Wip And Lazy To Finish It

... they don't really know they exist, no

And if you can forgive, love will truly live

Fandom: BSD -Bungo Stray Dogs

Ship: Dazai x Reader

Prompt: “'Sorry for showing up like this.’ You sighed, your shoulders relaxing in silent defeat. ‘Come in.’” 

TW: mentions of death (Oda), mentioned bad home life though not explicit

!Gender of reader is not specified!

A/N: I do plan on making a 2nd part where the reader and Dazai talk things out and get in a relationship, not sure when I'll finish it though

The word count for chapter 1 is roughly 2k

Also, this will be posted on my ao3, link on my master list

You had known Dazai for a long time, perhaps not as long as Chuuya has, but that’s beside the point.  

While you had grown up around shady people and been dealing with said shady people’s shady shit pretty much your whole life, courtesy of your shitty, shady parents, you hadn’t actually joined the Port Mafia until you were 17. Two years older than Dazai and Chuuya, but joined the Mafia around roughly the same time Chuuya had.  

With your ability, it didn’t take long for you to begin to climb the ranks. It wasn’t like you were trying to specifically reach the rank of executive, but gradually, you crept closer.  

About a year and a half after you had joined you had made a name for yourself, and that was also about the time you had met Dazai and Chuuya for the first time during a bigger mission.  

You had somehow managed to become something like friends with them on that mission and had become a somewhat regularity to be paired with them on large missions. You were tough enough to handle both their eccentric personalities as well as teasing enough to get along with Dazai and passionate enough to friend Chuuya.  

It was a weird trio you had formed, often being the one to defuse them when they began to bicker. And of course, apologizing when they disturbed the everyday citizens with their fighting when the three of you had time off to just be kids.  

Over time, you had begun to grow closer and fonder of Dazai, being able to relate to him more often than one probably should, but whatever. Sometimes, the two of you would find each other silently sitting at the docks staring off into nothingness, neither of you would talk, just simply get lost in your endless thoughts while enjoying the presence of someone who was similar enough to understand you.   

On one such occasion Dazai had broken the endless silence of the waves below your feet; inviting you to join him to meet with his bar friends. That was when you met Ango and Oda. They were pleasant company and you had found yourself growing attached to them just like you knew Dazai was, though he would’ve probably denied it at the time.  

So, when Dazai disappeared one night with no traces, followed by learning of Oda’s death. You knew.  

That didn’t make it hurt any less of course. Especially with how his sudden departure shed light on your feelings for him.  

While Chuuya presented himself to be finally rid of his presence, you both knew that Dazai leaving had hurt both of you. You had chosen to tell Chuuya Dazai’s reasons for leaving, not wanting the anger of Dazai’s leaving to grow into hatred, besides, Chuuya would’ve pieced it together eventually.  

And like that. Everything continued. The Port Mafia didn’t mourn over its losses. Executive duties called.  

So, when after 4 years of no contact, to say you were surprised at his being in the ADA would be an understatement.   

You hadn’t had the chance to see him yet like Chuuya had but you were there to witness Chuuya’s drunken midnight rant after having invited you over.  

“Oh, trust me, he’s as shitty a mackerel as he always has been. He hasn’t changed a bit.” Chuuya slurred off, grumbling under his breath as he laid his head down on the counter.   

You were both sitting at the kitchen island, a bottle of some expensive wine brand, open and mostly empty now, was on the counter between you.   

You sat with your body facing Chuuya, your head resting in your palm, elbow against the counter.   

“Mhm. He hasn’t changed a bit huh?” You spoke more for the simple sake of speaking, entertaining the drunk man before you. You didn’t need clarification of something you already knew.  

Dazai had always been capable of doing good. He just didn’t care between doing good or bad, it made no difference to him. He’s only working for the light because it’s what Oda wanted. Dazai not changing wasn’t a surprise. So Chuuya’s following words were a little less than expected.  

