Secret(s) K. SATO

Secret(s) — K. SATO

Prompt: Kenji finally decides to come clean with his feelings and (sort of) confesses to you...except, it doesn't go the way he planned.

Word Count: 2.9k+ words [Damn, I lowkey popped off on this one...] Pairing: Kenji Sato [Ultra-Man: Rising] x Fem! Reader Genre/s: A tiny bit of angst with fluff. Misunderstandings. Mutual pining. Warnings: Swearing. Maybe OOC Kenji (?), not sure tbh...also, I sort of change perspectives weirdly in this one but I tried to make it work the best I can ;-; Plus, I feel like the pacing's weird ;-;

KENJI SATO HAD TWO BIG SECRETS. Number one; he was none other than the Ultra-Man, begrudgingly taking over the momentous mantle after his father was injured. Unlike his booming baseball career, the whole 'superhero' thing was honestly a humbling experience, as Kenji realised the numerous beatings and immediate danger that comes with the spotlight. Though, after what was the unique experience of baby-sitting a kaiju and finally mending his relationship with his father, did Kenji come to terms with and welcome this responsibility. Gladly, Kenji finally found that much needed balance in his life that was necessary and soon, his life didn't seem as bad as it was before. It wasn't lonely anymore either, he thinks.

And number two; he has a massive crush on you. The both of you knew each other since you were little kids, growing up and going to school together like true best-friends did. Initially glued to the hip, you were then forced apart when he had to abruptly move to America with his mother. The transition was difficult to say the least, as little Kenji was thrown into what seemed like a whole new world. Other kids would talk constantly about the way he looked and acted behind his back—about how different he was, and whilst Kenji eventually grew out of it, he couldn't help but miss home. You, included.

When Kenji returned to Japan after many, many years, his feelings for you resurfaced when you surprised him during one of his baseball games. Amongst the crowd, you had been sitting by the front row when Kenji suddenly locked eyes with you as he entered the batting field. He had to do a double-take because God, the years treated you so damn well (And you were even wearing his jersey. His jersey). Whilst he wanted nothing more than to run to and scoop you into his arms, Kenji had a game to play. He had a strong urge to show you his best performance and damn it, did he deliver. He was the Ken Sato, after all. He never disappoints.

The both of you had your heartfelt reunion after the game as he held and spun you in his embrace, in all his sweaty glory (it was honestly a bit gross, but you let it slide this once for the sake of celebration). Excited, you both decided to catch up at Tonkotsu Tonki after he washed up. And to his relief, it was like you never changed. You were still the amazing, humble and kind you — and even though he thought you of beautiful then, you were practically glowing now.

Despite the piling stress he was enduring then — with having to juggle between being Ultra-Man, baby-sitting Emi and some career troubles — your presence alone was like a breath of fresh air. Whenever he was with you, whether it be on the phone or in person, he wasn't the famous celebrity, Ken Sato, or the beloved Japanese super-hero, Ultra-Man. He was just Kenji. And he wouldn't have it any other way.

So with that all being said, with months-full of excruciating pining, Kenji finally made the big decision to confess to you. Today. He invited you out to Tonkotsu Tonki for dinner one spontaneous night, booking a private space away from watchful eyes and any possible distractions.

"So, [Y/n]...I have something to tell you," he suddenly brings up after you finished your meals. His hands start to feel clammy as you avert your attention from your phone, staring up at him with curious eyes. Kenji was normally confident with most things, but vulnerability wasn't exactly his strong suit. He was usually flirtatious and a tease in nature, always flashing a dashing smile and blowing kisses towards the camera and his fans. But today was different. Heck, he couldn't even look at you right now without his head turning into complete mush.

On the other hand, the tone of his voice surprises you. It was noticeably a stark contrast to the light-hearted conversation you had just minutes prior. It must've been important, you think to yourself. And it made you nervous. "Oh," you lamely say, blinking at him, "uh, sure. Shoot." You clasp your hands together to keep them from fiddling too much, your nerves tingling at your fingertips. The thing is, you had an inkling of an idea as to what he was going to say, which was something you've been itching to hear for the past month. '...Was he actually going to follow through?' You think in quiet anticipation.

"Right. So, um..." Kenji throws some gestures in the air in attempt to gauge the right words, "...well, there's something I've been wanting to tell you for a while. It might be a bit...surprising–heavy, even. And I'm worried that it might change a lot of things between us–which I really hoped it wouldn't, but I guess it's inevitable."

He keeps an attentive gaze on you, studying how your features slowly became more tense. Funnily and strangely enough, he thought you looked a bit constipated and perhaps in another circumstance, he would've laughed at you. Though, he knew he wasn't doing any better himself – the restaurant suddenly felt like a sauna and his heart was practically pounding out of his chest as if he were in a game.

Kenji unknowingly continues to babble on. "I-I wanted to tell you sooner, but I didn't want to scare you off. But now, since I've come back from America–and am planning on staying here for good– and-and we've been given a chance to reconnect these past couple months...I think it's a good time to finally come clean and tell you the truth—"

"I already know," you suddenly intervene, surprising Kenji and even yourself. You mentally reprimand yourself for abruptly inserting yourself in the midst of his dialogue, cursing your lack of patience.

"You...you already know?" He asks sheepishly, clearly taken aback, "what–what do you mean you already know? Like, was I being too obvious or something?" He couldn't help the nervous chuckle that escapes his lips. He felt like he was going to implode at any minute as the embarrassment rapidly crept up his neck, dusting his cheeks.

You wince a little. "W-Well, no. But I guess I already had my suspicions. I noticed that you've been acting kinda weird recently and I sort of just...y'know, connected the dots," you shrugged, looking apologetic. He honestly didn't know how to feel about that.

"Oh...right. I forget how perceptive you can be sometimes. It's kinda scary," he attempts to flash you a smirk but it comes off as an awkward smile instead, as he raises a hand to rub his nape. You notice this and try to offer some consolation, reaching out to grab his hand. The action alone causes butterflies to flutter erratically in Kenji's stomach and for a moment, he feels hopeful.

"Hey, for what it's worth I'm actually glad that you told me, Ken. It must've been hard keeping it to yourself," you say warmly. Kenji scoffs in response – that was an understatement. "Oh, God. You have no idea how long I've been waiting to get this off of my chest," he huffs incredulously, unconsciously melting into your touch.

There was a brief second of pause and soon, Kenji couldn't help but feel as though there was something...off about this whole exchange, especially with how casual you were being at the moment. After all, Kenji literally just confessed (well, kind of) and you just sat there, smiling at him without giving him a definitive answer. Was...he forgetting something? Was he even doing this right?

"Y'know, you seem a bit...nonchalant about all this," he points out, "because if I'm being completely honest with you, I feel like I'm about to pass out." Brows furrowed, you straighten up in your seat. "Wait, Ken, I didn't mean to make it seem like I don't care or anything," you attempt to affirm with the wave of your hands, "i-it's just...slowly sinking in right now. Even though I told you I knew, hearing it from you straight is still overwhelming."

