Bsd X Reader - Blog Posts

need to yap to someone abt this dostoevsky fic idea in my head So Bad i'm so mentally ill

reading up again on russian history (i've never stepped foot there in my life), early 1900s fashion and musicians JUST to write this reincarnation fyodor dostoevsky fic knowing my entrance exams are coming

how brainrotted can a girl get

i need to start sleeping more

fixed a few formatting issues on this one

Hello! May I request some pre-relationship/crush headcanons with Kunikida, Atsushi and (ADA) Dazai (all separate) with a reader from the port mafia? How would they realise they are in love? How would they handle it etc etc. I love love love crush headcanons with all my heart<33

heart to heart — crush hcs!!

author's note: i'm an idiot who wrote this fic almost exclusively in hours 2-4 am. my eyes are in pure suffering. an unhealthy amount of fiona apple and unreleased lana del rey songs went into writing this. idk how to write headcannons so this ended up kind of like a fic with bullet points lmao 

— KUNIKIDA

• Working with the Port Mafia is something he is (unfortunately) no longer a stranger to. Still, an extended mission was a bit too risky for his tastes. But everyone said that he was fine, so he should be, right? If only he knew what novel sort of trouble he would face once he took the job.

• For the mission, he was partnered with you. You must've been of a different unit, because he is sure he has never seen you in person before. Except for being mentioned in passing by Dazai in his inane conversations, there was little he knew of you.

• At first, he was skeptical. Not sure whether he could truly trust a person with your affiliations to not double cross him in some way. However, you proved yourself capable soon enough. You worked with decisive efficiency, and even with his rather ridiculously timed schedules, you seemed to have no trouble keeping up with him.

• Needless to say, you two got to know each other fairly well over the course of a month. By now, you were acquainted atleast a little of his likes and dislikes. The late night sessions to plan out the routes and inspect the case files over and over; your friendship sprawls over late cups of coffee, the impatient scratching of pen on paper, and the files scattered on the table while you both worked.

• This was still professional; he'd reason with himself. So what if he's had a few drinks with you once in a while? So what if you've been spending a little too much time at his home lately?

• Dazai’s endless teasing on the matter did not help. At all. As he grows more and more defensive, he wonders if he has grown a little too attached to his new partner.

• Kunikida isn't an idiot. Even he can see how much you've made an impression on his life. He simply isn't ready to admit that this could possibly be romantic in nature. After all, you fit none of the ideals he's decided for his supposed future partner. In some form of pointed irony, the pages of the notebook that carry said ideals are also filled with the random, little things he's noticed you need; chapstick, switchblades, pens— all for them to be ready when you inevitably reach for them.

• Nor can he help stealing a littlewhen said chapstick swipes so elegantly along your lips.

• Absolute gentleman, with or without a crush. Opens the car door for you on the other side, makes sure you have your seatbelt on, makes sure to watch your back while you both do field work. It’s just a nice thing to do, he reasons, but feels your touch like it was branded into his skin where your hand accidentally brushed on his elbow.

• The weeks that follow after after drawn out, confusing. As time goes on, he cannot help but read into your every action, taking note of all the little details that outline you as a person; from your tastes to little quirks. While you seem blissfully unconcerned, he could not help but feel the weight of the tension between your conversations. It is not these emotions that scare him, but their intensity. His hands tremble as they once again bandage your wounds from the day’s work, mouth dry as he looks at the gashes you think nothing of—and he wonders since when he started caring so much.

• Kunikida may be a man of his ideals, but he can be honest with himself when he needs to be. And whether he says it aloud or not, he’s already known the effect you have on him. He's known it for a long time.

• When he inevitably confesses to you, there is nothing special about it. It's another evening at his house discussing work, and when you both take a break from investigation, he brings it up to you. He isn't expecting the sentiment to be reciprocated. In fact, he is not sure he even wants that to happen. He says it to be honest. With himself and with you. You deserve to know. And perhaps if he said it out loud, the feelings would subside, even for a little while; with a definite answer, he’d have a reason to put out the growing ember.

• Nothing could've prepared him for the shock of learning that this troublesome feeling could possibly be mutual. And nothing could have prepared him for the coy kiss on his reddened cheek after.

— ATSUSHI

• someone help this poor guy

• no, he's really hopeless with it, but let me explain

• When he was asked to collaborate with the Port Mafia once more, he expected to be paired with Akutagawa once more. You were a pleasant change of pace. At first, he was only met with your suspicion; something that drove an initial rift between the two of you. You weren't sure whether you could truly trust this weretiger you've heard so much about to hold up his end of the deal, and neither could he rely on this complete stranger who regards him so frigidly. However, you both were indebted to your respective organisations—it had to be worked out.

• Your staunch independence, and the confident countenance that carried with it an understated superiority, no doubt the effect of years of experience; at first it irked him. It made him taste a little of the helplessness that trailed him like a shadow all those years ago. He attempted to chase away the feeling; biting back at your subtle digs at his skill and experience, trying to keep up with you as best as he could. You matched each other surprisingly well when you both were at your most competitive; the combination of your finesse and his strength was lethal in the most satisfying of ways.

• Over the weeks, you both get to know each other a little better. The small talks on the way to station were something that he was, despite knowing better, looking forward to. He always seemed more affected by your banter than you were by any retort he could possibly throw at you; and when the sly curve of your lip made him feel the strangest sensation of a sort of rush in his veins, he made no notice of it.

• After that morning, this strange feeling had been growing worse. Steadily through the days, but even so he could point out that the emotion that seemed to sit just beneath his chest was unfamiliar. Sometimes he had to force himself to look away from you just to get it to stop and actually be able to hear what you were saying over the erratic beat of his heart. It was blatantly obvious to everyone but him, and despite the constant teasing and prodding by Dazai on what’s got him so nervous, he still assumed it was merely admiration. Perhaps he was simply in awe of your abilities. For weren't you so impressive when you dispatch your targets so effortlessly, or when you execute such flawless plans with an ease in your mien that makes it look of so simple?

• But then that begs the question as to why he still stares in a daze when you're doing nothing, just catching your breath in the wall crack you had pulled him into to throw off the people chasing you both; his back hitting the wall and you the only separation between him and whoever was at your tails, stalking the alleyway outside. Breaths held, not making a sound; if you both got caught, this was over, and you both understood the stakes better than anyone. He definitely knew just what was waiting for the both of you out there, and that just made the situation far more frustrating, because then why is he so absorbed in how pretty your jelly-like gaze is, or how cool you looked back there when you silently felled that patrol guard? He feels like his brain has melted. Or atleast the still working part of it, because it's not even the first time you've had that effect on him.

• Your hand tentatively shifts, and for a moment he snaps out of the daze. There is abject fear in his eyes, because what the fuck are you doing when the both of you are one slip up away from messing up this mission you both worked so hard on? Yet your fingers, trembling with the rush of adrenaline and the fear of death, wipe the blood on his cheek, observing a rather deep cut inflicted by the serrated edge of a dagger. He could take a hit, but for some reason worry seemed to claw at your mind relentlessly until you could make sure he was okay.

• Perhaps he'd stopped functioning right there and then, because when the footsteps receded and the coast was finally clear, he could barely hear you say that it was safe to come out. Instead, his first move is to hold his heart and take a deep fucking breath. Not just to calm him down from being chased like that—for he's already been chased so many times—but to stop thinking about that brief, soft touch that reasonably, should not even affect him.

• At this point, he's kind of convinced he's going crazy. And like so many problems in his life, there's only one other person to hear it. Coincidentally also the worst person to go to for that kind of counsel.

• Dazai.

• Bastard laughed for fifteen whole minutes before explaining in broken wheezes what Atsushi was possibly afflicted with. Then immediately began sighing and bemoaning about having to help his coworker with silly love problems once he finally stopped cackling like a witch.

• After this… enlightening conversation, Atsushi promptly decides that he's never going to be able to look the man in the eye ever again.

• Now, he's got a whole slew of new problems going on. This mission, you, the fact that he just embarrassed himself in front of his coworker, and that he had no idea how to even face you after this realization.

• Naturally, he wants to avoid this situation. Atsushi doesn't even consider telling you. He wants to, so badly. His throat feels tight when you look at him so sharply, and he can't help but feel that if he sticks around you for too long, you'll look straight through him and somehow find out. But he has every reason to think this won't work out. Every reason why it won't work out. It wasn't the time for love, not even in the small moments of respite between the constant violence you two had to deal with.

• This distance he's been keeping from you…there is no doubt that you feel it too. He can see as much. The disappointment in your gaze when he keeps on pushing you away; it hurts. And he knows with the way your hands are curled in fists now that you're at your breaking point.

• But instead of the argument he thought this would inevitably lead to, you simply pull him into a corner. In the most sincere tone he's ever heard you speak in, you ask him if you did something wrong. Between your deliberate words, your hands on the collar of his shirt that hold him in place with nothing but gentle firmness, and the emotions that he tried so hard to stifle for the past few weeks; he confesses. Leaves nothing unspoken, even if he consciously knows that this is a bad idea. Knows he shouldn't hand you that kind of power over his heart.

• Yet he doesn't regret it a single bit when he feels your hands leave his shirt collar and wrap around his shoulders, your silent answer that kills the bitter uncertainty left in his heart and replaces it with relief.

— DAZAI

• Your history with the brunet was brief, but not something he has ever forgotten. He’s not quick to forget faces in any case, but yours remained in his memory still.

• You both worked together fairly often some three or four years back, the timeline is blurry in his mind now—in those days, your presence seemed like it would be a permanent fixture in his life. Something to count upon. Perhaps he had hoped for the fact, until an year after when he finally decided to leave this life in the dust, and you with it.

