#pm chuuya x reader

[yawarakaizai]

pm dazai and pm chuuya who constantly fight each other for readers attention... but then someone hurts reader and all of a sudden they work together so seamlessly to kill the mf who dared to touch you (⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠)

ⵌ YOU'RE QUITE THE SAME IF LOVE'S THE GAIN

SENDER Reader (Fem) RECIPITENT PM!Dazai Osamu + PM!Chuuya Nakahara (BSD) CONTENTS jealousy, reader+chuuya+dazai are 16/17, reader is an heiress, hostage situation, fluff n cute!! (implied) torture, worried chuuya NOTE This wasn't the department you specialised in. You wanted to manage finances, and while Mori was more than happy to grant you the role - Dazai would nag for you to join him and Chuuya on missions that didn't concern you in the slightest. There's only so much patience one can have. COMPANY Tangled Up

A/N THI S WA S RLL Y C UT E !! sorr y this one was l ate ;//; i hav e a scho o l trip tmrw ^^// maybe i'l l t ry sm ut nex t ... i have a l ot of good re qs i ho pe i ca n ge t throu gh the m a ll ꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱

Missions with Dazai and Chuuya always resulted in a thrilling adventure. There was never a time you'd look back on a mission you'd had with both and say to yourself, 'that was a bummer.'

You weren't supposed to work alongside them. Within the Port Mafia, Dazai and Chuuya were always to be assigned missions that were too dangerous for someone ordinary.

And, you? Well.

You possessed no ability. Your purpose in the Port Mafia was your background - your status.

Heiress to your father's wealth in your homeland of France, your parents were part of a certain elite group that made you a walking target should you venture without protection.

That is why you were always thrown as the bait.

With all respects to Dazai, that is, who introduced to Mori the idea of having you be the helpless, dumb damsel skipping merrily into danger.

You weren't happy about this arrangement and that was made clear by your sulking.

" Oh, look at me, I am an unattended woman. "

You sluggishly wandered around the dark halls of the abandoned facility, your voice just barely loud enough for the walls to echo your sarcastic jokes.

" This is serioouuuss! " The earpiece cleverly hidden in your ear crackled into life, you knew the voice belonged to Dazai. " Been chasing this guy for ages now, I think he's got some sort of phasing ability. He might appear outta no where, but Chuuya's trailing behind you, so don't worry. "

As if it could ease your nerves, it only made you regret agreeing to this further. " Great. I'm comforted. " You replied in a snarky manner.

You were dressed in lavish clothing that not even your pompous, arrogant mother would ever think of wearing. You seemed to have a distaste for reminders of the generational wealth you possess and opt to distance yourself from a 'royal' life. It proved impossible when it was the only thing that allowed you to maintain a job in the Port Mafia.

The gloomy and cold atmosphere left you hugging yourself for warmth as you traversed through complicated corridors. Although your earpiece was not connected to Chuuya's, you worried that you were walking off-course and/or Chuuya knew where you are meant to go, but could not blow his cover to correct your stupid mistakes.

Chuuya did a pretty good job at staying hidden. You could not hear a thing other than the clacking of your heels against metal flooring. " Ohh.. I'm so scared. " You pitched your voice higher, this being your best shot at luring out whoever it is the PM were after. You weren't taking this seriously, that was clear to both Dazai and Chuuya.

This wasn't the first mission you three were together, there were a few others that you'd two go through but this was the first time you were thrown a seal to a shark.

Dazai was elsewhere in the building, you weren't sure where and he gave no information when asked. With the affirmation Chuuya had your back, you knew that there was nothing to fear.

You would have appreciated some communication on his end though. You figured it must be his unnatural shyness towards you that made it hard for him to be too forward.

You easily noticed how his behaviour would change around you. And with Dazai around? Oh, boy.

Even if you could be a little air-headed sometimes, you weren't dumb to the hints in front of you.

From the day you were rescued from captivity - a story for another day - Chuuya stood out. You find it funny how he'd be unable to face you for more than a minute before looking away hurriedly. It sprung your new-found hobby of teasing Chuuya whenever you could. Of course Dazai picked up on it pretty soon after too and Chuuya has not known peace since. You couldn't help it! You weren't to blame! You giggled to yourself reminding yourself of Chuuya's little crush, fingers intertwined behind your back loosely, your back straightening from its previous hunched-over stance.

Feeling sudden confidence surge through your veins with the recollection of memories with Chuuya, you were just about to turn on your heel to address the gravity manipulator until a hand grabbed you from behind - before you had the chance to see who it was, you felt cold metal press against your temple that made you freeze up.

In front of you, Chuuya had finally revealed himself, but he too was stood as still as stone.

" Kill me 'n the girl goes too. "

They have never let it get THIS bad. Not ever have you ever even been in the hold or this close to an enemy, and here you were at gunpoint, something that was not planned.

You didn't dare break eye contact from Chuuya. This might just be your final moment. With great trust in Chuuya and Dazai's ability, you weren't sure how they'd proceed with this.

Chuuya might end up being the last thing you see. The look of fear on his face too didn't ease your nerves. They were not in the position to bargain. And funnily enough, you blamed yourself for this.

" Fine, yeah. Let her go. " Chuuya stood up from his mid-offensive position and dropped whatever weapon he had. A gun and a small knife for close-combat, he raised his arms above his head to firmly show his surrender. The hand that was previously on your lower hip raised to roughly cover your mouth, a gloved palm shoving itself in your face and that broke you down immediately. Fear took over and your knees went weak with pure fright, yet the man behind you had his fingers digging into the flesh of your cheek with such a harsh grab that it kept you standing up-right, the barrel of the gun pressing in deeper to your skull, sure to leave indents - that is if you weren't just shot dead. Then an indent would be the less of your worries.

With your back pressed against the chest of the stranger, you could feel the vibration of his confident voice as he spoke loudly, " Don't take me for a fool, Nakahara. You could easily use that ability of yours. " And that was true. You actually forgot about Chuuya's ability. Your mind was too foggy at the moment.

It was the first time you saw Chuuya Nakahara look uncertain in whether this mission would end well or not. He smiled insecurely as he let out a gruff exhale, " Wouldn't do that if I wanted her to live, yeah? Now let her go. "

Even if he kept grinning, you could see how the sweat dripped from his face even through your own teary eyes. With the palm pressing over your mouth and nose, it was difficult to breathe and steady your heart that was already beating fast enough as it is.

" Hmm.. " The gun was lowered slowly, caressing down your cheek and to your chest before being positioned at the pit of your stomach, " But do I really wanna? "

You began to squeal in protest, unable to accept your helplessness but it seemed someone else did your job of retaliation for you.

In the blink of an eye, the man holding you captive fell backwards and consequentially dragged you down with him but ended up tripping you up a bit further. You fell with your head banging on the hard floor, your captors hand slipping from your mouth and allowing you to briefly ‎gasp for air. The clattering of a gun was heard somewhere yet you were too dazed to properly do anything at this point.

The last thing you remember was the feeling of being raised from your underarms and distant shouting.

" -as if she'd be able to do-"

" No, you shut up! You could've done something easily. "

" It was your idea to use her as a fuckin' pawn, don't twist this. "

" Uhh! I'm sowwy~! I thought Chuuya Naka-fucking-hara had some balls to intercept~! "

" Zip it! She's waking up! "

Groggily, you stared at the two of them, sitting opposite each-other on the end of your bed. Judging by the bright white, you were most likely in the infirmary.

Chuuya was the first to lean in, he must have not noticed his hand coming to rest over yours which were folded nearly over your stomach. He had hope in his eyes, contrasting with the emotion you last remember them in. " Y/N? " He called out to you, taking a glimpse at the steady heart monitor.

Testing your voice, you let out a low hum before croaking out a meek, " Heya. "

Dazai was the first to break a laugh at your first words. His and Chuuya's eyes were soft.

" Don't look cute, I'm pissed at you both. " You huffed, turning your head to the side, avoiding them both.

Chuuya held your hand a little tighter, he understood if you decided to be unhappy with him. " Sorry, Y/N. I really fucked that up. Shit, I just didn't know what to do. " He explained himself with such compassion you were urged to look at him again. " I guess I discovered seein' you like that. Uh. In trouble and stuff, makes me seize up badly. "

From the corner of your eye you saw Dazai huff before standing up, but Chuuya held onto your attention as he continued speaking tenderly to you, " I thought that this loser would have planned a set-up and knew that was gonna happen but. It took too long. I realised last second he didn't plan shit. "

" Hey! Don't be so rude, Chuuya~ Besides, if it weren't for me, precious princess would've been shot. " You saw Dazai reach into his back pocket for something you couldn't quite recognise yet.

" Oh, that was you, Dazai? " You asked, alluding to the sudden drop during the action. " Yuup~ And y'know what the best part is? "

You quirked a brow and stole a shared glance from Chuuya. Dazai was unexpectable.

" Since me and Chuuya are so nice.. "

So Chuuya was in on this too?

Dazai paused his sentence and hummed in a baby-ish voice. " Kill me and the girl goes too! " He mocked, earning him an earnest giggle from you. " That wasn't funny, Dazai! I was scared! " You retorted, but still couldn't wipe that smile off of your face.

" Sorry, sorry. But, like he wanted, he's not dead. "

Dazai held the object he had pulled out in front of him. Bloodied priars.

" Technically death caused by unattended injuries is not 'killing him' on MY end, isn't that right, Chuuya? "

Chuuya nod his head before you.

They have that man locked in a fucking basement.

©yawarakaizai 2023 ﹒﹒ reblogs appreciated! requests open :3

[antiiqueness]

sugar daddies who buy them and their babies matching red bottoms.

laying on his pristine black leather couch scrolling on your phone with your legs hoisted up on his lap, his pretty hands massaging your feet, you make a comment of how cute you think couples who match shoes are, and he goes all out with it. humming a little with a nod of agreement before immediately going to safari and looking up christian louboutin and purchasing the both of you a pair. letting out a small chuckle when you make a follow up comment on how you two should get matching converse. “sure sweetheart.”

seeing the way a cute little smile plasters itself on your face when he says he got the two of you a matching present days later, sitting you down atop the lavish dining room table and telling you to close your eyes as he gets the box, allowing you to open your eyes once he opens the box and grabs the first heel out, kneeling down and grabbing your foot between his long fingers gently placing the shoe on your pretty foot.

kissing up your legs as he puts the second heel on your other foot, commenting about how gorgeous you make them look, and about how cute the two of you are going to be wearing your matching shoes.

GOJO, geto, TOMURA, DABI, bakugou, HAWKS, CHUUYA, FYODOR, pm dazai, mori, tachihara, giyuu

[onesiesdaydream]

Whiskey Eyes I Chuuya Nakahara x Reader (Part 1)

Part 1 I Part 2

Summary: Chuuya stumbles home piss-drunk in the dead of night. Safe to say, you were both in for a really long night.

A/N: Sorry for having to make this two parts, it exceeded Tumblr's character limit per post so I had to split it :/

MASTERLIST

The clock struck 2:13 AM.

You heard it before you saw him—heavy boots dragging down the hallway, a muttered curse under his breath, and the unmistakable jingle of keys fumbling at the door. You paused the movie quietly playing on your laptop and sighed, closing it with a soft click before slipping out of bed. The door creaked open just as you stepped into the kitchen. You reached into the cabinet for the painkillers. You were already bracing yourself for whatever version of him tonight had dragged home.

“Chuuya?” you called gently, rounding the corner into the hallway.

No answer—just the dull thunk of his coat hitting the floor and the slow, off-beat rhythm of boots scuffing against hardwood. A second later came a muted thud and a mumbled curse.

“Who the hell… put the damn wall there?”

You met him halfway down the hall.

He looked like a mess, honestly—copper hair tousled from the wind and too many frustrated fingers run through it, his hat dangling limply from one hand. His tie was hanging half-undone and hopelessly crooked. He smelled like expensive whiskey, smoke, and a little too much pride.

“Hey, doll,” Chuuya slurred with a crooked grin, blinking up at you like he wasn’t entirely sure you were real. His eyes were glassy and unfocused, cheeks flushed with more than the cold. “Miss me?”

You caught him just in time before he face-planted into the hallway rug.

“Careful,” you huffed, looping an arm around his waist to keep him upright. “You almost kissed the carpet.”

“I didn’t even see the carpet,” he mumbled into your shoulder, clinging to you like gravity itself had a personal vendetta against him.

“I’m fine,” he added, swaying like a ship in a storm. “Just got… y’know… gravity issues. S’not my fault the floor’s crooked.”

“The floor isn’t crooked, Chuuya. You are.”

“That’s rude,” he said with mock offense, attempting to point at you—but it was more of a gentle wobble in your general direction. “Y’can’t insult your handsome boyfriend. S’bad manners.”

“No, sweetheart. That’s physics.”

“Ohhh,” he drawled, like you’d just unlocked the mysteries of the universe. “That’s what that is. Gravity. She’s a bitch.”

He shook loose from your grip with more confidence than coordination—and promptly stumbled forward with a half-spin that sent him staggering into the kitchen.

“Chuuya—!”

Too late. He tripped over the rug at the threshold and staggered with both arms flailing like a marionette mid-seizure before finally catching himself—by slapping both palms dramatically onto the nearest countertop.

Which just so happened to be occupied by your toaster.

There was a beat of silence before he looked up.

Then, with all the solemn gravity of a man who believed he was making deep, meaningful eye contact, Chuuya leaned in and said, “Hey there, gorgeous. You heating things up for anyone else tonight… or just me?”

