uh. In trouble and stuff, makes me seize up badly. "
From the corner of your eye you saw Dazai huff before standing up, but Chuuya held onto your attention as he continued speaking tenderly to you, " I thought that this loser would have planned a set-up and knew that was gonna happen but. It took too long. I realised last second he didn't plan shit. "
" Hey! Don't be so rude, Chuuya~ Besides, if it weren't for me, precious princess would've been shot. " You saw Dazai reach into his back pocket for something you couldn't quite recognise yet.
" Oh, that was you, Dazai? " You asked, alluding to the sudden drop during the action. " Yuup~ And y'know what the best part is? "
You quirked a brow and stole a shared glance from Chuuya. Dazai was unexpectable.
" Since me and Chuuya are so nice.. "
So Chuuya was in on this too?
Dazai paused his sentence and hummed in a baby-ish voice. " Kill me and the girl goes too! " He mocked, earning him an earnest giggle from you. " That wasn't funny, Dazai! I was scared! " You retorted, but still couldn't wipe that smile off of your face.
" Sorry, sorry. But, like he wanted, he's not dead. "
Dazai held the object he had pulled out in front of him. Bloodied priars.
" Technically death caused by unattended injuries is not 'killing him' on MY end, isn't that right, Chuuya? "
Soooo.. I have a side account called "Kissatsu" and currently have 1 fic of atsushi x reader there, if anyone wants to check it out it's about Celebrating Atsushi's b-day. ♡´・ᴗ・`♡
Character(s): various JJK, BSD, SNK characters x reader
-> Oof, first actual post since… last year. I’m happy to get some time and energy to write again, and to have finally found my creativity again, although I struggled with my words from the lack of creative writing these past few months. I have several WIPs in writing, which I hope to finish and post during the next few weeks!!
⟢ Your happiness ⟣
It was in the way that your pretty eyes would always light up when you talked. They could get lost in that bright shine, the way you excitedly recounted the same thing for the third time in a row because you just needed to add a new detail you had forgotten each time.
At first it had been almost daunting and annoying how much you could talk about your hobbies and interests, but they eventually found it endearing. The lilt in your voice, the way your lips stretched into wide smiles, and how your laughter was higher pitched when you giggled about a tiny thing that most would have found useless to even mention.
They realized they were deeply in love when those same smiles, that same pitch of your voice, and that same brightness in your eyes came with their name. With their presence. It was right then and there that they knew they wanted you for life.
You never feared telling them things exactly how they were, or how you felt about them. Whether it was positive or negative, you were honest to a fault. Sometimes it was painful, hearing how they had said or done something that hurt your feelings, or how they had done something you found to be uncalled for towards others.
Despite the tension your words sometimes brought in their heart and mind, they loved your honesty. After all, honesty is the best policy, isn’t it? They found they never had to guess or figure out how to be around you, because you’d tell them straight up what you liked or disliked. It made it so much easier and more comfortable to be around you.
It was that same ease that made them fall for you, made them look forward to seeing you again every day.
They have a nasty habit to put on a mask and act as if all is good in life with others, but you could see right through them, and you ended up tearing their walls down.
They hated you for it at first, irked at how you didn’t buy their fake smiles and teasing words to change the subject. It was uncomfortable and scary to be vulnerable in front of someone, to lay bare with their heart bleeding in their palm.
But you didn’t care for that. You wanted them to have a safe place, a shoulder to cry and vent on. You wanted them to have someone to rely on instead of always having to be the strong one. And they eventually felt safe. Sadder than they had felt in a long time.
They started to seek you out when their mind cried, when they craved some comfort. And you’d always be there, arms open and some comforting words, a brush of your fingers through their hair, and their heart.
Most people wouldn’t pay much attention to how you spoke their name in normal conversations, the specific pitch you used or how you seemed to slightly drag the first few letters.
It was almost… cute. They hadn’t even paid much mind to it at first, simply thinking that was your manner of speech, although it was slightly unusual.