“Actually…” He paused, slurring off again before clarifying his words, his head remained poised on the counter. “He looked… brighter?” He seemed to question his own words before continuing. “Brighter and healthier. He seemed…” Chuuya trailed off again but not due to his drunken state. He stopped himself from finishing his train of thought.  

“Happier?” You finished for him.  

He didn’t respond.  

After that, you had practically forgotten about Dazai now being in the ADA, too busy with missions and the seemingly never-ending, growing stack of paperwork.  

That was until tonight.   

It had been a grueling past few days, rainy weather, long meetings, missions to assign, missions to report and file, and of course your endless stack of shitty paperwork that had somehow found itself in your home office, taking up even more of your own time which was already short considering your importance to the Mafia.  

After you got home, sometime around the dead-ass crack of dawn, you had only grabbed a cup of coffee, one of the larger mugs you owned, before heading to your office for more work.  

Sometime, while in the middle of reviewing some report, you had fallen asleep, lulled by the endless pitter-patter of rain hitting the window in your office.   

You had slept most of the day away and upon waking, it had already grown dark outside, probably around 9 or 10 at night now, and you were thankful to whatever divine being had granted you a day off today because you would have been so fucking late. You chose to willfully ignore that Mori-san was technically the one who made your schedule. He was a good boss, competent in his decisions, but he was no divine being.  

Stretching in your chair, you could feel the soreness of your muscles from the previous day of work. There was a tightness in your back, worse than it normally was, courtesy of sleeping in your chair.  

A knock sounded on your door, soft when it made its way to your ears but still clear as it cut through the silence of the penthouse you called home.  

You dragged your body to your door, still completely dressed head-to-toe in your typical Mafia outfit with the addition of a few wrinkles, your shoes clacking noisily on the floor.  

“Coming!” You called out before the person waiting behind your door could think to knock again.  

Reaching your door, you work through your security system before opening your door, behind, a man you hadn’t seen for 4 years.  

Your tiredness slipped away from your body as you gasped. Your body now on alert as you stared at him.   

He was dressed in, presumedly, his ADA outfit, light in color. His bandages still covered his neck, probably the rest of his body, but the ones that used to cover his eye were gone. He had clearly gained weight since you had last seen him, though he still lacked a significant amount of meat on his bones someone his age and height should have.  

Chuuya was right, he looked happier. No. That was wrong. He didn’t look happy. He looked… sad? Guilty?  

They weren’t emotions you were familiar with seeing on him. Sure, you had seen both emotions on people in the Mafia during interrogations… but on Dazai? No. He hardly ever even faked them.  

He did look brighter though. Healthier.  

He also looked- no was drenched. His clothes were darkened by the rainwater still pouring outside. Dripping water on the carpeted floor. You could see a few dark spots on the floor down the hall, marking his trail.  

He beat you to a response.  

“Sorry for showing up like this.”   

You sighed, your shoulders relaxing in silent defeat. “Come in.”  

You stepped to the side, letting him in.  

You closed the door behind him as he observed the expensive and modern decorations. It lacked any personality, at least to an untrained eye. If one looked closer, you could make out a knick-knack here or there that didn’t quite fit the rest of the rather drab decorations.  

It lacked vulnerability.  

Your bedroom, though, where only you went into, your interests bled out.  

“I assume your room has more personality than this, no?” Dazai’s tone was off. A half-hearted attempt to lighten the mood.  

“Vulnerability isn’t something Mafia Executives have the luxury to indulge in often.”  

He didn’t respond.  

“You can hang your coat on the rack.” You spoke, staring at his back as he walked into your home. “And take your shoes off.”  

You turned down the hall towards your room, leaving Dazai to settle.  

As you walked you called out to Dazai, not facing him. “I should have some clothes that fit you.” Then as an afterthought, “I want you to take a shower.”  

When you walked back into the living room with some clothes, Dazai had actually listened, his coat was hung up and his shoes were in the genkan, he had also taken off his socks, probably soaked after being out in the rain.   

