however i have so much stuff to get done for the end of the semester that i may keep disappearing for a while... sorry for not being able to post as often as i used to but it will get better!
Heyy girl you good? Haven’t seen you post in a while so just wanted to check up
omg thats so sweet 😭
im okay i swear! its just with the end of the semester and my internship im swamped with work rn! im so sorry i haven't posted in a while, i haven't had time to finish any of my drafts :(
i will be back i swear! tysm for checking in i appreciate you 🫶
obs: reader has an electricity/speedster ability (not the focus of the story)
The corridor stretched in front of you, your footsteps echoing off the concrete walls. You were already accustomed to the atmosphere, the harsh bright lighting and the heavy metal doors on either side making the already narrow space feel even smaller. You stopped right before the last door, turning your head slightly to the side.
“You took your time.” Jouno said, his voice steady and annoyingly soft at the same time.
He wore his usual small smile, eyes closed in a way that made him seem almost innocent to everyone else, but you knew him too well to be fooled. Still, you smiled sweetly.
“Aw, miss me?” You teased, stepping a little closer to his face, knowing, and wanting, for him to hear your breathing and heartbeat, even though he’d been able to from the moment you stepped into the corridor.
“Are you ready to work or not?” He cut off your teasing, as usual.
“Of course. Is our guest ready yet?”
“He’s inside.” His smile returned. “I’ll let you go first this time.”
“Such a gentleman.” You moved again, your hand almost reaching his shoulder when he caught your wrist lightly, not hard enough to hurt, but firm enough to stop you.
“Don’t make me regret it." He said, his voice dropping lower. “You have a tendency to get… distracted when you think you’re being clever.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll be done in a few minutes." You replied in a sing-song tone, still grinning despite his grip. “Wanna listen from up close?” You leaned in, close enough for your breath to ghost across his face. “Or would you rather stay out here?”
“Just go already.” He let go of your wrist and took a deliberate step back, putting distance between you.
You were usually playful and flirty like this all the time, but lately you’d been getting bolder. Getting closer and closer each time, testing boundaries like you were trying to find where his composure would crack. And as much as Jouno tried to tell himself otherwise, he really did enjoy it. You were infuriating, not like Tetchou, who could drive him to the brink with sheer oblivious stupidity, but in a whole new and insufferable way. Every flirtatious comment was a calculated move, every touch a deliberate test. It didn’t matter how many times he tried to pick you apart with cutting remarks or catching you off-guard, you would just switch it up and say something flirty or inappropriate, turning his own tactics back on him. It was getting harder and harder to hide his own amusement… But regardless of all that, you still took your job seriously, at least when it really mattered.
Jouno listened as you opened the interrogation room door, your usual confident demeanor slipping seamlessly into place. He waited a few seconds, tracking your footsteps, the shift in air pressure, the way your breathing steadied as you switched into work mode. Then he followed.
The man inside was a terrorist ability user you’d both caught the day before. Usually, Jouno loved interrogations, there was something deeply satisfying about it, but this one seemed more willing to talk if someone else asked the questions. And honestly, it had been a while since he’d seen you take control like this.
Because of your ability, you were usually focused on action. Being the fastest Hunting Dog came with its trade-offs, but it was what you enjoyed most. When something needed immediate handling, you were the one they called. And like your teammates, you’d never failed.
The interrogation room was exactly what you’d expect, four concrete walls, a metal table bolted to the floor, and lighting bright enough to make your eyes sting if you stayed too long. The air was cold, deliberately so, carrying the faint scent of disinfectant trying to mask something worse.
The terrorist sat across from the empty chair, wrists locked in heavy restraints glowing with a dull red light, ability suppressors. Mid-thirties, dark hair, and that specific kind of arrogance that came from believing he was untouchable. His ability, matter conversion, had let him turn security doors into sand and concrete into brittle glass. He’d infiltrated three government facilities before you caught him, planting explosives in critical infrastructure. And somehow, he still looked calm.
“So…” The man started, leaning back as much as the restraints allowed. “They sent the pretty one to soften me up? That’s a new strategy.”
Behind you, Jouno leaned against the wall near the door, arms crossed, that pleasant smile still in place. To anyone else, he’d look relaxed. Bored, even. But you could feel his attention like pressure in the room. You sat down.
“Is it working?” You asked, raising an eyebrow, a faint smile tugging at your lips.
“Depends.” He grinned. “You gonna tell me your name, or do I keep calling you ‘the pretty one’?”
“You can call me whatever you want.” You said smoothly, leaning forward slightly. “But I’d rather hear about your friends. The ones who helped you plan the attacks.”
“Ah, straight to business.” He clicked his tongue. “And here I thought we’d get to know each other first. You Hunting Dogs are always so serious.”
“Who says I’m serious?” You tilted your head, mirroring his posture. “I’m just curious. Someone with your ability could’ve done plenty alone. But you had help. Why?”
His eyes flickered, just for a second, but you caught it.
“You seem different from the others.” He continued, ignoring the question. “Less cold. More human.” He leaned forward as far as he could. “So how about it? Give me a little leeway, maybe we can work something out.”
Behind you, you heard the soft jingle of Jouno's earring, a tiny shift in the air.
You let the silence hang for just a beat. Let him think he was getting somewhere, no matter how ridiculous that was. Then you leaned back in your chair, that sweet smile still on your face.
“You know, that’s really flattering." You said lightly. “But you see my partner back there?” You gestured toward Jouno without looking away. “He’s the jealous type. Doesn’t like it when people waste my time.”
The criminal's eyes finally slid toward Jouno. He hadn't moved from his position against the wall. Still had that pleasant smile. But somehow the temperature in the room felt like it had dropped another few degrees.
“Your pulse just jumped." Jouno said pleasantly. “Nervous?”
The prisoner's face went pale, eyes darting between you and Jouno.