That’s until they noticed you did it only with their name. They heard how the others were called normally, with little to no emotions unless they were your friends. But even with your friends, it wasn’t quite the same softness. It was hard to describe, and they couldn’t outright prove it as others probably would think them crazy for over analyzing your voice over a single word, a single name.
But oh how they had come to look forward to hearing your voice calling for them each mornings.
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you thank him for something small, just a joke he told to lighten up your mood since you looked a bit glum. without thinking, you lean in and kiss his cheek, smiling at him, and completely unaware of what an effect that has on him.
for once, DAZAI freezes, the smug grin he wore so proudly after making you giggle faltering just a touch, and his eyes widen just a fraction before he quickly covers it with a laugh.
“my, my, belladonna, how bold! i didn’t know we were already so close~” he says it like another one of his jokes, but his voice is just a little too airy, trying to mask how flustered he is.
it wasn’t intentional, and you apologize quickly, explaining that it just happened in the heat of the moment and that you’d usually thank people like this. “if it makes you uncomfortable, i can stop–”
but before you can finish, he chimes in, “dear heavens, no! in fact, i’d like another one. right here, pretty please,” he teases you and points at his lips, but you brush him off quickly, rolling your eyes at him playfully.
truth is, he can’t stop replaying the kiss in his head. to him, it felt utterly soft, warm, and genuine, not like the empty gestures he’s used to.
and while you insisted it wasn’t intentional, he likes to believe otherwise—that you kissed him because you wanted to, just as badly as he dreams of kissing you all the time.
because the gentleness of it lingers on his skin all day, and he keeps catching himself absent-mindedly touching that spot, wondering what he has to do to earn another kiss from you.
he offers to walk you home like always, trying to act casual but secretly enjoying every second of being near you. when you stop at your door, you thank him softly.
but before CHUUYA can brush it off as usual, you lean up and press a quick kiss to the edge of his lips.
his brain short-circuits, eyes wide and a breath caught in his chest. he doesn’t even get the chance to properly react before you’re already smiling and saying goodnight, closing the door in front of him.
“wait– hey–” he stumbles over his words, but you’re out of sight before he can get them out.
he can hear your faint giggling from behind the door, which pulls him out of his trance. he stares at the door for a while longer before slowly turning around and beginning to walk to his own apartment.
for the rest of the night, he’s quite literally hopeless. he paces in his apartment, runs a hand through his hair, and mutters soft curses under his breath because why the hell can’t he stop thinking about it?
that tiny, casual kiss felt more real than anything he’s had before, and now he’s completely ruined, because every time he thinks about you or you greet him with that stupid grin of yours, he feels the brush of your lips all over again.
he isn’t complaining, god no, but the suspense and flutter of his heart against his chest every night he walks you home annoys him to no end, since he doesn’t know when you’ll ever kiss him again. but he keeps hoping you do, instead of closing the door on him.
KUNIKIDA’s very practical and thoughtful, so it didn’t surprise you when he wanted to help you carry something heavy. it fit into his schedule, and you were both heading in the same direction anyway.
to him it’s such an ordinary gesture, chivalry more people should possess, to make the world a better place.
he thought you wouldn’t think much of it, and while you didn’t, the small kiss you placed on his cheek while mumbling a quiet “thanks, kunikida” made him think otherwise.
he goes completely still and almost drops the thing he’d helped you carry to your apartment. you catch it quickly and take it from his hands while gently lowering it to the ground, chuckling nervously.
“ah, sorry… i shouldn’t have just kissed you like that.” you apologize, hoping for a reaction, but he simply clears his throat and fixes his glasses, wishing you a good night.
you thought for sure you’d just messed up your only chance with him, but little did you know he was simply too stunned to speak.
his cheeks grow red on the way home, and he spends the next several hours trying to rationalize it: “it was just gratitude, nothing more. don’t overthink this.”
but truthfully, he can’t. and for the first time in forever he has a vivid dream of kissing you again while sleeping, which only makes greeting you the next morning that much harder.
he keeps thinking about that kiss, the feeling of your lips feather-light and warm against his skin.
he actually hates how flustered and unfocused he is in your presence, and the fact that dazai quickly caught on and teases him every chance he gets while you’re near only worsens his daily urge to strangle the man to death.
but he also craves more of that feeling—of you.