You walked up to him, handing him the clothes. “Go take a shower. There should be some rolls of bandages in there, though I’m not sure how many I have left.”  

He took the clothes from you silently, then: “Thank you.”  

You looked him in the eyes, trying to discern how much you didn’t know about him anymore. How much you needed to learn about him.  

“Have you eaten?” You spoke calmly, trying to ignore the thoughts and feelings swirling inside you without end.  

“I-…” He hesitated. “No. I haven’t.”  

Without another word, you left him to go take a shower. It was probably a good idea to make something to eat anyway, considering you were currently running off of a single cup of coffee.  

You decided to not bother to cook and instead pulled out two packets of ramen in part because you were still tired as fuck, and you didn’t know if Dazai’s eating habits had changed or not.   

It was better to settle for something simple that he might eat if you were lucky.  

It didn’t take long for the ramen to finish heating up and for you to place it in two bowls so you placed them on the table. You were about to go check on Dazai when he turned the corner into the living room.  

Something was off, he had changed into the clothes you got for him, and his hair was still wet, dripping water off of his soft curls. He seemed… hesitant -nervous? More so than he had been before taking a shower.  

“I made ramen.” You spoke, realizing you had been looking for a bit too long. You gestured to the table with the two bowls full of still steaming ramen.  

“Thank you…” His voice was quiet, low. He clearly wasn’t bothering to hide his hesitancy, or perhaps he was just failing miserably in trying.   

You sat down at one end of the table and busied yourself with eating. You watched him shift over to the seat adjacent to you. 

Your eyes widened in upon noticing. “You’re not wearing your bandages?”  

He shifted in his seat, avoiding your gaze.  

“The hoodie and shorts are soft…”   

The ‘and I trust you’ went unsaid but understood.

Your face softened around the edges.

“Eat.”  

He responded with a nod before picking up his chopsticks.  

Soon enough you had finished your food, and though Dazai only ate half, it was more than you were expecting him to eat. You placed your dishes in the sink to deal with another time before returning to the table, though you remained standing. Dazai had yet to get up.  

“Do you want to watch something? I have a day off so…” You trailed off awkwardly.  

He looked up but he didn’t quite meet your eyes.   

“Sure.”  

The only light currently on was the blue light emitted from the television that was playing some show you were hardly paying any more attention to. After a few episodes, you had shifted from sitting awkwardly on opposite sides of the couch to where Dazai was now practically lying on top of you. He was lying his head on your chest with his face turned towards the screen, invested in whatever show it was that was playing. You had let him pick. You were far more interested in watching as he relaxed into you as you ran your fingers through his now, mostly dry, curls.  

“Tired?” Your voice no more than a whisper.  

“No…” He responded; a hint of a tired whine interlaced in it. A tone his voice always had when he was tired just didn’t want to sleep in lieu of whatever he was currently doing, which at the moment was watching a show while cuddling with someone he hadn’t seen in 4 years.  

“Sure~.” You teased as your nails gently scratched at his scalp.  

He grumbled something softly into your chest.  

You knew how bad, how dangerous your next thought was. It could end badly for both of you, but you couldn’t help when the words slipped from your tongue.   

“Why don’t we go to bed hm?”   

He responded with an unintelligible whine, pressing his face further into your chest, as he wrapped his lanky arms around your back.  

You sighed softly but even if he had clearly put on more weight, he still wouldn’t be able to put up much of a fight against you physically speaking. You gathered what remaining strength you had in you as you wrapped your hands around his waist before shifting to a sitting position. Then you secured your arms under him to lift him up in your arms.  

“Come on, you lanky beanpole. Time for bed.”  

The talk could wait for tomorrow, after all, he couldn’t leave with his clothes still in the washer.