You stared, wide-eyed, as he blinked slowly at the stainless-steel appliance like it had personally proposed.

“...Did you just hit on the toaster?”

“I tripped,” he muttered, as if that explained everything. Then, with no shame whatsoever, he whispered to the toaster, “You’re hot. S’a compliment. Don’t tell my girlfriend.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose but couldn’t keep the smile off your face. “Oh my god.”

He looked affronted. “Don’t be jealous. She’s just... shiny.”

You guided him toward the bed, half-carrying, half-dragging as he mumbled nonsense between steps.

“You always smell nice,” he murmured, nuzzling into your shoulder as he went. “Like soap… and hope. And… maybe cookies? Did you make cookies?”

“I lit a candle.”

“Oh.”

He paused for a beat. “Still think it was cookies.”

He stumbled again and looked down at his boots with suspicion. “My boots hate me. Jealous, probably. Of my ankles. ‘Cause they’re perfect.”

You snorted, fighting a smile as you lowered him onto the bed and tugged his hat from his hand. His hair stuck to his forehead in wild waves. His tie looked like it had given up halfway through the night.

He groaned and leaned his head back, eyes fluttering shut before squinting back at you through heavy lids. “Whatcha doin’, sweetheart?” he asked, slurred and slow as you knelt to unlace his boots.

“Taking care of you,” you said simply.

“Aren’t you just the sweetest,” he murmured, his hand brushing your hair with a trembling touch. Somehow, he seemed slightly more sober. “Y’don’t have to do all this. But I’m glad you do. You’re soft...”

You didn’t even have time to comment before he muttered, “I think I kissed a jukebox.”

You looked up. “You what?”

“Wait. No. Might’ve been a vending machine.” He frowned, struggling to recall. “Shiny. Judgmental. Gave me a look.”

Nop. Still drunk.

You sighed, tugging off his boots. “You went too far tonight, didn’t you?”

He didn’t answer right away—just looked at you with those whiskey-glazed eyes, full of something distant and heavy.

“They wouldn’t shut up,” he muttered finally. “About Dazai. About the past. So I reminded ’em.”

“By drinking them under the table?”

“And throwin’ one of ‘em through it,” he added proudly. 

You exhaled sharply—equal parts exasperated and utterly endeared before taking a seat next to him. “Chuuya.”

“What?” he asked, suddenly innocently offended. “You’re not mad, right? You can’t be mad, I brought you something.”

You blinked. “You did?”

He patted down his coat with exaggerated concentration, fumbling through pockets before triumphantly producing… a bottle cap. He held it up like it was treasure.

“Ta-daaa~.”

You stared. “Wow. Just what I always wanted.”

“I knew you’d love it,” he said, beaming, then leaned heavily against your side. “You’re so warm. Like a bed. Or a… really fancy scarf.”

You shook your head, lips twitching. “You’re drunk.”

“You’re beautiful,” he replied without missing a beat, as if that settled the entire conversation.

You groaned and handed him the metal water bottle you had been drinking from when he’d stumbled in. “You’re going to have a headache the size of Yokohama tomorrow.”

“Already feel it coming,” he muttered, his words slurring just slightly as he tipped the water bottle to his lips, eyes fluttering closed like they were too heavy to keep open. His hand trembled slightly as he fumbled the bottle, taking a swig more out of instinct than coordination. It was a struggle for him, but he was determined to finish it, even if it meant half spilling it down the front of his shirt.

You watched him for a moment, your heart softening as he sank into the matress, his head tipping back against the headboard with a groan. You knew that sinking feeling all too well—the hangover was already knocking at his door, and he wasn’t in any condition to deal with it just yet.

You reached over and pressed two painkillers into his hand, feeling the warmth of his fingers as they closed around them with far less precision than he usually had. “Here,” you said gently, helping him tilt his head back so he could swallow them. His eyes were still closed, his face slack with exhaustion, but he managed a weak smile as he leaned into your touch.

“Thanks, sweetheart,” he mumbled, his voice muffled by the pillow beneath his cheek. 

You hummed softly in acknowledgment, your fingers brushing the damp strands of his hair away from his forehead as you leaned in close to him. “You’re a mess,” you teased, but it was with affection, as you worked on pulling his shirt from where it had bunched up over his stomach.

The fabric was wrinkled, and the collar had been twisted all wrong. It took far more effort than it should’ve—his body limp, not quite cooperating with your hands as you struggled to remove his shirt without jostling him around too much.

He let out a half-sigh, half-groan, and managed to lift his arms slightly, giving you just enough room to peel the shirt off over his head. “You’re lucky you’re cute,” he murmured, his voice still thick with drunkenness, and you couldn't help but smile at the familiar, lazy flirtation that was now tinged with exhaustion.

“Lucky, huh?” you muttered, finally managing to get the shirt off and tossing it to the floor in a heap. 

You moved on to his tie next, giving it a gentle tug, and he made a soft, almost imperceptible sound of protest before he weakly helped you undo it. His fingers were stiff, but you guided his hands with patience, untangling the knot with ease. He let out another small groan when you finished, his head lolling to the side as he slurred, “I swear, if I wasn't so dizzy, I’d be making it way easier on you.”

“Oh, I know,” you teased back. His eyes barely opened, a sleepy, half-lidded gaze still fixated on you as you worked. It was almost sweet, the way he let you take care of him despite all his usual stubbornness. “But we both know you’re not in any condition to be helpful right now.”

He huffed, a soft chuckle escaping him. “Fine. I’ll just lay here and let you be the responsible one. I trust you with my life.”

You smiled softly as you finished peeling away the last of his rumpled work clothes, throwing them in a heap on the floor and trading his wrinkled shirt and slacks for the familiar comfort of his pajama bottoms. The task was a little more difficult than it should’ve been, but you managed to get him settled, his clothes discarded in a haphazard pile on the floor. You tucked the blankets around him, pulling them up to his chin, ensuring he was warm and comfortable before sitting down beside him on the bed.

His hand, which had been slack at his side just moments ago, reached for yours, fingers curling around yours loosely in a gesture that felt almost childlike in its simplicity. His grip was weak but steady, and you could feel the warmth of his hand as he settled into the bed, his eyes barely open but focused on you as if trying to stay present.

“Get some sleep, hun,” you whispered, brushing your thumb over his knuckles. “I’m not going anywhere.”

He didn’t respond immediately—his chest rising and falling steadily as he drifted off. But just before he succumbed to the pull of sleep entirely, he murmured, “I love you.”

You pressed a soft kiss to his hand, holding it a little tighter. “I love you too, you idiot. Get some rest.”

And with that, he was out like a light, his breath soft and even, the gentle rise and fall of his chest a steady rhythm in the quiet room.

[honeyscara]

— PM! reacting to their s/o wanting to leave the mafia(feat. Akutagawa, higuchi, tachihara, chuuya and gin)

Bungo stray dogs

C/w: angst, mentions of death

Akutagawa Ryunosukeּ ֶָ֢.

Silence. Deafening, suffocating silence.

You expect him to lash out, to let Rashomon flare up in rage, but he doesn’t move. He just stares at you, dark eyes unreadable, lips slightly parted like he didn’t hear you right.

“Say that again.”

You do. This time, his fingers twitch at his sides. You see it—the small, barely perceptible tremor in his hands. He clenches them into fists before you can comment on it.

“You’re a fool,” he mutters, voice low, trembling with something you can’t quite place. “There is no leaving. You should know that.”

You do know that. You know what happens to those who try.

He steps closer, and for a brief moment, you think he’s going to stop you—to trap you, to threaten you, to beg you. But he doesn’t. He just lifts a hand, almost touching your face… then lets it fall back to his side.

“If you go through with this,” he says, voice colder now, “don’t expect me to come after you.”

And yet, as you turn away, you feel his stare burning into your back.

As if he already knows—when the Port Mafia sends someone after you, it’ll be him.

Higuchi Ichiyouּ ֶָ֢.

“No.”

The word leaves her lips before she can stop it. Her whole body tenses, eyes wide, breath shallow like the wind’s just been knocked out of her.

“You… you don’t mean that. Right?”

Her voice wavers, hands reaching for yours—but she stops just short, like she’s afraid touching you will make you disappear.

You tell her you do. That you can’t keep living like this.

She laughs..a broken, breathless sound. “You’re joking. You have to be joking, because you—” Her voice cracks.

She knows what happens to traitors. And she knows the higher-ups will find out, with or without her telling them.

“You can’t go,” she whispers, hands trembling as they finally grab yours. “Please. I—” Her throat tightens. “I can’t lose you.”

If you leave, she has to make a choice.Report you, or watch the person she loves be hunted down like an animal.

There is no right answer.

Chuuya Nakaharaּ ֶָ֢.

“You’re what?”

The bottle in his hand nearly slips, the liquid inside sloshing wildly. His usual composed demeanor shatters in an instant.

“You’re joking.” His voice is strained, desperate—pleading. “Tell me you’re joking.”

You shake your head.

His breath hitches. “Damn it,” he mutters, running a hand through his hair. He looks away, like if he doesn’t see your face, this won’t be real.

“You know what happens to people who leave.” He turns back to you, eyes sharp with something between fury and fear. “They don’t get to just walk away.”

His hands grip your shoulders, shaking slightly. “I can cover for you,” he says, voice lower now, urgent. “I can make something up, get you out clean, but you have to give me time.”

You tell him it’s too late—that you’re already leaving.

His fingers tighten around you, like he can physically hold you here, in his world, where he can still protect you.

And then—he lets go.

His arms drop to his sides, hands clenching into fists as he steps back. His lips press together, his entire body shaking with the effort to stay calm.

“…You’re gonna get yourself killed.” His voice is hoarse now.

And when you walk away, he doesn’t follow.

Because if he does, he knows he’ll never be able to let you go.

Gin Akutagawaּ ֶָ֢.

She doesn’t react right away.

You wait for the anger, the shock, the desperate pleas but Gin just stands there, staring at you with an expression so eerily calm it makes your stomach twist.

“I see.”

That’s all she says.

You shift uncomfortably. “That’s it?”

Gin tilts her head slightly, as if considering something. Then she exhales, a slow, deliberate breath. “You’ve already decided, haven’t you?”

You nod.

She closes her eyes for a brief moment. When she opens them again, there’s something unreadable in them.

“Then you need to leave. Now.”

It’s not encouragement. It’s a warning.

She steps closer, lowering her voice. “I won’t tell my brother,” she murmurs, “but if he finds out, if they order him to…” She doesn’t finish the sentence.

She doesn’t have to. You already know.Instead, she presses something into your hand—a knife.

“Run fast. Hide well.”

And when you disappear into the night, she doesn’t let herself cry.Because mourning you now would mean accepting that you’re already dead.

Tachihara Michizōּ ֶָ֢.

He laughs. At first, at least. “Yeah, right. And I’m quitting to be a florist.”

But then he sees the look in your eyes.

“…You’re serious.” His voice loses all its playfulness. The smile fades.

“Tachihara—”

“No.” His voice is sharp. “You don’t get to just—leave.” His breathing is uneven, his body tense, every muscle screaming at him to do something.

But what can he do? Drag you back? Lock you away? Call it in and watch the light in your eyes die when you realize he’s the one who betrayed you?

His hands twitch at his sides, fingers curling like they want to reach for you but can’t.

“You…” His voice falters, then drops to something barely above a whisper. “You don’t get how bad this is.”

You do. And that’s why you’re leaving.

He swallows hard, running a shaky hand through his hair. “Shit, I—” He looks away, like he can’t bear to see your face.

There’s nothing he can do. If he helps you, he dies with you. If he stops you, he breaks you himself.

He watches you turn away. Watches you take one step, then another.

He wants to stop you. To call out. To say something—anything. But he doesn’t.

And the next time he sees you, his orders are clear.

Eliminate the traitor.

And for the first time in his life, he doesn’t know if he can pull the trigger.

[moomuzan]

⋆·˚ ༘ *𝖗𝖊𝖓𝖊𝖌𝖆𝖉𝖊

ꜱʏɴᴏᴘꜱɪꜱ an angsty argument ( song request! )

‼️ only aku‘s part is comfort

ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀꜱ akutagawa , chuuya , pm!dazai

The world outside of the small, dark apartment felt distant—detached, as though reality itself had turned a blind eye to you and Akutagawa. The city lights flickered dimly through the thin blinds, casting long shadows across the room. It was late, much later than it should’ve been, but neither of you seemed willing to acknowledge the time.

Akutagawa sat at the edge of the bed, his hands clenched tightly in his lap, the quiet hum of tension in the room thick enough to choke. His usual coldness was absent, replaced by something darker, something more fragile. His shoulders were hunched, as if the weight of everything—the past, the pain, the loneliness—was pressing down on him, leaving him unable to breathe.

Standing by the window, you stared out at the city. It felt like a lifetime ago that you’d crossed paths with Akutagawa, a man full of ice and fury, someone who seemed so unreachable. But now, in this moment, it was hard to tell if he was still that same person or if something inside him had cracked—broken in ways he couldn’t fix.

“Akutagawa,” you said quietly, your voice almost a whisper, “what are you doing?”

Though he didn’t speak, didn’t even move, his gaze shifted to you, his eyes empty, yet there was something in them that you couldn’t ignore—a deep, aching emptiness.

“Are you really gonna talk about timing in times like these?” you asked, your voice gaining strength, a mixture of frustration and pain slipping through. “Do you think I don’t see it? All of this… it’s more than just the things we’ve done. It’s everything you refuse to face, and I’m not going to sit here and let you destroy us because you can’t handle the weight of it. You wouldn’t be the first renegade to need somebody, Akutagawa.”