⤷ for more: @mqdilen
note.: you all are so fake... 😞 why did no one tell me i literally forgot a whole word in kunikida’s part for it to make sense
Depends on the req! If I fear I might make them too ooc i have a high chance of denying but yeah in conclusion I do take reqs for character x character (or skk in your ask)
The room had gone still again, but his smell refused to leave.
Smoke. Metal. The faint citrus tang of his cologne that clung to your throat like something swallowed wrong.
You sat on the floor with your back to the bed, knees drawn tight to your chest. Hours had passed since he left, but you could still see him moving across the room in your mind — shirt and vest sliding over his shoulders, bandaged hands buttoning lazily, his voice drifting over his shoulder like a joke: Don’t wait up for me, belladonna.
You hated yourself for smiling at the memory.
You hated yourself for loving him.
---
He came to you on nights when the city was too loud, when his own thoughts were too sharp. He would slip into your apartment like smoke through a crack, lean against your doorframe, and ask for nothing but a place to stay.
You gave him everything anyway.
At first, you pretended you were fine with it. That you didn’t mind being a temporary balm for a man who treated his own life like a suicide note. But somewhere between his laughter and his touch, between his bandaged hands and his broken promises, you fell.
And the fall had no ending.
Not really.
---
Tonight was no different.
Another knock on the door.
Another night of his shadow filling your space.
You opened it before he could finish knocking.
“Belladonna,” he greeted softly, rain dripping from the ends of his hair. “You look like you’ve been crying.”
You swallowed the lump in your throat. “Come in.”
He moved past you like a ghost wearing a man’s body. Coat shrugged off, shoes by the door, a faint humming in his throat. He didn’t ask if you were okay. He never did.
---
You watched him from the couch. He looked like something untouchable, like a star about to burn out. Bae get away from him pls
“Dazai,” you said, voice barely above a whisper.
“Mmm?” He glanced at you, eyes amused, as he toyed with the edge of a bandage on his hand.
“Do you ever think.. about me, about us when you’re not here?”
The question landed between you like a dropped glass. His smile sharpened. “You’re quite greedy, belladonna. I give you my time, my body, my company — and you still want more?”
Your hands were shaking. “I want something permanent. Something that won’t fade away when you leave.”
He blinked. “Permanent?”
“A scar. A cut. A mark. Anything. I just… I need to know this is real. That you were real. That I wasn’t just imagining it.”
He sat up slowly, folding his bandaged hands in his lap. His gaze cut through you like a blade.
“A reminder,” he echoed.
“Yes,” you said, tears stinging your eyes. “Please.”
He laughed then. Not loud, but enough to make you flinch. It was a sound like a knife being drawn from its sheath.
“Oh, belladonna,” he purred, leaning forward. “You’re more dangerous than I thought.”
“Please,” you whispered again. “I love you, Dazai. And it’s killing me.”
For the first time, you didn’t try to laugh it off.
His smile only widened. “Love,” he repeated softly, as if tasting the word. “How cruel of you. To burden me with such a thing.”
Your breath hitched. “Why are you here, then? If you don’t care, if I’m nothing — why do you keep coming back?”
“Because you let me,” he said simply. “And because you feel so deeply it almost makes me believe I could, too.”
Almost. Always almost.
You reached for him, trembling. “Then make it real. Leave something on me that won’t fade.”
He stared at you in silence. For one heartbeat you thought he might. That he might press his knife into your palm, give you the mark you craved.
Instead, he caught your wrist, squeezing just enough to sting. His smile softened, cruel and sweet.
“You don’t need me for that,” he whispered. “You’re already tearing yourself apart all on your own.”
And he let go.
You collapsed against the couch, sobs tearing through you. He didn’t move to hold you. Didn’t comfort. Didn’t love.
He only stood, slipping his coat back on. “Don’t fall too hard, belladonna. You’ll end up breaking.”
Then he was gone.
The door clicked shut like a bullet casing hitting the floor.