“So here’s how this is actually going to go.” You leaned forward again, your smile gone, your voice turning cold. “You’re going to tell me where your team is meeting next, who’s funding you, and what your real targets are.”
"And if you don't cooperate..." You continued smoothly, small grin starting to show on your face. "This conversation will become very unpleasant for you." You lowered your voice, staring at him directly in the eyes.
“You made a mistake." Jouno added, pushing off the wall and moving toward the door. He paused at the handle, his smile widening just slightly. “She’s not the good cop.”
And with that, he left. The room suddenly felt much smaller.
After that, everything went smoothly, for you at least. One flicker of your ability and he opened up quite easily, dropping not only names but specifics on their future plans. It was a good day at work, very efficient you thought.
You let the silence stretch. The prisoner's eyes darted to the door, then back to you. The cocky confidence had already cracked.
As you stepped out of the interrogation room the corridor felt warmer somehow, compared to the frigid air inside. Your footsteps echoed off the concrete as you started walking, mentally cataloging every piece of information you'd gotten.
“Jealous type?”
Jouno’s voice cut through the sound. He was leaning against the wall a few feet away, arms crossed, that amused smile back in place.
“It worked, didn’t it?” You said lightly.
“Oh, absolutely.” His smile widened as he started to walk with you. “His heart rate spiked the moment you said it, like someone dumped ice water down his spine.” The bell at his ear chimed softly. “Delightful. But I'm curious about something."
“Whats that?"
“Is that really how you see me?” His voice was still pleasant, but there was an edge of something underneath. "Jealous?"
“I don’t know.” You glanced at him, a small smile playing at your lips. “Are you?”
“Your heart rate changed when you said it." He said instead of answering. "Right on the word 'jealous.'"
Then, he stopped walking. You stopped too, turning to face him with that same easy smile.
“Wanna know what I think?” He asked.
“I’m sure you’re about to tell me.”
“I think you liked it.” He stepped closer. You didn’t move. “Using me as your threat. Watching his reaction.”
“Maybe I did.” You stepped forward, your breath brushing his face.
A beat passed before either one of you said anything. Then, very quietly, he finally broke the silence.
“You are infuriating." He breathed, turning and walking again.
so im still sick but i was wondering how do u guys make the text a gradient thing? bc i only have like 7 colors to chose from and now im wondering why im the only one 😭
HIIIII I just wanted to say pt 2 was SO good!! And definitely looking forward to a pt 3 lol... no but like actually im so invested rn you write skk so well and the plot is so intriguing <3
OMG TYYY that makes me so happy bc i was pretty insecure abt part two, and yeah maybe if i get more ideas ill write part three!!
The first time Dazai visits after your initial meeting, you're hanging upside-down from the bars at the top of your cell, doing crunches. Boredom really did a number on you. To be fair, they didn't give you much else to do.
The cell has a reinforced grate near the ceiling, probably for ventilation or structural support or some other boring practical reason, but you discovered pretty early on that the bars are perfect for hanging from. So that's where you've been spending most of your time: legs hooked over the bars, suspended upside-down, blood rushing to your head in a pleasant, dizzying way.
The door opens.
"Industrious." Dazai observes, stepping inside, the sound of the door clicking shut echoing softly behind him.
You turn your head to look at him, which is awkward from this angle, your hair falling toward the floor, your vision tilting slightly as you grin.
"Oh good, you're back. I was starting to think you forgot about me." Your voice comes out light, a little breathless, but still bright.
"Impossible." He says, resting loosely against the wall, though his eyes are already on you. "You're far too memorable."
You hum, pleased with his answer, then swing yourself forward, unhooking your legs and catching the bars with your hands before dropping down. You land in a crouch, chains pulling taut for a split second before settling again with a quiet rattle. You straighten, rolling your shoulders like you have all the space in the world.
"Memorable good or memorable bad."
"I haven't decided yet." He answers, watching you recover, watching how easily you move. "Though I'm leaning towards interesting."
"You sure know how to make a girl feel special." You press both hands to your chest, tilting your head with exaggerated delight.
"I try." He says, but there's something absent in the way he says it, like the words are just a tool. "So, shall we talk about why you infiltrated the Port Mafia?"
You make a face immediately, dragging out a quiet groan as you drop onto your cot, swinging one leg over the other.
"Mm, boring. We did that yesterday." You lean forward, resting your chin in your hand, eyes flicking up to him. "I'd much rather talk about you."
"I bet you would." He says, almost under his breath, pushing himself off the wall.
He doesn't come closer this time. Instead, he walks slowly along the length of the cell, stopping just short of where your chains would allow you to reach. Not close enough. Not careless. His hands stay in his pockets, posture relaxed in a way that doesn't quite match the sharpness in his gaze.
"You’re analyzing me." He says.
You smile wider, like that’s the best thing he could’ve said.
"Ooh?" You clasp your hands together, delighted. "What gave it away?” You inclined your head to the side. “Besides, you're doing the same thing" Your voice lowers slightly as you stand, looking in his direction. “Let's not pretend like this isn't your favorite game.” You whisper.
For a moment, it's quiet, just the faint hum of the building and the distant echo of something far above you. His eyes don't leave yours, and it doesn't feel like he's just looking, it feels like he's waiting.
"You're stalling." He says eventually.
"I'm making conversation." You correct, easy. "There's a difference."
"Is there?"
"You tell me." You lean back slightly, stretching your arms above your head until the chains pull again, just enough to remind you they're there. "You're the one who came back."
That makes him pause. Not long, just enough to register. Then he shifts, turning fully toward you.
"Money." He says, like he's placing a piece on a board. "That's why you took the job."
You rock your head side to side, considering it, then give a small shrug.
"It's a good motivator." You say, light, careless, like it doesn't matter either way.
"Until we caught you."