Overwhelming? At that, Kenji frowns. "Well...I did warn you, didn't I?" He says disheartened, letting out a deep sigh whilst running a hand through his hair. "Look, [Y/n]. I didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable, nor do I want to pressure you for an answer right now. I just thought I'd tell you–"

"Woah, woah. Wait a minute. Pressure me?" You question with raised brows, now acutely confused, "pressure me into what?" Kenji rapidly blinks and tilts his head to one side, almost gaping at you, "Uhm, pressure you into reciprocating my feelings?" Crickets. Literal crickets. It was only after a few passing seconds that the both of you realise that you were talking about very, very different things.

"Y-You have feelings for me?" You gawk as you point to yourself, a bright blush now evident across your cheeks. Kenji wanted nothing more than to disappear into thin air. "I–Yes! Yes, I do–I thought I made that super clear?!" He panics, balling his fists, "what the hell were you talking about then?!"

Ah, shit. This was awkward, but there's no point in turning back now, you think to yourself, grimacing. You look around the both of you in caution and thankfully, the cook behind the counter was nowhere in sight, presumably having gone back of the kitchen. You leaned close towards Kenji. "I was talking about you being Ultra-Man!" You harshly whispered between your cupped hands, and it causes Kenji to bang his knee against the countertop, eliciting a loud thud.

You gasp. "Shit, Ken, are you okay—" "Fuck-What the actual fuck?!" He whisper-shouts, his eyes growing as wide as saucers as he aggressively rubs his knee. "how-how did you know about that?!" Maybe Kenji should've initially tried to deny the accusation, but his better judgement was severely trampled on, alongside his ego, by his failed attempt of a confession.

Now it was your turn to fumble. "W-Well, first of all, every time you would abruptly leave when we hang out, Ultra-Man would just appear out of nowhere and it would always be when there's a kaiju in the city! Like, come on, the timing was always coincidentally impeccable!" You explain, your arms messily flailing in the air, "And don't even get me started on the lame-ass excuses you make! What? You needed to water your plants? You couldn't even conjure a single sprout, let alone a pot plant even if you tried—"

"I–Okay, first of all, that is so not true–"

You raise a digit, causing him to halt mid-sentence, "And not only that, but maybe you should–I don't know, work on being more discreet with your identity because I literally saw you transform near a freaking construction site!"

Kenji's eyes nearly pop out of their sockets. "Shit, you saw me? When did you–"

"Over a month ago, with that pink dragon-looking kaiju." You were referring to Emi. At that, Kenji squints his eyes at you, "You knew for a whole month and didn't tell me!?"

"Shh, lower your voice, Ken! Someone's gonna hear us!" You hush, "And I was planning on telling you at some point! Believe me, but I-I just didn't know how to bring it up! It's not exactly the smoothest conversation starter, y'know?" You look at him guiltily, your voice growing quiet, "I was kinda hoping that you'd tell me over time...when you were ready."

Kenji was now sporting a migraine, his mind trying to wrap around all the information you've just spewed at him. "You...you didn't tell anyone else about this, right?" He then asks anxiously. You were quick to shake your head, "No, of course not, and I wasn't planning to. I know how dangerous that information would be if it landed in the wrong hands—"

"And you do realise that you knowing all this would put you into danger, right?" Kenji says seriously. His own comment causes him to slump over at the counter, sighing heavily as he holds his head in his hands, "...it's why I never wanted you to know in the first place."

A small pang of hurt hits you as he admits this, but you decide to let it slide, knowing where Kenji was coming from. "Hey, come on, I'm stronger than I look, Ken. At least give me some credit over here," you attempt to liven up the mood, nudging him with your elbow. "Apart from kaiju, there are some really dangerous people out there, [Y/n]. You and I don't know what they're capable of," he mumbles into his arms, his gaze remaining on the table. Having you roped into his Ultra-Man business opened a lot of opportunities for danger to strike at any angle. Kenji wouldn't forgive himself if something were to happen to you, knowing that it could've been avoided in the first place. Heck, look what happened with the KDF.

Your eyes soften at his concern, pressing your lips into a thin line as you let out a small huff. "Look, we'll figure something out. But in the meantime, it'll be okay. I'll be fine, Ken."

"But—ow!" Kenji winces as you flick him on the forehead. You click your tongue in mild annoyance, speaking once more to reiterate as he rubs the reddened spot on his head, "I said, I'll be fine. So, enough with the brooding, Ken. What's done is done, okay? Nothing's going to chance the fact that I already know, and there's no point in entertaining the 'what if's." You then cross your arms against your chest, before softly muttering under your breath, "...and plus, you definitely gotta work on that transforming gimic of yours. You're gonna give yourself away with that clumsy technique."

Kenji initially gave you an unimpressed look, but he couldn't help the small grin that grew on his face as he spotted the mischievous glint in your eyes. You were definitely poking fun at him now. He lets out an audible scoff in response. "Oh yeah? I'd like to see you try. I bet if you were in my place, your identity would already be headlining all the news outlets within minutes!" You roll your eyes at this but you end up joining in on his laughter, chuckling alongside him.

Soon after, there was a brief and quiet moment of contemplation, and you found yourself staring at Kenji's profile. His confession wasn't left forgotten as your mind slowly picked up the pieces from earlier and soon, you found yourself growing increasingly flustered at the memory. The thing is, you did in fact reciprocate his feelings. With his success, you didn't think he'd even so much as spare a glance in your direction, expecting him to settle for someone of his calibre. You always thought that he was way beyond your league, so of course, you had your insecurities. But now, even if it was only for a brief moment, they all seemed to have dissipated and was now replaced by a warm, fuzzy sensation.

"Hey...so, uhm...about your confession," you quietly muster, unable to look at him straight in the eye, "...I guess I should give you my answer, huh?" Kenji's posture straightens in response as an uneasy expression takes over his features, having been reminded of his humiliation, "[Y/n], wait. Like I said, you don't have to say anything right now if you don't want to—" You didn't really comprehend what he was saying at that point, distracted by the loud thumping of your heart against your ears.

You bite your lip nervously, adjusting yourself in your seat to face him properly as Kenji continues to waffle on about your regard. Before your nerves could've forced you to back down, you were quick to dip forward and place a small peck against his cheek, just at the corner of his lips — you also made sure to have it linger a bit to send your message across better. Kenji stiffens as a result, shutting him up completely as a dumb-struck look strikes his face. "I like you too, Ken..." you say when you pull away, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

It takes a few moments for Kenji to fully comprehend what just happened, before a shy, boyish giggle escapes his lips. "Well...I did not expect this to go the way it did," he airly says in a mixture of shock and amusement. You smile widely at him, finding his expression very endearing. "Oh, yeah? Then what did you have planned for me then, hot-shot?" You tease lightly with newfound confidence, leaning against the counter as you rest your chin on your hands. Kenji smirks. "Well, I was planning on serenading you and sweeping you off of your feet, and then carrying you off into the sunset," he jokes lowly, mirroring you. At this point, your faces were just centimetres away, and Kenji could practically feel the warmth radiating off of you. His eyes then dart towards your lips, thinking about how plush and inviting they looked, before looking back up towards your face. You also found yourself doing the same.