Finally, his voice rang through the space, though raw, almost pleading. “I don’t need anyone,” he muttered, his words thick with self-loathing. “I don’t need your pity.”

“Pity?” you echoed, your voice trembling with the frustration of it all. “No, you don’t get it. I’m not here out of pity. I’m here because I—” You stopped yourself before the words escaped fully, because admitting it, admitting how much you cared, how much you had always cared, felt like you were letting him win, letting him slip through your fingers. But it was too late to turn back now. “Because I’m tired of watching you break down and pretend it doesn’t matter. You do need someone, Akutagawa, whether you admit it or not.”

He stood abruptly, his movements sharp, too quick, like an animal cornered. “You don’t know anything about me. You don’t know what I’ve done, what I’ve seen. You don’t know how—”

“How what?” you cut him off, stepping closer, your chest tightening with every step. “How broken you are? How damaged you think you are? Well, I know that feeling. I’ve seen that darkness in you—hell, I’ve seen it in myself—but you can’t let it control you forever. You can’t let all your damage damage me.”

For a moment, the silence between you was deafening, the space between your bodies a chasm neither of you knew how to cross. Akutagawa looked away, his jaw clenched tightly, like every word you’d spoken had landed as a blow he didn’t know how to handle.

“You think you can save me?” he asked, his voice quiet now, the edge of anger fading into something else—something softer, almost scared. “You think you can fix me? You don’t know how deep it goes. I’m not someone you can just save.”

“I’m not trying to save you,” you said, your voice steady despite the storm inside. “I’m trying to be here for you. You don’t have to carry all of this on your own. I won’t make you.”

While he didn’t respond, his body language softened slightly—just enough that you could see the faint tremor in his hands. The vulnerability he so desperately tried to hide was beginning to slip through the cracks, and for the first time, you saw him for what he was: not a monster, not a weapon—but a person, broken and searching for something to hold onto.

“Akutagawa,” you whispered, reaching out, your fingers brushing against his trembling hand. “It’s time. You’ve come a long way, and you don’t have to face this alone. I’m here. Open the blinds, let me see your face, and let me be the one who stays by your side.”

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, his walls cracked, just slightly, and his eyes met yours. They were still clouded with confusion, still tinged with pain, but there was something there now—a flicker of trust, of understanding.

“I don’t know how to do this,” he admitted softly, his voice hoarse, vulnerable. “I don’t know how to be… what you need.”

“You don’t have to be anything other than what you are,” you said, your hand resting gently on his. “You’re enough. And if you’ll let me, I’ll be here. No matter what.”

There was a long pause before he finally, hesitantly, nodded. He didn’t say the words out loud, but the shift in his posture was enough. He was allowing you in, finally opening himself up to the possibility that maybe—just maybe—he didn’t have to carry his burdens alone.

You leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead, and for the first time in a long while, the weight in the room seemed to lift, just a little. It wasn’t perfect, and it wouldn’t be easy. But the first step had been taken.

And for Akutagawa, that was enough.

Suffocatingly so, the room too small, the air hung heavy with the sharp scent of cigarette smoke and the lingering tang of whiskey. Dazai stood by the open window, his back to you, one hand braced against the frame while the other held a cigarette. The ember burned faintly in the dim light, flickering with every restless twitch of his fingers. He hadn’t said a word since you arrived, his silence louder than anything he could have said, a wall thrown up between you as solid as the cracked plaster surrounding you both.

You watched him from across the room, your arms crossed tightly, your heart pounding in your chest. His silhouette was rigid, his shoulders tense, his head bowed just slightly as if the weight of his thoughts had grown too much for him to carry. The silence stretched unbearably, and finally, you couldn’t take it anymore.

“Are you even going to look at me?” you demanded, your voice sharp enough to cut through the heavy air.

His fingers tightened around the cigarette, crushing it slightly. Still, he didn’t turn. “Why did you come here?” he asked, his voice low, rough, and razor-edged.

“Why do you think?” you shot back, your frustration rising. “I’m here because I can’t keep doing this. Because I need to know if there’s anything left to fight for, or if you’re just going to keep shutting me out.”

At that, he turned, slowly, and the look in his eyes was like a punch to the gut. They were dark, sharp, and filled with something volatile—a storm barely held in check. His lips curled into a bitter, mocking smile, one that didn’t reach his eyes.

“You need to know?” he repeated, his voice dripping with derision. “Need to know what? That I’m broken? That I’ll ruin you just like I ruin everything I touch? You already know that. You’ve always known that.”

“That’s not—” you started, but he cut you off, stepping closer, his movements sudden and deliberate, like a predator closing in on its prey.

“Don’t lie to me,” he hissed, his voice rising. “Don’t stand there and pretend you’re here because you care. You’re here because you want to fix me. Because you think you’re strong enough to pull me out of the abyss, to save me from myself. But let me tell you something, sweetheart.” He leaned in, his face inches from yours, his breath hot and bitter against your skin. “You’re not. No one is.”

The venom in his words hit you like a slap, but you refused to back down. “That’s not why I’m here,” you said, your voice trembling but resolute. “I’m here because I love you. Because I see something in you that you’re too afraid to see in yourself. And I’m sick of watching you destroy yourself because you’re too much of a coward to let someone care about you.”

He laughed then, a harsh, humorless sound that sent a shiver down your spine. “Love?” he sneered, stepping back and gesturing wildly. “You think this is love? Do you even know what love is? Because I sure as hell don’t. And even if I did, I wouldn’t want it. Love is nothing but a weakness, a leash to choke you the moment you get too comfortable. And I—” His voice cracked, just slightly, before he forced it back under control. “I don’t need that.”

“You’re lying,” you said, your voice barely more than a whisper. “You’re lying because you’re scared.”

“Scared?” he repeated, his voice sharp and mocking. “Of what? Of you?” He stepped closer again, his expression twisted into something cruel, something that didn’t belong to the man you knew. “Tell me, what’s so terrifying about a pretty little thing like you? What’s so dangerous about someone who thinks they can fix me when all they’re doing is tearing themselves apart in the process?”

The tears you had been holding back spilled over, but you didn’t look away. You refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing you crumble. “I’m scared of what you’re doing to yourself,” you said, your voice trembling but firm. “I’m scared of what will happen to you if you keep going like this. And I’m scared of how much it hurts to watch someone I love destroy themselves and push me away at the same time.”

For a moment, his mask slipped, and you saw it—the raw, unguarded pain he worked so hard to bury. But then it was gone, replaced by the cold, detached expression he wore like armor.

“Then leave,” he said, his voice flat, almost emotionless. “If it hurts so much, then walk away. No one’s forcing you to stay.”

You flinched at his words, your chest tightening as the reality of them sank in. He wouldn’t stop you. He wouldn’t fight for you. Because he didn’t believe he was worth fighting for.

“You wouldn’t be the first renegade to need somebody,” you said, your voice soft, trembling. “But you’re the only one who’s too proud to admit it. And I can’t—I can’t keep doing this if you’re not willing to let me in.”

He didn’t respond, didn’t move, didn’t even look at you as you turned toward the door.

“You have to figure this out, Dazai,” you said, your voice breaking as you opened the door. “Because I can’t love someone who refuses to let me.”

The door clicked shut behind you, and for a long moment, Dazai didn’t move. He stood there, staring at the empty space where you had been, his hands trembling, his chest tight with something he couldn’t name.

He wanted to chase after you, to call you back, to tell you that he could try, that he could change. But the words wouldn’t come. They caught in his throat, swallowed by the same fear that had haunted him for as long as he could remember.

Because Dazai Osamu had spent his entire life believing that love was a weakness, a chain that would only drag him down. And now, as the silence closed in around him, he realized too late that it was also the only thing that had ever made him feel alive.

Upon the icy night, an oppressive silence hung in the air as you leaned against the wall, your arms crossed tightly over your chest, trying desperately to ignore the bitter sting of Chuuya’s words still echoing in your mind, twisting around in your thoughts like a cruel refrain that refused to leave. The mission had gone south, that much was true, but it was never the failure itself that stung the most, not when the real wound had been inflicted by the man you had considered not just a comrade, but someone you could trust. But Chuuya’s words, sharp and cutting, had stripped that away from you in an instant—leaving only raw, unhealed skin behind. “You think you’re some kind of hero?” he had spat, his voice full of venom. “You’re just another damn liability. Stay out of my way next time.” And that was it. The thing that had once felt like a bond between you now felt like a heavy, suffocating weight you couldn’t shake.

You had no response then. You had simply stood there, trying to gather the wreckage of your pride, forcing yourself to say nothing, to keep your mouth shut even as every part of you screamed. He was angry. He was upset. And you knew from experience that Chuuya’s anger wasn’t something that could be easily reasoned with, but that didn’t make the sting any less real. And in that silence, after he had turned his back to you and stormed off, you had been left with nothing but the echoes of his harsh words reverberating in your skull like a constant drumbeat.

Liability. You couldn’t stop repeating it. Liability. Were you really that? Were you really just a burden to him, someone to be pushed aside when things got hard?

Standing there in the dark, the sharp chill of the night air biting at your exposed skin, you felt like nothing more than the thing he had made you out to be. A liability. Someone to be discarded. The more you thought about it, the more the emptiness grew, gnawing at you from the inside. You couldn’t get rid of the feeling, couldn’t get rid of the ache in your chest that had begun to swell in the wake of his words. And you didn’t know how to make it stop. You didn’t know how to stop questioning everything you thought you understood about him, about the two of you. Was that all you were to him? A temporary inconvenience, a thing to be shoved aside when he was angry or frustrated?

And yet, you stayed where you were, not moving, not even bothering to wipe away the tears that threatened to spill over. Not because you didn’t want to cry, but because you couldn’t figure out what the hell you were even crying about. Was it for yourself? Was it for the things you had lost that night? Or was it for him, for the man you had trusted to have your back, the man who had turned on you so easily, so violently, without hesitation or remorse? You didn’t know.

As the sound of footsteps approached in the distance, you didn’t have to look to know who it was. You could hear it in the way his boots clicked against the pavement, deliberate and angry, with a quick pace that matched the storm still raging in his chest. You knew he was coming. You didn’t need to see him to know he was about to try and do something to fix the damage, to offer some sort of half-hearted apology, one that would fall short and leave you feeling just as empty as before. But you didn’t care.

“Are you still here?” His voice came sharp, cold, cutting through the night like a blade.

You didn’t respond. There was nothing to say.

“Fine,” he muttered after a moment, his footsteps slowing down, though he didn’t turn away. “I don’t need you to answer. I don’t know why I bother.” There was a bitterness in his tone now, sharper than it had been before, as though he had no intention of trying to make things better, as though he was already too far gone in his frustration to care.

Hanging in the air between you like a weight that you couldn’t push aside, his words were suffocating. You couldn’t answer. You couldn’t find your voice, even if you wanted to. All you could do was stand there, staring at the ground, your thoughts swirling like a whirlpool in your mind, dizzying and impossible to escape. What could you say? What could you possibly say when it felt like nothing you ever did could make him see you as anything other than an annoyance? An afterthought? A damn liability?

Chuuya’s eyes were on you now, though you refused to meet his gaze. You could feel his presence, standing there behind you, his anger still palpable in the air. But you didn’t care anymore. He had already said everything that needed to be said, hadn’t he?

“You’re really just gonna stand there and take it, huh?” His voice came again, biting, as if accusing you for not reacting. For not giving him the fight he was looking for. “I don’t even know why I bother. You’re just like everyone else—just another damn disappointment.”

The words hit you like a slap, each one cracking through the walls you had so carefully built up around yourself. Just another disappointment. It wasn’t the first time he had said something like that, but tonight, it felt different. It felt heavier. You could feel the hollow ache spreading throughout your chest as you finally allowed yourself to process the full weight of his words, the meaning behind them. Disappointment. That was all you had ever been to him, wasn’t it? Always too slow, too weak, too unsure. Always an obstacle in his way. And maybe that was the problem all along. Maybe you were always meant to be something he had to drag around, someone to be tolerated and pushed aside when things didn’t go his way.

You stood there, unmoving, still silent, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing how deeply his words had cut into you. But the longer you stayed there, the more you realized how tired you were. Tired of pretending, tired of fighting, tired of the same cycle. You didn’t know if you could keep doing this. If you even wanted to.

Chuuya stood behind you, waiting for some kind of reaction, his anger simmering, the tension in the air almost unbearable. But you said nothing. You wouldn’t give him the chance. You couldn’t give him the chance to hurt you any more than he already had.

Frozen in place, he didn’t move. The silence between you was suffocating, the cold night air doing nothing to relieve the pressure that had built up between you two. He wanted you to break. Wanted you to cry, to scream, to say something. But you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. Not anymore.

“Fine,” he muttered again, his voice softer now, tinged with something unreadable. He didn’t turn away this time, but his stance had shifted, though you couldn’t bring yourself to face him. “I’ll see you around.”

You didn’t respond. You didn’t have to. There was nothing left to say. You could feel him walk away, his footsteps growing distant, but his words still lingered. The last thing you heard before the silence swallowed everything was the soft click of his boots on the pavement, echoing in the stillness, and the hollow ache of your own broken heart, knowing that tonight, nothing had been fixed. Nothing had been healed.

You were alone in the dark. Again.

a/n: uhm, this is so messy because i combined like two and a quarter requests in one .. i apologise but i loved this song request so much. i love taylor.