• At the time, Dazai had dismissed those feelings as puppy love; the sort of infatuation that comes with simply being of that age where every emotion feels so amplified in intensity. You were one of his first friends, it was only natural to want to cling on, wasn't it? Only with time it became easier to ignore the hold your presence had on him, his mind too consumed with the ongoing chaos in his life to think about that craving he had during initial weeks of your separation— thumb trembling over the call button.

• A few years after, seeing your face stirs nothing in Dazai. A feeble sense of regret is all that remains, and within a few seconds even that dies off. You've changed, definitely; rough-hewn edges from mafia life, knife-hand no longer trembling when it goes for the kill. Decisive, swift movements, a certain confidence in your words that comes from experience. How the glimmer that used to be in your eyes has long since been clouded over. In a way, it makes him feel closer to you, that your soul is being slowly chipped away, just like his.

• Initially, you regarded him like any other professional acquaintance. Not daring to breathe a word of the past, even when you wanted to demand an explanation out of him so desperately. Anything to make the memories of your shared past more bearable. You know better than to give into those whims. If only for the sake of your mission, the past had to be put aside. Between the both of you, there seemed to be a mutual, unspoken understanding for the need to let go. Your slates are cleaned, and you both once again end up in the same place you started; Yokohama’s shipping docks.

• Over the weeks, being around you feels easier. You both work well into the nights, but it's a little more bearable around your company. The banter is easy between the both of you. Lips curved into a cheshire grin at his antics, you always seemed to be more amused with his actions than annoyed.

• Even now when he decides that diving head first into the sea would've made for a perfectly delightful method of suicide, a knowing sigh leaves your lips, painstakingly pulling him out of the fishnets with a firm grip on his beige coatsleeve. Of course, the effort is in vain when you lose your footing and end up falling into the water with him too. Splash!

• Somehow, even when he's walking home, sopping wet in the winter breeze, he feels strangely warm as you chide him, observing how your lips twitch as if to hide a smile.

• It’s your fault, really. Perhaps if you both didn't fit together so well, if it wasn't so effortless to be around you, he might have avoided feeling the same way around you again. It's not lost upon Dazai, how comfortable he's getting with your presence, especially when he knows it's a temporary one. A fact that he is compelled to face again and again everytime you both end up in the field.

• The danger they were facing were still very much real. Despite how confident you seem to be in your ability, your tight shoulders and shaky breaths betray you in the heat of the moment. Through your hesitation to follow through his plans, you still trust him at his word. He can't help but wonder why.

• Your actions hold a certain carefulness—he doesn't want to call it care, for when it comes to you, he finds it hard to tell what you're thinking—that he doesn't understand. As you wrap the gauze around the wound on his arm from a bullet graze, fingers touching his skin with a kind of gentleness he's only ever known from you… Dazai wonders when you'll finally tell him what you're really after.

• The brief thought occurs to him, no doubt, that maybe you do these things simply because you want to. That perhaps you still care too much, like you did all those years ago. But he knows better than to count on something as fickle as the kindness of people’s hearts. He was never that naive.

• Even so, as the long days and even longer nights pass by, he can't help but once again start feeling as he used to in the distant past, only that this time he has no excuse for it.

• Dazai doesn't blush and his heart doesn't race when he sees you. Instead, it's something far more sickening and confusing. With you, it's easier to drop the delicate layers of pretense that seem to obscure his true thoughts and emotions like delicate gauze. There is a sort of ease of being around you, a sense of belonging. In the delicate moments of the late night hours with you, humanity doesn't simply feel like a cloth to wear to hide the rotten core within. You touch him like you know him, even when he knows that the blood staining his hands is far darker than yours.

• You don't even have an inkling of how he feels, and Dazai believes that it's for the best. He’ll tell you in the future, if he can grow to trust you. He wants to say it when he can be sure of it, in a more peaceful time. Even if he doesn't want you to slip through his fingers again like he did in the past, he wants to wait.

• But right now, all he can see is your bloodied fingertips trembling in the aftermath of the day’s chaos, barely having escaped with your lives. In the silent night, neither of you mention how he holds your hand silently on the walk home, bandaged fingers holding yours with deliberate care.

Hello! May I request some pre-relationship/crush headcanons with Kunikida, Atsushi and (ADA) Dazai (all separate) with a reader from the port mafia? How would they realise they are in love? How would they handle it etc etc. I love love love crush headcanons with all my heart<33

heart to heart — crush hcs!!

author's note: i'm an idiot who wrote this fic almost exclusively in hours 2-4 am. my eyes are in pure suffering. an unhealthy amount of fiona apple and unreleased lana del rey songs went into writing this. idk how to write headcannons so this ended up kind of like a fic with bullet points lmao 

— KUNIKIDA

• Working with the Port Mafia is something he is (unfortunately) no longer a stranger to. Still, an extended mission was a bit too risky for his tastes. But everyone said that he was fine, so he should be, right? If only he knew what novel sort of trouble he would face once he took the job.

• For the mission, he was partnered with you. You must've been of a different unit, because he is sure he has never seen you in person before. Except for being mentioned in passing by Dazai in his inane conversations, there was little he knew of you.

• At first, he was skeptical. Not sure whether he could truly trust a person with your affiliations to not double cross him in some way. However, you proved yourself capable soon enough. You worked with decisive efficiency, and even with his rather ridiculously timed schedules, you seemed to have no trouble keeping up with him.

• Needless to say, you two got to know each other fairly well over the course of a month. By now, you were acquainted atleast a little of his likes and dislikes. The late night sessions to plan out the routes and inspect the case files over and over; your friendship sprawls over late cups of coffee, the impatient scratching of pen on paper, and the files scattered on the table while you both worked.

• This was still professional; he'd reason with himself. So what if he's had a few drinks with you once in a while? So what if you've been spending a little too much time at his home lately?

• Dazai’s endless teasing on the matter did not help. At all. As he grows more and more defensive, he wonders if he has grown a little too attached to his new partner.

• Kunikida isn't an idiot. Even he can see how much you've made an impression on his life. He simply isn't ready to admit that this could possibly be romantic in nature. After all, you fit none of the ideals he's decided for his supposed future partner. In some form of pointed irony, the pages of the notebook that carry said ideals are also filled with the random, little things he's noticed you need; chapstick, switchblades, pens— all for them to be ready when you inevitably reach for them.

• Nor can he help stealing a little glance when said chapstick swipes so elegantly along your lips.

• Absolute gentleman, with or without a crush. Opens the car door for you on the other side, makes sure you have your seatbelt on, makes sure to watch your back while you both do field work. It’s just a nice thing to do, he reasons, but feels your touch like it was branded into his skin where your hand accidentally brushed on his elbow.

• The weeks that follow after are drawn out, confusing. As time goes on, he cannot help but read into your every action, taking note of all the little details that outline you as a person; from your tastes to little quirks. While you seem blissfully unconcerned, he could not help but feel the weight of the tension between your conversations. It is not these emotions that scare him, but their intensity. His hands tremble as they once again bandage your wounds from the day’s work, mouth dry as he looks at the gashes you think nothing of—and he wonders since when he started caring so much.

• Kunikida may be a man of his ideals, but he can be honest with himself when he needs to be. And whether he says it aloud or not, he’s already known the effect you have on him. He's known it for a long time.

• When he inevitably confesses to you, there is nothing special about it. It's another evening at his house discussing work, and when you both take a break from investigation, he brings it up to you. He isn't expecting the sentiment to be reciprocated. In fact, he is not sure he even wants that to happen. He says it to be honest. With himself and with you. You deserve to know. And perhaps if he said it out loud, the feelings would subside, even for a little while; with a definite answer, he’d have a reason to put out the growing ember.

• Nothing could've prepared him for the shock of learning that this troublesome feeling could possibly be mutual. And nothing could have prepared him for the coy kiss on his reddened cheek after.

— ATSUSHI

• someone help this poor guy

• no, he's really hopeless with it, but let me explain

• When he was asked to collaborate with the Port Mafia once more, he expected to be paired with Akutagawa once more. You were a pleasant change of pace. At first, he was only met with your suspicion; something that drove an initial rift between the two of you. You weren't sure whether you could truly trust this weretiger you've heard so much about to hold up his end of the deal, and neither could he rely on this complete stranger who regards him so frigidly. However, you both were indebted to your respective organisations—it had to be worked out.

• Your staunch independence, and the confident countenance that carried with it an understated superiority, no doubt the effect of years of experience; at first it irked him. It made him taste a little of the helplessness that trailed him like a shadow all those years ago. He attempted to chase away the feeling; biting back at your subtle digs at his skill and experience, trying to keep up with you as best as he could. You matched each other surprisingly well when you both were at your most competitive; the combination of your finesse and his strength was lethal in the most satisfying of ways.

• Over the weeks, you both get to know each other a little better. The small talks on the way to station were something that he was, despite knowing better, looking forward to. He always seemed more affected by your banter than you were by any retort he could possibly throw at you; and when the sly curve of your lip made him feel the strangest sensation of a sort of rush in his veins, he made no notice of it.

• After that morning, this strange feeling had been growing worse. Steadily through the days, but even so he could point out that the emotion that seemed to sit just beneath his chest was unfamiliar. Sometimes he had to force himself to look away from you just to get it to stop and actually be able to hear what you were saying over the erratic beat of his heart. It was blatantly obvious to everyone but him, and despite the constant teasing and prodding by Dazai on what’s got him so nervous, he still assumed it was merely admiration. Perhaps he was simply in awe of your abilities. For weren't you so impressive when you dispatch your targets so effortlessly, or when you execute such flawless plans with an ease in your mien that makes it look oh so simple?