“Well, yeah." You admit, the expression on your face resembling that of a child who just got grounded, arms going down in theatrical tantrum fashion. "But that was because someone told you to look! I didn't slip up. Someone sold me out.” He pays attention to that revelation, but it was so fast you could barely register it.
It was all very mysterious, someone knew what they were doing, it was well planned. You were being used, he noticed, by whomever hired you to serve as a catalyst to a conflict, putting you right in the middle of the cross fire.
“You still didn't run, even after realizing you were being set up.”
“I wanted to know who was playing me." You say honestly. "Better to stay, see what happens, maybe find some allies in the process.” Your voice lowers again, but a small smile is forming on your face.
"Allies." He repeats, and there's something amused in his tone. "Is that what we are?”
“Not yet.” You answer. “Maybe soon enough.”
He watches you for a moment longer, like he's deciding something, like he's placing you somewhere new in his mind.
Then, just as easily, the distance comes back.
"I'll be back tomorrow." He announces, already heading towards the door.
"For more gruesome torture I assume!" You called after him teasingly.
"You would like that wouldn't you?" He doesn't wait for your answer, already sure of the smile on your face.
The next day you're sitting cross-legged on the concrete floor, braiding your hair for the seventh time, trying to find something to fill your time when your interrogator isn't present. Time was running out, yet Dazai hadn't tortured you once. No threats, no show of force, nothing. Just conversation that seemed to be just as entertaining to him as it was to you.
When the sound of the metal door opening hit your ears, a small smile made its way to your face instantly. What will he do today?
"Finally." You said, standing and turning around to face the door in one fluid motion, ready to complain about how long he made you wait. But just as you were about to, you noticed he wasn't alone this time.
They both entered the room with confidence, yet their postures were completely different types of authority. Dazai wore his usual black coat around his shoulders, along with that playful and easy expression, except for his eyes of course, that's where you could always find out more. The other man was shorter, with sharp blue eyes and an angular face that looked irritated by default. He had striking red hair that fell in waves around his face, and he wore the kind of expensive clothes that made a statement, a long black coat draped over a dark vest and crisp white shirt, topped with a black fedora on his head. Even his gloves were black, because of course they were. Everything about him screamed money and violence in equal measure. Where Dazai's danger was quiet and calculating, this man's was loud and immediate, like a loaded gun. He couldn't be much older than Dazai, maybe the same age, but he carried himself with the kind of controlled aggression that suggested he'd already killed more people than he could count and wouldn't hesitate to add you to the list.
Chuuya Nakahara. Port Mafia Executive, the famous gravity manipulator.
"Oh?" You said, voice bright with interest as they stopped just outside your cell. "You brought a friend!" Your eyes sparkled with that unsettling type of excitement you always got whenever danger was close. "Are we having a party?"
Dazai smiled in that same annoyingly beautiful and dangerous way he usually did, stopping directly at the entrance to your cell. So close already. He usually took his time approaching, but today he went straight to the bars.
"Chuuya, meet our guest." He said, gesturing toward you with casual amusement, like he was introducing someone at a social gathering rather than a prisoner.
"She looks insane." Chuuya said flatly, crossing his arms.
"Thank you!" You beamed at him like he'd just given you the highest compliment, pressing your hands together in delight. "I work very hard at it."
Chuuya's eye twitched. He turned his head sharply to look at Dazai. "You told me this was a serious interrogation."
"It is." Dazai said, and you could hear the amusement threading through his voice like silk. "Isn't it serious?" He directed this last part at you, head tilting slightly.
You tapped your chin thoughtfully, scrunching your nose lightly in thought. "I mean, I'm taking it somewhat seriously. Like, sixty percent serious." You paused, reconsidering. "Maybe fifty-five."
"She's been here for days." Chuuya said, and he sounded like he was explaining something to a particularly slow child, enunciating each word carefully. "And you still haven't gotten actionable intelligence out of her."
"Oh, I've been getting lots of intelligence." Dazai countered smoothly, his tone light and conversational. "Just not the kind you mean."
You gasped, pressing both hands to your chest dramatically. "Aww, you think I'm intelligent! That's the nicest thing anyone's said to me all week."
"I think you're a nightmare." Dazai corrected, but there was that almost-smile again, the corner of his mouth twitching upward.
"An interesting nightmare." You added quickly, pointing at him with one finger for emphasis. "There's a difference. Nightmares can be boring. I'm never boring."
"What the actual fuck is happening right now?" Chuuya looked between the two of you like he was watching something deeply disturbing, his expression caught between disbelief and disgust.
"What's happening." You said, starting to walk toward the gate with deliberate slowness, your chains dragging softly against the concrete. "Is that your partner here has been visiting me every single day, and we've been having delightful conversations."
You reached the bars, close enough now to see Dazai's expression clearly. You counted on your fingers, your face shifting with each point, performing each emotion like you were telling a story. "He pretends to interrogate me, I pretend to resist, we flirt, it's very productive!"
Dazai simply smiled again, that same enigmatic expression that gave nothing away.
"Mori is going to kill both of you." Chuuya pinched the bridge of his nose, his voice strained with exasperation.
At the mention of the Port Mafia boss, your expression shifted slightly. Still playful, but sharper now, more focused. Your eyes glinted with genuine interest.
"Oh? And what does the big boss think about little old me?"
"Mori-san has decided you're more valuable alive than dead." Dazai answered, still standing in the same spot as earlier, watching you come closer with that analytical gaze.
"How romantic." You pressed a hand to your heart, batting your eyelashes with exaggerated sweetness.
"Don't let it go to your head." Chuuya muttered darkly. "He thinks you can be useful."
"I am useful!" You said brightly, voice going high with enthusiasm. "I'm great at parties. Excellent at reconnaissance. And I can speak seven languages, pick locks, and—"
"We know what you can do." Chuuya interrupted sharply. "The question is whether you're going to cooperate."