It was magnetising, the way you both naturally closed the gap between yourselves. His lips perfectly moulded itself with yours as his hands found its way to your cheeks, pulling you closer towards him. Your own fingers crept its way up the base of his neck, interlacing them as you also tugged him into you.

Ans so, after this eventful aftermath, and at the end of the day, Kenji (begrudgingly) had no more secrets to hide from you.

A/N: YALL...the absolute chokehold this man has on me is INSANE...but otherwise, thank you for reading! As always, constructive criticism is much appreciated!!

↳ The Spiral into doubt- Haikyuu! x fem!reader

summary - you have a bad practice session and you come home in a bad mood, mind buzzing with self-deprecating thoughts.

warnings - angst, self-deprecating thoughts, insecurities, anxiety attack

author's note: a little self-indulgent fic 'cause i had a bad day at volleyball practice. and ended up with a bloody nose:/

this is for all my athelete girlies who had a bad day at practice. it sucks, i know. but the world doesn't end because of one bad day. you are good enough. <33

main masterlist !

the coach's decision to bench you during the previous match had hit you like a punch to the gut. you had stood on the sidelines, watching the game unfold without you, your mind swimming with self-doubts and insecurities.

the coach's words echoed in your head:

"what has gotten into you?!"

"you just weren't giving us what we needed then,"

the words stung, and you couldn't shake off the sense of worthlessness. you had watched your teammates play, and every mistake they made or point they lost had only fueled your doubts.

the feeling of not being good enough intensified, your confidence crumbling with each passing moment.

you felt your knee begin to bounce, worry bubbling within you. your breath coming out in low gasps and exhales.

you felt utterly worthless as if you didn't deserve to be on the team. the weight of your own failures and inadequacies seemed to pile up on you, pressing down on your chest and making it hard to breathe.

you couldn't help but believe that you had let everyone down, that you weren't cut out for this, and that everyone could see it.

you pressed down at your chest, inhaling and exhaling, trying to get your anxiety in check. you could feel your pulse increasing, a steady rise in thumping. sweat rolled down your temple, making its way down your trembling face.

the match was a tough one, with you making a series of costly mistakes that led to a 13-25 defeat.

it was a mere practice match, but that didn't make the loss any less brutal.

as you stood by the bench, watching the coach and your teammates discussing the strategy for the next match, you couldn't help but feel like you didn't deserve to be there.

your breathing became more shallow, and you wrung your hands at your sides, shaking them to drive the tension out of your body.

every failed play, every missed shot, every wrong decision replayed in your mind like a broken record.

for now, your pulse had slowed from the initial panic, but a new kind of pressure seemed to take its place.

your heart felt like it was being squeezed tightly, like a vice gripped it with relentless force. each breath felt labored, as though your chest was filled with a heavy weight that threatened to crush you.

you questioned your abilities and your place on the team, wondering if you were really up for the position.

you trudged into the apartment after the match, feeling utterly defeated.

"there's my girl!" your boyfriend greeted you with a warm smile, "how did the match go?"

but your mood was so low that you could only manage a brief, half-hearted hug and a muttered greeting, "hi. was okay,"

he frowned at your lack of enthusiasm, his concern deepening when you didn't kiss him in greeting.

you made a beeline for the bedroom, shutting the door behind you and collapsing onto the bed.

the solitude of the room allowed your thoughts to run wild, as doubts and insecurities threatened to drown you.

you were consumed with a sense of failure and the weight of disappointment that came right with it.

i'm so bad at this game

maybe i should quit

my coach must think i suck

the team is better off without me-

you sat up slowly, facing the full-length mirror on the side of the room.

your eyes raked over the jersey you were wearing, down to the number on it.

your vision blurred and you swiped at them angrily.

angry at your inability to perform to your fullest potential.

angry at your-fucking pathetic-self

"y/n," he came into the room and kneeled in front of you. he had an idea of what may have happened and reached your side at once.

you turned away, not wanting to be seen in this sorry state. weak and fragile.

what good am i for him anyway if I'm so broken?

you pushed away that thought, feeling your throat close up, "i don't wanna talk about it,"

everything annoyed you at this point. the air of failure and agony around you, the rapid beating of your merciless heart, low breaths that came out as huffs, the jersey number you wore with utmost humiliation.

he held your face in his hands, thumbs caressing your cheekbone, "hug or talk?"

it was a common phrase that you both used in a severe case of bad days.

"neither," you mumbled, not yet meeting his eyes.

he knew it meant you were in desperate need of a hug. you were just too prideful to ask for it.

"what is it, love? is it something i can help with?" he prodded, "is it the game?"

you stilled, pursing your lips, confirming your boyfriend's statement.

"it was so so bad. the worst by far. i don't know what the fuck i was doing. i was so shit-faced," you rambled, "i feel useless. I'm so behind others. maybe i should just quit, instead of making a fool of myself," you covered your face with your palms, fingers digging into your teary eyes.

his heart ached as he saw your lips tremble. he could see the doubt and vulnerability in your eyes, and it only served to strengthen his determination to make you believe him.

"hey, listen to me. it's okay to be disappointed about the game. but you didn't mess up. you did your best, and that's all that matters. everyone makes mistakes, and it's part of the game. you can't blame yourself for everything, okay?"

you shook your head slowly in denial, jaw ticking as you struggled to hold yourself together.

his heart broke at your devastated condition, "baby, don't do this to yourself. i know you're upset and probably blaming yourself for what happened, but you have to understand that it's not all your fault. it's a team sport, and everyone makes mistakes. you can't dwell on it and beat yourself up over it. that's not going to help anything,"

"i could've helped it!" you snapped, "i could've helped it if i-i-," you sputtered, searching for the right words, "if i wasn't such a fucking loser," you added the last bit in a shaky voice and the dam broke.

he rested his forehead against yours in comfort, watching the way tears cascaded down your cheeks, "that's not true. don't talk about yourself like that. you're not a loser. you're a determined and talented athlete. you just had a bad game, that's all. one day doesn't define you as a person or as a player. you work hard, and i know you'll do better next time,"

"i feel like i've lost myself," you mumbled weakly.

despite hearing the defeated tone in your voice, he noticed your bouncing knee, the rapid breathing, the rage- oh my god

"baby, i need you to take deep breaths for me, okay? i'm pretty sure you're experiencing an anxiety attack,"

"i have for the past 3 hours," you sniffled, knowing it very well. you screwed your eyes shut and forcing more hot tears down your cheeks, "i can't stop it. it won't stop. it hurts too much but-" you gasped for air, "i deserve all this pain don't i?"

"shh, shh," he sat on the bed next to you, pulling you onto his side and wrapping his arms around you.

his heart ached when you whimpered and he rested his chin on the top of your head. he could feel the tension and self-doubt radiating off of you, wanting nothing more to soothe your worries.

"no you don't deserve it," he held you tighter, feeling you sob silently against his chest, "don't carry this around," he peppered kisses on your hair, holding you against his large frame, "you're not alone, mkay?"