• But then that begs the question as to why he still stares in a daze when you're doing nothing, just catching your breath in the wall crack you had pulled him into to throw off the people chasing you both; his back hitting the wall and you the only separation between him and whoever was at your tails, stalking the alleyway outside. Breaths held, not making a sound; if you both got caught, this was over, and you both understood the stakes better than anyone. He definitely knew just what was waiting for the both of you out there, and that just made the situation far more frustrating, because then why is he so absorbed in how pretty your jelly-like gaze is, or how cool you looked back there when you silently felled that patrol guard? He feels like his brain has melted. Or atleast the still working part of it, because it's not even the first time you've had that effect on him.

• Your hand tentatively shifts, and for a moment he snaps out of the daze. There is abject fear in his eyes, because what the fuck are you doing when the both of you are one slip up away from messing up this mission you both worked so hard on? Yet your fingers, trembling with the rush of adrenaline and the fear of death, wipe the blood on his cheek, observing a rather deep cut inflicted by the serrated edge of a dagger. He could take a hit, but for some reason worry seemed to claw at your mind relentlessly until you could make sure he was okay.

• Perhaps he'd stopped functioning right there and then, because when the footsteps receded and the coast was finally clear, he could barely hear you say that it was safe to come out. Instead, his first move is to hold his heart and take a deep fucking breath. Not just to calm him down from being chased like that—for he's already been chased so many times—but to stop thinking about that brief, soft touch that reasonably, should not even affect him.

• At this point, he's kind of convinced he's going crazy. And like so many problems in his life, there's only one other person to hear it. Coincidentally also the worst person to go to for that kind of counsel.

• Dazai.

• Bastard laughed for fifteen whole minutes before explaining in broken wheezes what Atsushi was possibly afflicted with. Then immediately began sighing and bemoaning about having to help his coworker with silly love problems once he finally stopped cackling like a witch.

• After this… enlightening conversation, Atsushi promptly decides that he's never going to be able to look the man in the eye ever again.

• Now, he's got a whole slew of new problems going on. This mission, you, the fact that he just embarrassed himself in front of his coworker, and that he had no idea how to even face you after this realization.

• Naturally, he wants to avoid this situation. Atsushi doesn't even consider telling you. He wants to, so badly. His throat feels tight when you look at him so sharply, and he can't help but feel that if he sticks around you for too long, you'll look straight through him and somehow find out. But he has every reason to think this won't work out. Every reason why it won't work out. It wasn't the time for love, not even in the small moments of respite between the constant violence you two had to deal with.

• This distance he's been keeping from you…there is no doubt that you feel it too. He can see as much. The disappointment in your gaze when he keeps on pushing you away; it hurts. And he knows with the way your hands are curled in fists now that you're at your breaking point.

• But instead of the argument he thought this would inevitably lead to, you simply pull him into a corner. In the most sincere tone he's ever heard you speak in, you ask him if you did something wrong. Between your deliberate words, your hands on the collar of his shirt that hold him in place with nothing but gentle firmness, and the emotions that he tried so hard to stifle for the past few weeks; he confesses. Leaves nothing unspoken, even if he consciously knows that this is a bad idea. Knows he shouldn't hand you that kind of power over his heart.

• Yet he doesn't regret it a single bit when he feels your hands leave his shirt collar and wrap around his shoulders, your silent answer that kills the bitter uncertainty left in his heart and replaces it with relief.

— DAZAI

• Your history with the brunet was brief, but not something he has ever forgotten. He’s not quick to forget faces in any case, but yours remained in his memory still.

• You both worked together fairly often some three or four years back, the timeline is blurry in his mind now—in those days, your presence seemed like it would be a permanent fixture in his life. Something to count upon. Perhaps he had hoped for the fact, until an year after when he finally decided to leave this life in the dust, and you with it.

• At the time, Dazai had dismissed those feelings as puppy love; the sort of infatuation that comes with simply being of that age where every emotion feels so amplified in intensity. You were one of his first friends, it was only natural to want to cling on, wasn't it? Only with time it became easier to ignore the hold your presence had on him, his mind too consumed with the ongoing chaos in his life to think about that craving he had during initial weeks of your separation— thumb trembling over the call button.

• A few years after, seeing your face stirs nothing in Dazai. A feeble sense of regret is all that remains, and within a few seconds even that dies off. You've changed, definitely; rough-hewn edges from mafia life, knife-hand no longer trembling when it goes for the kill. Decisive, swift movements, a certain confidence in your words that comes from experience. How the glimmer that used to be in your eyes has long since been clouded over. In a way, it makes him feel closer to you, that your soul is being slowly chipped away, just like his.

• Initially, you regarded him like any other professional acquaintance. Not daring to breathe a word of the past, even when you wanted to demand an explanation out of him so desperately. Anything to make the memories of your shared past more bearable. You know better than to give into those whims. If only for the sake of your mission, the past had to be put aside. Between the both of you, there seemed to be a mutual, unspoken understanding for the need to let go. Your slates are cleaned, and you both once again end up in the same place you started; Yokohama’s shipping docks.

• Over the weeks, being around you feels easier. You both work well into the nights, but it's a little more bearable around your company. The banter is easy between the both of you. Lips curved into a cheshire grin at his antics, you always seemed to be more amused with his actions than annoyed.

• Even now when he decides that diving head first into the sea would've made for a perfectly delightful method of suicide, a knowing sigh leaves your lips, painstakingly pulling him out of the fishnets with a firm grip on his beige coatsleeve. Of course, the effort is in vain when you lose your footing and end up falling into the water with him too. Splash!

• Somehow, even when he's walking home, sopping wet in the winter breeze, he feels strangely warm as you chide him, observing how your lips twitch as if to hide a smile.

• It’s your fault, really. Perhaps if you both didn't fit together so well, if it wasn't so effortless to be around you, he might have avoided feeling the same way around you again. It's not lost upon Dazai, how comfortable he's getting with your presence, especially when he knows it's a temporary one. A fact that he is compelled to face again and again everytime you both end up in the field.

• The danger they were facing were still very much real. Despite how confident you seem to be in your ability, your tight shoulders and shaky breaths betray you in the heat of the moment. Through your hesitation to follow through his plans, you still trust him at his word. He can't help but wonder why.

• Your actions hold a certain carefulness—he doesn't want to call it care, for when it comes to you, he finds it hard to tell what you're thinking—that he doesn't understand. As you wrap the gauze around the wound on his arm from a bullet graze, fingers touching his skin with a kind of gentleness he's only ever known from you… Dazai wonders when you'll finally tell him what you're really after.

• The brief thought occurs to him, no doubt, that maybe you do these things simply because you want to. That perhaps you still care too much, like you did all those years ago. But he knows better than to count on something as fickle as the kindness of people’s hearts. He was never that naive.

• Even so, as the long days and even longer nights pass by, he can't help but once again start feeling as he used to in the distant past, only that this time he has no excuse for it.

• Dazai doesn't blush and his heart doesn't race when he sees you. Instead, it's something far more sickening and confusing. With you, it's easier to drop the delicate layers of pretense that seem to obscure his true thoughts and emotions like delicate gauze. There is a sort of ease of being around you, a sense of belonging. In the delicate moments of the late night hours with you, humanity doesn't simply feel like a cloth to wear to hide the rotten core within. You touch him like you know him, even when he knows that the blood staining his hands is far darker than yours.

• You don't even have an inkling of how he feels, and Dazai believes that it's for the best. He’ll tell you in the future, if he can grow to trust you. He wants to say it when he can be sure of it, in a more peaceful time. Even if he doesn't want you to slip through his fingers again like he did in the past, he wants to wait.

• But right now, all he can see is your bloodied fingertips trembling in the aftermath of the day’s chaos, barely having escaped with your lives. In the silent night, neither of you mention how he holds your hand silently on the walk home, bandaged fingers holding yours with deliberate care.

who do we serve here ? — anyone who seeks escapism is welcome at bar lupin. would you like your drink strong and bitter, or disgustingly sweet and light?

 what is this place ? — formiito's very own establishment of disillusioned lovers and poets. feel free to look around.

❥・my name is formiito, the writer behind these fanfics. bar lupin themed blog, though not solely restricted to bungou stray dogs. i take requests for resident evil, bg3 and may yap about other fandoms too. find me on discord as @ chococoa.a

❥・ my carrd

❥・ theme by the lovely @seldomstardom

❝ — to the stray dogs! ❞

i. MASTERLIST   ii. RULES iii. AO3

REQUESTS ARE CLOSED for all characters.

masterlist ; all orders.

𐙚🧸ྀི — BUNGOU STRAY DOGS !!

order no. 1. the day after i killed myself ; dazai osamu

order no. 2. let the light in ; nakahara chuuya

order no 3. heart to heart ; dazai, kunikida, atsushi

order no 4. drunk walk home ; soukoku

order no 5. poetry in motion ; dazai osamu

SERIES

.⋆♱ infinity aria — fyodor dostoevsky

synopsis: two souls inexplicably intertwined, only for one to kiss death again and again, and for the other to stand witness. throughout the lifetimes, he watches you seek him out, curiously watching you seal your fate.