You tilted your head, your smile widening into something more dangerous and sultry. "You know, I've never been interrogated by two executives before." Your voice dropped lower, taking on a breathy quality. "Is this going to be a tag-team situation? Because I've got to tell you, that's kind of hot."
Chuuya's face went bright red, the color creeping up from his neck. "I'm going to throw you through a wall!"
"Promises, promises!" You sang out, voice going sing-song and playful.
"Don't threaten her." Dazai said mildly, his tone almost bored. "She likes it."
"I do like it!" You confirmed enthusiastically, bouncing slightly on your toes. "Threat of violence really does it for me. Must be why I keep ending up in these situations." You shrugged.
"She's insane." Chuuya said to Dazai, his voice flat with certainty.
"Probably." Dazai agreed, still watching you with that careful, analytical gaze that seemed to catalogue every micro-expression. "But she's also sitting on intelligence that could expose half our operations. Mori wants her flipped, not killed."
Ah. There it is.
"Flipped?" Your hands came up to curl around the bars of the gate, gripping the cold metal as you leaned forward slightly. "As in, you want me to work for you?"
"The Boss sees potential." Dazai shrugged, as if it was obvious, but still watching your reaction carefully. "Your ability, your skills, your complete lack of loyalty to anyone. It all makes you an ideal asset." Then his voice dropped just enough to be intentional. "If you can be controlled."
"And if I can't be?" You asked, genuinely curious now, your playfulness dimming just slightly.
"Then you become a liability." Chuuya said flatly, his voice hard as steel. "And liabilities get eliminated."
You tapped your chin with one hand, still holding the bars with the other, making them wait as your expression cycled through several emotions. Consideration, calculation, amusement, before finally settling on playful scheming.
"So let me get this straight." Your voice went high with incredulity. "You want me to give up my insurance policy, hand over all my intel, and become a Port Mafia operative? After I spent seven months stealing from you?"
"Yes." Dazai said simply, his voice quiet and certain.
"And in exchange?"
"You get to live." Chuuya said, crossing his arms tighter. "That's the exchange."
You released the bars and slumped back dramatically, arms dropping to your sides in theatrical disappointment. "Boring." You pouted, pushing your lower lip out like a child. "I need better incentives. How about, and hear me out..." You held up your hands like you were pitching an idea, "I get my own office. With a window. And I want Dazai to take me to dinner at least once." You batted your eyelashes at him. "Somewhere nice. He can even interrogate me over dessert if he wants."
"Absolutely not." Chuuya said immediately, his voice sharp.
"Which part?" You asked innocently, tilting your head.
"All of it."
Dazai, however, was studying you with that intense focus, his eyes never leaving your face. "You're considering it."
It seemed he was getting used to your antics, no matter, you were just as used to his observation.
"Maybe." You admitted, dropping some of the theatrics. "Or maybe I'm just enjoying the show. You two have great chemistry. Very entertaining to watch."
"We're not entertaining." Chuuya said through gritted teeth, his jaw visibly clenching. "We're trying to prevent you from being a massive problem."
"Can't it be both?" You asked brightly.
Chuuya looked like he wanted to argue, his mouth opening, but Dazai spoke first.
"Chuuya." His voice carried a commanding weight to it. "Give us a minute."
"Excuse me?" Chuuya turned to look at him sharply.
"You heard me. Wait outside."
"Mori sent me here to—"
"To observe. You've observed." Dazai's voice carried that executive authority now, with no trace of his easy going facade. "Now I need to work."
Chuuya looked like he wanted to argue, his expression darkening, but eventually he just swore under his breath and stalked toward the door. Before he left, he pointed at you, his finger jabbing the air. "If you try anything, I'll crush you into paste."
You blew him a kiss, making an exaggerated smooching sound. "You say the sweetest things!"
The door slammed shut with a metallic bang.
Silence settled over the cell, heavier now that it's just the two of you. The air felt different, charged, like the moment before lightning strikes. The feeling you found yourself chasing since that first day, it filled your stomach with excitement.
Dazai didn't move at first, just stood there at the gate, watching you. Then, just like that first day, he reached for the lock.
The gate opened with a low groan.
He stepped inside your cell, closing it behind him with a soft click, and your heart rate picked up immediately. This close. He was this close again.
"You're running out of time." He said quietly, voice barely above a murmur as he took a few steps toward you. "Mori's patience isn't infinite."
"I know." You said, dropping the playfulness almost entirely now, your voice softer. "That's why I'm actually considering this."
He stopped a few feet away, close enough to be intimate but not quite touching. "Why?"
You met his eyes, really met them, and let him see something real for once. "Because I'm tired of running alone. Because whoever set me up is still out there, and I can't take them on solo." You paused, your voice going even quieter. "And because you're the first person in a long time who's actually interesting."
"Interesting." He repeated, the word almost a breath.
"Interesting." You confirmed, taking a small step closer. The chains on your wrists clinked softly. "Smart enough to keep up. Dark enough to understand. And you don't flinch at the chaos." Your voice dropped to almost a whisper. "Everyone else would try to control me, break me down, make me manageable. You just want to see what I'll do next."
"True." He admitted, and there was something almost vulnerable in the way he said it.
You were close enough now that you could see the subtle patterns in his irises again, the slight irregularity in his breathing that suggested you weren't the only one affected by this proximity.
"So?" You asked, your voice barely audible. "Is that a deal you can make?"
He was quiet for a long moment, studying your face like he was memorizing every detail. Then he reached up slowly, giving you time to pull away if you wanted, and his fingers brushed against your jaw, tilting your face up slightly.
"I'll talk to Mori." He said softly, his thumb tracing along your cheekbone. "Make your case."
Your breath caught. "And then?"
"And then you're mine." He said, voice dropping even lower, intimate and possessive. "My responsibility. My asset. My problem."