PT 2

Chat/Ask Request Info

No NSFW

No Politics (World or other)

Don't ask for my name or age

I don't mind cursing but no slurs

Be respectful

-I love talking about my hyper fixation (BSD) and my own book (Wolf In Sheep's Clothing)

No shot I pulled three SSRs in one 11 pull followed by two of the new Dazai in a few 11 pulls later

I feel like a lot of people misunderstand the relationship between Verlaine and Chuuya. There's a lot of argument over whether they're biologically brothers or not. That's not the point. The point is how they came into the world and their unnatural birth. Or, at least, how Verlaine perceives it. He sees both him and Chuuya as artificial beings that will never be human no matter how hard they may try, so they may as well stop trying to fit in with these disgusting humans and just find solace in each other. He calls Chuuya his brother because he feels like he's the only one who can truly understand what he's going through. Their "brothership" stems from their shared existence as artificial beings. This is why Chuuya rejects it so violently at first. He doesn't want to be anything like the man who slaughtered his friends. He wants to be human.

Then, throughout the book, Chuuya comes to accept that however he came into this world, naturally or otherwise, he chooses to be human, and that's what it's important. His actions are what make him human. Verlaine learns this, too, but it's already far too late. He, too, had the chance to be human, but he was too focused on the possibility of being inhuman instead of actually trying to be a good person or to accept the care and support of his friend, Rimbaud, and now, he's gone. That is the tragedy of his story. He always had the opportunity to be human, but he threw it away for the sake of anger and hatred.

Only when they have both learned this lesson that Chuuya accepts Verlaine as his brother. Not because they're biologically related or anything, but because they do have this shared experience with one another, and he's here for him. Not because he forgives him for what he did. But because he has an opportunity to be better.

I love stormbringer. It's so good. Anyone reading this who hasn't read it, READ IT!! IF YOU LIKE CHUUYA AT ALL, YOU NEED TO READ THIS BOOK! IT'S SO IMPORTANT TO HIS CHARACTER!

I smiled like an idiot during my class when I saw this notification come through

Lovely, again 10/10

Another idea, 15!Chuuya who just joined the Port Mafia having his first crush on reader

I can imagine him going to Kouyou to ask for advice 🤭

Like, reader likes him back but still lets him stumble over his words cause it's cute

I feel like I'm not as good at writing Chuuya so I enjoy reading fics for him and you're good at writing him

Man i love your ideas sm and thanks for the compliment!

15!Chuuya x reader

“Beneath the Surface”

Chuuya Nakahara wasn’t new to fights. He wasn’t new to blood, danger, or the haunting, suffocating feeling of Corruption simmering beneath his skin, a constant reminder of the power he could barely control. But this? This was new. This twisting in his chest, this irritation crawling under his skin every time he looked at you. The way his pulse quickened, how his words fumbled out in a mess when you were near.

He had never felt this powerless before.

And the worst part? You seemed to enjoy it.

“Oi, Chuuya, you zoning out or what?” your voice cut through his thoughts like a blade, the familiar teasing lilt making his eye twitch.

The two of you were standing outside, waiting for orders after a routine mission. His heart was still thudding hard from the adrenaline, but the moment you leaned against the wall next to him, all nonchalant and relaxed, his throat went dry. You flashed him that infuriating grin, the one that sent his mind spinning for reasons he didn’t want to admit.

“Zoning out? I ain’t—” Chuuya cleared his throat, fighting to keep his voice steady, “I’m not zoning out. Maybe you’re the one who can’t stay focused.”

You chuckled softly, a knowing gleam in your eyes. “Is that so?”

Chuuya hated how easily you could make him feel small, like you saw right through him — like you knew what he was feeling before he could even make sense of it. And the worst part? You always seemed to enjoy teasing him, watching him stumble over his words or get flustered.

He should’ve been able to handle it. He was Chuuya Nakahara, damn it — future executive of the Port Mafia. But around you, he felt like he was all fists and rage, without the cool confidence he usually carried.

You shrugged casually, pushing yourself off the wall and stepping a little closer to him. “You sure? You’ve been pretty distracted lately. Almost like something’s on your mind.” There was that tone again, the one that hinted you knew. And damn it, you probably did.