۶ৎ • prologue

 𐙚🧸ྀི — RESIDENT EVIL !!

order no. 1: mojo pin ; leon s. kennedy

rules for requesting

DO NOT INTERACT if you're gonna be shitty on this page. don't like don't read.

i do not write nsfw, though suggestive themes can be requested and i do approach themes of violence, requested posts or otherwise. suicidal ideation and suicide will be written about sparingly on this blog. do not take what i write as an example of me possibly condoning these things. i do not write noncon, incest or stepcest.

currently, i take requests for these fandoms; bungou stray dogs, baldur's gate 3, resident evil.

i do write for ships!! these are the ones i will have most preference for:

bsd: soukoku, shin soukoku, kunikidazai (why are we shipping quality men with dazai osamu), ranpoe, fyolai, kunichuuranzai

resident evil: serrenedy, aeon (leon x ada)

baldur's gate 3: bloodweave (gale x astarion), shadowzel (shadowheart x lae'zel)

big into platonic pairings lately

wanna write a deftones based fic so bad but idk what character would go with it ughhhh

let the light in ; chuuya nakahara

chuuya x gn! reader

author's note: i got a hang of tumblr formatting??? kinda??? i will make a master list soon. i hope this isn't too ooc. read on ao3 here!!

warnings: none, just fluff and mild angst at some points! i'msonormalaboutchuuyaiswear

“Come on, let me in.”

The soft voice at his door catches the young executive’s attention. Before Chuuya gets up from the couch and puts down his glass of vintage red on the coffee table, he’s already braced himself for hearing whatever inane reason you'd be at his door this late. He’s managed to successfully ignore all your calls and texts like he usually does, but it certainly doesn't fool you. Because you can’t sleep and neither can he. Once again, he realizes the futility of his efforts to keep you away.

Truth be told, you weren't a bad person. You didn't invoke his temper as easily or as often as other people did, and you were capable when you worked alongside him. There was an ease of being about you; something that he could eventually catch himself falling into time to time. You wear at him like a harsh current does to a rock by the side of a river. The veneer of nonchalance chips away more and more the longer he allows himself this companionship. And he's aware of this weakness; it feels so out of place when he is usually so assured. But no gravity manipulation can make this heart lighter.

Not when your face reminds Chuuya of a life he's already left behind. You were there when he spilled his first blood, you are here now, and he cannot find it in himself to push you out completely. As much as he likes to think he's above these sentimentalities, nostalgia still finds a victim in him; wrapping itself around his mind in his unsuspecting moments till he could no longer discern between himself of the past and him now. You make the poor guy feel the burden of his past failures too often.

Feel too much, too, for that matter.

You try with such enthusiasm, too. Despite the fact that over the six…or was it seven years, his life and yours have been turned upside down and inside out. There are some people who feel like they have been frozen in time somehow. With you, he feels like he can stave off the rot of his current life just for a little bit. A dangerous thought. He wants to stick a knife in your neck sometimes. Would that make him stop thinking so much? Or would his past still trail him around in the form of your memory?

It's a quarter to one now.

The door unlocks.

“What is it now?” This annoyed tone sounds forced out of his mouth. Strange, he never had any issues with it until you come into the room.

“I couldn't sleep!”

“Clearly.”

“You know what? We should go out for a drive, Chuuya, it's the perfect time!”

“Like, right now?”

“Yeah.”

“…You're serious?”

“Are you coming or not? Quick, I don't have the time!”

It's a good thing that he isn't completely buzzed from the wine he was drinking yet, because your request leaves no room for disagreement, even if it’s a question. An exasperated sigh leaves his lips, a muttered curse following soon after. “Fine! But I’m in charge of the music.” It makes no difference, most of the good songs he knows were your favorites at some point of time. You held him down and made him listen, and as much as he acted like he loathed the whole ordeal, the tunes wouldn't leave his thoughts be no mater what. He picks up the car keys off the table, not bothering to pick up anything else save for his hat.

This had become something of a routine. You would always bother him at odd hours, though you were a rare sight at daytime, doing god knows what. The redness in the whites of your eyes, and the way you would rub at them every now and then indicated that you were exhausted, yet you insisted on these outings. It was the typical condition that came with their work; he was no stranger to sleepless nights himself. But with you, he finds himself actually concerned. The exceptions he makes for you feel unreasonable. The effect you had on him was just as confusing. Chuuya wonders if you just do that to him or if everyone is subject to the mental damage you cause him just by being around him.

Consciously, he knew there was no use dwelling on these thoughts. For the better or worse, your lives were fundamentally intertwined. Not by narrative choice, but by sheer persistence. He remembers what you said to him once. When he asked you why you were coming along with him, you only said, “because I’ll go wherever you go, obviously.” You refused to elaborate when he asked you to explain why. You acted as if this was an objective truth, like it was the natural state of things. As if in every scenario possible, you would've done the same thing. He called you an idiot for it, still thinks you are. Because Chuuya cannot understand why you stick by him, or more importantly, why he allows you to.

Even then, he has to reluctantly admit to himself that he’s glad for it. You remind him of his past failures and naïveté, but you also remind him of the concept of home. The last tether to his past is you, and he wouldn't allow anyone to sever that imaginary cord. Despite how much he hates it, you still hold a part of him he would have otherwise lost touch of. The pain felt easier to get through when it was shared. Maybe this was just what friendship was. It was elusive to obtain, but once you have it; whether by accident or on purpose, you have to cope with it for the rest of time.

You walk ahead of him, and he keeps up with your pace. Unlike him, you were aware of how you felt on a level that was nearly painful; instead of fuzzy, bittersweet feelings of nostalgia, you felt the lashes of time and it’s wear with pointed certainty. You were your own witness to the degradation of your morality and soul. You felt it chip away piece by piece, and saw the wear in the mirror. An experience that broke you from inside out, creating a new person out of the debris.

You hold onto the remains of a past you can't remember, and in this folly you have ruined yourself chasing something that had never existed. But perhaps that was the reason why you didn't let go of Chuuya in particular. He was tangible, within your grasp; not necessarily a constant, but by your own design you've made him one. You've made out of him a friend you trusted with your life, and that trust shows in every action, every laughter, everytime you show up at his door at some weird hour of the night. You know it annoys him, but he lets you. In a strange way, you test him again and again just for the sheer satisfaction of being assured that yes, he wouldn't turn you away.

The walk to the car was fairly short. He got in the driver’s seat, waiting for you to follow suit and started up the ignition. The port town was especially beautiful at midnight, the late night lights of the wharf reflecting in the distant ocean. The sky is dark with no sign of light, all veiled by the smoke that lingers in city skies. All the stars that were meant to exist in the sky were here on the ground, in the lights of offices working late or streetlights flickering for the convenience of nightwalkers.

“Are you really gonna play that? Eh…”

“Hey! It's a good song, okay?!?”

“Debatable.”

“You’re literally the one who made me listen to it!”

“Did I really, though?”

“You-”

“Shut up! I think I just saw an ice cream place a little further up.”

After an excruciatingly long wait of watching you pick an ice cream out of the array of colors, you both were finally out in the open air again. The cold air pricks like needles. It wasn't even the weather for ice cream, but your habits were incorrigible as always. When you inevitably start sniffling, he could only manage a pointed comment about how you never learn. He would've given his hat to you if you asked. It's frustrating that you never do. Things never go the way they play in his head, and it infuriates him. The ride to home feels infinitely long. Taking the highway was an unnecessarily long route, and yet it was the one he took everytime whenever he was driving with you.

When you both get back home, he's hit by that strange spell again. A lack of thoughts and a tongue restless for words, checked by his dry throat. For whenever the air isn't filled with senseless chatter, gunshots or music, that is when he feels truly weak in front of you. The comfort of being around you shifts to something uncertain and bitter in the early morning hours. When you ask to stay the night like the usual, he can no longer find the strength to refuse. It was clear that no matter what the both of you did, at the end of the day, what waits for him is a helplessness so foreign to him even with his frequent encounters with it.

The weariness is built into their bones, and by the end of the day when they both are tired of this endless charade, you both end up in the same place as always, hopelessly entangled in each other’s lives. Perhaps on another night when you cannot sleep and come to seek him, he will let himself get willingly caught and put an end to this chase. Pushing away the curtain, letting the light in, and look to find you there where he left you.

before i officially finish this account, i need something to kick off the writer's block. i'll open up requests after this!

OVERTIME — DAZAI OSAMU

x gn!detective!reader

cw: dazai calls you bella/belladonna | word count: 250<

a/n: trying a different layout 😌 wrote this in like 20 mins too... writers block aint getting me today

dazai is always there when you have overtime. no matter how many times you check to see if he's doing his work, there's always that one document that he mysteriously has to finish off. you assure him all the time that you don't need company and that you'll see each other later, but he doesn't listen. ever.

"looks like it's just us two again, huh?" his voice is too happy, too much for your liking. he's leant forward towards your desk, chin in hand and that silly smirk on his face.

you try to keep your eyes on your papers despite the slight distraction, but it feels all too difficult with his presence in the room. "i guess so." you sigh out.

"since we're alone..." he pushes away that one piece of paper on his desk, and holds his hands together, looking as innocent as he possibly can. "can i have a kiss?"

"no."

"yes."

"no."

immediately, he pouts. "bella?" turning your head away, you ignore him, but your attempt keeps him persistent. "belladonna?"

a frown appears on your mouth and you groan exasperatedly. "what?"

"i love you." a sudden confession.

how can you be so angry when the love of your life is giving you such a sweet and genuine smile? for a moment, your eyebrows furrow, and then a smile of your own creeps onto your lips. "i love you too."

"so... kiss?"

"no."

"aw..."

Chuuya and Dazai girl dad headcanons

Chuuya Nakahara

He would spoil his baby girl rotten!!