[ravencincaide]

Foot in Your Mouth

Summary: You feel off, scared and confused leaving you with no choice but to go behind Dazai's back. Just in and out to confirm your suspicions. Unfortunately for you, you run into someone who has other ideas..

Pairing: Mafia! Osamu Dazai x Fem! Reader  Author Note. This is Part 3 to: If only you'd hold my hand and continuation of Flowers Work count: 1.9K Warning: Dark content including angst, mention of pregnancy & abortion, cursing and toxic relationship. You've been warned, And with those words: Enjoy!

You felt off.

Not the kind of off that could be chalked up to unfamiliar food or jet lag. No, this was different—more like the creeping unease of morning sickness, the kind that made your mind scream ‘pregnant’ rather than just ‘upset stomach’. 

But you refused to entertain that idea. At least, not at first.

The microscopic chance—a sliver of hope tangled with existential dread—wasn’t something you wanted to acknowledge. It was a can of worms you weren’t ready to open. 

Yet, as the days dragged on, and you found yourself hunched over the toilet every morning, skipping dinners because the faintest scent of wrong food suddenly sent your stomach churning, you couldn’t ignore the facts any longer. The pills you’d taken had failed. The abortion hadn’t worked. You were back in the same predicament as before

—no, worse. You corrected yourself grimly. You weren’t in the same predicament. You were in France, where abortion laws were stricter than in Japan. Without the mafia’s influence to bend the rules. You were ridiculously, powerlessly ordinary.And if that wasn’t distressing enough, you were a week closer to the due date.

A week closer to the point of no return. A blessing and a curse-But what if you were wrong? What if this was just food poisoning, and your overactive imagination was blowing it out of proportion? 

You couldn’t tell Dazai. Not yet.

 You couldn’t get his hopes up only to shatter them again. You couldn’t ruin this vacation, not when your relationship was finally rebuilding—when the cold ‘obligation’ was slowly being replaced with a familiar warmth. You couldn’t shatter your glimmer of hope like that. 

“Oi, Donna, you okay in there?” Dazai’s voice cut through your thoughts, followed by a sharp rap of knuckles on the bathroom door. He didn’t wait for an answer before calling again, “Checkout’s in an hour. Hey, you alive in there?” 

“Sorry,” you called back, your voice strained as you raised your head from the toilet bowl. The remnants of breakfast stared back at you, a rancid reminder of your condition. “I’m not in any shape to go anywhere. I know you were looking forward to that book signing—you even brought your own copy—but I don’t think I can handle a three-hour car ride and two hours in line.” 

Dazai knocked again, harder this time, his impatience bleeding through the door, an unmistakable demand to be let in and assess your condition himself. Unlock the door Donna 

You ignored the unspoken demand, trying to divert his attention. “Maybe you should go alone? It’d be a shame to miss it when you’ve been looking forward to it so much.” When it sounded like he was about to break the door down, you added, “Besides, I’m not much fun right now. I’ll just stay here and sleep this off. And if you go, you’ll have less chance of catching whatever stomach bug this is.” 

The urgent rapping slowed, then stopped altogether. Dazai let out a long, heavy sigh—the kind that sent a pang of guilt straight to your heart. “I’ll see if we can extend the hotel room,” he said, his tone dejected. “Then I’ll pick up some meds and dinner on the way back.” You heard him shuffling around the room, followed by the sound of a phone call.

You couldn’t hear what was said; and not knowing was killing you. The bundle of anxiety growing until- 

 “I’ll see you after the book signing. Call me if something happens. Remember, it’s important we make decisions together, Donna.” 

A few moments later, the door opened and slammed shut. 

The silence that followed was suffocating. Maddening. Infuriating. You thought the anxiety would fade but without Dazai it grew ten times worse. It pressed down on you like a weight, leaving you alone with your spiraling thoughts. The cold tiles dug into your knees, the stench of vomit filled your nostrils, and the nausea refused to relent. Each breath felt heavy, each thought darker than the last. 

What if you were wrong? What if this was just a nasty bug from that shabby crepe stand? But what if you weren’t wrong? What if you had to make the decision all over again? The thought of bringing a child into this chaos—of being a single parent with Dazai’s barely-there presence, or worse, his cruel disregard—was.. scary. A single parent in a ‘partnership’. This vacation had been wonderful, but it didn’t erase the days of solitude you’d endured back at the mafia hideout. You were naive enough to believe he still loved you, but not naive enough to think he changed. 

Twenty minutes. 

Twenty agonizing minutes passed as you stared at the ugly orange-and-blue tile patterns on the bathroom walls, trying to decide what to do. To ignore the possibility and keep stressing, or to face it head-on. The good or the bad. The hopeful or the life-shattering. 

The phone felt heavy in your hand as you scrolled through your contacts, stopping at the number of the doctor who’d prescribed the abortion pills. The dial button felt hard to press, but you pressed it anyway, ignoring the bile rising in your throat and the frantic pounding of your heart. 

The doctor answered on the second ring, his greeting cut short as you blurted out, “I think the abortion pills didn’t work!” 

A long, startled silence followed before he cleared his throat awkwardly “ Well, it is possible the pills didn’t take,” he said cautiously, “but I can’t confirm that without an examination. I’m at a medical conference in France for another week, but I can have my assistant—” 

“Give me the address,” you interrupted. When he hesitated, you added, “Are you sure you want to say no to the Port Mafia?” 

“...The address will be texted to you shortly.” 

You swore you were only going for a medical exam—to confirm or deny your suspicions—and then you’d call Dazai. After all, you didn’t want to disturb his book signing over something minor. 

He’d skin you alive for it!

But as you stepped into the small, private clinic on the outskirts of the city, the lack of lights, patients, or staff set off alarm bells. The place felt abandoned, and the phone call replayed in your mind. How had the doctor known it was you calling? Was he always this ‘eager’ to help at the mention of the Port Mafia? And when did ‘away on a conference in another country’, equate to clinic available at your doctors beck and call? Especially one as isolated, shabby and half-abandoned as this one looked? Or was this a standard for reproductive care in France?’

If this was a setup, you delivered yourself on a silver platter.

“Hello?” you called out, approaching the empty lobby desk. The corridors on either side were lined with closed doors, giving the place the eerie feel of a cheesy horror movie. Again, you wished Dazai were here. Despite his condescending tone and jabs at your “scaredy-cat” tendencies, he was was a skilled fighter, and more than skilled with a gun. 

Movement from the right corridor caught your attention, and you headed in that direction, hoping to find the doctor or at least a nurse. In and out, you told yourself. Just get checked, confirm or deny your suspicions, and get back to the hotel before anyone—least of all Dazai—noticed you were gone. 

“Eh, you really don’t have any self-preservation instincts, do you?” 

You spun around. You hadn’t heard the door open or the sound of polished shoes stepping into the corridor. But there he was, his hat, gloves, and the unmistakable stench of cigars, blood, and whiskey told you who it was without needing to his face —Chuuya Nakahara.

“Then again, I shouldn’t be surprised that the bastard’s bedmate has the same death wish as him,” Chuuya said, a pleased grin spreading across his lips. 

You ignored the insult; your eyes locked on the door behind him.

And Chuuya took it as an invitation to keep running his mouth. “Oh, c’mon. Even you know that anyone who messes with the Port Mafia has it coming.” His blue eyes dropped to your stomach, lingered there, then returned to your face. 

Your eyes remained glued to the door. You swore you heard sounds behind the door. Words, or choked cries?  You refused to believe you’d come all this way for nothing, but the absence of anyone else in the clinic—and the blood speckled on Chuuya’s gloves—told you everything you needed to know. 

They were like dead. All of them. The doctors, nurses and patients of this clinic. If there were anyone here besides your doctor to begin with of course.

“You’re really stupid,” Chuuya muttered, drawing your attention back to himself. He stepped closer, invading your space. His gloved hand reached to grab your chin and forced you to meet his eyes. For a moment, they weren’t their usual cold, murderous blue. They were stormy with an emotion you couldn’t quite place. 

Chuuya showing emotion outside of anger and bloodlust? The world was ending. 

“So fucking stupid, to think someone like Mackerel would ever do anything selflessly. And even more stupid to think he’d put effort into all that romantic crap. The vacation, the flowers, the dress, the goddamn dinner—all of that was my funds. My goddamn idea!” His voice started soft, but then grew louder and louder for every uttered word. 

Chuuya never was any good at holding back his anger. 

You slapped his hand away and took a step back.And three it was, the anger in his expression, the disappointment, then something almost condescending before he ‘hid’ it all behind a look of indifference. But his clenched fists told a different story. 

His anger was always easy to read- his emotional immaturity would always make him los to Dazai. Always come second best, at least in your eyes. “Stop shuffling and deal the damned deck already,” you snapped. 

An amused smile tugged at his lips- like an inside joke that made the world seem okay. “You’re lucky I enjoy your quirks as much as your looks.” His expression softened, almost pleading. “We both know disobeying Dazai equals death. You’re lucky that I… don’t want to see you perish.” His hand twitched, as if debating whether to reach for you again. 

Come with me or stay and face Dazai’s wrath.

You couldn’t believe your ears. A bitter laugh escaping your lips. “Dazai wouldn’t!” 

Chuuya chuckled, though his laughter held no amusement. He tipped his hat lower, shadowing his face, and your eyes were instantly locked on the sliver of skin between his glove and sleeve—a tiny drop of blood that reminded you where you were. A clinic full of dead bodies, with a man who could turn you into collateral damage without a second thought. 

Before you could backtrack, Chuuya was already moving to leave. 

“Stupid. But let’s see if you’re right, Donna.” 

He said Dazai’s nickname for you mockingly, condescendingly, like he was addressing an idiot who’d chosen obvious death over a life of luxury. You wanted to roll your eyes and flip him off but something held you back. A little voice that grew louder with every step Chuuya took, making you wonder if maybe, just maybe, you’d put your foot in your mouth one too many times. 

Author Note: .. I think I forgot how to write. No, but seriousely, uni has been kicking my ass so much I've forgotten what fanfics even are! Easy to say I'm not fully happy with how this chapter turned out but we're one step closer to the end and most importantly; I think it's only a chapter left of this fic. One chapter to see if Chuuya was bullshitting or not. What do you think?

And on a final note: I hope you enjoyed!

𝕄𝕒𝕚𝕟 |ℝ𝕒𝕧𝕖𝕟 |ℝ𝕦𝕝𝕖𝕤 |ℝ𝕖𝕢𝕦𝕖𝕤𝕥𝕤 |𝕄𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕥 |ℂ𝕣𝕖𝕕 & 𝕆𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕣

All fics are unique works by ©raven-cincaide 2025. Do not copy/repost/translate or spread my work(s) without my explicit permission. If you see any of my work(s) reworked/reposted/copied anywhere, please inform me!

[negativ3o]

chuuya and dazai 15 cover my style!

an artist actually finishing their work 😱

and then some extra pictures of the work in progress that it took ❤️

[broken-spirit101]

twelfth, again? PM!Dazai X Reader : the first meet — series

A/N: yes. i'm back to writing. not back to my requests, but i promise we'll get there. someday. but this sudden 12:14 AM rush hit me and i had to write this down.

perhaps a continuation might follow? :3 warnings: dazai is being dazai. chuuya is being chuuya.

it was the twelfth time you dreamt of that early evening again.

that day, twilight had just set. blue tones of the sky were setting into a pale yellow, nearly orange near the horizon. like a sunscape painting.

it was quiet. you were in your muted white dress. the casual type. the type that subtly flows down.

not attracting attention, but existing within its own quiet swish when the wind blows.

distant shouting—

ripping your attention from the book you were reading. instinctively raising your head, you spot a flash of orange. just nearby.

"oi! shitty dazai, those mushrooms aren't gonna help you die."

"isn't it worth trying?" came from an amused tone.

"we've got work to do, you asshole—"

"and we've got two hours. calm down, chew-ya."

"and eight people to ki—" the voice dropped, all of a sudden. quiet again, replaced by the low chirp of crickets once more.

suspicious. ki—? kick? kiss? kill?

seemed to be the last one from the silence...

"aaand?" the voices walked ahead, their figures coming into view fully. two boys, seeming to be teens, around your age. one tall, dark brown hair, in a white shirt, and the shorter one, a ginger, in a dark green hoodie. a bandage covered the former's right eye.

successfully ruining the silent solitude of the park. the susurrus of leaves no longer audible.

"where even is that fancy-ass hotel we're supposed to go to?"

"hmm... perhaps in neverland?"

a kick was swung at the brunette's knee, almost hitting him, had he not stepped left last minute.

"you've gotta polish your attacks, chuuya-kun—"

a fist swung at the skull this time. successfully connecting.

"hey! that's against the rules!" the brunette shouted, massaging his head with his right hand. "a dog doesn't attack its own master!"

"oh? want me to test that again?"

"anyways, the hotel!"

the ginger almost seemed murderous. typical of someone with his hair color. "reply to me, mackerel—"

"there's nobody nearby who can help us with the directions..." the brunette—named dazai/asshole/mackerel, judging by the conversation—looked around, shielding his eyes with his hand on his forehead, despite the absence of sunlight.

but you were in plain sight.

"...may i help you?" you got up from the bench, setting aside your book for the time being.

"oh, my, a pretty girl—" the brunette named dazai/asshole/mackerel gasped. "may you help me by giving me your name?"

you looked at him, unimpressed. "[name]."

"such a pretty name," his mouth twisted into a half-smirk, half-smile.

"you'll make me gag, you fucker." chuuya.

he ignored him.

"well... may i have yours?" you asked dazai/asshole/mackerel/you fucker.