He gritted his teeth, trying to focus on anything else. “There’s nothin’ on my mind, alright? You’re imagining things.”

But even he knew that wasn’t true.

・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・

The crush had started small, barely noticeable at first. You were one of the few who treated him like he was your equal, despite him being new to the Mafia. You were sharp, quick with your words, and had a mind that could cut through even the thickest of tensions. Chuuya respected that. But at some point, the respect shifted, and he found himself watching you in ways he hadn’t before.

It was the way you laughed, soft but with an edge that always left him wondering what you were thinking. The way your smile, so full of mischief, made something twist uncomfortably in his chest. And the way you always seemed too calm — as if you never took anything seriously, and yet still managed to outsmart everyone around you.

One time, after a sparring match where he’d barely managed to keep his cool, you leaned over, offering him a hand with a smirk. “Good effort, Nakahara.”

His blood boiled at the patronizing tone. “Tch. I don’t need your pity.”

But your teasing grin never faltered. “Relax, Chuuya. You’ll get better.”

Better? The audacity. But his heart still raced from the lightness in your voice, from the way you spoke his name like it was some private joke only you understood.

・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・

Days passed, and the frustration gnawed at him. It wasn’t just your teasing that got to him anymore; it was everything about you. Your smirk, your laugh, the way you looked at him like he was both amusing and… something more. It was unbearable.

Chuuya prided himself on not needing help. But with you? He didn’t know what to do. How could he, when every time he tried to talk to you seriously, he ended up stumbling over his words like some awkward kid?

And so, in desperation — and no small amount of embarrassment — Chuuya found himself standing in front of Kouyou’s quarters, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. The moonlight cast a soft glow over the hallway, and the sounds of the night echoed faintly in the distance.

Kouyou opened the door, raising a delicate eyebrow at the sight of him. “Chuuya. It’s late. What brings you here?”

Chuuya swallowed his pride, shifting awkwardly on his feet. “I, uh… I need some advice.”

Kouyou’s lips curved into a knowing smile. “Ah. I see.” She stepped aside, allowing him into the room. “Have a seat. This seems… personal.”

He scowled, feeling his face flush. “It’s not personal,” he lied. “It’s just—there’s someone, okay? Someone in the Mafia who keeps messing with me, and I can’t… I can’t stop thinking about them.”

Kouyou folded her hands in her lap, regarding him with her usual calm gaze. “Messing with you, how?”

“They’re always teasing me,” Chuuya muttered, staring down at the floor, “and it’s like they know what I’m thinking before I even say it. It pisses me off.”

Kouyou chuckled softly. “And yet, you find yourself drawn to them, don’t you?”

Chuuya clenched his fists, frustrated. “Yeah, but it’s… different. I don’t get it. Why can’t I just talk to them like a normal person?”

Kouyou’s smile was gentle, almost amused. “You’ve never been one for subtlety, Chuuya. But from what you’ve described, it sounds like this person enjoys your company. Have you considered that their teasing might be… affectionate?”

Chuuya blinked, staring at her in disbelief. “Affectionate? You’re kidding, right? They’re always messing with me.”

Kouyou laughed softly, a sound that both soothed and irritated him. “Some people express their feelings through playfulness, especially when they know it affects the other person. It sounds to me like they enjoy seeing your reactions. And judging by how flustered you are, it’s working.”

Chuuya flushed a deeper red, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “So what the hell am I supposed to do? I can’t just… I dunno, keep letting them mess with me.”

Kouyou’s expression softened. “Perhaps you should stop focusing on how to ‘win’ against them and instead consider how you truly feel. Do you want them to stop? Or is there something more?”

Chuuya went silent, Kouyou’s words echoing in his mind. Something more? He’d never considered it like that before. But maybe… maybe there was something more. And maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t so bad after all.

・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・

Chuuya clenched his fists, struggling to steady his breath. The weight of Kouyou's advice pressed heavy on his chest. Now was the moment—he’d either crumble or finally get the words out.