When is daughter is first born and given to him, he cries softly as he stares at her beautiful face she looks just like you.

He promises her he'll always be there for her no matter what.

He gets up with her in the middle of the night to take care of her, even if he has to get up super early in the morning to leave for work, he just wants you to get your beauty sleep.

The first time his daughter ever walked is when Chuuya got home from the mafia she waddled over to him, yes he cried.

dosent tell her anything about the mafia, keeps her away from it and dosent tell anyone about her for her own safety.

Blows on her cheeks and belly to make her laugh, he loves to hear her belly laugh, it’s his favorite.

Plays dress up with her, he loves getting all his fashion clothes on and walking out of the closet all dressed up with his daughter by his side dressed up in a pink dress while you pick who won this round.

He gets her her first puppy at 5 for her birthday so she can have a friend that she can grow up with.

Since Chuuya has longer hair he knows how to do hair. He will sit in the bathroom with her and do cute little braids while you watch them joke about anything and everything.

As she grows he tries to be there for her school plays and daddy dances but with him being in the mafia unfortunately he misses out on some things he wishes he didn’t have to.

Chuuya askes her how her day went every night at the dinner table. He always wants to know how his babygirls day went.

As she gets a bit older and gets a boyfriend he’s pretty chill about it, however he has to meet the guy and approve of him but if he finds out the guy hurt his daughter let’s just say it’s not to good on the guys part.

Makes her turn on her location everywhere she goes just to make sure she’s safe and ok.

If she’s having a stressful day he will hold her in his arms and kiss her head telling her it’s going to be ok.

lets her come to him about anything, he'll always have time for her to rant to him about anything.

He’ll take you and your daughter out for the weekend so that you all can get away from everything for a few days. He loves to spend time with you both.

lets just say Chuu would be an amazing dad and would do anything to keep you and his babygirl safe.

Dazai Osamu

When the doctors first hand him his babygirl he stares at her beautiful face. He wiggles his finger around her face as she grips onto it he then starts to cry softly.

Takes naps with her on his chest. You’ll come home to see them laying together, he has her resting on his chest while she hugs him tightly.

Makes silly faces at her to make her stop crying. (it works)

Helps her take baths after dinner and will boop bubbles on her nose.

Let’s her stand on his feet while they dance in the kitchen while waiting for breakfast.

Helps her dress up in her princess dresses and puts a tiara on her head.

Runs to the door every time her daddy comes home, Dazai leans down on his knee and cradles her in his arms kissing all over her face.

After playing outside they will come back in covered in dirt as they hand you flowers from the garden that they picked for you.

Tries to bake with her but it ends up being a whole mess. Flower is all over the kitchen floor, they tried to made a cake but it doesn’t taste good but at least they had fun but now you have to clean the floors.

Let’s his daughter do his hair and makeup. He doesn’t care what he looks like afterwards with pink hair ties in his hair and pink glitter on his eyelids he thinks it’s fun and cute.

On Valentine’s Day he gets you something of course but he always has something for your daughter too.

When she gets a bit older they gossip like crazy about anything and everything. Dazai gets the snacks and they go sit on the couch and gossip.

They have pillow fights all the time. One of them throws a pillow at the other and then it becomes a war.

Dazai is a very supportive father and will always support her in anything she wants or does. He’ll always be rooting for her no matter what.

When she gets a boyfriend like Chuuya he wants to meet him see how he is if he’s good for his daughter, if so welcome to the family! But he is overprotective like Chuuya too.

He likes you take you and your daughter to the beach often. It’s a family trip y’all do every month just to spend time together.

He’s a lovely and silly dad and like Chuuya he would do anything for you and his babygirl.

My cheeks hurt from smiling

I want to get in a little practice for writing Kiko (and also i can't get girl dad chuuya out of my head) so here's a little moment of her being a cutie, and a little bit of setting the scene for the big fic

Chuuya x f!Reader, nickname 'angel' used

Divider by @/cafekitsune

"Papa!" A little voice calls out, and Akutagawa will never get used to the way Chuuya's whole demeanour changes when his daughter appears. Both men turn towards the sound, Chuuya's arms already outstretched to catch the little girl barreling towards him. He's smiling, too, and if Akutagawa didn't know better, he would think Chuuya is just another loving father, not one of the most dangerous men in Yokohama. He's ... warmer, softer around the edges when he's with Kiko, and when he's with you - not that he lets many see that side of him.

Kiko throws herself into her fathers' arms, not a hint of hesitation on her face. Chuuya holds her close, cradling her against his body as he turns his attention to you, standing back and watching them with open adoration. Your eyes slide over to him next, and Akutagawa doesn't know what to do with the affection in the smile you send his way.

"Hey angel. Wasn't expecting you; is everything alright?" Akutagawa can see the slight tension in Chuuya's shoulders, and he sees it release when Kiko speaks up, still clinging to her father with one hand clutching his jacket.

"Me and Mama missed you!" Kiko learns around her father to shoot Akutagawa a toothy grin, "Ryuu-kun! See, Mama, I told you we would see him too!"

Your voice is fond as you answer her, and you check she's not looking before rolling your eyes, "Yes, you did, baby." You address him, amusement clear in your voice, "She was very excited to see you."

Punctuating her mother's statement, Kiko starts wriggling in her father's hold, and he sets her down, kissing the crown of her head when her feet are safely on the floor. Moments later, she's wrapped around Akutagawa's leg, talking a mile a minute about everything she's done since the last time she saw him. It's nice, he thinks as he listens to her - there's precious few people who don't treat him with caution, who look past his reputation and see him as more than a weapon.

"Akutagawa." He looks up at Chuuya's call of his name. There's a barely there smile on his face, "Go with them - make sure they're safe."

He knows what this is - Chuuya always makes sure the two of you are well guarded, but there's hardly a need for someone like him to accompany you. It's not like you're defenceless, and there's much better things he could be doing to benefit the Port Mafia. This is for him. He's not sure how he feels about it, but an executive is asking him to do something, so it's not like he can say no. He wouldn't anyway - he can admit to himself that he enjoys spending time with you, and the thought of disappointing Kiko and having her look up at him with big, tear-filled eyes makes him uncomfortable.

Kiko slips her little hand into his as Chuuya says his goodbyes to you; wrapping you in his arms and leaving a gentle kiss on your lips, whispering words for you alone into the space between you. The love between you is palpable, and he averts his eyes.

"Be good for your Mama, Kiko. I'll see you tonight; I love you." Chuuya crouches down to claim one final hug from the little girl. She leans into the hug, pressing a wet kiss to his cheek before pulling away and tugging Akutagawa down the corridor.

She waves behind her without looking, too focused on her next adventure, "I will, Papa! I love you."

The laughter from behind him suggests there will be no rescue from the four year old currently dragging him along, and he finds that he doesn't mind at all.

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

This is so wholesome

10/10, great start to my day

Request/idea!

Established relationship with reader taking care of Chuuya after corruption. Like Dazai takes Chuuya to his penthouse to be taken care of by reader instead of the extraction point because Dazai knows Chuuya would be more comfortable with reader than in the pm hospital/medical bay (*cough* stormbringer *cough* *cough*)

Just like cute fluff where Chuuya is tense around reader because he's so vulnerable until eventually he relaxes when he realizes reader isn't leaving or gonna hurt him

Oh god YES

Chuuya x reader

(established relationship)

The soft glow of the evening lights filled the penthouse, casting long shadows across the quiet room. Outside, the city buzzed faintly, a contrast to the stillness inside. You stood by the bed, looking down at Chuuya, his usually sharp features softened by exhaustion, his breathing deep and slow. He was out cold—completely unconscious after pushing himself too far in battle, having using Corruption again.

Dazai had brought him here instead of to the Port Mafia’s medical bay, knowing that Chuuya would be more comfortable in your care than surrounded by cold hospital walls. It had been a quiet exchange—no teasing remarks, no sarcastic barbs. Just a mutual understanding between you and Dazai that Chuuya needed this (i made dazai responsible/sensible 💀).

Now, standing over him, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of worry despite knowing he’d recover. You gently brushed his damp hair away from his forehead, feeling the faint warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips. He looked so different when he was like this—so vulnerable, so unlike the fierce, unyielding man you knew. The one who stood tall (yes i did this on purpose 🦖) , who commanded respect with every word, every movement.

Sighing softly, you sat down on the edge of the bed, your fingers trailing along his arm. He didn’t stir, completely lost in the deep sleep that always followed his use of Corruption. You hated seeing him like this—not because he was weak, but because you knew how much he hated being seen this way. Vulnerability was something Chuuya rarely allowed, and you knew he fought against it even in unconsciousness.

“You always push yourself too hard,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper as you leaned in closer, resting your hand on his chest, feeling the slow, steady rise and fall of his breathing. “You don’t have to… not with me.”

The words hung in the air, but they were more for you than for him. You knew Chuuya—knew that even if he could hear you now, he wouldn’t listen. He was stubborn like that, always trying to carry the weight of the world on his own.

You stayed like that for a while, your hand gently brushing over his chest, the sound of his breathing the only noise in the room. It was rare to see him like this—so still, so quiet. In these moments, he seemed almost fragile, and the thought of him waking up alone after such an ordeal tugged at your chest.

“I’m not going anywhere, Chu,” you whispered softly, your voice filled with a quiet determination. “I’m here. I’ll always be here.”

He didn’t respond—of course he didn’t—but as you settled beside him, you felt the tension you hadn’t realized you were holding slowly melt away. You knew that when he woke up, he’d still be the same Chuuya, sharp and biting, with walls built up so high it was a wonder anyone ever got through. But for now, in this quiet moment, there was peace.