"Good." You agreed, the word coming out shaky.
For a moment, neither of you moved. Just stood there, his hand on your face, your eyes locked, the air between you heavy with possibility and danger and something neither of you wanted to name.
Then he stepped back, the moment breaking, his hand falling away.
"I'll be back tomorrow." He said, voice returning to normal, though something in his eyes remained intense.
"You always say that." You managed, trying to find your balance again.
He moved to the gate, opened it, stepped out. "And I always mean it."
Before he closed the door to the cell room, he looked back one more time. "Try not to do anything too interesting while I'm gone."
"No promises." You said, still slightly breathless.
The door closed.
You stood there for a moment, heart racing, mind spinning, your face still tingling where he'd touched you. Then you sank down to sit on the floor, touching your own jaw where his fingers had been.
This was dangerous. The best kind of dangerous.
-
notes: reader is inspired by harley quinn if u can't tell, theres probably grammatic mistakes, english isn't my first language sorry! reblogs and comments are deeply appreciated <3
The first time Dazai visits after your initial meeting, you're hanging upside-down from the bars at the top of your cell, doing crunches. Boredom really did a number on you. To be fair, they didn't give you much else to do.
The cell has a reinforced grate near the ceiling, probably for ventilation or structural support or some other boring practical reason, but you discovered pretty early on that the bars are perfect for hanging from. So that's where you've been spending most of your time: legs hooked over the bars, suspended upside-down, blood rushing to your head in a pleasant, dizzying way.
The door opens.
"Industrious." Dazai observes, stepping inside, the sound of the door clicking shut echoing softly behind him.
You turn your head to look at him, which is awkward from this angle, your hair falling toward the floor, your vision tilting slightly as you grin.
"Oh good, you're back. I was starting to think you forgot about me." Your voice comes out light, a little breathless, but still bright.
"Impossible." He says, resting loosely against the wall, though his eyes are already on you. "You're far too memorable."
You hum, pleased with his answer, then swing yourself forward, unhooking your legs and catching the bars with your hands before dropping down. You land in a crouch, chains pulling taut for a split second before settling again with a quiet rattle. You straighten, rolling your shoulders like you have all the space in the world.
"Memorable good or memorable bad."
"I haven't decided yet." He answers, watching you recover, watching how easily you move. "Though I'm leaning towards interesting."
"You sure know how to make a girl feel special." You press both hands to your chest, tilting your head with exaggerated delight.
"I try." He says, but there's something absent in the way he says it, like the words are just a tool. "So, shall we talk about why you infiltrated the Port Mafia?"
You make a face immediately, dragging out a quiet groan as you drop onto your cot, swinging one leg over the other.
"Mm, boring. We did that yesterday." You lean forward, resting your chin in your hand, eyes flicking up to him. "I'd much rather talk about you."
"I bet you would." He says, almost under his breath, pushing himself off the wall.
He doesn't come closer this time. Instead, he walks slowly along the length of the cell, stopping just short of where your chains would allow you to reach. Not close enough. Not careless. His hands stay in his pockets, posture relaxed in a way that doesn't quite match the sharpness in his gaze.
"You’re analyzing me." He says.
You smile wider, like that’s the best thing he could’ve said.
"Ooh?" You clasp your hands together, delighted. "What gave it away?” You inclined your head to the side. “Besides, you're doing the same thing" Your voice lowers slightly as you stand, looking in his direction. “Let's not pretend like this isn't your favorite game.” You whisper.
For a moment, it's quiet, just the faint hum of the building and the distant echo of something far above you. His eyes don't leave yours, and it doesn't feel like he's just looking, it feels like he's waiting.
"You're stalling." He says eventually.
"I'm making conversation." You correct, easy. "There's a difference."
"Is there?"
"You tell me." You lean back slightly, stretching your arms above your head until the chains pull again, just enough to remind you they're there. "You're the one who came back."
That makes him pause. Not long, just enough to register. Then he shifts, turning fully toward you.
"Money." He says, like he's placing a piece on a board. "That's why you took the job."
You rock your head side to side, considering it, then give a small shrug.
"It's a good motivator." You say, light, careless, like it doesn't matter either way.
"Until we caught you."
“Well, yeah." You admit, the expression on your face resembling that of a child who just got grounded, arms going down in theatrical tantrum fashion. "But that was because someone told you to look! I didn't slip up. Someone sold me out.” He pays attention to that revelation, but it was so fast you could barely register it.
It was all very mysterious, someone knew what they were doing, it was well planned. You were being used, he noticed, by whomever hired you to serve as a catalyst to a conflict, putting you right in the middle of the cross fire.
“You still didn't run, even after realizing you were being set up.”
“I wanted to know who was playing me." You say honestly. "Better to stay, see what happens, maybe find some allies in the process.” Your voice lowers again, but a small smile is forming on your face.
"Allies." He repeats, and there's something amused in his tone. "Is that what we are?”
“Not yet.” You answer. “Maybe soon enough.”
He watches you for a moment longer, like he's deciding something, like he's placing you somewhere new in his mind.
Then, just as easily, the distance comes back.
"I'll be back tomorrow." He announces, already heading towards the door.
"For more gruesome torture I assume!" You called after him teasingly.
"You would like that wouldn't you?" He doesn't wait for your answer, already sure of the smile on your face.
The next day you're sitting cross-legged on the concrete floor, braiding your hair for the seventh time, trying to find something to fill your time when your interrogator isn't present. Time was running out, yet Dazai hadn't tortured you once. No threats, no show of force, nothing. Just conversation that seemed to be just as entertaining to him as it was to you.
When the sound of the metal door opening hit your ears, a small smile made its way to your face instantly. What will he do today?
"Finally." You said, standing and turning around to face the door in one fluid motion, ready to complain about how long he made you wait. But just as you were about to, you noticed he wasn't alone this time.
