Some More Drawings Of The Sea Au

big fan of oblivious chuuya flirting without realising he's flirting

dazai, all flirty: i'm going to the agency! don't forget our date tonight ~

chuuya, mopping the floor with a straight face: yeah, see ya. can't wait to have you all pretty and dressed up for me

dazai, face red:

chuuya: what ???

dazai, head in hands: how do you just flirt so effortlessly with that serious look on your face?? while cleaning the kitchen???

chuuya: flirt? i'm not flirting with you THAT'S GROSS

Oneshot -Perhaps in another life. In another time

Fandom: BSD -Bungo Stray Dogs

Ship: Dazai x Reader

TW: mental health problems, suicide, struggling reader, struggling dazai, character death, reader death, angst, no comfort

A/N: I saw this post and felt compelled to write because mood, I honestly feel the same, so uh, this is for you, @r3stingangel

You had met Dazai at a quant cafe below where he worked. You had found your gaze drawn to him. Something about him stood out.

Familiar.

He had caught you staring at him, but he didn't seem mad. He put on a flirtatious mask and walked over to you confronting you about staring. When he drew closer and looked into your eyes, something changed, his mask cracking.

Like he had realized the same thing you had.

Familiarity.

You began visiting that quant cafe more often, letting yourself relax in the presence of someone who understood you.

You came to learn more about each other with each visit, compelling you to continue going. It let you escape from reality for a little while.

The familiarity turned out to be a shared feeling of hopelessness. A shared feeling of purposelessness. Of inadequacy.

Nihilism.

It didn't take a genius to figure out what was under the bandages covering his neck and arms, perhaps even other parts of his body as well. And while you weren't covered in any bandages, you figured he knew you had your own personal scars as well.

Perhaps the biggest difference between you two was his flawless ability to hide behind well-crafted masks. It was something you faintly recall being capable of doing as a child, but now you were simply too exhausted to bother hiding your apathetic nature.

Dazai didn't seem to mind.

After some time of getting to know each other, he invited you to join him at a bar. A place he said held many memories of a time long gone. A time in which he was happy, even if fleeting.

He told you of his two friends, one turned traitor, the other dead.

You remember that night.

Odasaku was the man's name. He took you to his grave that night.

Though no tears were shed you could feel the melancholy surrounding him like an intoxicating aura. Coiling around the two of you like the fog did, seeping into your skin, your bones.

Currently, you were returning his gesture, bringing him to a place that held your happiest memories.

Fleeting as they were.

Before everything in your already difficult life went to absolute shit.

Bills were scattered on your kitchen table, and copies of a resume were among them.

And yet you were currently leading Dazai to a bridge. A beautiful river surrounded on both sides by flowers of all kinds.

It had been your happy place away from your home life where you hung out with your only friend.

You couldn't remember his name. Faint memories of hair so blonde the sun created a halo on his hair. A smile, innocent and youthful. An angel running through flowers in the middle of spring.

Red. Everywhere.

The platinum blonde hair was stained with a garish color.

A warm breeze, telling of the nearing summer shook you from your thoughts as you and Dazai made it to the bridge.

Even at night was it beautiful.

You looked at the man next to you.

He was no angel, far from it.

But perhaps that was why you got along, for you were no angel yourself.

Your hands would forever be stained in the red that seeped through platinum locks of hair.

"It's beautiful." He spoke softly as if to not disturb the calmness of their surroundings.

You smiled looking from Dazai down to the water, to the moon reflecting across in streaks of white. "It is, isn't it?"

Words were meaningless.

Speaking for the sake of speaking.

"My dear belladonna." His sentence left unfinished.

Belladonna's were a beautiful flower.

Poisonous.

"Would you be willing to end our suffering with me, love?" He finished. Words unneeded.

Lovers.

Something you were not.

Perhaps in another life. In another time.

You took his hand.

Moving to sit on the railing of the bridge with him, you looked up at the moon as it stared down, always watching.

You looked at where your hand was intertwined with his then up at his face.

Soft brown curls framed his face in an almost endearing way. Eyes a beautiful brownish burgundy color.

You smiled, genuinely.

He looked at you.

His lips pulled into a genuine smile. He looked tired.

Perhaps you looked the same.

You both closed what little space was left between you.

The kiss was soft. It would've been sweet if not laced with your shared melancholy.

Without breaking the kiss you both slipped off the railing.

Baby dazai the national treasure that you are... +some bonus skk shenanigans🫡 these are all a few weeks old

Recent re-observations of SB Chuuya's design have spawned the idea of Chuuya being farsighted and his glasses in Storm Bringer actually being prescriptions glasses so he can read all his documents. Have the scenario that @whathorselegs came up with from this what-if sdjfhskdjfh

sweet nothings

I have a new word I hate now

fickle, is an okay word. Means to change often in such things as opinion or loyalties

fickle is an okay adjective, however, I think its comparative adjective is horrendous

fickler

like- what?- why?

I hate it

fickler, ugh, disgusting

I don't know how to explain why I hate it, I just do

Tamagotchi! Now biblically accurate

WISC -Wolf In Sheep's Clothing -Story

-Synopsis -Prolog

Munch that orca, Chuuya