"i don't even know why i'm crying," you sniffled, "god, i need to get a grip,"

"no, it's okay. let it out. nothing wrong in that, you don't need to justify your emotions. i'll hold you through it,"

he held you tighter as you sobbed, his hand rubbing your back in slow, soothing circles.

he didn't say anything, just let you cry and release your emotions, his body serving as a source of comfort and support.

he talked you through it, whispering into your ear until you calmed from your anxiety peak.

"that's it. you're dooing so well. give me deep breaths, just like that. mm good girl," he whispered, his voice soft. "it's okay. just let it out. i'm here. i'm not going anywhere,"

he reached up a hand to wipe away the tear, his touch gentle and tender, "what do you say i draw you a bath, huh?"

"will u join me?" you looked up at him with hopeful eyes, red from all the waterworks.

"i want you to run me over with a car, if i ever say no to that question, ever," he stated in a monotone voice, causing you to let out a teary chuckle.

and so you and your lover were relaxing in the bathtub, surrounded by a warm, comforting glow of candlelight. the soothing heat of the water was helping to loosen your tense muscles, and the bubble-filled surface created a private, intimate space for the two of you.

as you sat nestled between his legs with your back to his chest, he listened quietly, his eyes fixed on you as you vented about your frustrations with the recent game.

he didn't interrupt, but rather offered a sympathetic nod or gentle touch, letting you speak your mind and release your pent-up stress.

"-and then the next thing i knew, i got benched," you shrugged weakly, biting your lip in thought.

he kissed your hair and you eaned back into his body, "s'okay, darling," he soothed.

you huffed in annoyance, waving your hand through the water.

He spoke gently, his voice soft and reassuring in the quiet intimacy of the bathtub. "y/n, you're incredible. I've watched you play and you become possessed by the game, completely pouring your passion into it. and i admire it. how much heart and soul you put into every game. I'm proud of you,"

his words caught you off guard, feeling how much it touched you. no one has ever told you that. and it felt foreign.

like you didn't deserve to hear it.

you hummed in response, grateful that he couldn't see the vulnerable expression on your face.

but he knew you well, and he recognized the underlying emotions behind your subtle reactions.

he gently tilted your head over your shoulder, looking at you intently. "look at me," he said, his voice firm but caring.

as you met his gaze, he repeated his words with a sincerity that resonated deep within your soul. "i'm proud of you," he said again, his voice filled with conviction.

as you processed his words, you felt a mixture of emotions stirring within you. you nodded, managing a weak smile, but the weight of his words and the raw vulnerability they stirred up made you inhale sharply.

it felt like he was touching upon something deep within you, something fragile yet beautiful.

gently, he shifted your position so that you were now straddling him in the water, creating a soft, rippling barrier in the warm, candlelit bath.

he caressed your thigh under the water, the contact sending shivers down your spine. his other hand held your chin, keeping your gaze locked on him, "I am proud of you," he repeated, the truth of his words reflected in his steady eyes.

you could feel tears welling up in your eyes. the variety of emotions building within you were almost too much to contain.

he pulled you closer, his arms enveloping you in a tight, loving hug, and pressed his lips to yours in a firm kiss.

you reciprocated the action, resting your hand on the side of his face. the bubbles and water were like a soft, warm cocoon around you both.

he hugged you, rubbing soothing circles on your back. he held you close, anchoring you in the moment with his love.

the water lapped around you both, creating a gentle, lulling rhythm. he trailed his lips down your jaw, cheek and to the column of your neck.

"but i'm not just talking about your skills," he continued, his voice growing softer as he spoke. "i'm proud of the person you are. you're strong, determined, and fiercely passionate. you never give up, no matter how tough things get." his words hung in the air, filling the quiet space with a sense of warmth and reassurance.

you could feel yourself starting to relax in his arms, the weight of his words and their implication slowly seeping into your heart.

you leaned forward and rested your forehead against his, letting his words into your hurting heart.

his thumb traced lazy patterns on your back and his other hand gently massaged your thigh, the contact creating a trail of sparks that raced under your skin.

he let the moment linger, giving you time to process the emotions his words had stirred up. the water continued to ripple gently around you as if echoing the turbulence within you.

"you're amazing," he finally said, breaking the silence, "amazing, and worthy, and strong. and i am proud of you for that. always,"

you felt a lump forming in your throat again, the raw honesty in his voice almost too much to bear.

but you also felt a strange sense of relief, as if his words were like a balm to the bruised parts of your soul.

the tears started flowing again, but this time they were different. they were born out of a mixture of gratitude, love, and a quiet acceptance of the truth in his words.

he held you through it, not saying anything else, but just being there for you.

and that was all you needed.

￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣

— SUGUWARA, DAICHI, KUROO, ASAHI, IWAIZUMI, OIKAWA, IWAIZUMI, AKAASHI

￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣

levi ackerman // fic recommendations

note: remember to read the tags! + i do not own any of these works

you’re drunk and ridiculous (and he can’t trust you with anyone else)

gestures

no funny business

as the spark dies

wild card

dust, diamonds

dirty money

nobody's fault but mine

traditions

time

the wife

crush

percolate

petals inked in red

spite

one million to one

power trip

ghost

silent treatment

love hate me

as the world caves in

two faced

bad romance

garden of tulips

plans

and when i see you smile, the clouds will clear

ghostly greetings

safe haven

panacea

sayonara

“may i?”

his wounded heart beats for one

beneath the pages

respite on black waters

galaxies past

overwhelming

your touch is all around me, i can't let you go

—kenji sato

kenji sato & physical therapist!reader

content warnings: fem!reader, friends to lovers, reader calls kenji a whore (i SWEAR THATS THEIR DYNAMIC PLEASE BELIEVE ME)

wc: 2.6k

it's common practice for athletes to have a physical therapist by their side, just in case. though for ken, you were more of a friend; being a licensed physical therapist was just an added bonus. knowing him since high school and watching him grow up into the amazing player he is today, it's safe to say ken went to you a lot. especially when he got hurt. you couldn't say too much though, he let you practice on him while you were busy getting your license and jobs wouldn't take you due to a lack of experience. but kenji? he always believed in you, even bringing you to japan with him, saying "i'd rather have a therapist i'm comfortable with." he rented out a cozy two bedroom apartment for you, making sure that it wasn't far from the clinic you'd be working at once you settled. but that's the thing, he rarely visited the clinic, only coming around to see if you were in that day. ken definitely prefers at home visits for no specific reason. (he loves loves loves the closeness and familiarity you have with each other).