---
You sat in the silence he left, pressing your nails into your skin until it hurt. Until you could pretend it was him. You wanted the marks. You wanted scars. You wanted permanence.
But he was gone.
Always gone.
You staggered to the window, throwing it open. The breeze swept in, swaying your hair along the wind, carrying his scent away. You leaned into it, eyes shut, imagining yourself dissolving too.
Like smoke.
And you hated yourself for loving him still.
---
You sat in the dark with your arms around your knees, feeling every second tear you open again.
It would have been easier if he had hated you. If he had spat the words, if he had called you pathetic. But Dazai never gave you the mercy of cruelty. Only that half-smile, that gentle voice, like a knife sliding between your ribs without ever twisting.
You wanted to scream. To claw his name out of your chest.
Instead you sat still, the ghost of his touch burning at your wrist where he had gripped you.
---
Days blurred. You moved through them like someone underwater, gasping for air that never came. His absence was everywhere: in the sheets, in your throat, in the silence that rang louder than anything.
When the knock came again, you answered before the sound had even finished echoing.
Dazai stood in the doorway, eyes hooded, hands shoved in his pockets. “You look like a mess, belladonna.”
“And you don’t,” you croaked.
He smiled faintly. “May I?”
As if he needed permission. He slipped past you, shedding his coat, filling your room with smoke and inevitability.
---
You told yourself you wouldn’t let him touch you. Not again. Not when it hurt this much. But his presence unraveled you faster than your will could stitch you together.
By the time the night blurred into skin and shallow breaths, you had already given in. Again. Always again.
Afterward, you lay facing him in the faint moonlight. His chest rose and fell steadily, eyes closed, mouth curved in that small smile that haunted you. He looked peaceful. Untouchable.
You reached out, brushing your fingers over the bandages at his wrist.
“Dazai,” you whispered.
“Mmm?” His eyes cracked open, half-lidded, amused.
“Please. Leave me something permanent. I can’t—” your voice broke. “I can’t keep living like this, not knowing if I ever meant anything to you.”
His gaze sharpened in the dim light. For a moment he didn’t move. Then he sat up, stretching lazily, shadows cutting across his bare shoulders.
“You really are greedy,” he said softly. “Greedy, desperate, and so very human.”
“Because I love you,” you choked out.
The words hung between you, trembling.
He sighed, tilting his head as if examining a puzzle. “Love is just another form of self-destruction, belladonna. And you’ve already destroyed yourself enough, haven’t you?”
You wanted to scream at him. To beg. To fall to your knees.
Instead you held out your arm, trembling. “Then do it. If you won’t give me love, give me pain. At least then I’ll know you were here.”
His eyes lingered on your skin, pale in the moonlight. He didn’t move for a long time. You thought he might, finally, cross that line.
But instead he leaned forward, pressing a kiss to your wrist. Feather-light, cold as a blade.
“There,” he murmured. “A mark. Invisible, but permanent. That’s all I’ll give you.”
Your heart splintered. Tears blurred your vision as you whispered, “That’s not enough.”
His smile was sharp, merciless. “It’s all you’ll ever get.”
---
Morning came. You woke to find him already dressing, humming softly, eyes distant.
“Don’t look at me like that,” he said when he caught you staring. “You’ll only hurt yourself more.”
“Then why keep coming back?”
He paused, one sleeve half-pulled over his arm. For once, no smile. No mask. Just silence. Then:
“Because you let me.”
And with that, the mask returned. He tugged on his coat, tipped you a mock salute, and slipped out the door.
---
The days that followed bled together again. He would vanish. Then knock. Then vanish. Then knock. And each time you swore you’d refuse him, that you’d slam the door and end it.
Each time, you opened it anyway.
You told yourself it was the last time. That you were done. But the truth tasted bitter in your throat: you would let him in until it killed you.
Because love wasn’t smoke. Love was fire. And you were already burning.
---
Weeks later, another night. Another storm. Another knock.
You opened the door, heart breaking, body trembling.
And there he was, smiling that same half-smile.
“Belladonna,” he said, stepping inside like he belonged there.