They both entered the room with confidence, yet their postures were completely different types of authority. Dazai wore his usual black coat around his shoulders, along with that playful and easy expression, except for his eyes of course, that's where you could always find out more. The other man was shorter, with sharp blue eyes and an angular face that looked irritated by default. He had striking red hair that fell in waves around his face, and he wore the kind of expensive clothes that made a statement, a long black coat draped over a dark vest and crisp white shirt, topped with a black fedora on his head. Even his gloves were black, because of course they were. Everything about him screamed money and violence in equal measure. Where Dazai's danger was quiet and calculating, this man's was loud and immediate, like a loaded gun. He couldn't be much older than Dazai, maybe the same age, but he carried himself with the kind of controlled aggression that suggested he'd already killed more people than he could count and wouldn't hesitate to add you to the list.
Chuuya Nakahara. Port Mafia Executive, the famous gravity manipulator.
"Oh?" You said, voice bright with interest as they stopped just outside your cell. "You brought a friend!" Your eyes sparkled with that unsettling type of excitement you always got whenever danger was close. "Are we having a party?"
Dazai smiled in that same annoyingly beautiful and dangerous way he usually did, stopping directly at the entrance to your cell. So close already. He usually took his time approaching, but today he went straight to the bars.
"Chuuya, meet our guest." He said, gesturing toward you with casual amusement, like he was introducing someone at a social gathering rather than a prisoner.
"She looks insane." Chuuya said flatly, crossing his arms.
"Thank you!" You beamed at him like he'd just given you the highest compliment, pressing your hands together in delight. "I work very hard at it."
Chuuya's eye twitched. He turned his head sharply to look at Dazai. "You told me this was a serious interrogation."
"It is." Dazai said, and you could hear the amusement threading through his voice like silk. "Isn't it serious?" He directed this last part at you, head tilting slightly.
You tapped your chin thoughtfully, scrunching your nose lightly in thought. "I mean, I'm taking it somewhat seriously. Like, sixty percent serious." You paused, reconsidering. "Maybe fifty-five."
"She's been here for days." Chuuya said, and he sounded like he was explaining something to a particularly slow child, enunciating each word carefully. "And you still haven't gotten actionable intelligence out of her."
"Oh, I've been getting lots of intelligence." Dazai countered smoothly, his tone light and conversational. "Just not the kind you mean."
You gasped, pressing both hands to your chest dramatically. "Aww, you think I'm intelligent! That's the nicest thing anyone's said to me all week."
"I think you're a nightmare." Dazai corrected, but there was that almost-smile again, the corner of his mouth twitching upward.
"An interesting nightmare." You added quickly, pointing at him with one finger for emphasis. "There's a difference. Nightmares can be boring. I'm never boring."
"What the actual fuck is happening right now?" Chuuya looked between the two of you like he was watching something deeply disturbing, his expression caught between disbelief and disgust.
"What's happening." You said, starting to walk toward the gate with deliberate slowness, your chains dragging softly against the concrete. "Is that your partner here has been visiting me every single day, and we've been having delightful conversations."
You reached the bars, close enough now to see Dazai's expression clearly. You counted on your fingers, your face shifting with each point, performing each emotion like you were telling a story. "He pretends to interrogate me, I pretend to resist, we flirt, it's very productive!"
Dazai simply smiled again, that same enigmatic expression that gave nothing away.
"Mori is going to kill both of you." Chuuya pinched the bridge of his nose, his voice strained with exasperation.
At the mention of the Port Mafia boss, your expression shifted slightly. Still playful, but sharper now, more focused. Your eyes glinted with genuine interest.
"Oh? And what does the big boss think about little old me?"
"Mori-san has decided you're more valuable alive than dead." Dazai answered, still standing in the same spot as earlier, watching you come closer with that analytical gaze.
"How romantic." You pressed a hand to your heart, batting your eyelashes with exaggerated sweetness.
"Don't let it go to your head." Chuuya muttered darkly. "He thinks you can be useful."
"I am useful!" You said brightly, voice going high with enthusiasm. "I'm great at parties. Excellent at reconnaissance. And I can speak seven languages, pick locks, and—"
"We know what you can do." Chuuya interrupted sharply. "The question is whether you're going to cooperate."
You tilted your head, your smile widening into something more dangerous and sultry. "You know, I've never been interrogated by two executives before." Your voice dropped lower, taking on a breathy quality. "Is this going to be a tag-team situation? Because I've got to tell you, that's kind of hot."
Chuuya's face went bright red, the color creeping up from his neck. "I'm going to throw you through a wall!"
"Promises, promises!" You sang out, voice going sing-song and playful.
"Don't threaten her." Dazai said mildly, his tone almost bored. "She likes it."
"I do like it!" You confirmed enthusiastically, bouncing slightly on your toes. "Threat of violence really does it for me. Must be why I keep ending up in these situations." You shrugged.
"She's insane." Chuuya said to Dazai, his voice flat with certainty.
"Probably." Dazai agreed, still watching you with that careful, analytical gaze that seemed to catalogue every micro-expression. "But she's also sitting on intelligence that could expose half our operations. Mori wants her flipped, not killed."
Ah. There it is.
"Flipped?" Your hands came up to curl around the bars of the gate, gripping the cold metal as you leaned forward slightly. "As in, you want me to work for you?"
"The Boss sees potential." Dazai shrugged, as if it was obvious, but still watching your reaction carefully. "Your ability, your skills, your complete lack of loyalty to anyone. It all makes you an ideal asset." Then his voice dropped just enough to be intentional. "If you can be controlled."
"And if I can't be?" You asked, genuinely curious now, your playfulness dimming just slightly.
"Then you become a liability." Chuuya said flatly, his voice hard as steel. "And liabilities get eliminated."
You tapped your chin with one hand, still holding the bars with the other, making them wait as your expression cycled through several emotions. Consideration, calculation, amusement, before finally settling on playful scheming.