a knock at your door took you from the comfort of your room. shuffling out in the dress you had on, the heels that matched so perfectly with it clacked on the hardwood floor. opening the door and seeing kenji, you immediately closed it shut. taking a deep breath, you reopened it, feigning innocence. "oh hey! didn't see you there!" ken deadpanned, face immediately changing once he took in your figure, "who're you getting all prettied up for?" shoving himself through the door, ken's eyes dragged painfully slow over your body, "could it be…, me?" "i'm gonna slap that stupid smirk off your face." "you know i'd like that." "ugh! whatever!" you closed the door, locking it. "if you're here for a consultation, i regret to inform you that i'm not feeling up to it, ken." "oh. so, i can't visit my best friend when i feel like it? darling, you hurt me…"

you rolled your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest. "don't you have better things to do than annoy me, kenji?" kenji chuckled, taking a step closer. "not really. besides, what kind of best friend would i be if i didn't check up on you?" "the one who needs checking up on is you," you huffed, turning away from him and heading back to your room. kenji followed, his footsteps echoing yours. "oh, come on. i bring some excitement into your life, admit it." you glanced over your shoulder at him, a smirk tugging at your lips. "more like a headache." "same thing," kenji shrugged, leaning against the doorframe of your room as you stepped inside. "why are you really here?" you asked, smoothing down your dress and looking in the mirror. "you never just 'drop by'." "maybe i missed you," he said, his tone softer. "we haven't hung out in a while." you paused, meeting his gaze in the mirror. there was a sincerity in his eyes that made your heart skip a beat. "you could've called, like you usually do." kenji smiled, pushing off the doorframe and walking over to you. "yeah, but then i wouldn't have gotten to see you in that dress." he reached out, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. "you look stunning, by the way." your cheeks flushed, and you quickly looked away. "thanks. it's nothing special." "it's special to me," he said softly, his fingers lingering on your cheek. "so, what do you say? want to hang out for a bit?" you stared at yourself in the mirror, considering his offer. "fine. but only if you promise not to be a pain." kenji grinned. "no promises."

"hi [name], could you come over? uhh, bring your med kit too. thanks! see you soon!" ken got off the phone before you could even say hello. you called him back after exiting your state of shock, "let's try that again." "please don't make me." kenji groaned before choosing his next words carefully, even though he knew deep down that you would come anyway. "hey sweetheart. do you think you could come over with your med kit? i would pick you up with my bike but i kinda broke my arm so…" "you what—?!" "yeah…, anyways! bring some pajamas! you're staying over. and we're baking tonight!" "with what able arm??"

you finished applying the stockinette, handing a roll of padding to ken so that he could make himself useful while you scolded him, "i swear you get injured so much, i wouldn't be surprised if you were ultraman or something." after winding the padding around his arm, you took the roll back, stopping your motions when you realized, he never responded. you looked at ken, only to find him already looking at you, a dejected look on his face. "you're fucking joking."

"so you're telling me that ever since we landed here, you've been saving japan?" you wheeled your suitcases into the living area, crossing your legs as you sat on the couch. "well it's really not a big deal. a little saving my team here, saving japan over there. what's all the stuff for?" ken motioned to your luggage with the drink in his hand, the necklace he always kept on him now sitting against his bare upper body. getting up, you walked to his room, picking up a shirt and throwing it at him. "put that on." watching kenji struggle to complete your request, you thought out loud, "you know it all makes sense now. the unexplained mystery injuries, why you wouldn't pick up my late night calls when there was a kaiju attack— if you need help just say that." ken kept quiet, looking at you with those eyes of his. you hated how you could never resist them. reaching over to him, you put the shirt on for him, patting his chest. "what would you do without me, hm?" staring into your eyes, kenji gulped loudly, feeling his face heat up like a teenage boy in love. "thank you, miss physical therapist." well, the in love part is right. "so…, you're moving in?" ken cleared his throat, glancing at your suitcases. "just staying until your arm is fully functioning again, so for…" your eyes scan over his wrapped arm, "six months?" kenji's eyes widened. "six months? are you serious?"

"yeah," you replied, smiling. "you need proper care, and i'm the best person for the job."

every morning started with you helping kenji out of bed. he tried to be independent, but you insisted on being there for him. "come on, ultraman, let me help you," you teased as he struggled to pull his shirt over his head. he sighed but smiled. "shut up. you just like telling me what to do."

"and you just like making things difficult," you retorted, carefully sliding his casted arm through the sleeve. "there. all set."

breakfast became a ritual of its own. you prepared his meals, ensuring they were easy for him to manage with one hand. sometimes, you even fed him when he was too stubborn to ask for help. "open up," you said, holding a spoonful of cereal to his lips. kenji chuckled but complied. "i could get used to this."

"don't get too comfortable," you warned playfully. "this is just until your arm heals."

the first few months were over and it was safe to take of kenji's cast. not long after, you settled into a routine with kenji. each morning, you helped him with his exercises, ensuring his recovery was progressing well.

"all right, let's do the stretches," you said one morning, guiding his arm gently. kenji winced but followed your instructions. "you really enjoy bossing me around, don't you?" "only because you're such a terrible patient," you teased, your fingers brushing against his skin. kenji's eyes met yours, a playful glint in them. "maybe i just like the recognition." you rolled your eyes. "what an attention whore."

one evening, you found yourself sitting on the couch, watching a movie with kenji. his arm was propped up with pillows, and he looked more relaxed than you had seen him in a while. "thanks for staying with me," kenji said softly, his gaze fixed on the screen. "i don't think i would've managed without you." you turned to him, "you would've been fine, kenji. you're stronger than you think. you're literally ultraman." kenji laughed at your comment and shook his head, his eyes meeting yours. "no, really. you've been amazing. i… i don't know how to thank you." "you don't have to," you whispered, leaning in slightly. "just get better." kenji's hand reached out, gently cupping your cheek. "i will. for you." your breath hitched, and for a moment, the world seemed to stand still. then, slowly, kenji leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a tender, tentative kiss.

the next morning, you both tried to act as if nothing had changed, but the air between you was charged with a new, unspoken tension. "okay, let's try the resistance band today," you said, your voice a bit shaky. kenji nodded, his eyes never leaving yours. "sure. let's do it." as you guided him through the exercises, your hands lingering a little longer than necessary, you couldn't help but wonder how long you could keep pretending that nothing had changed between you.

the high school gym was dimly lit, the only sounds being the soft echoes of your footsteps on the polished floor and the distant hum of the vending machines. you and kenji had stayed late, practicing for the upcoming sports event. he was a star athlete even back then, and you were his number one supporter. "you really should take it easy," you said, handing him a towel as he sat down on the bleachers, panting slightly. kenji grinned, wiping the sweat from his brow. "you worry too much. i'm fine." you rolled your eyes but couldn't help the smile that tugged at your lips. "yeah, well, someone has to keep you in check." he chuckled, his eyes twinkling. "thanks for sticking around, sweetheart. it means a lot." "of course," you replied, sitting down next to him. "what are friends for?" kenji turned to you, his expression suddenly serious. "yeah, friends…" there was a moment of silence, the air thick with unspoken words. you looked at him, your heart pounding in your chest. his eyes, those deep, expressive eyes, seemed to draw you in. "kenji, i—" you started, but your words were cut off as he leaned in, his lips capturing yours in a soft kiss. for a moment, time stood still. the world outside the gym faded away, leaving just the two of you in that quiet, intimate space. his hand found its way to your cheek, his touch gentle yet firm. you melted into the kiss, your heart racing as you wrapped your arms around him. when you finally pulled away, both of you were breathless. kenji's forehead rested against yours, his eyes closed as he whispered, "i've wanted to do that for so long."

kenji woke with a start, the memory of the kiss still vivid, his heart pounding. he laid there for a moment, staring at the ceiling, trying to make sense of the emotions that had resurfaced. the feelings he had pushed aside for years were now impossible to ignore.

the house buzzed with activity as you prepared for the small celebration. you wanted everything to be perfect for him. you moved around the kitchen, arranging snacks and drinks, a smile on your face as you thought about how far he had come in his recovery. kenji watched you from the doorway, his heart heavy with the weight of unspoken words. he knew he had to confront the feelings that had been bubbling up ever since you two met. taking a deep breath, he stepped into the kitchen. "hey," he called softly. you looked up, smiling brightly. "hey! just in time. can you help me with these decorations?" kenji nodded, but his mind was elsewhere. as you handed him a string of lights, he couldn't hold back any longer. "so just like that. you're forgetting about us?" he asked, his voice low and serious. you froze, the lights slipping from your fingers. "what are you on about now?" he stepped closer, his gaze intense. "that kiss. back in high school. it meant something, didn't it?"

