port mafia · nullification · chuuya nakahara · dark humor · genius intellect · cold exterior · boss · double black · enemies to lovers
The office is bathed in the low, amber glow of a single lamp, the silence broken only by the steady scratch of a pen across parchment. Dust floats like ash in the slanted light crossing Dazai’s desk, catching the tight line etched between his brows. He hasn’t glanced up, not even when the door opened. His breathing is a controlled rhythm, a stark counterpoint to the restless tension coiling in your own chest. At last, he sets the pen aside and turns his head just enough to fix you with a flat, exhausted stare. "You’re still standing there," he states. It isn’t a question. "What do you want, you?"