"So let me get this straight." Your voice went high with incredulity. "You want me to give up my insurance policy, hand over all my intel, and become a Port Mafia operative? After I spent seven months stealing from you?"
"Yes." Dazai said simply, his voice quiet and certain.
"And in exchange?"
"You get to live." Chuuya said, crossing his arms tighter. "That's the exchange."
You released the bars and slumped back dramatically, arms dropping to your sides in theatrical disappointment. "Boring." You pouted, pushing your lower lip out like a child. "I need better incentives. How about, and hear me out..." You held up your hands like you were pitching an idea, "I get my own office. With a window. And I want Dazai to take me to dinner at least once." You batted your eyelashes at him. "Somewhere nice. He can even interrogate me over dessert if he wants."
"Absolutely not." Chuuya said immediately, his voice sharp.
"Which part?" You asked innocently, tilting your head.
"All of it."
Dazai, however, was studying you with that intense focus, his eyes never leaving your face. "You're considering it."
It seemed he was getting used to your antics, no matter, you were just as used to his observation.
"Maybe." You admitted, dropping some of the theatrics. "Or maybe I'm just enjoying the show. You two have great chemistry. Very entertaining to watch."
"We're not entertaining." Chuuya said through gritted teeth, his jaw visibly clenching. "We're trying to prevent you from being a massive problem."
"Can't it be both?" You asked brightly.
Chuuya looked like he wanted to argue, his mouth opening, but Dazai spoke first.
"Chuuya." His voice carried a commanding weight to it. "Give us a minute."
"Excuse me?" Chuuya turned to look at him sharply.
"You heard me. Wait outside."
"Mori sent me here to—"
"To observe. You've observed." Dazai's voice carried that executive authority now, with no trace of his easy going facade. "Now I need to work."
Chuuya looked like he wanted to argue, his expression darkening, but eventually he just swore under his breath and stalked toward the door. Before he left, he pointed at you, his finger jabbing the air. "If you try anything, I'll crush you into paste."
You blew him a kiss, making an exaggerated smooching sound. "You say the sweetest things!"
The door slammed shut with a metallic bang.
Silence settled over the cell, heavier now that it's just the two of you. The air felt different, charged, like the moment before lightning strikes. The feeling you found yourself chasing since that first day, it filled your stomach with excitement.
Dazai didn't move at first, just stood there at the gate, watching you. Then, just like that first day, he reached for the lock.
The gate opened with a low groan.
He stepped inside your cell, closing it behind him with a soft click, and your heart rate picked up immediately. This close. He was this close again.
"You're running out of time." He said quietly, voice barely above a murmur as he took a few steps toward you. "Mori's patience isn't infinite."
"I know." You said, dropping the playfulness almost entirely now, your voice softer. "That's why I'm actually considering this."
He stopped a few feet away, close enough to be intimate but not quite touching. "Why?"
You met his eyes, really met them, and let him see something real for once. "Because I'm tired of running alone. Because whoever set me up is still out there, and I can't take them on solo." You paused, your voice going even quieter. "And because you're the first person in a long time who's actually interesting."
"Interesting." He repeated, the word almost a breath.
"Interesting." You confirmed, taking a small step closer. The chains on your wrists clinked softly. "Smart enough to keep up. Dark enough to understand. And you don't flinch at the chaos." Your voice dropped to almost a whisper. "Everyone else would try to control me, break me down, make me manageable. You just want to see what I'll do next."
"True." He admitted, and there was something almost vulnerable in the way he said it.
You were close enough now that you could see the subtle patterns in his irises again, the slight irregularity in his breathing that suggested you weren't the only one affected by this proximity.
"So?" You asked, your voice barely audible. "Is that a deal you can make?"
He was quiet for a long moment, studying your face like he was memorizing every detail. Then he reached up slowly, giving you time to pull away if you wanted, and his fingers brushed against your jaw, tilting your face up slightly.
"I'll talk to Mori." He said softly, his thumb tracing along your cheekbone. "Make your case."
Your breath caught. "And then?"
"And then you're mine." He said, voice dropping even lower, intimate and possessive. "My responsibility. My asset. My problem."
"Good." You agreed, the word coming out shaky.
For a moment, neither of you moved. Just stood there, his hand on your face, your eyes locked, the air between you heavy with possibility and danger and something neither of you wanted to name.
Then he stepped back, the moment breaking, his hand falling away.
"I'll be back tomorrow." He said, voice returning to normal, though something in his eyes remained intense.
"You always say that." You managed, trying to find your balance again.
He moved to the gate, opened it, stepped out. "And I always mean it."
Before he closed the door to the cell room, he looked back one more time. "Try not to do anything too interesting while I'm gone."
"No promises." You said, still slightly breathless.
The door closed.
You stood there for a moment, heart racing, mind spinning, your face still tingling where he'd touched you. Then you sank down to sit on the floor, touching your own jaw where his fingers had been.
This was dangerous. The best kind of dangerous.
-
notes: reader is inspired by harley quinn if u can't tell, theres probably grammatic mistakes, english isn't my first language sorry! reblogs and comments are deeply appreciated <3
obs: reader is flirty asf, has an illusion creating ability (barely relevant) and was captured by the port mafia.
The walls of the holding cell beneath the Port Mafia headquarters were concrete and stained with so much blood you could still smell it in the air. A single flickering light illuminated the small room, the atmosphere heavy and dangerous, frightening to anyone else, but you seemed to be exactly where you wanted to be, comfortable enough that the cell could almost be your own bedroom.
It's been seventy-two hours, at least you thought. After a while, counting the minutes got boring too. Time moves differently when you're waiting for someone interesting to show up, and so far, the Port Mafia's hospitality has been disappointingly dull. People came and went, tortured you for a while, and left without answers to any of their questions. It felt good knowing how infuriating of a guest you were.