"there was never an 'us', kenji," you replied, your voice steady but your eyes betraying your uncertainty. kenji moved even closer, his eyes never leaving yours. "don't lie to me. don't pretend like we never had something. like we don't have something right now." your back hit the nearby wall, and you felt trapped by the intensity of his words and the closeness of his body. "i don't know what you're talking about…" you stammered, hands fiddling with themselves. "yes, you do," he whispered, his hand resting gently on your arm. "that kiss, it wasn't just a moment. it was the start of something. and everything we've shared since then—don't tell me you don't feel it too." you swallowed hard, your heart racing. the memories, the lingering touches, the stolen glances—they all flooded back. "kenji, i…" he moved even closer, his breath warm against your skin. your hands pushed against your best friend's chest. "just tell me the truth, baby. do you feel it too?"

"you want the truth? fine." you took a deep breath, your eyes locked on his. "the truth is, i've never stopped feeling it. not since that kiss in high school, not since your out of the blue visits to do stupid shit, not since our late night calls, not since i started helping you heal. every touch, every glance, it all means something to me." you pushed through his cage, walking over to the kitchen island to continue setting up for the mini celebration.  kenji's eyes widened in surprise and relief, but you couldn't stay there, wrapped in the intensity of the moment. you pushed through his cage, walking over to the kitchen island to continue setting up for the mini celebration. your hands shook slightly as you arranged the decorations, trying to focus on anything but the whirlwind of emotions inside you. ken watched you for a moment, processing your words. then he followed, his presence a comforting warmth behind you. his hands caressed your shoulders, his touch gentle yet firm. "so how about it, babe? go on a date with me?" you chuckled softly, trying to mask the tremor in your voice. "i'm a busy woman. you'd have to pick a day i'm free." kenji leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear. "you got it, princess. you know i'd wait forever for you." you turned your head slightly, catching his gaze with a playful glint in your eyes. "yeah i know, you'd be a fool not to." he grinned, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. "then call me a fool, because i've been waiting a long time." you sighed, a mix of exasperation and affection. "just don't keep me waiting forever, okay?" kenji's smile widened, his eyes filled with a mix of determination and adoration.

"i won't. i promise." "you make a lot of promises ken, makes me wonder if you can keep up with them all." "oh you wound me so~" "need another consultation for that?"

not gon hold yall... writing this tired me out.... i shouldve done hcs or a drabble but i hope you all liked it still!!!

taglist <3

@mochminnie @despacito-uwu16 @yellowheartz @ririkacchi @ifharbingerbad--whyhot

@reit0o @heavenlyraindrops @lovingyeet @stickypaperstarlight @raee-dreeaaamz

@rreasonablydumbb @bandolls @gingersnap126126 @automalvo @spiderboogie

@shellspider @blogscach @nightingale047 @deadbydad @deadbydad-writes

@phantomface @spencerrxids @moonjellyfishie @optimisticladysalad @tsumimimi

@purplegobrrrrrr @sillybillyp9 @cyberpsiko @swaggyv1v1 @l-charl

doodles after watching the movie! 🐱🐦‍⬛

౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹ SAFEGUARD — dazai, chuuya, akutagawa

summary . . . they save you after you've been injured and captured by an enemy.

contents . . . sfw, f!reader (chuuya & dazai) and gn!reader (akutagawa), violence / blood, threats, injuries, hurt/comfort, angst, established relationship, and it's pmboss!dazai bc i can't help myself — 3.5k total

notes . . . i got this request so long ago lol. not my best work, but i have been in the worst writing slump ever and just wanted to finish something. i've also never written for akutagawa before so pls be nice <3

𝐂𝐇𝐔𝐔𝐘𝐀 . . .

there are very few times that chuuya feels he’s been outsmarted. he knows he’s not the mastermind of the port mafia, but he certainly isn’t a fool. when it comes to you and your well-being, though, his mind short-circuits, half of his intelligence draining away while his emotions take hold. 

your relationship isn’t a secret to anyone in the port mafia, which means that it isn’t a secret to your enemies either. and while most people know it’s hard to land a finger on chuuya directly, his pretty little girlfriend doesn’t have the power of a god nestled inside of her.

the rage sparks through him, growing fiercely into the blaze of a forest fire, until all he can think of is getting you home safely. he thinks of your sweet smile as he rips the door of the enemies’ base off the hinges, crushing it into a million pieces with the force of gravity. 

the men are quick to react, but chuuya hurtles the crushed door towards them, knocking three of them to their feet. another group charges at him, but their guns do little against his skill. after years of fighting some of the strongest ability users, simple criminal organizations are as easy to step over like ants. 

chuuya kills them all — except for one.

the man’s knees are wobbling, hand shaking around the gun as he realizes that these will be his final moments. there is fear in his eyes, brown ones that rest wide open, and chuuya almost hesitates. his remorse doesn’t last long, though, before he’s wrapping a hand around the man’s throat, thrusting him backwards. 

“where is she?” chuuya asks, voice sharp and commanding. 

he can feel the man swallowing. 

chuuya knows that backup is probably on the way, but it won’t matter whether they show up or not. he’ll crush the rest of his enemies just as he’s crushed the last twenty men. the poor soul in his leather hold seems to know that as well. 

“i-i’ll take you to her,” he rasps, dropping his gun to claw at chuuya’s hand. 

he drops him, lets him take a few heaving breaths and coughs, before he’s kicking at him, forcing him back to his feet.

the young man takes him up the elevator, weaves him through a hallway as chuuya leaves a scattering of bodies in his wake, not hesitating to kill a single man that gets in his way. there is nothing that can keep him from you. 

how fiercely and loyally he loves you — it drives him to near insanity. 

finally, with blood coating his face and his clothes, the young man enters a room, locked with a code, revealing you. 

chuuya’s rage is almost as blinding as his corruption, as he gazes at the sight of you. bloodied and bruised, tied up in a chair, so visibly harmed. his hands clench into fists. “get the fuck away from her,” he says to the man who seems to be monitoring you.