"why, it's dazai osamu."

"dazai. the hotel's the second building on the first turn by the main street."

"ooh, were you listening in to our conversation?" he gave a sly smile.

"i couldn't help not to with your loud voices."

"his," said the ginger, rolling his eyes. "his. voice."

"i think yours was louder, honestly," you responded.

dazai clicked his tongue. "that's chuuya. don't mind him. he doesn't know how to talk to pretty girls."

"i'm charmed, dazai, but i think i should—"

"is that crime and punishment you're reading?" his eyes drifted to the book on the bench you'd set aside, taking it in his hand. "that's quite advanced for your age, isn't it?"

"it's... for a school project," you lied.

"is that so? i suppose you're done with reading it. i'd love to borrow it!"

the ginger cringed. "what the actual he—"

"we'll get going, then!" he said before you could react, grabbing the ginger's wrist, starting to walk away.

"but when will you—" you tried to speak, but were cut off.

"soon!"

he didn't look back as he walked away.

you didn't know if you were ever getting it back.

he met you outside the school gates a week later.

"y'know, the annotations gave away your lie by the first page."

"thought so, but i never thought i'd see this book again," you mumbled, inspecting the book. it was partially soaked in orange juice.

that was not the last time you saw him, unlike what you thought.

you woke up again.

Next: entangled—how? PM!Dazai X Reader

[opulent-valkyrie]

PM chuuya x ADA reader

The rain poured down in relentless sheets, turning Yokohama’s streets into rivers of reflected neon light. You tugged your coat tighter around yourself, a smirk playing on your lips as you strolled through the alleyways, not particularly in a rush to get anywhere. The mission was done—another successful day for the Armed Detective Agency. Now, it was just a matter of heading back and teasing Kunikida about something irrelevant to pass the time.

But as you turned the corner, something stopped you in your tracks.

A familiar figure stood beneath the dim glow of a streetlamp, red hair slicked from the rain, blue eyes sharp as ever despite the years that had passed. Chuuya Nakahara. His presence was undeniable, as powerful and commanding as it had always been. Even after all this time, your heart still gave a slight, irritating flutter upon seeing him.

“Well, well,” you drawled, leaning casually against the wall, trying to ignore the twist in your gut. “If it isn’t my favorite mafia executive. I didn’t expect to run into you tonight. Though, it’s not like you ever did have the best timing.”

Chuuya’s eyes narrowed, and that familiar fire lit up behind them. “Still full of yourself, huh? Some things never change.” His voice was as biting as you remembered, but there was something else there, too—something deeper, a weight behind the words. You knew it, because you felt it, too.

Years had passed since the two of you had been something—something fierce, complicated, and all-consuming. You’d broken up in the middle of a mission gone wrong, tempers flaring, words exchanged that you couldn’t take back. And since then, you’d both gone your separate ways—him to the Port Mafia, you to the Agency. Polar opposites now, as if it had always been meant to end this way.

You shrugged, that lazy grin never leaving your face. “I could say the same about you. Still looking like you want to punch a hole through the world.”

Chuuya’s lips twitched, the barest hint of a smile before he buried it beneath his usual scowl. “What do you want, Y/N? Or are you just here to get in my way again?”

You pretended to think, tapping your chin. “Getting in your way was always one of my favorite pastimes. Old habits die hard.”

His eyes flashed dangerously, and you knew you were pushing him—just like always. But that was how it had been with the two of you. You poked, he snapped, and somehow, it had worked until it didn’t.

"Is that why you left?" Chuuya's voice was quieter now, his gaze searching yours. The question hung between you, years of unsaid things suddenly at the forefront. He wasn’t asking about the mission, and you both knew it.

For once, your smile faltered, and you exhaled softly. “You know why I left, Chuuya.”

Silence stretched between you, thick with the weight of everything you hadn’t said to each other in years. The rain continued to fall, but neither of you moved. You could feel the tension, the unresolved history that lingered in every glance, every word exchanged.

Chuuya finally broke the silence, his voice gruff but softer than before. “It doesn’t matter anymore. We’ve both moved on. We’re on opposite sides now.”

You nodded slowly, that familiar smirk returning as you met his gaze. “Yeah. But you still think about it, don’t you?”

Chuuya didn’t answer, but the look in his eyes told you everything.

[yonomori-rei]

----------------Chaotic Peace---------------

Pairing: Husband!Dazai x Wife!reader, Chuuya x reader (platonic, siblings)

Genre: Fluff, Slice of life

Content warning: swearing

Synopsis: Your brother decides to visit your little family, but we all know how chaotic things will get when Dazai and Chuuya are in the same room. And throwing in a mini-Dazai into the mix only makes it worse…

Disclaimer: I have no fucking clue who’s art that is, but they sure are talented as hell!

A genuine smile graced your lips as you watched your dark-haired husband zoom around the house with your child on his back. The sound of youthful giggling warmed your heart, as your two favourite boys burst out laughing, eyes creasing in identical ways, filled with the same sparkle of happiness. You reluctantly turn away from the heart-warming sight, heading back to the kitchen to check on the cookies you were baking for a special visitor.

The special visitor being your brother, Chuuya.

You’ve always laughed at the irony. Being married to your brother’s sworn enemy was an interesting experience to say the least. Other than the constant bickering between your husband and your brother, it was actually surprisingly nice, as both saw you as your own person and did not associate the other with you (and the dramatics between them was too funny). 

You had the same features as your brother, the ginger hair and stunning blue eyes, but a completely different personality. Where your brother was loud and crude, you were quiet and soft. Where he was always losing his temper, you had an infinite amount of patience. And where he was direct with his intentions, you were the type to toy with others, leading them in eternal circles and never getting bored. After all, you need some sort of sadistic bone in your body if you’re going to be part of the Port Mafia. And it was that sharp wit and deceivingly sweet smile that caught Port Mafia’s youngest executive, Dazai Osamu’s attention and heart.

You reminisce about the old days, where the bandaged man had approached you with a sinister smile, and requested you to be his girlfriend, and whilst the words were a choice of soft caresses, the tone was firm, and did not allow you to disagree. And for some reason, you couldn’t refuse the tall man towering over you with that piercing gaze and relaxed smirk, and decided to indulge him on a date. But that one date turned into two, and two into four, until you got lost in his mesmerising eye, and honeyed words. Your heart beat faster every time he glanced at you, and you soon knew that there was no turning back. And oh, how your world came crashing down when you found out how he was simply using you to annoy your brother, Chuuya. 

Or at least, that’s what you assumed when your brother found out about your secret and confronted his nemesis, and Dazai spoke callous words to annoy his partner, unaware that you were standing outside his office door, ready to enter with a home-made bento for him, listening to every word with tears filling your eyes. Your sob had alerted the pair, and they turned to see you rushing out, contents of the bento spilling on the floor, too ruined to be put back together, much like your broken heart.

You had avoided the Port Mafia Executive like a plague, never letting him catch sight of you. But your game of hide-and-seek could only last so long and was bound to end, especially since Dazai soon grew bored. And after cornering you, your man had absolutely melted you with his silver tongue and thoughtful gestures. Of course, you made him work for your forgiveness, but your lovestruck heart couldn’t bear rejecting him for long.

And he was the best choice you had ever made, as you witness the small family you had created, and feeling those strong arms encase you in a warm hug relaxes you, as the faint giggling of your son in the background etched a huge smile on your face. You felt your face heat up at the intimate position as his voice drawled in your ear,

“Those cookies smell delicious, my bella’...must that slug come over? I’d rather eat it all myself.”

Rolling your eyes, you lightly pushed him away, before taking out the cookies from the oven, and sighed out,

“That slug happens to be my dear brother, and we’ve been over this already Osamu! Yes he does have to come, I haven’t seen him in a long time!”

Dazai was clinging onto you after that, refusing to let go, even after your brother entered the house. Luckily, you acted as a physical barrier between the two, although you could not stop the less-than-flattering words that escaped both their mouths.

“If my son hears any of those words, I will -”

“Uncle Chuu-chuu!!!”

You son pounced onto Chuuya, causing him to stumble slightly from the surprise attack, and you giggled at the look of displeasure on your brother’s face after that nickname fell from his nephew’s lips, knowing that it was Dazai who taught him that. But no one - especially Chuuya - could ever stay angry at the angelic boy with the toothy smile and happiness sparkling in his eyes. After your son has thoroughly annoyed the mafia executive, you carry him away, feeding him a few cookies. 

“These cookies are delicious, sis! And you made them especially for me? I'm flattered!”

Dazai bristled at Chuuya’s choice of words, before smiling at him with a saccharine smile when you shoved a few cookies into your husband’s mouth. After a few hours of laughter (and bickering), you managed to escape the three boys, leaving them to watch a movie whilst cleaning up the mess in the kitchen. Small footsteps caused you to turn around, and your son looked at you with innocent eyes as he asked quietly,

“Mama, what does ‘fuck’ mean?”

Something in you snapped, and with gritted teeth and a furious snarl, you stalked towards Dazai and Chuuya. Your brother and husband shrank back into the sofa, clutching onto each, and had you not been feeling as if you were going to explode from anger, you would have laughed at the sight. But seeing the usually docile (Y/N) glaring with barely restrained fury, they were more than just terrified.

“I TOLD YOU NOT TO SWEAR IN FRONT OF HIM!!!!”

It is safe to say that neither man got out alive.

A/N: I feel so proud of my divider, hehe

[osxmui]

‘ life can be cruel , if you’re not a dreamer . ’

summary : you start your first day at the cafe, and learn of a certain bandaged barista, unknowingly kidnap his cat, but it was somewhat worth it when he and another barista come over to the cafe the next day searching for his ‘beloved’ cat and thinks that one of your friends stole it as revenge.

AUTHORS NOTE : hai !! first chapter is done, and i had so much fun writing this. unfortunately, i did struggle at some parts, like the rent thing and had no idea what to do for the plot😭 so, let’s all just act like its a good excuse and its just for the plot !! and characters might be ooc, and unfortunately for everyone, i highkey dgaf and this is for fun so if u come in my ask box to say “omg this is so ooc!!” YES I KNOW GET OUT OF MY ASKS I KNOW anyway if u do wanna be tagged in future updates, just lmk i will gladly tag you :3

GENERAL WARNINGS : reader is afab / fem, she/her pronouns will be used when needed. cussing (obviously), sometimes i will specify outfits but you can just imagine your outfit any other time lol , college stuff, substance abuse mention in other chapters, self harm mentions at times (dazai), dazais siblings r elise and yumeno, and oda, mori his dad.. the slowest slow burn of all of the slow burns, rare sex jokes because i can not resist, and just typical dazai behavior .. also, it has been awhile since i have written like this, so i might be bad at first so. um. ignore that.. + some time skips so we can get to the good part :) tried to speed this chapter up so we can get to the better part of the fic ! anyway, have fun reading!

you had set a routine for yourself once you left the comfort of your home for college; sleep, wake up at 5am to get ready, go to class at 6:30am, study after class, go to more classes, go back to your shared apartment around 4:30pm, relax a bit until 10:45, sleep, and repeat. you were not planning on changing that at all, until your landlord decided to up your rent, and you were forced to work with your friend, chuuya, who was working at a local cafe. originally, he had been paying the rent, and you paid the bills with money your parents gave to you as a little startup, and you could not pay rent with the money, and did bills until now.

you had felt bad for him once the rent raised, especially since the rent was now almost 1,950?? you possibly couldn’t let him pay by himself! so, you got a job at the cafe he worked at with your friend group.

and, you seriously regretted that after seeing how chaotic it was..

⌢ time : 4:30 pm . ⌣

you and chuuya were walking to the cafe after class. the heels of both of your shoes clicked against the pavement of the sidewalk, the sound of your voices quietly echoed through the air of the already loudness of the campus, other students chatting away and the sound of the occasional laugh registered in your mind.

“you’ll be fine, the cafe is a really nice place. you’ll do great, i’m sure.” chuuyas voice suddenly came through, breaking the momentarily silence you two shared for a bit.

you never really worked in a cafe. a fast food place? sure. but a cafe was new, but you knew everything since your mother owned a cafe, and you sometimes came over and watched her work. but this was new, you are ACTUALLY working at one, and doing all the things you saw your mother do.

“i know i’ll do fine, it’s just new, y’know?” you reply to him, but you were grateful for his assurances either way. a small hum left him after you spoke, and you could feel him offer you a small look. “just don’t stress about it, yeah? if you need anything, i can help you.”

after alot of talking, you two had started walking out of campus grounds and walked down the sidewalk towards the cafe, and you could see the little building in the distance after a few minutes of walking.

⌢ time : 5:39 pm . ⌣

luckily, there weren’t any customers since apparently, customers rarely came in at this time unless it was game day for the college, and then the cafe was packed since it did have a tv where they could watch the game.

but that wasn’t all that important, you were just glad that you didn’t need to deal with ‘bitchy’ customers. chuuyas words, not yours.

you were in the middle of putting on your apron as your friends spoke, their voices overlapping the faint sound of music playing from the speakers.

“god, i hate those people. they constantly try to one-up us with their deals and purposefully got a bigger tv for game day. you know, one of those days, i’ll break that tv in front of them..” chuuya grumbled, his narrowed eyes focused on the cafe that was actually across the road. if it was not obvious that he hated the cafe across the street, then the look in his eyes was definitely an obvious sign.