And as you lay there beside him, your fingers gently tracing the lines of his hand, you knew that when he finally opened his eyes, you’d be right here. Just like always.

Timeskip

Chuuya stirred slightly, his breathing shifting as he started to emerge from the deep sleep that had held him for hours. You stayed still, your fingers still tracing light patterns on his hand, waiting for the moment he would fully wake up. You could tell he was still groggy, his mind pulling itself from the depths of exhaustion.

Slowly, his eyes fluttered open, the sharp blue softened with lingering fatigue. His gaze shifted to you, and for a moment, confusion flickered in his eyes—like he wasn’t sure if you were really there. But then, recognition settled, and his usual tension melted away.

“[Y/N]...” he muttered, his voice rough, barely more than a rasp. His hand instinctively tightened around yours, a quiet reassurance that he was here, that you were here, together. His lips curved into a small, tired smile, so different from the usual smirk he wore in public. This was Chuuya, stripped of all the fire and pride—just him, softer, vulnerable, but comfortable with you.

“Yeah, it’s me,” you replied quietly, a gentle smile pulling at your lips. “You really overdid it this time.”

Chuuya huffed softly, his usual bravado flickering, but the tiredness in his eyes betrayed him. “Tch… I’m fine,” he muttered, though there was no real bite in his words. His free hand came up to cover his face for a second, as if trying to hide the weariness he couldn’t fully shake.

“Sure you are,” you teased lightly, leaning in just a little closer, your thumb gently brushing over his knuckles. “That’s why Dazai had to drag you here half-dead.”

He let out a low chuckle, but there was no anger behind it, just a quiet acceptance of his own limits. “That damn suicidal idiot…” He paused, lowering his hand from his face to meet your gaze again, and something in his expression softened even more. “He knew you’d take better care of me than anyone else would.”

You smiled at that, warmth spreading through you at the quiet admission. “He’s not wrong, you know. Though I’ve got half a mind to yell at you for pushing yourself so hard.”

Chuuya sighed, his eyes closing for a moment as he allowed himself to sink further into the comfort of your presence. “You wouldn’t be the first,” he murmured, his voice low but filled with that gentle warmth that he reserved only for you. He shifted slightly, moving closer to you as if seeking more of your warmth, his hand still firmly holding yours. “But… I’m glad it’s you here. Always.”

There was something different in his tone—a vulnerability that Chuuya rarely allowed himself to show. His guard was down, and in this quiet moment, he wasn’t the powerful mafia executive or the ruthless fighter. He was just Chuuya—your Chuuya.

You shifted closer, gently resting your forehead against his. “I’m not going anywhere, Chuuya. You know that, right?”

His eyes opened, locking with yours, and for a moment, he didn’t say anything. But the way his hand tightened around yours, the way his body relaxed against you, told you everything. He didn’t need to say it—he trusted you completely. And that trust, that vulnerability, was something he rarely gave to anyone.

“I know,” he whispered finally, his voice softer than you’d ever heard it. “I just… sometimes I need to be reminded.”

You smiled, brushing your fingers through his hair, feeling him relax completely against you. “Well, I’m always here to remind you.”

Chuuya’s lips twitched into a faint smile, and he leaned into your touch, his eyes closing once more. “Good,” he mumbled, the tension in his body gone now, replaced with a rare calm. “Because I’m not letting you go either.”

And with that, the two of you sat in the quiet of the room, his hand in yours, as Chuuya finally allowed himself to rest—safe in the knowledge that you weren’t going anywhere.

And if you can forgive, love will truly live -PART 2

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.’”

!Gender of reader is not specified!

A/N: I don't believe there are any major triggers in this part, correct me if I'm wrong though. Also, I feel like Dazai was very ooc which is partially why this took so long, of course, the main problem was writer's block

Word count is about 2.7k

Part 1 of And if you can forgive, love will truly live

Tag: @foulwaterss

Warmth. 

You pulled the person in your arms further into your chest. 

... 

Person? 

You opened your eyes, blinking rapidly as the morning sun pierced your eyes through the open curtain. 

As your vision adjusted you could make out a head of soft, fluffy brown curls tucked against your chest. 

The memories of the previous day, or rather night, seeing as you slept through most of the day, came flooding through your brain. 

Right. 

Dazai knocked on your door last night. 

Soaked to the bone from having likely walked to your place with no umbrella despite the fact it had been raining the entire day. 

And then... you let him in. 

A dangerous decision both for him with his new job and for you with the Mafia. 

But he listened to you, took a shower, ate most of his food, and he even let himself be vulnerable with you, choosing to forgo his bandages because he trusts you. 

You looked down at him as you brought your hand up to card your fingers through his hair, a smile pulling at your lips as he nuzzled into your chest. 

He reminded you of a cat. 

Cute. 

More like a black cat with all the bad things people thought of him. 

Either way, he was cute. 

Your smile turned bitter as the thought crossed your mind. 

Even after four years, you still had feelings for him. 

You sighed softly, letting your face relax, enjoying the soft moment before Dazai awakes and you have to talk about everything. 

You had almost soothed yourself back to sleep with the methodic movement of your fingers through Dazai's hair when Dazai finally began to stir awake. 

You watched as Dazai's eyes fluttered open slightly before he whined as the light hit his eyes, shoving his face half into your chest and half into the sheets. 

"Evil... leaving the curtains open just to blind me..." His voice was pitched with a whine yet rough from having just woken up. 

You chuckled softly. 

"Eh, the sun blinded me too when I woke up." You spoke up, your voice soft in the morning. "I would've gotten up but someone was busy nuzzling into me." You teased softly as you began running your finger through his hair once more. 

"What time is it?" He spoke softly into your chest. 

"I don't know..." You yawned softly. "I was about to fall asleep again before you woke up." 

Even without seeing his face, you could tell a smirk pulled at his lips. Seems like you still knew him pretty well. 

"Were you watching me sleep? How perverted~." He teased softly. 

"Oh shut it. I wasn't thinking anything like that. Of course, you know that though." 

Dazai hummed softly pretending to be unaware. 

"Oh~? Then what were you thinking, hm?"  

You stopped carding your fingers through his hair to reach down and lift his chin up, forcing him to look at you in the eyes. 

"Thinking about how much like a cat you were and how that made you cute." You spoke honestly and directly, not breaking eye contact. 

You watched in amusement as his still-not-fully-awake brain processed your words. A soft blush bloomed on his cheeks that steadily grew darker in color before he shoved his face back into your chest, whining softly. 

"Evil. Your evil." 

You laughed softly as you let him hide his face. 

"Like I said, cute." 

"Shut up." 

The conversation lulled after that, as the both of you took in the comfort of waking up in another person's arms, warm. 

"Do you want some coffee?" 

He hummed softly as he processed the unspoken words. 

'We need to talk about it.' 

"Sure" He spoke yet didn't move from the warmth of your body. 

You sighed as you ran your hand down his back before forcing yourself out of the warmth of your bed. 

"I'll call to you when the pot is done." You remarked as you walked out of your room toward the kitchen. 

You hummed softly as you waited for the pot to brew, your mind drifting. 

You knew roughly the reason behind Dazai's leaving but you still wanted to hear him explain his thought process. 

And, more than anything, you wanted to hear a damn apology. Not just for leaving you, but for leaving Chuuya, and for blowing up his car, because that was a low blow. Yet you also still understood his reason behind that action as well. A silent message to not follow, to not look for him. 

It would be nice if you could get Dazai to apologize directly to Chuuya, but you knew that it would be like trying to pull teeth. 

You were jolted from your thoughts as the coffee pot beeped at you. 

You methodically pulled out a mug and began filling it, leaving enough space for creamer. 

You blinked. 

Right. 

You reached for another cup, placing it on the island counter as you called out for Dazai through the silence. 

You began to fill his cup when you heard a thump from your room followed by what sounded like cloth against the floor. 

You looked up as you were about to start pouring creamer into Dazai's mug, you paused at the sight of Dazai being practically swallowed by the fitted blankets he had pulled from your bed. 

You chuckled softly. 

"It's cold. Stop laughing." He pouted, his lips pulled down in a way that only made you chuckle more. 

Cute. 

"How are you planning to drink your coffee with all the blankets on?" 

He didn’t respond as he walked, or rather waddled, over to a stool at the island counter. You finished pouring the creamer into his coffee as he maneuvered himself onto the stool with the blankets still practically swallowing him. You push the mug towards him as you take your own mug in hand. 

You watch as he brings up his hands, wrapped up under the edges of the blankets, to wrap around the mug. The blankets keep him from moving his arms much, so he has to hunch forward to take a sip of his coffee. 

“You know it’d be easier if you just took the blankets off?” 

“It’s cold.” A pout pulled at his lips again and a petulant whine left him. 

“I have jackets that should fit you.” 

“The blankets were right there though.” 

“More like you're just lazy…” You mumbled under your breath, sipping at your coffee. 

You cleared your throat. 

“So…” 

He didn’t speak up, but he glanced up at you from where he was hunched over his mug. 

“I… already know mostly everything with Oda…, but could you tell me what solidified your decision?” You asked, tone hesitant and unsure. 

You watched as he stared into his mug, worried he would try and avoid talking. He never did like talking about his problems. Not that you could talk, you were the same, preferring to simply enjoy each other’s company without ever talking about your problems. Of course, that was before he left, now you spent your time having a glass of fine wine with Chuuya. On those nights, typically, only Chuuya would talk, with you speaking up mostly to keep the conversation going. 