“I-I’m not here to fight,” he muttered, his voice betraying him with a slight stutter. He winced internally at his own nerves.

You raised an eyebrow, your smirk deepening with that ever-present teasing glint in your eyes. “Oh? That’s a surprise. So what’s on your mind, Chuuya?”

His throat felt tight, but he pressed on, stepping closer, his heart thundering against his ribs. “You.” His voice cracked slightly, and he quickly clenched his jaw to steady himself. “Y-You’re always on my mind, dammit.”

The smirk on your lips softened, but the amusement never fully disappeared. You tilted your head, a playful flicker in your gaze. “Is that so? How bold of you.”

Chuuya’s cheeks flushed, his frustration mixing with embarrassment. Why was this so difficult? He was a Port Mafia member, strong, unshakable, and here he was fumbling over his words like an idiot. He took another step forward, his fists clenched tight by his sides.

“Yeah, i-it’s true. And I… I’m tired of you messing with me like I’m some joke,” he blurted out, his voice sharper than intended but laced with a vulnerability he couldn’t hide.

For a split second, your eyes widened, but then a soft, genuine laugh bubbled from your throat—completely different from the usual sarcastic tones you threw his way. “Chuuya, I wasn’t messing with you.”

His breath caught. You weren’t? All this time? He opened his mouth to say something, anything, but words failed him.

You slid off the railing, closing the distance between the two of you. “I was just waiting for you to figure it out,” you murmured, voice softer now, your teasing edge momentarily fading.

Chuuya’s breath hitched, his chest tightening as your words lingered in the air between you. His heart pounded in his ears, drowning out the world around him. He had been expecting rejection, or another round of teasing—but this? This left him speechless.

You took another step forward, and suddenly, you were closer than he’d ever imagined. Chuuya could feel the warmth radiating from you, and he was hyper-aware of every inch between you, vanishing rapidly.

He swallowed hard, but no words came. His mind raced, torn between disbelief and the undeniable pull he felt towards you. “I—" he started, but before he could find his voice, your hand gently cupped his cheek.

Without giving him a chance to overthink, you leaned in, your lips brushing softly against his. The kiss was tentative at first, testing, but when you felt Chuuya’s hesitant but eager response, it deepened.

His hands, which had been hanging awkwardly at his sides, found their way to your waist, pulling you closer as the world seemed to fade away. Every thought, every worry, melted under the warmth of the kiss. Chuuya’s pulse raced, but this time it wasn’t from nerves—it was from the overwhelming sensation of finally having what he hadn’t even realized he’d been chasing for so long.

When you finally pulled back, the teasing smirk returned to your lips, but there was a softness in your eyes that made Chuuya’s chest tighten for a different reason now.

“So…” you whispered, voice just above a breath, “was that clear enough for you?”

Chuuya, still dazed, blinked, his usual bravado returning just a little. He huffed softly, trying and failing to suppress a small smile. “Y-Yeah… clear enough.”

For once, there were no words to stumble over, no need to fight back. Everything between you two was finally starting to fall into place.

Omg this took FOREVER

BTW i see these posts all the time like "ohhh i dont know what to comment on fics.." and every response is "keysmashes! or hearts!! anything works :3" and thats GREAT!! thats helpful!!

but: consider. if u genuinely like analyzing writing.. do u know ur just allowed to go through and quote your favorite parts and ramble abt what they mean to u and the author will LOSE IT WITH HYPE?

genuinely. i felt SO WEIRD the first time i did it.. but like. holy shit authors love it. its crack for authors. the first time i did it, it was on a fic that hadnt updated in half a year, give or take, and the author made 3 updates that month BECAUSE OF MY COMMENT.

LIKE. as an author every comment is INCREDIBLE!!! but also, dont feel like your comment has to be short or otherwise ur invasive or smth!! authors ADORE long comments more than ANYTHING.

Someone is falling in love [COMMISSIONS ARE NOW OPEN]