“oh, calm down. it’s not like they do it on purpose.” higuchi spoke, rolling her eyes at his complaint while she wrote on some of the paper cups, something their cafe made them do to show that it was a welcoming spot or whatever the manger said. “oh, they definitely do it on purpose. have you seen how smug they looked when they got that tv? what bitches.” tachihara spoke up, standing next to chuuya as they both glared at the cafe across the street.

“aren’t you all being dramatic? it surely can’t be that bad.” you eventually spoke after getting your apron on and went to help higuchi, who gave a grateful look and continued. “she’s right, it’s not that bad, you’re all being dramatic.” higuchi agreed.

chuuya and tachihara glared at you and higuchi in sync, the two boys clearly judging you both. “you two have no idea what those idiots are like. even in class, they’re so bitchy. i am unfortunately cursed and have a class with the freaky bandaged one.” chuuya sighed, looking back at the cafe across the street.

you sighed, shaking your head at your best friends words. “you say that like it’s a bad thing, he might be nicer than you think.” you reply, trying to be optimistic since chuuya did have the habit of being a little dramatic with his opinions of people. “chuuyas right, the bandaged one or whatever his name is, is weird. dude looks like a mummy of sorts.” tachihara had spoken up, also looking back at the cafe.

chuuya immediately scowled once he saw some of the workers from the cafe across the street walking up to their own cafe, a few of them in a group as they started opening up their cafe.

you looked up and watched, examining the small group of people who seemed to go at the same college. there was a blonde man, a woman with dark hair that had her hair in a messy bob of sorts, a younger guy who looked to be a first year with white hair, one with brown hair and glasses, and another guy with brown hair that had bandages around him.

“what are their names?” you whisper to higuchi, not wanting to interrupt chuuya and tachiharas glaring. “hm? oh, the blonde is kunikida, the woman is yosano, the one with white hair is atsushi, the one with brown hair and glasses is ranpo, and the bandaged one that chuuya hates is dazai.” the blonde woman whispered back, to which you nodded in response.

“they seem nice, why is that they’re hated?” you ask again. you were confused, the group seemed genuinely nice, so you had no idea why most of your friends seemed to hate the cafe. “oh, chuuya got into a fight with dazai a few weeks ago and their cafe and ours seemed to have a war of sorts ever since.” she had whispered back, shrugging as she continued to write on cups.

ah, you had heard about that. chuuya had come back in the evening one night, and said he got into a fight with some ‘idiot from class that looks like hes cosplaying a mummy.’ .. you didn’t know why you didn’t realize that until now, but it made sense since chuuya had an obvious grudge.

⌢ time : 8:27 pm . ⌣

you and chuuya were now walking home after work, it had been a nice day, the cafe wasn’t that busy, and it was a good first day. now, you were walking home.

but, you stumbled upon a pretty, somewhat fluffy black cat, who seemed to be freezing in the low temperatures of the night. you were immediately going to help it as chuuya followed.

you looked back at chuuya as you sat on the pavement of the sidewalk, then at the cat and quickly took your jacket off. “what are you doing?” chuuya quickly asked as you slowly approached the cat, smiling at how the cat was snuggling up to your hand. “i’m not letting a cat freeze up in the cold. i would feel horrible if i left this poor thing in the cold.” you reply to him, slowly getting the cat to come closer.

the cat was the sweetest thing ever, you could hear small purrs come from it as you gently pet it, but you quickly wrapped it in your jacket and slowly picked it up, smiling at how it easily allowed it. the cat was obviously accustomed to humans, and trusted them easily, so it was pretty easy to pick it up.

“come on, we’re going to the store first and buying it some food until we figure out what to do with it.” you suddenly announced, already walking in the direction of the local store. chuuya sighed, already knowing he couldn’t stop you when you were determined and simply followed. “you’re insane. what are we going to do with a cat we found on the street? we can’t keep it!” he spoke, crossing his arms as he walked next to you.

“well, we’re not keeping it forever, dumbass! just until we figure out what to do with it or some missing pet poster pops up.” you remark back, a small huffy sigh left you as you continued your walk, and eventually made it to the store.

the two of you walked into the store, both of you offering polite smiles to the workers who greeted you both. you and chuuya walked to the pet aisle, and went to the shelf of cat food as you held the purring cat in your arms.

“do we get it wet food or?” chuuya whispered to you, you shrugged and just decided to go with wet food and dry food. you were sure wet food was the answer, but you wanted to be safe and not buy something the cat wouldn’t eat. “get both, just in case, y’know?”

chuuya hummed in response, grabbing a small can of wet food and a small bag of dry food before you two walked to the shelf checkout area. you watched how he scanned the items and put them into a plastic bag, and then decided to spare him of trying to find his card and offered to pay (more like forced..). “grab my card from my bag, it’s in the second pocket.” you spoke to him, smiling at the sigh he gave and went to your crossbody bag.

he went through the pockets, looking for the card in the pocket you said it would be in, and after a few moments, he eventually found it and grabbed it, and went to pay. and after a few seconds, he returned the card and closed your bag, then went to grab the plastic bag with the cat food.

after a few minutes, you two were now walking home with the cat and the cat food. you ignored the cold air biting at your hands, and you were suddenly grateful that you were wearing a warm, long sleeved shirt since you definitely didn’t want to get sick from this. but the cat definitely seemed warm.. lucky.

“what are we going to do with the cat when we go to work?” you suddenly ask chuuya, remembering that you actually had to work tomorrow and you didn’t necessarily trust a cat you picked up from the street to be alone in your house. “we can give it to koyou? she’s not busy and can watch the cat while we work.” he suggested with a shrug, knowing that his older sister, koyou, could probably help.

you nodded in agreement, knowing koyou could be trusted rather than all of your other friends. “yeah, we can go to koyous house before class, and after work, we can pick up the cat.” you agree.

⌢ time : 6:15 am . ⌣

you and chuuya were currently walking down the hallway of a familiar apartment building, walking to a door that had the number ‘629’ , the same apartment that chuuyas older sister lived in. as you held the cat with one arm, your free hand went to the door, giving a few knocks.

after a few moments, you and chuuya could hear the door lock unlocking, and the door opened to show a woman with redish hair, and was still wearing her home clothes. “oh, hello. did you two need something?” she spoke up softly, giving a polite smile, and a curious look.

you both immediately smiled back at the woman before you. “hey, koyou. we’re wondering if you can watch this cat for the day, and we’ll pick it up after work?” you ask her, seeing how she immediately nodded in agreement and you handed the cat over. “sure, i can watch it for the day. just get to all of your classes, yes?”

you mentally sighed in relief, mostly because you weren’t really expecting her to be that nice, and she seemed to be in a good mood. “thank you, koyou.” chuuya spoke before you, giving his sister a grateful smile before she nodded and closed the door with the cat in her hold.

well, at least you got that out of the way..

⌢ time : 5:08 pm . ⌣

you and all of your friends were at work, you and chuuya had arrived first, then tachihara, then higuchi. all of your other friends were busy with night classes, so they worked the morning shift, while you and the others worked the late afternoon to night shift.

anyways. you and chuuya were in the back, simply talking while chuuya got a smoke break, but then, you two heard yelling from the front. you immediately went inside while chuuya shortly followed after taking a big hit of his cigarette before putting it out, and quickly followed after you.

the moment you walked in, you were witnessing the weirdest scene ever. dazai and yosano were at the counter, talking to tachihara.

“i already told you, i didn’t see your stupid cat nor did i take it!” tachihara yelled back at dazai, who was looking at tachihara as if he killed his whole family. “bullshit, i know one of you took it as revenge!” dazai replied quickly, clearly unhappy and was certain one of you took it.

you and chuuya walked up to the counter, and chuuya crossed his arms as he interrupted. “what’s wrong now, dazai? why the hell are you yelling at my coworkers?” chuuya spoke, glaring at dazai, who focused his attention to you and chuuya as yosano sighed quietly and just watched.

“i know one of you took my cat, there’s nobody else who would steal it but you and your idiotic friends.” he easily replied to chuuya. the brunette took out a paper and waved it in chuuyas face, showing a missing poster of a fluffy, black cat. the same black cat you saved from the cold so it didn’t freeze to death.

well, fuck. you didn’t really mean to steal this guys cat, and the cat didn’t have a collar, so you just sort of assumed it was a stray.

you and chuuya immediately shared a look, before chuuya gave a cocky smile, and before you could speak and admit you had the cat, chuuya cut in and looked back at dazai. “nah, didn’t see your stupid cat anywhere. but i did see another cafe down the road take in a cat that sort of looks like that inside.” chuuya lied through his teeth, shrugging as if it was nothing.

dazai narrowed his eyes, shoving the paper back in his pocket, keeping eye contact the whole time. “osamu, if they said they didn’t take the cat, then they didn’t. no need to be this protective over it.” yosano suddenly spoke, then dazai sighed and softened, realizing he was being dramatic, but he couldn’t help it. the cat was the only thing making him survive the hell that was college.

“fine, if you say that you don’t have it, then you don’t. but if i find out that you or any of your friends stole it and you’re lying to my face, i will—” he spoke, but you quickly cut him off, and decided to just go with chuuyas lie since you two were way too deep into this now. “is it really necessary to threaten? how about this; if we ever see the cat, then we can come find it and give it to you, personally.” you had cut in with a polite smile, noticing how he looked at you, his mood changing immediately as he saw an opportunity to be playful with someone.

dazai smiled, suddenly perking up and becoming all nice. “is that so? personally? how sweet.” he replied with a hint of playfulness. chuuya immediately looked at dazai with a narrowed gaze, wondering how the fuck dazais mood changed.

you, tachihara and chuuya were both confused on how dazais mood quickly changed, how it was like he changed in a blink of an eye. first, he was all stressed and frustrated, then, he was suddenly cheerful and playful? what the fuck?

“yes, personally. now, if you and your friend don’t mind, we actually want to work.” chuuya scoffed, rolling his eyes, and dazai looked back at chuuya, seemingly calmed down and shrugged. “fine, then. enjoy your 4 customers.” he said with a mocking grin, then turned around, grabbed yosano and dragged her out the cafe.

tachihara watched the two leave the cafe in disdain, before the bell atop the door rang, signaling the door being opened and closed. “god, what a fucking mood swing that was.. jesus, that guy needs to get checked out and put on some pills.” tachihara mumbled, before going back to setting the coffee machine up.

chuuya was happily smiling once dazai and yosano left, clearly glad that dazai was finally out the shop. that was something he was grateful for. “we are not giving him back that cat until the end of the month, i must drag out his misery.” chuuya whispered to you with a happy sounding sigh, finally finding something to hold over dazai.

you sighed quietly, realizing that you couldn’t do anything since you just lied to that guys face about his cat, and was now holding the thing hostage. “we are so fucked.” you mumbled quietly under your breath.

you had no idea how you will keep your mouth shut about it, but it was too late now to go back..

small authors note : sneaking in my hc of dazai having very, very sudden mood swings hehe.. Though, i do apologize for how rushed this chapter was! just trying to get to the good part quicker ^_^ + reblogs, likes and comments are appreciated <3

[savvy-reyes]

Feed My Hunger. Feed My Soul.

PM!Dazai x Fem!Reader

Nakahara Chuuya x Fem!Reader

Summary: The conflict with the serpents' den was nearing its end but so were you, the only issue was no one knew what was wrong or how they could fix it but what if you knew what was wrong and you didn't know if you wanted to fix it.

Author's note: Look at me updating after four months or so, lol. So anyways, here is chapter six, I hope u enjoy it also if you notice small things in the storyline changing please ignore it, I'm just learning more about BSD so yeah, don't hesitate to comment lol.

Taglist: @v15aexe @hotwomanlythings @zaushimo @mintyymao @destinyisastar @lilyosamu @vette-01 @mimiimmii

Chuuya was sitting on the couch in your living room, legs crossed while one of his hands rubbed his forehead, his headaches were becoming more frequent and with your state, they would become an everyday occurrence.

Kouyou and Hirotsu were also with him, the demure woman sat on the couch opposite Chuuya while Hirotsu was standing in front of the apartment windows, seeming to be deep in thought.

"So she's lost it?" Kouyou asked, her voice calm and smooth like honey, meant to give comfort but only those close knew she had an ability strong enough to make one crawl in fear.

Chuuya turned his gaze to her, somewhat offended on your behalf as he answered. "She didn't lose it."

The red haired woman rasied an eyebrow at his quick defense of you and he huffed before he spoke again.

"Something is going on with her, even since those serpents appeared she was fighting all that she could and I saw that she was growing weaker but she couldn't stand at first…"

"Then?"

"Then… she started becoming delirious, saying things that didn't make a scratch of sense, as if she was talking to someone only she was seeing, after that she collapsed and Dazai seemed to understand something and have been by her side ever since."

Before either of the older members could speak their minds, the door to your bedroom opened, revealing their boss, Mori Ogai, his face devoid of emotions but Chuuya only focused on the fact that Dazai wasn't with him.

"Boss?" Chuuya spoke as he moved towards him and he had to double take the sight he saw, his blue eyes wide open.

There you were on the bed, black veins covering your body, face pale and entire being looking fragile enough to break in a mere touch, beside you was Dazai Osmau, his hand grabbing yours tightly and at first glance it didn't make sense but when one looked closer…

Is he nullifying her ability? Chuuya wondered.

"Unfortunately Chuuya-kun, it doesn't look like I could be of help at all… whatever is happening to our precious Weaver isn't something a doctor can cure." Mori explained while eyeing you the same way Chuuya was doing.

Chuuya didn't even realise that Kouyou and Hirotsu were standing there as well as he looked at Dazai for an explanation, something inside him nagging at his emotions… he didn't like seeing you like this.