You're beginning to think this whole "capture and interrogate the infiltrator" thing is just bad planning on their part. If they wanted information, they should've at least sent someone with a sense of humor. And almost as if your thoughts had been heard, the heavy door groans open, metal scraping against concrete.
"If you're here to offer me the mystery meat again, I'm going to have to pass. I have standards." You don't even bother to look up from where you're sitting cross-legged on the floor.
"How disappointing." The voice is young, male, and edged with something that sounds like amusement. "And here I thought you'd eat anything, considering your... situation." Then you look up.
The man is tall, with dark hair and even darker eyes, beautiful in the most dangerous sort of way. A long black coat rests around his shoulders, bandages wrapped around his neck and arms, almost like a porcelain doll someone has already cracked and glued back together. He can't be much older than eighteen or nineteen, even though his face and authoritative posture make him seem older, like whenever he walks into a room, it belongs to him. You know exactly who it is.
Dazai Osamu. Port Mafia Executive, the youngest in their history. Known for his strategic brilliance, his ability to nullify other abilities on contact, and, most interestingly, his creative approach to interrogation.
"Well, hello, handsome. They finally sent someone worth looking at." You flash him your brightest smile.
"You're awfully cheerful for someone in your position." His voice is still smooth and oh so enticing. "The begging for mercy usually starts much earlier."
"Disappointed?" You counter, voice just as amused, unfolding yourself from the floor in one fluid motion. The chains on your wrists clink softly.
"On the contrary." His voice drops even lower, something flickering in his expression.
He approaches your cell with a calm, confident manner, footsteps echoing through the almost empty room, only stopping when he reaches the gate, resting his hands on the bars. You take a step closer, testing the length of your restraints, your stance far too relaxed for a prisoner.
"So what's the deal, pretty boy? You here to torture me? Threaten me? Make me spill all my deep, dark secrets?" You tease confidently, a smile still present on your face.
"Would any of that work?"
"Probably not." You answer truthfully. "But you could always try." Your voice is sweet, your eyes flickering with interest.
The corner of his mouth twitches, not quite a smile, but close.
"You infiltrated the Port Mafia under the alias 'Akari Matsumoto,' posed as a secretary in our intelligence division for seven months, and successfully transmitted classified information to the Takagi-gumi for approximately six of those months before we caught you." He declares.
You simply shrug with your chained hands. "In my defense, your security was terrible. I mean, really. A secretary with access to executive meeting notes? That's just asking for trouble."
"We've since revised our protocols." He says dryly.
"Happy to be of service. You're welcome."
He slowly opens the gate and steps inside the cell, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. You watch him carefully. You're chained, and you could still try to kill him if you wanted to, but why ruin the fun?
He closes the gate behind him and starts to circle you slowly. You turn with him, keeping eye contact. There's something predatory in the way he moves, and that just makes you even more interested.
"The Takagi-gumi claims they don't know who you are," Dazai continues in a conversational tone. "They received information from an anonymous source, paid into a dummy account, untraceable. Which means either they're lying, which is unlikely, we were very thorough, or you were playing both sides."
"Maybe I just like chaos." You suggest, grinning. "Ever think of that?"
"Constantly." He stops directly in front of you, close enough that you can see the subtle patterns in his irises, the way his bandages are slightly frayed at the edges. "Your ability allows you to create illusions, very useful for infiltration. Less useful now that you're in a cell specifically designed to suppress ability users."
"You did your research." You lean your body slowly in his direction. "Gold star for you." You breathe.
"The question..." He continues, ignoring your commentary. "Is why you did it. Money? Revenge?" He leans in slightly, voice lowering. "Boredom?"
You're fully in his personal space by now, but he doesn't seem bothered at all.
"What if you're right?"
He breathes slowly, inclining his head to the side in interest.
"Then I'd say we have something in common."
The air between you feels charged and dangerous, and where most people would've stepped back, you both seem to gravitate toward it even more.
"You're supposed to torture me." You point out, not moving back. "Make me scream, break me down, all that fun stuff. Isn't that your whole thing?" Your voice is almost a whisper now, but it still has that edge that intrigues him more and more.
"It could be." He acknowledges. "But you're much more interesting like this. All that pain would just make you boring." His eyes search yours. "You'd probably just laugh anyway."
"Oh, I like you." You breathe, delighted.
"How unfortunate." He murmurs, but he's almost smiling now. "I was hoping you'd have some self-preservation instincts."
"Self-preservation is for people who want to live forever." You answer without missing a beat.
After a few seconds, he straightens up, putting a professional distance between you again.
"Here's what's going to happen." He declares, his tone turning serious. "You're going to tell me everything you know about the information you leaked, who else you've been in contact with, and what your endgame was."
You watch him open the gate with calm precision, stepping out and closing it again.
"And if I don't?"
"Then we'll keep having these conversations until you do." He heads toward the door, then pauses, looking back over his shoulder. "Fair warning, I'm very patient. And I'm starting to find you entertaining, which means I have no incentive to speed this process along."
You laugh, bright and genuine.
"Is that supposed to be a threat?" You say, and he actually smiles at that, although you can't tell how real it is. "I haven't decided if I like you enough to talk yet. Gotta keep the mystery alive, you know? Relationships are built on tension."
"We don't have a relationship." He points out.
"Not with that attitude, we don't."
For a moment, Dazai just looks at you, this insane, chained infiltrator who's flirting with her captor like it's a game. And maybe it is.
"Same time tomorrow?" He asks, and there's something almost playful in his tone.
"Looking forward to it."
The door closes behind him, and you're alone again with the rust and the flickering light. But now you're smiling, really smiling, because this just got interesting.
re reading this and realizing i did not think abt doing a part two AT ALL so it might take a while longer or i might write all of it one go instead of going to sleep
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