My shitpost about how I think Dazai would be quieter around someone he's actually inlove with got more likes than a actual fic I posted (sigh) (ू˃̣̣̣̣̣̣︿˂̣̣̣̣̣̣ ू)
Not that I'm so bothered by it though lol ♪(๑ᴖ◡ᴖ๑)♪
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✦ authors note: first ever fic yayy.. I love angst and this came to my mind when I was thinking of memories I had with my father and how he'd always smoke. Writing this feels ironic especially since my previous post had been just about how I think he would act if he actually fell inlove and here I am writing the opposite of it. (๑•́ω•̀)
Music ::
✦ wc: ~idk
Not proof read!!
---
The room still smelled like him.
Smoke and faint cologne, as well as a scent that you couldn't name, clinging to the sheets like blood that wouldn’t wash out. You pulled the blanket tighter around your body, though it did nothing against the cold that seeped into your skin.
Dazai was already dressing, shirt sliding over his shoulders, humming softly like he hadn’t left you hollow hours ago.
You hated how beautiful he looked in the morning. Careless, untouchable. The kind of beauty that devoured you alive.
His eyes flicked toward you, and for a second you thought he might say something real. Then his mouth curved into a grin that didn’t reach his eyes.
“Careful, belladonna,” he teased. “Staring like that—you’ll make me think you’ve fallen in love with me.”
You laughed. A sound too fragile, too empty. You laughed because if you didn’t, you’d shatter.
And he smiled like it was exactly the answer he expected.
How.. typical of him.
---
It had started as nothing. To dazai
Or maybe that was the cruelest part: it had started as everything to you.
Nights he came to you smelling like smoke and death, messages sent carelessly asking whether he could come over or not, mouth tasting like alcohol and loneliness he’d never admit to anyone. His hands were steady but detached, like he was studying you instead of touching you. You gave him your body, your silence, your heart laid bare in every trembling breath.
He didn't give you anything back. Not expect a promise of his body.
You told yourself it was enough. That if this was all he could give, you would take it. That his laughter in the dark was worth the way your chest ached when the sun came and he wasn't there by your side.
But this.. relationship, situationship had hollowed you out. It scraped at your bones, left you bleeding for someone who would never hold the wound closed.
---
“Have you ever felt anything?” you asked once, in the dark, voice breaking.
He turned, eyes shadowed, mouth twitching with amusement that wasn’t kind.
“For you?”
The silence cut like glass. But the silence was enough of an answer for him. He tilted his head, smile sharp.
“You know me better than that.”
And then he laughed. You laughed too, a sound strangled and bitter, because what else could you do?
He pressed a careless kiss to your temple like it cost him nothing, and you swallowed the scream clawing up your throat.
You should have left then. But you didn’t.
---
Mornings were always cruel.
He pulled himself from your sheets as though he’d never been there at all. Your love clung to him like perfume he’d wash off the moment he walked out the door. You wanted to beg him to stay. To throw yourself at his feet, tell him you’d accept his double suicide offers if that was what it took.
But he didn’t want that. He didn’t want you.
“Busy day,” he murmured now, slipping into his coat. “See you later, belladonna.”
You wanted to ask if you ever should.
But your throat locked. Your silence was safer.
He touched your cheek, fleeting, thoughtless, the kind of touch you’d carve into memory while he forgot it by noon. Then he was gone. The door clicked shut like a bullet casing hitting the floor.
---
You sat in the silence he left, heartbeat loud in your ears. The sheets still held his warmth, your skin still bore his marks, proof that he had been yours if only for a night.
But not really. Not ever.
You pressed your fingers into the bruises he left on your hips until they hurt, until pain blurred with longing. You wanted him to hurt you deeper, to leave something permanent, something that wouldn’t fade when the skin healed.
Because fading was worse than pain.
You stood slowly, the room spinning around you. The window rattled with the morning breeze, and you dragged it open. The air rushed in, carrying the last traces of him away.
You clutched at the empty space like you could hold it in your hands, but it slipped through your fingers, invisible, untouchable.
Like smoke.
And you hated yourself for loving him still. For knowing you always would.