Dazai's eyes were glued to your sleeping form, as if trying to decipher you. "Whatever is happening to her is something only she can fix, she doesn't get worse when I'm nullifying her ability, in other words-"

"Her ability is killing her." Kouyou continued and the silence between them now was deafening, what could they do when the only person who knew how to stop it wasn't waking up.

Chuuya pursed his lips, hands tightened to fists by his sides, feeling utterly helpless and something inside him was snapping, flashbacks of his own self going through his mind and then it all clicked in place.

The last fight that led you to this, was your fight with that girl, the enforcer of the serpents' den, she did that to you somehow and she was going to undo it.

Dazai's voice filled the void around them. "Chuuya, make her talk, no matter the cost."

"You're not coming?"

At that, Dazai smiled bitterly. "Me leaving her side is me killing her."

Chuuya could only nod, his throat tight at the thought that your fate was now lying in his hands and he would be damned if he let you die on his watch.

Confident footsteps could be heard in the dem space, clicking on the ground with force and making everyone's mind high on alert, some because they knew who was there and for her, because she didn't know what to expect.

The subordinates who were guarding her moved away as soon as the shadow of a certain figure appeared, and she had to try and make it look as if she wasn't at least a bit scared to see him.

Nakahara Chuuya, the gravity manipulator, the previous king of the sheep and the sharp color of his eyes was blazing like a wolf as he took step after step until he was looking down at her and she tried her best to hold his glare.

"Who are you?" Chuuya's voice was laced with a sharp edge that could split people open and she tried her best not to flinch, her wrists burning from the ropes around them and her body numb from all the sitting.

But even through her fear, she knew better, not answering him would only cause more trouble for her circle, she couldn't have that… and there was no one better than her to lead the port mafia on.

"Rinako Sable." Her voice didn't waver, not even for a second, showcasing a false strength inside of her but she also knew that she still saw nothing from the port mafia.

Thus far, they just had her with them, just a prisoner whose fate was yet to be determined but the gears in her were starting to turn faster.

The gravity manipulator gazed at one of the guards who hastily brought him a chair from the dark corners of the basement they were in, Chuuya, hands still stuffed in his pockets, took a seat in front of Rinako.

"Sable…" It almost sounded like he was testing out the name, or perhaps the time weaver had already spoken of what she knew to them and they already knew about the one and only.

"What are you after, Rinako?" He was eerily calm that it made her skin crawl with discomfort, why was he that calm while speaking to an executive in an opposite crime organisation?

Rinako chose silence this time, measuring her words as if she was trading on hefty thin ice and she was, in a way. Any words she said felt like it could set off the strongest ability user and she couldn't afford to die, not yet.

She leaned back in her prison chair, a small smirk on her lips. "A rival criminal organisation, what could we possibly want other than the port mafia's downfall."

Chuuya smiled, but it was a mocking one. "You're like… eight months late. The dragon's head conflict would have been a good time."

"We prefer to be the only stars of the show, sharing the spotlight isn't our thing." Rinako argued, withholding his striking blue eyes and if they weren't on opposite sides she would have given going out with him a thought.

And for the first time since he barged into the basement she actually noticed the small tension in his body, hsi muscles looked stiff and his hands, even inside his pockets were straining against his pants, his jaw clenched as he eyed her warily and it all clicked in her mind.

"She's dying… isn't she? That's why you're here." His gaze turned rough for a moment and she knew she hit the jackpot and she made note of the fact that Nakahara Chuuya cared enough about the Weaver to show off his concern, even slightly.

"You did something when you fought her a week ago-"

"Oh, you mean plucking out her ropes… that was usually child's play." Rinako's eyes widened at her slip up, how could she be so stupid? and she knew that Chuuya noticed it with the way he turned his full attention to her.

"Usually?"

"What do you want from me?" She asked, hoping he would drop it and his attention would go back to his little weaver.

"Undo what you did, Sable." Chuuya ordered, his patience reaching its last thread and he was seconds away from losing his mind.

Rinako shook her head. "I can't-"

"Don't Bullshit me-"

"I can't but she can, she already knows how to cure herself." Rinako yelled out, thrashing in the chair, trying to defend herself.

Chuuya looked as confused as ever and so Rinako explained. "You see those ropes all over her body?"

He nodded.

"Those aren't just ropes… those are souls and they are her lifeline."

"What?"

"The time Weaver wasn't born, she was made. Her ability being no gift and so on comes at a cost, to live and keep using her ability she must take a payment… souls, that she turns into whatever she desires within her powers, such as the ropes of time as she used to call them."

Chuuya felt a lump in his throat and he found it hard to breathe. "She was experimented on?"

With a sigh, Rinako nodded. "Think of it as a trade, a life for a life. There is a hunger inside her that needs to be fed and there is no way around it, the more power she uses, the hungrier she gets."

"H-how does it happen? The process of taking souls."

"She does all the work, just give her someone and she will suck the life out of them until she inhales the souls orb that leaves their dead bodies."

"Then why didn't she do it? You said she knows how to so why-"

"She's not the only thing living inside herself… the hunger inside, it's from whatever it is that gave her the power she has… it needs to be sedated and those souls are its salvations… but the more she feeds the more… that thing takes hold of her."

Before Chuuya could talk she continued. "Plus, she never believed in taking an innocent soul so that she could live, her conscience still alive unlike me."

Chuuya could only shake his head in disbelief… "How do you know all of this?"

"Does it matter?"

"Hell yes, it does."

Rinako looked to the side, blinking away the tears threatening to fall. "Because…"

Something was utterly wrong, you could feel that something was wrong but you couldn't place what or why you felt that.

You looked around and it seemed like you were standing in a very empty and foggy space, it was rather scary and your own voice echoed through the empty space when you talked.

"Is anyone here?" The same sentence repeated over and over again into the nothingness you were in and against your better judgement, you started moving forward, hoping to understand a little of what was happening.

The last few days had been hell for you, your body dying and your mind blurring, things that might be and things that shall never be mixed together, fragments of memories coming and going without a single way to help you understand what was happening.

The Serpents' den were such an exhausting rival, relentless to get to you without any success due to the circle of protection Dazai put you in yet she still found an opening and got you… Rinako.

You didn't remember her at first, your memories were always bits and pieces yet you placed it all together and remembered her but it didn't matter after she tore down your ropes, taking away your ability to simply live.

Keisuke always warned you to be careful of those who knew how you were made but you never believed she would hurt you that much one day and hurt you she did… who could you trust? You didn't know.

'I don't want to.' A small, broken voice said and it had you turning to look behind you faster than light, knowing damn well what was happening now.

Everytime it happened, the same nightmare.

'My little weaver, you have to.' Red, manipulative eyes were looking at the little girl with so much adoration it almost had you fooled from where you stood, watching the memory unfold but you knew better… because you were that young girl one day.

'I'll hurt him.' Little you spoke again, her eyes tearing up at the thought of doing such thing to someone yet Evelyn only tsked at that and knelt down to be on younger you's level.

Evelyn shook her head. 'No, on the contrary, you'll relieve him from his pain, he'll be thankful to you.'

'A-are you sure?' Your heart broke for your younger self, so naive, so….broken as you wondered back then if you believed Evelyn’s words because you thought she was telling the truth or simply to avoid her wrath.

Still Evelyn nodded and so did little, the all familiar ropes stretching from under your veins and into the wounded man in front of you, wrapping all over his body like a soothing touch before it started happening.

A once young face turning all wrinkly and old, thinning and decaying in the matter of second, body turning into bones and those loud whimpers turned quiet then he stopped moving all together as a circular shaped thing appeared in the air and you took in your hand.

Bringing it closer to your mouth as your lips fell open and you took a long, large inhale, the orb disappearing little by little before it was completely gone and another rope shot out of your body… a new soul and tears ran down your face at the memory.

'See… you saved him from his pain.' Evelyn’s eyes shined with renowned interest, you were going to be her legacy… her greatest creation.

Suddenly multiple voices were heard around in the void you were standing in, they were panicked voices, your name being called over and over again that had you covering your ears with your hands and clenching your eyes shut.

"WAKE UP!" And your eyes opened with that command, body shooting up into a sitting position, to find yourself back in your room, your right hand held in by someone as the terrified eyes of Chuuya caught yours as he stepped closer.

The hand holding yours tightened its hold and you turned to find Dazai, his eyes filled with emptiness you had never seen before and you started panicking inside… What happened when you were asleep?… How long were you asleep?

Your name was called by that familiar voice and your eyes widened as you turned to look at her… Rinako.

"W-what are you doing here? What's happening-" Your protests were cut off when your vision darkened for a second and you laid back down on the bed as you tried to regain your strength.

Yet Rinako still answered you, her voice breaking. "Your heart stopped beating… you almost died."

"You should have let it happen, I won't-"

"Yes, you will." Dazai's voice was cold, distant and terrifying as he gazed into your unhinged eyes.

How did he know… Rinako… she told them… she told them everything…

Comment if you'd like to be added to the taglist.

[onesiesdaydream]

Whiskey Eyes I Chuuya Nakahara x Reader (Part 2)

Part 1 I Part 2

Summary: Chuuya stumbles home piss-drunk in the dead of night. Safe to say, you were both in for a really long night.

A/N: Sorry for having to make this two parts, it exceeded Tumblr's character limit per post so I had to split it :/

TW: Mentions of puking and hangovers.

MASTERLIST

You woke to the sound of retching.

The kind that echoed sharply against bathroom tile—all hollow force and regret. You blinked against the pale light creeping in through the blinds and instinctively reached for the other side of the bed. Empty. Cold.

Another gag. A muffled curse.

You were on your feet before your toes even registered the chill of the floor on your bare feet.

The bathroom door was half-shut, dull light spilling into the hallway. You pushed it open slowly and found him hunched over the toilet, shirtless, knees pressed to the cold tile, one trembling hand braced against the wall. He hadn’t noticed you yet—too focused on breathing between waves of nausea.

You knelt beside him, gathering his damp hair away from his face before tying it back in a loose bun. His skin was clammy. The sharp tang of bile and stale whiskey clung to the air.

“Hey,” you murmured. “You’re alright. Just let it pass.”

He groaned, eyes fluttering open just enough to glance at you—bloodshot and heavy with shame.

“I’m fine,” he rasped.

You rolled your eyes, brushing his hair back from his forehead. “If you were fine, I wouldn’t be finding you on the bathroom floor at 7 AM.”

He let out a sound caught between a cough and a miserable laugh, resting his forehead on his arm. “You didn’t have to get up.”

“You think I’m gonna let you die of alcohol poisoning alone in the bathroom?” Your tone was light, but your fingers were gentle as they traced slow circles between his shoulder blades.

Another groan. He swallowed hard, trying to steady his breathing. “I don’t even remember coming home.”

“You hit on the toaster and gave me a bottle cap like it was a wedding ring.”

A weak laugh escaped him, barely more than an exhale. “Romantic. Bet I was real smooth.”

“Like sandpaper,” you said, nudging his shoulder with yours. “But at least you remembered where home was.”

You reached for the washcloth draped over the sink, soaked it in cold water, and pressed it to the back of his neck. He shuddered, then slumped against you with a defeated sigh.

For a while, the only sounds were his ragged breaths and the drip of the faucet. You kept running your fingers through his hair, slow and steady, anchoring him.

Then, quietly, he spoke again

“I hate this part,” he mumbled. “Waking up and knowing you had to deal with me like that.”

You didn’t answer right away. Just reached for the mouthwash in the cabinet and handed it to him once he’d leaned back.

He took it with a shaky grip, swished, spat, then let his head thud against the toilet. He gave a breathy, miserable laugh and squeezed his eyes shut. “I’m sorry. For always putting this bullshit on you.”

“You didn’t put anything on me,” you said, watching as he swished another shot of the mouthwash and spat. “I’d rather have you home and hungover than not at all.”

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, then leaned heavily against the wall, eyes closed.

You stayed by his side as the silence settled again, your fingers never leaving his hair. It was the kind of quiet that carried weight—not tension, but something softer. Something full of the unspoken.

You stayed like that for a while, tucked into the quiet hush of the morning, the kind that only existed before the world woke up—before traffic, before sunlight fully reached the floor, before the weight of the day settled in. You didn’t rush him. Just held his hand and let him exist exactly as he was—messy, hungover, but still him.

Eventually, he shifted, just enough to press a kiss to the side of your head. It was barely more than a whisper of warmth, but it was real.

“Thank you,” he murmured against your temple. “For staying. For not hating me when I’m like this.”

You turned your head to meet his tired gaze, brushing your thumb across his cheek. “I love you, even when you’re like this,” you said. “And when you’re not.”

He shifted, just enough to rest his head against your shoulder, the curve of his body leaning into yours with quiet trust. His breath was warm against your neck, still unsteady but slowing, like the worst of the storm had passed.

“You know I don’t mean to make it hard,” he murmured, voice low and rough.

“I know,” you whispered, your hand finding his and giving it a light squeeze. “You just do, anyway.”

That earned you the tiniest smile.

“I’ll make it up to you,” he promised, tilting his head enough to look at you. His eyes were still red, still tired—but clearer now. “Dinner. A real one. No whiskey. Just one bottle of wine. Flowers, maybe. You deserve flowers.”

You laughed softly, pressing your forehead to his. “You don’t have to buy me flowers. Just… come home safe and sober next time. And maybe don’t flirt with the toaster.”

He chuckled—a real one this time, hoarse but genuine. “Deal.”

You helped him up slowly, easing him toward the sink. He rinsed his face while you grabbed a clean towel which he patted gently against his cheeks.