“what are you doing in here?” the men left in the room panic, but they don’t have time to react before chuuya throws them back at the wall, so quickly, with so much force, that their spines snap. they hit it with a sharp crack, skulls shattering against the plaster, the wall crushing beneath the weight of them. 

limply, they fall to the floor. 

chuuya rushes over to you. 

the young man that led him here disappears, but chuuya isn’t worried about him. he’s a coward; he’ll likely flee from the country and never look back. the men that truly hurt you are already dead, and he’ll burn this building to the ground once he’s gotten you away from it. 

“hey,” chuuya says, cradling your cheeks gently, trying to coax you back awake. he’s not sure if it’s exhaustion, blood loss, or the obvious head trauma that caused you to pass out in the first place. but you’re still breathing, so he counts that as a blessing. 

“hey,” he whispers again, kissing your forehead, like it will heal all your ailments. “wake up, baby. we gotta get you out of here, okay?” 

it takes you a few seconds to come to, eyes glazed over and shell-shocked as you blink at him. “chuuya?” you say; your voice is so hoarse it makes chuuya want to keel over and vomit. “is it really you?” 

guilt gnaws at him, almost crushing, at the fact that thirty-six hours passed, and you’re delirious enough not to recognize him. you probably haven’t eaten, either. 

he should’ve been there. no one should’ve ever had the chance to hurt you, yet…

“it’s me, i’m here,” he says, kissing your lips, your temple, brushing your hair away from your face. the strands are sticky with blood. “shit,” chuuya nearly shouts, pulling a knife from his pocket, sawing through the thick ropes around you as quickly as he can. “i’m so sorry, i’m so sorry.” 

he can’t get you free fast enough, and you smile at him, drowsy, your eyes fluttering shut once more. “it’s okay, chuuya,” you say, leaning your head on his shoulder. “you’re here now.” 

“you have to stay awake,” he says desperately, realizing your head is still bleeding. he doesn’t know how hurt you are. chuuya’s no expert when it comes to medicine, but he’s smart enough to know that internal injuries could be even worse than the external ones. 

“stay awake for me, okay, honey? i’ll get you back to the boss and we’ll find you a doctor. you’ll be just fine.” 

“okay, chuuya,” you hum, weakly gripping his back. seconds of silence pass before you mutter, “i just want to go home.” 

"i know." his heart pulls, and he almost lets out a cracked sob. but he refrains, knowing that there is plenty of time to drown in his sorrows later. 

finally, he gets the ropes under, lifting you from the chair. you’re so much lighter, weaker, and it makes him sick as he carries you. “let’s get you home.” 

𝐀𝐊𝐔𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐖𝐀. . .

the call comes just as akutagawa is getting ready to head home for the evening, his tasks completed, eyes heavy with exhaustion. 

normally, he doesn’t stick around to say any goodbyes, sneaking off into the darkness of the night like a shadow, blending right in. but, something about the evening, so gloomy and drizzly with spring rain, feels off. 

with a heavy knot in his chest, so much different than an incoming fit of coughs, akutagawa heads back up to mori’s office, if perhaps to only ensure that everyone else’s jobs had been completed. he’s a lot of things, but he’s never been a slacker; and he’ll do what it takes to ensure that his position in the mafia is eternally secure.

though, he doesn’t have the opportunity to get all the way upstairs before he run into the boss, who is calm, but with an air of irritation clouding him. 

he explains the current situation to akutagawa in a clipped tone, bored — an enemy group has kidnapped you, holding you hostage. 

“how rude is it to bother a man, just as he is getting ready to go to sleep?” mori says, sighing histrionically.

but what is a minor inconvenience to mori sends an entire wave of dread through akutagawa, his entire body feeling as if it’s been dipped in ice. he can’t explain the horror that washes over him, not really, because he shouldn’t feel so panicked. it is rare for him to get worked up about the danger his subordinates find themselves in, save for his sister, of course. 

but you… you’re different. 

“can i trust you to diffuse the situation?” mori asks, impatiently glancing at his watch as if that will change anything. “i can call someone else, but they will not be so quick.” 

akutagawa doesn’t even think before he accepts the job, hating the way he sounds pathetically desperate for more details. his hands flatten the edge of his cloak, as if his ability is going to take on a mind of its own. 

he calls for a driver, calm but breathing so heavily that an aching cough rises up in him. his throat feels as if it may begin to bleed, but he swallows, glances away from the driver and gets himself under control.

there’s a ransom — bring them the money and they’ll return you, mori had told him. you’re only a lower ranking member of the mafia, and someone that makes for a pretty poor bargaining chip, so the motive is questionable. 

mori probably would’ve let you die, akutagawa knows, his teeth gritting together, so much so that a splintering sound comes from it. but the boss, in his infinite, concerning wisdom, seems to also know that his loyal dog has an soft spot for you. 

as regrettable as that may be.

akutagawa has no doubt that whoever the enemy is, they are no match for him. still, a twinge of anxiety settles in his stomach, fingers jittery as the driver, despite the decreased traffic of the hour, seems to drive impossibly slow. 

“are we not in a rush?” akutagawa snaps, leaning forward.

“apologies,” the driver, says, not daring to even look at akutagawa from the mirror. but the car speeds up, enough for akutagawa to be able to notice, at least. it cools the simmer that has already begun deep in his chest.  

even so, the car seems to go at a snails pace, minute upon minute flying by, with you in the clutches of an enemy. 

akutagawa doesn’t care who they are. he doesn’t care why, or how they captured you. he wants them dead. he’ll rip them apart, easily, and he’ll make them suffer — they’ll be alive for all of it, for every second that he peels the skin from their bones, ripping the smaller ones out of their sockets. 

what he feels for you… well, it’s too hard for him to admit to himself. he has no experience with what it means to care for another person, doesn’t even know if that’s his goal. he just knows he wants to protect you.

and he can’t do that if you’re dead.

finally, the car pulls up to an old warehouse, one at the very outskirts of the port, beyond the docks and the shipping carts. it’s tucked far back, an obvious lair for some villainous organization that doesn’t want to be found. 

akutagawa gets there, but there is nothing. he hears nothing, feels no signs of life as he trudges through the puddles left behind from the earlier rain. 

a small string of panic begins again, as he wondered if maybe the call that mori had told him was only a ruse. maybe this entire time had been a distraction, a way to lure him away. there are other skill-users in the mafia, but none quite as dangerous as him. 

though, he hears it, then. a small little sound, muffled and hoarse, full of pain. 

he ducks into another corner of a warehouse, and you’re there — bound with chains and a gag across your mouth, one of your eyes blackened with bruises, your nose bleeding. 

his heart aches. never in his life has he so quickly made his way over, used the sharp edges of his ability to shear through the chains, falling to his knees as he unbinds the cloth from your lips. 

“where are they?” he rasps, mouth opening and closing, hating the sound of his own voice. he recognizes his desperation, his anger, but the affectionate sound that clips at the end is unfamiliar, as he shakily pulls himself closer to you. 

you glance up at him, eyes glossy and wide, and though you are scared, hurt, he’s so thankful you are alive. his heart flips once, as you grasp at his cloak, the material that has the blood of so many staining the threads. 