“There were… many reasons… behind my decision.” He paused; the silence awkward but he clearly was going to say more. “Odasaku’s… um…” He didn’t look up at you, but you could hear as he tried to hide the cracking of his voice. 

“Take your time, there’s no rush.” You hummed softly as he struggled to find his words. 

“Right.” 

You sipped from your mug as you waited for him to continue. 

“Odasaku’s last words to me… he asked me to…” 

“I understand.” You didn’t want to force him to answer when you could put the pieces together yourself. “And the… other reasons?” 

He idly sipped at his coffee. 

“Well… before I continue, can I ask a question?” 

You looked up from your mug. 

“Um… sure, what is it?” 

He let out a sigh, it sounded tired. It seemed like he was forcing himself to ask you his question. 

Almost like he was scared of what your answer would be. 

He huffed out. “What is your opinion of me?” 

He didn’t look at you, gaze fixated on his own reflection from where he stared down at his coffee. 

You hesitated, not having expected his question. 

“My opinion of you?” 

You asked more to fill the silence, to allow yourself time to think about it. 

You knew that he could be cruel. 

You knew that he could be kind. 

You knew you felt an amalgamation of feelings towards him. 

You felt sadness, that he didn’t tell you anything. 

You also felt angry that he left, that he didn’t tell you cause you would’ve- 

You would’ve… 

You would’ve joined him. 

You would’ve left with him. 

Because you loved him. 

More than anything, you loved him. 

Despite everything, you still loved him. 

You let out a soft breath. 

Looking down at the half-empty mug in your hands. 

“Well… I know that you can be cruel, but I also know that you're capable of being kind, of caring for others. And I feel sad and betrayed that you didn’t tell me or leave anything for me to know what you were doing. Angry that you left me because…” You could feel a lump in your throat as you tried to force the words out. “Because despite that… if you had come to me that night… I would’ve joined you.” 

You looked up to find him staring at you with a shocked expression, and somewhere in the back of your mind, you found it cute. 

“After everything we’ve been through… I’ve seen your highs and lows, I’ve seen you mercilessly kill and torture, but I’ve also seen you with Oda and Ango, with Chuuya. And I… have never hated you. I’ve never thought you to be inhuman.” 

You paused. A gentle smile pulled at your lips. 

“I still don’t, Dazai.” 

“I-…” He looked almost on the verge of tears, and you felt compelled to rush to his side on the other side of the kitchen island and comfort him. 

“Well… the main reason I didn’t tell you, or Chuuya was because I was absorbed by my own view of myself… that I didn’t think anyone could possibly see me differently. Especially you… we were similar and so I figured your opinion of me was no different than mine. I believed that with how similar we thought that you must have hated me because-… because I hated myself.” 

He looked down at his mug, unable to meet your gaze. 

Your heart ached at his words. 

“Dazai…” You spoke hesitantly. “Dazai… what is your opinion of me?” 

He looked up at you. “My opinion of you?” He repeated your words back at you. 

His gaze shifted to the side as a soft pink tinted his cheeks. 

“I always thought of you as something of an angel. You were smart but quiet, stern as a mafioso should be, but you were also kind. You formed a connection with me similar to the one I have with Chuuya but different. You understand me in a different way. Like a guardian angel, you’ve stopped me from many of my suicide attempts, maybe even more than Chuuya has. When I watched you fight it was like I was watching an angel of death, bloody, but still pure in a way only you could ever achieve.” 

He stopped himself, looking up at you. 

You could feel your cheeks burning as he spoke, looking into your eyes. 

“I have always loved you. As undeserving as I am, I have always loved my guardian angel.” 

“I- you… love me?” You found yourself short of words as your brain tried to process that Dazai, who you have loved for longer than you would like to admit, loves you as well. 

As your brain finally caught up, the vibrant blush on your cheeks softened, and the smile that pulled at your lips was just as soft. 

Placing your mug down, you reached your hands across the island counter to grab his hands, pulling them from where the blankets were still wrapped around them. 

“I love you too, Dazai.” 

You watched as the blush on his cheeks grew a few shades darker. 

Cute. 

You dropped his hands as you walked around the island to stand next to him. He turns towards you, cheeks still vibrantly flushed. 

You reach out, your hand hovering over his lower cheek, prompting him to tilt his head up at you. 

“May I?” 

You could see as he swallowed, calming himself. 

“Only if we remain exclusive.” 

“And this remains secret.” You added, smiling at him. 

You let your hand rest on his cheek, bringing the other one up to rest on the back of his neck, still bare of bandages. You leaned down the rest of the way, connecting your lips with his. 

His lips were soft against yours, and the kiss was sweet. 

A soft sound akin to a whine left him as you pulled away slowly. You chuckled as he flushed, embarrassed by his own neediness. He pulled you into a hug, wrapping his arms around your waist as the blankets fell off his shoulders hanging off his waist. 

“Shut up.” His voice was slightly muffled from where he pressed his face against your chest. 

You laughed. “But I didn’t say anything~.” 

“I said shut up.” 

“You're even cuter when you're flustered, you know?” 

He whined into your chest, refusing to let you see his face. 

You stopped teasing him, letting the soft moment consume you in warmth. 

“I’m glad you're safe. He’d be proud of how far you’ve come.” 

The arms around you tightened and you could barely make out a sharp intake of air. You brought a hand up to his hair, running your fingers through it comfortingly. 

“I know he would.” 

“I-… thank you.” 

A comfortable silence settled on the two of you for a few minutes as you held each other until Dazai spoke up, mumbling softly. 

“I’m sorry for hurting you and Chuuya…” 

“I forgave you a while ago, and while Chuuya would never say it out loud, he has as well, even if he’s still angry about it.” 

“I missed sitting on the dock with you.” 

“Those moments of serenity in between the chaos were nice.” 

“You have the day off, right?” 

“I don’t have work until tomorrow morning. Though, speaking of work, shouldn’t you be at work right now?” 

“Unimportant. Anyways we should cuddle and watch something.” 

You laughed joyously, your arms tightening around him. “Even after four years, you're still you, huh? I’m glad you’re more open though. Honest. I like being vulnerable with you.” You smiled down at him, moving the hair from in front of his face to behind his ear. “The light suits you, Dazai.” 

Dazai hid his face against your chest again, though you could tell he was flushed with how red his ears were. 

“I thought I told you to shut up. I demand you carry me to the couch now.” 

You scoff playfully. “What are you, a princess?” 

“Yes, and you must serve me.” He replied matter-of-factly. 

“Right.” You reached down with one hand to grab the blankets that had fallen around his waist, pulling them up around his shoulders and then wrapping them tightly around him. You pick him up effortlessly, chuckling as he lets out an involuntary squeak. 

You carried him over to the couch, laying him across your lap as you reached to grab the remote off the coffee table. 

“What shall we watch, Your Highness?” 

You watch as he thinks over your question before you notice a drop in his mood. 

“Is something wrong?” 

“I don’t like how good you’ve gotten at reading me.” 

You chuckle as he pouts. “I’ve always been good at reading you, I’m just choosing to mention what I see now. So, what’s up?” 

“Do you still have that watchlist we made when we were 17?” 

You smiled at his question. 

“Yeah, I never deleted it. And I don’t think I’ve watched anything from it.” You hummed thoughtfully. “Not that I’ve really had the time to anyway.” 

“Good. Pick something off of that then.” 

“No specific genre?” 

“Not really.” 

With a soft smile, you click into the playlist of unwatched shows and movies. You pick a random one and start it, more focused on the unguarded and genuine smile on Dazai’s face. 

It was nice. 

He was alive and doing better than before. 

Everything would be fine. 

And hopefully, you get him to actually apologize to Chuuya.

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.

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

Relationship Headcanons

Fandom: BSD -Bungo Stray Dogs

TW: none? I think? 

DAZAI 

I said it in my Soukoku fic, Dazai wouldn’t know affection if it slapped him in the face ten times 

Like he might realize when someone is showing interest in a sexual kind 

And he would probably notice if someone is crushing on him 

But like, if he likes them back? 

No 

Man is blind 

He’s too busy panicking over read denying his own thoughts and feelings over you to analyze your actions 

He’s busy trying to think of anything but how pretty you are when he sees you -thank you very much 

No joke though, this can be applied to pretty much anyone he cares about 

I mean he practically had a heart attack when Atsushi gave him flowers 

Anyways if he finally admits to himself that he likes you then I could see him trying to push you away if I’m being brutally honest 

He doesn’t want to lose you and he believes that anything he wants that he obtains, will be striped from him sooner or later 

But…, in a perfect world he would eventually work up the courage to ask you out 

He would probably avoid directly asking you but this is Dazai so he could defiantly figure out some round-about way to ask 

As for the relationship? 

He would still be his teasing self 

But he would tone it down 

Not because he doesn’t want to annoy you but more so because he actually lets some of his masks down when alone with you 

He defiantly is very clingy to you 

Man has been touch starved for a long time and he fears attachment too much to be touchy with the ADA members 

But now he has you, who not only tolerates him but has decided to stay with him? 

Of course he’s not going to let this chance slip from his grasp before all this inevitably ends (he’s still in denial) 

He never cared much for holidays like Christmas or Valentines 

But now he wants to experience them, with you 

He’s always thinking, plans and outcomes racing through his mind, what ifs and regrets  

But like, if you ruffle his hair, his brain just stops. 

Like no thoughts, he short circuits 

When his brain returned to him the first time it happened he panicked 

Like, who gave you that amount of control? 