“gone,” you say, throat chalky, words nothing more than a note against the wind. “they fled when they heard it was you coming.” 

“and left you?” he asks, jaw clenching, as he hopes that the emotions aren’t as visible on his features as he thinks they are. “were you not a ransom?” 

“no,” you swallow, hard, as if in pain. he notices bruises around your neck, the shape of fingerprints indented there. “i was bait.”

anger rises up in him like a wave, engulfing him, wholly and relentlessly. he is no stranger to that, like he is the kindness you show him, the way you look at him as if he is your protector, rather than a bringer of destruction. “i’ll go after them. where are they headed? they’ll pay, i’ll slaughter—”

“ryunosuke,” you say, reaching for him as he stands, expression pleading as he backs away. “stay.” 

he has half a mind to ignore you — the enemy escaped, after all. but your voice. your eyes… you look so small sitting there, bloodied and bruised and broken. 

“please,” you try again, near tears, and though he has never been good with obvious displays of emotion, something within him snaps at the desperation in the word. 

he nods, slowing his pace as he returns to you, lets you wrap yourself in him, cling to him. his hands fall, naturally, to your waist, somehow knowing where they belong, even if akutagawa never has a clue what he’s doing with you. 

“i’ll call hirotsu,” he says simply, before pulling out his phone, not bothering to untangle himself from you. 

𝐃𝐀𝐙𝐀𝐈 . . .

dazai is not a forgiving man, and will never learn to be. forgiveness is not a luxury he is often able to indulge in in his line of work, and his heart has hardened enough that until the end of time, those that are branded his enemies will remain his enemies. 

though, in his blackened heart, one soured over the course of time, you have carved out your own little space, lit it up with golden rays of light that are fiery enough to melt the stone casing of his chest. 

his only love — his only weakness. but it is a weakness that his enemies know about as well. 

dazai tries his best to keep you safe. he always has, and he knows that, sometimes, his grasp on you can be a little too tight. that the way he tries to keep you under his watchful eye can sometimes be stifling, frustrating. 

but he can’t always be there to protect you. and it is in times like these, that he regrets letting you go without a bodyguard. he regrets that he listened to your insistence that you could keep yourself safe. 

he should’ve at least told you to take a friend. 

“boss,” his subordinate says, bowing his head, his voice pleading, desperate. “i’m so sorry. your wife—”

“if anything… anything happens to her, you will be the one responsible, do you understand?” dazai says, his eyes cold as he glowers down at the man, only a few inches shorter than him, but feeling so much smaller. “i will personally see that this act does not go unpunished.” 

“of course, sir,” the man says, and he, at the very least, has the decency to sound resigned. to accept his fate and suffer the consequences, for allowing the boss’s wife to get herself into such a situation. 

and dazai means it, every last word; if he finds you in a state closer to death, anyone who put you in harm’s way will be torn apart from the inside out. he isn’t able to think of anything but bringing you home safely, his hands shaking with rage as he sends more than enough people out on a search to find you. 

with all the strings he’s able to pull as the mafia boss, it doesn’t take long to find you, for those that have bravely — or stupidly — used his wife as bait to come forward, and offer an attempt at some sort of negotiation. 

there’s little of the conversation that dazai remembers on the phone, even less that he remembers after that. the anger bubbles up in him and grabs hold of his conscience, the emotion directing his movements with a mind of its own. 

he’s already sent out every last one of his people into the field, ensuring that the organization that had the gall to threaten you is wiped off the face of the earth. deleted from every corner of the world, buildings flattened to the ground. by tomorrow, they won’t have ever existed. 

today, he doesn’t care what happens as long as he finds you alive. 

you’re held hostage by two men — so completely beaten that they’ve given up on any restraints. whatever they wanted from you, you seemed to refused to have given up, lip bleeding, eyes swelling so badly that you can’t even open them. 

dazai doesn’t hesitate before pulling the trigger on the first man, then turning to the other, shooting the hand that holds the pistol. the man recoils, shouts, and drops the weapon completely, as dazai lands another bullet to his knee, causing him to fall. 

slowly, dazai walks up, firing again to his other arm, a loud snap echoing throughout the room. the man winces, trying to crawl to the gun, one last desperate attempt to stay alive. 

he kicks the gun away, watching, as, pathetically, the expression in the enemy’s face changes — any of his remaining hope vanishes. 

“you told me she was unharmed,” dazai says, bending down, his coat flaring out behind him as he squats. 

the man coughs, gasping for air as the blood seeps out of him. “we lied.” he smiles cruelly, and though he shares the same sort of darkness as those in the port mafia, there is something even more twisted in his smile. 

dazai hums. “you the leader?” 

the man doesn’t give an answer, but the slight twitch of surprise on his face is all dazai needs. he’s no one — just a grunt whose life was put on the line to guard you. 

“didn’t think so.” dazai shoots him once, straight through the forehead, instantly killing him. but he is vindictive, angry, and the man he truly wants to destroy, the one who took you, is nowhere to be found. another bullet lands, tearing apart the flesh of his temple, then another, and one more, his skull beginning to cave in from the force of it all. 

dazai heaves, letting the gun clatter to the ground as it runs out of bullets, and then he realizes, all this time, you’ve just been watching him. the ugliest side of him — the worst side of him. 

you’re no stranger to it, of course. how can you be, when you’ve shared a life with him for years? but that doesn’t mean he wants you to see it, see how bloodthirsty he can become. 

he stumbles over to you, where you’re still sitting on the ground, your wrist in your lap, bent at an angle that he knows isn’t right. bruises are littered across your skin, and your hair is matted from the blood that pools at your temple. 

it takes every ounce of restraint he has to stay calm, a million feelings swirling under his skin. ones that he was never familiar with until he met you. 

“i’m sorry,” he says, taking your face in his hands so, so softly, worried that he’ll hurt you even more. “i’m sorry, darling. i should’ve — i should’ve been there.” dazai notices his hands are shaking and he balls them up into fists, leaning back. “fuck. fuck — i’ll kill them all, just tell me who it was. anyone who laid a finger on you. i’ll cut them down one by one.” 

“osamu,” you say, and your voice is raspy, cracking, as your unbroken arm reaches for him, squeezing his shaking hand. “i—”

you open your mouth to continue, but only tears come streaming down your cheeks, over your bloodied lips, saltiness soaking your jawline. no words don’t leave you, but a soft sob chokes itself up your throat.

“hey, hey, hey.” dazai’s voice softens, every muscle in his body relaxing as he draws you nearer to him, into his chest with a touch that’s barely there. “you’re safe. i’m here, okay? they’re not going to hurt you again, sweetheart.” 

you sniffle, barely making a sound, but he can feel the tears drop onto his clothes, soaking the material.

“can you walk? are you hurt anywhere else?” 

you hesitate for a moment before answering; he’s not sure if there’s a reason you only answer the first question. “i can walk.” 

dazai nods, and though the rage is still bubbling there, underneath the surface, there is a coolant streaming through him at the vision of you alive. the men who did this will pay the price, but he still has you — and that’s all that matters.

thank you for reading !!! ❤︎