After that first time he continued to try and get you to do it without asking 

He needed his brain to shut up every now and then, and now he has a reliable source 

Anyways, he likes to be a spoiled princess 

No one can change my mind 

For all his predictions he will never be able to predict your love and kindness for him 

CHUUYA 

Someone give this poor man a hug 

Ugh, my heart 

I can‘t imagine him wanting to date a normal citizen, too much of a risk 

So you’d probably have to work in the Mafia 

Even then, dating you would still be placing a huge target on you 

He would actually take you out on dates before asking you out 

Dates with him would be romantic 

Like dinner by candle light vibes 

He’d be strategic on where you guys sit 

No need to be precarious on what you order, it’s all on him 

When he does ask you out he would be slightly flustered but it just makes him adorable 

Say yes, he doesn’t deserve to be hurt any more 

He would spoil you to no end 

If you want it, you can have it 

You’re the only one allowed to call him short 

He might get flustered from PDA in the start but will gradually warm up to it 

Nothing clingy, just hand holding, a hand around your waist, a quick kiss here or there 

But if he sees some guy hitting on you? 

Down right possessive, arm snug around your waist, shoulder to shoulder 

And if he’s drunk? Even worse 

Like he’s pulling you onto his lap just to make sure that asshole knows your taken 

If you do work in the mafia with him, he likes going on easier missions with you 

And while he knows that you can handle yourself just fine, he can’t help but imagine something bad happening to you when he isn’t there to save you 

He’s lost too many people in his life, please, don’t leave him as well 

He loves when you rest your head on his chest and listen to his heartbeat 

And while you do that he’ll run his fingers through your hair 

Chuuya loves to spoil you rotten as I stated, it’s his love language 

So sometimes he’ll just hand you his black card and let you go shopping with friends or something 

In fact, he encourages you to buy what you want 

FYODOR 

Honestly? Where do I start with him? 

Like congratulations if you meet him and make it out alive 

I don’t know if I should congratulate him taking an interest in you though 

I feel like he believe that the interest he had in you was purely innocent curiosity 

But I also don’t think he would try to delude himself for as long as Dazai does 

Eventually he would notice that something was different about his interest for you than usual 

And while he would hesitate to put a name to it so quickly he would eventually give in after realizing there was no stoping this feeling from festering in him 

After coming to terms with his romantic? Feelings and interest in you he would definitely begin to manipulate you into feeling the same way for him 

If you don’t already that is 

If you don’t confess then he’ll definitely do the same thing Dazai did 

And when you agree, he of course knew you would, he makes you move in with him 

He can’t let his dearest other slip from his finger now can he? 

I feel like before ever getting into a relationship, you would have been made aware of his ‘work’  

Please, make sure the man eats 

And takes his iron pill 

Nikolai is getting a little tired of that daily routine despite how much he loves to be around Fyodor 

Anyways, dates aren’t a very common thing in fact, very, very rare 

I mean… what did you expect? 

Man’s a literal terrorist 

That being said, from time to time he’ll leave his ‘lair’ to spend time with you 

If you ask, he’ll gladly play the cello for you 

If he snaps at you for ‘bothering him with pointless things’ when you bring him his iron pill or food just listen 

Don’t bother him with such things 

And then same thing the next day 

And after some 4 or 5 days he’ll stumble from his room 

Staggering as he tries not to collapse or faint from both his lack of energy and his iron deficiency 

And when he walks into the kitchen trying to get the iron pill bottle open? 

Let him stumble his way over to you and ask for help before you finally do as such 

And he realizes just how dependent on you he’s become 

It’ll happen again eventually 

But as of that moment, it’ll at least be awhile before the cycle repeats 

(That last part of Fyodor’s was based upon some fanfic I read for him. I'm not sure who it was by, but I’ll tag it if and when I do find it.) 

A/N: anyways, believe it or not, I love Chuuya just as much as I do Fyodor and Dazai 

I’m just not as confident in his character. Since I’m a lot like Dazai, he comes easy to me and by substitute, Fyodor does as well 

But Chuuya? Despite him being one of my 5 favorites along with Dazai and Fyodor, I just don’t resonate personally enough with him to write him really well

Edited: 5-22-22

Fandoms I write for + masterlist:

Genshin

Atla/lok

Castlevania

Demon slayer

Saiki k

Black butler

Ohshc

Arcane

Mlb

jjba

Blue Exorcist

Blue period

Tbhk

Obey me

lego monkie kid

Mob psycho

If you are gonna do a request look at this

Sigma X !GN Reader

YEP, GUESS WHO JUST CRANKED OUT 1K WORDS IN LIKE TWO HOURS?? Fair warning, not much romance here, but I tried. ;-;

*~~*

His heels clicked as he walked down the hallway, glancing occasionally into the rooms with a tilt of his head to perform any final inspections.

Opening the door at the end, he barely stumbled into his office from exhaustion. Sigma knew he still had paperwork to file, lying on his desk in stacks, so he began the excruciating walk, just ready to get the day over with.

…Until a polite cough came from the entrance.

From you, who was stationed near the door as the guard for his office. He whipped his head around, giving an embarrassed chuckle before beginning:

“Ah.. good evening. I had to come later than usual," He explained, staring at you curiously. “Er, I believe another guard should have come for the night shift, yes..?”

“I took it,’’ You answered smoothly. “They had some family work to attend to. I apologise for not informing you earlier, this came into my attention quite recently.”

His brows furrowed. “Why not give the shift to—?”

“The guards you normally trust are either on vacation, or general leaves. I was the only one available, so..”

He shook his head. “You shouldn't overwork yourself, though.”

You gave a polite smile. “Please, don't worry about me.”

Seeing as you wouldn't budge, Sigma sighed and just walked over to his desk, flopping down onto his chair to begin. But, instead of providing his entire focus into the paperwork, his thoughts ranged from any errors to schedule delays to now you.

How come the night shift guard hadn't informed him of their situation, and that they could not work tonight? Sigma would have been fine without a guard for the night. But instead, they informed you to cover.

Scribbling his signature onto a document, he placed it onto a pile of papers before moving on to the next from the stack.

Had the guards been overworked?

Indeed, his usual guards had been on leaves; he'd memorized all the details by heart—the casino and his employees as extension were his family, after all.

He glanced up from the paperwork, moving his gaze to you.

“I insist again, you should—”

“I’m fine, sir.” Your hands move to your handgun. “Your safety is the priority.”

He dragged his eyes back onto the file, running his fingers through his silver-lilac hair. “It’s.. really rare to need such protection, especially this late into the day. I must emphasize, your pay won't be affected if you leave. Of course, you'll be compensated with overtime wages if—”

“It’s not the money,” You interrupted quietly. “I.. just want to, y’know?”

His hand slowly left his hair, his eyes blinking in confusion as you two locked stares. “What..?”

Shifting on your feet, you looked at the floor. “...Yeah.”

His brows furrowed as he tried to figure out this puzzle you'd just presented over to him. You'd work the night shift just ‘cause?

From what he knew, you lived in the casino permanently as he did, which was unlike the rest of the employees, who had families and homes in actual countries. There wasn't much in your file referencing to your past, and while that was intriguing, he never questioned it to avoid making you uncomfortable. Heaven knows how awkward he feels when someone asks him of such.

Slowly, you rose through the ranks and he gave you the duty to guard his office along with a few other trusted members.

“...Why don't you take vacations?” He asked, his tone quiet, matching yours.

Your head snapped to him, and you took a few seconds before responding: “I do take holidays, don't I?”

“Not in the way others do,” He murmured, suddenly gaining confidence. “They leave the casino to visit their friends and family in the countries below, but you…”

“...don't really have anyone,” You finished his sentence. Taking in his shocked expression, you explained, “Down there, I mean.”

Sigma slowly stood from his office chair, his eyes still widened. “What do you mean you have no one?”

“Just a combination of.. coincidental events, leaving me with no direct family.” You rubbed your temple. “It has its upsides though, right? Not having to take vacations to visit them..?”

“Everyone wants a place they can call a home!” He moved around the desk, his coat swaying as he walked over.

“You’re right.”

Hearing you, his steps faltered.

“...Like how you call the casino home, so do I.”

He straightened, fixing his gaze on you. He tried to find words to answer, but found none.

You gave a small smile. “Everyone has different stories as to why they're where they are; I’m sure you do too. But the place I now find myself in? I couldn't be more grateful. Especially for a manager that is so regularly concerned for the well-being of his employees.”

Slowly lowering his gaze from you onto the floor, he swallowed before answering, “...Why wouldn't I?”

You laughed slightly, making him stare back in confusion. “Managers usually don't care that much. You're really appreciated for all the work you do around, actually. Hell, we’re all concerned for you.”

“R..” He slowly began walking again. “Really?”

You closed your eyes, sighing. “Of cou—”

Your breath hitched as you felt arms wrapping around your torso. His scent, a lavender cologne, enveloped your senses as you tried to understand the sudden contact.

Slowly, your arms encircled his neck, and you felt him burying his face onto your head, his hands trembling as he squeezed you further.

“I.. I appreciate you all too. This casino.. it's my home, like you,” He mumbled into your hair.

Your eyes widened, and you couldn't help but smile.

“But please, retire to your room.” He pulled back just enough to give a determined look into your eyes.

“...Fine.” You looked back, your grip on his shoulders steady. “But you'll have to leave too.”

“H-huh..?” He tilted his head.

“Get some sleep, sir.” You smiled a little wider.

He blinked, turning his head to look back at his desk, glancing at the files. Then he fixed his gaze back at you, and gave a genuine laugh.

“Ah, fine.”