“C’mon,” you said, guiding him out of the bathroom. “Let’s get you back in bed before the hangover decides to fight round two.”

He let you lead him, head bowed, one arm slung around your waist for balance. And when you finally got him settled again—new shirt, water and bucket by the bed, the morning sun stretching golden across the floor—he pulled you in close and tucked his face into your neck.

“Don’t go so far,” he whispered, already half-asleep.

You smiled into his hair, your hand resting over his heart.

“Not a chance.”

[chocsra]

"Gentleman, you say?"

15! Chuuya x reader

Reader is implied to be fem!, could still be gn!

Warnings: swearing, alcohol

Contents: your mafioso roomate being annoying, fifteen era, mafia! reader, pre-relationship, idiots in love, teen romance, fluff, ooc? chuuya (idk)

Sorry for grammar! Not proofread!

Working in the Port Mafia wasn't so hard.

You were granted a new family, money and status. There were a select few members who were noteably young, as young as teenagers. This was mainly because of the gifted, limiting manpower into making criminal organizations choose children as their subordinates.

You didn't really mind it--being a kid in the mafia. It had it's ups and downs, yes, you did murder; but what would you have been really doing if you tried to live as a civilian as a gifted?

One thing you didn't like though--even hated, was the Port Mafia dormitory.

Constant parties, the overwhelming scent of alcohol and cigarettes in hallways, and don't start on the drama. Your only source of peace was the empty unit next to yours--at least that gave some sort of silence in the dreadful nights of Yokohama. Cramped in the tight apartment that secretly held mafioso teenagers, ones which the other residents thought of as school delinquents.

Until that asshole took it; the short ginger boy with a permanent scowl on his face, the boy who had the best style you had ever seen. And you hated it. Ever since you were fifteen, he and his smelly bandaged friend would storm into his apartment; have the loudest arguments--no, fights in the middle of the night.

Before, if you couldn't sleep, a nice cup of hot milk and basking in the night's breeze would do the trick. Now, there was a 50/50 chance he was there smoking on the balcony next to you, alone or with that annoying mummy boy.

It's been a few months since then, and you were sure that he hasn't even recognized you once as his neighbour; and it pissed you off, considering the amount of sleepless nights he caused you. It was safe to say you had one-sided-beef with the boy who used screaming as his fight or flight response.

And because finding someone absolutely insufferable meant asking numerous people about them, you asked a few of your subordinates who were into drama about said boy, eager to learn more information about him. Because he pissed you off, is why.

"Oh, you mean Chuuya? He like, used to be the King of the Sheep before he joined the mafia, I'm pretty sure." Your friend chided, you and a few other girls were standing in front the doorframe of Kouyou's office, all surrounded in a circle. "Really? That's wild." You scoffed, folding your arms over your chest. "Yeah, and the guy who recruited him is that emo guy; he's supposed to be Bosses successor, right?" She asks, twirling a strand of her hair. "His name is Dazai, and yeah. They're called 'Double Black' or something." Your other friend joined in.

Just as you were talking, a tall woman with ginger hair and pale skin stepped out of her office; her elegent hands clasped together under her pink kimono.

"What are you girls talking about?" The woman questioned, her hair tightly held up by long gold pins. "[Y/N] was just asking about Chuuya, sis." Your friend replied, you scoffed in response. "I was just asking because he's an annoying neighbour!" The other girls laughed. "Oh, Chuuya, I was recently requested to take him under my wing." Kouyou responded, revealing more information. "Actually? What do you think of him?" One of the quieter girls asked enthusiastically, the woman only chuckled in response.

"He's quite the gentleman, I'll say."

Kouyou's words only echoed in your ears as you lay in bed, a pillow ontop of your chest. "Gentleman.." You repeat, staring mindlessly at the ceiling. "Gentleman my ass!" You kick the wall next to your bed to no avail, tightly wrapping your arms around the pillow. "If he was, he would've seen how tired my eyes are from not sleeping.. and finally shut the fuck up.." You mutter with heavy eyelids. It was around 2 am. And it was one of those quiet nights, thankfully; but you still had trouble falling asleep.

As you were about to finally drift off to sleep, cradling your pillow in your arms; a loud strum of a guitar sprung you awake. It sounded like a electric guitar, and the person playing it had a shit ton of energy. A sultry voice sang melodically as loud waves of music crashed from his guitar. You had an idea of who it was.

Storming out of your cramped apartment, only in a thin t-shirt along with loose shorts, you scrammed over to Chuuya's apartment door angerly. "I swear to God.." You curse under your breath, the damn guitar still audible. Closing your fist, you firmly knock on the boy's door.

Knock, knock

The fast-paced strum of a rock song quickly stopped, light footsteps could be heard behind the steel shaft, before he finally unlocks it.

"Yeah?" The boy cracks the door open, he had his short ginger hair down; and he wasn't wearing the black fedora and choker like he usually did. A red and white electric base guitar slung lightly over his shoulder and stomach, the cord connected to the bottom, leading to what you assumed was his bedroom. Chuuya was wearing loose black sweatpants along with an oversized white t-shirt. Even though the boy was small and lean, you couldn't help but notice the exposed muscles on his forearms. 'Shit.' You cursed at yourself, before meeting his stormy blue eyes once more.

"You're so damn loud all the time, can't you play that at another time of day?" You huffed, crossing your arms. "There are people trying to sleep." It wasn't the safest option to yell at a criminal who had possible connections you had no idea of, but you were also a criminal, and would definitely kick his ass if he tried anything, right?

Chuuya looked at you with a slight frown, but you were right in the end, so he sighed and ran his lithe fingers through his ginger locks. "My bad." He mutters, feeling a bit embarrassed. "That's all you can say?" You murmur, you felt a little bad, but he was the waking cause of your terrible eyebags. "You could be a little more quiet next time." You add on, looking off to the side.

"Yeah, I know. My fault." The redhead said, apologizing begrudgingly. You only sighed and assured it's okay now before you soon left. Knowingly storming off into your apartment as the boy watched you with guilt yet irritation on his face.

Although the next morning, you rubbed your eyes and opened the door to take out the trash. Only noticing a small box infront of your doorstep with a yellow sticky note on it, you crouched down to properly read it.

'Sorry we had to meet that way, neigbour. Take this as a peace offering.

- Chuuya N.'

As you opened the box curiously, it was homemade packaged bento, along with a small corgi made out of rice on the side. The stupidity of it made you laugh a little. Even though his handwriting made you question if he knew how to write at all before this; a smile still crept on your face as you took the box and note inside.

"Quite the gentleman, huh?"

[luvfy0dor]

Hi there! First of all I wanna say that I like your writing very much and that you're doing a good job! Thanks you for your hard work!

My requets/scenario is something about the reader (GN or fem.) who is sick/ feverish and due to that dehydrated and refused to take her meds. So the BSD boys (already fed up with your whining about feeling sick and annoyed and they just want to help you feel better blahblahblah...) take the pills and water into their owb mouth and kisstge reader to maje them take their pills. And maybe romantic feelings are already in the air yet no one had the balls to say something yet? And afterwards saying something like "Swallow" or "Come on, be good" to make th reader swallow?

If possible with Chuuya, PM Dazai ( i don't think one can piss ADA Dazai off SO much he'd act like this XD) and with someone else you could think of or like to write for.

Thank youuuu!

"C'mon, be good..." BSD x GN!Reader

╰┈➤ PM!Dazai, Chuuya, Fyodor ༉‧₊˚✧

Description; PM/Beast!Dazai, Chuuya, and Fyodor with sick reader who just absolutely refuses to take meds.

Warnings; Maybe ooc in Dazais part? I've only read vol.1 of beast : (, cursing

A/N; I started writing this yesterday morning and I just got sick today (update it was just allergies it went away after a couple hours) what a coincidence!? Also tyssm for the compliment!! Ahh it means the world to me when y'all like my stuff!! ♡

Chuuya Nakahara ੈ✩‧₊˚

Chuuya is a busy man, and when you refuse to take your pills, you're only wasting the time that he sets aside for you by being difficult. He's gonna take care of you, and you're gonna like it too. (Who wouldn't?)

Scenario ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

"C'mon, I'm not gonna sit here and listen to your whining. It's just a pill, put it in your mouth and swallow it!" Chuuya exasperatedly says, flailing his arms as he talks. The bottle of pills makes a rattling sound in his hands as they move around. You just scoff, keeping your arms crossed in front of your chest.

"Maybe, but it feels so weird going down my throat and I don't like it!" You say, your voice groggy and your nose sniffly from your cold. Your eyes were half lidded as you frowned at Chuuya. "Oh, and you like being sniffly 'nd having a headache?" He says with a roll of the eyes, putting his hands on his hips.

You thought for a moment. No, ofcourse you didn't like this feeling, but you also really didn't like taking pills. Chuuya had even tried offering the liquid medicine, but you didn't want that either because the kind he had for you tasted bad. You slumped back into the couch you were sitting on, huddling the blanket up to your chest.

You sigh before shaking your head. "No, I don't." Chuuya nods. "So take the pills, here." He hands you water and the pills themselves. You stared them down for a moment. They looked utterly massive in your palm and you could already feel the fish oil-y substance sliding down your throat. You gagged, bringing your hand up to your mouth. You groan.

"For God's sake, are ya gonna take it or not?" He mumbles. "You know I don't wanna sit here and waste time arguing with your stupid ass." He says, pinching the bridge of his nose. You smiled, knowing he really didn't mean it. "Oh, or what? What if I don't take it?" Chuuya props his head up on his fist while glaring at you.

"Or else I'm gonna shove it down your throat and make you swallow it." He sighs, hearing you snicker a little. "Great wording, Chuuya. Well then, hurry up, I'm waiting." You raise your eyebrows playfully. He rubs his face with his hands exasperatedly. "You know I'm not being serious." He murmurs.

"Aw, why not?" You tilt your head teasingly. "Why do you want me to?" You averted your eyes, not having an answer. You shrugged.

"Dunno, it's just...a very you thing to do, so I'm just wondering what discouraged you." He sits up.

"Well, because you're my..." He thinks for a moment. "Really close friend, and I care about you 'nd stuff..." He says, very faintly blushing while averting his eyes. Had you not been around Chuuya so much, it would have gone completely unnoticed, but unfortunately for him, you had seen. And boy, were you gonna let him know.

"Aww, so you DO care! And here I thought you were just....angry." You tease. He scoffs. "C'mon, you're the very first to know that my temper isn't my only personality trait." He gets up from his seat, grabbing the pill and holding it up to your lips with one hand, water in the other. "Take it. Now." He says, looking into your eyes as he's bent down to your level while you lean back into the couch cushions.

"Chuuya, I told you I don't want to." He pushes the pill against your lips some more. "You clearly do, all day you've bitched and moaned about your headache, your temperature, your runny nose, and your sore throat. I'm done hearin' about it!" He glares at you. "C'mon and just take it, it'll be over before you know it."

You shake your head and turn it away from Chuuya, bringing the blanket up to guard your lips. He sighs, so fed up. You watch Chuuya take the pill into his own mouth, filling it with water before he roughly grabs your face and smashes his lips against yours. You're shocked, both by Chuuyas bold action, but also by the feeling of the pill in your mouth, slowly snaking down your throat as he pulls away.

"Ya swallowed it, right?" His face is a little softer now, but still seeming a little agitated. You nod. "Open up 'nd show me." You hesitate for a minute before opening your mouth. He inspects for a second before nodding. "Alright...Jesus, that was so hard for no reason." He runs his fingers through his hair, fanning himself with his hat. "It's so hot in here too...s'not just me, right? Why're you being so quiet?" He says, looking over at you as he pants a bit, his heart beating loudly in his chest. You just stare at him, a bit awestruck.

"Chuuya." Your fingers go up to softly brush over your lips. "You..just kissed me. What do you mean 'why're you so quiet'?" You say with a soft laugh, mocking his voice at the end of your sentence. His eyes widen, as if he were completely unaware of his actions. Instead of blushing or trying to excuse himself, all he did was shrug. "Well, I mean I know you're in love with me, it's real easy to see." He says, a grin creeping onto his face, making you blush.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever.." you laugh. Chuuya seemed pensive for a second, examining you while standing on the other side of the small room.

PM/Beast!Dazai Osamu ੈ✩‧₊˚

PM!Dazai is absolutely going to get this pill into your system, even if he has to shove it up your ass. Brotha is determined, and he's not gonna give up, so kissing you to get it down your throat was absolutely not off the table. As a matter of fact, it was probably one of his first choices...

Scenario ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

You hoist yourself up onto Dazais desk, shifting around and making yourself comfortable. The soft glow of the lamp illuminating the room, allowing you to observe smaller details, such as the marbled pattern in the floor tiles. After a few seconds, you hear the door open, the sound echoing in the relatively open space.

The fabric of your best friends black coat swayed behind him while he walked. You watched him approach the desk, a faint smile on his face. "Here, I brought you meds and water." He says, setting the pill bottles down on the hard wood surface. He notices the grimace on your face as you pick up the bottle and observe it. "Don't worry, they're the correct ones. I'm not trying to kill you." He says with a playful eyeroll.

You shake your head. "No, you're right, they're correct I just...ew, they're so...big." Dazai watches your facial expressions change intently as you study the pills. He sighs softly. "You'll live, these are prescribed to help people, not kill them. They'll go right down your throat, I promise." He says, sitting in one of his chairs, crossing one leg over the other.

"Well yeah but..." You say, sniffling. "There's nothing smaller...?" Dazai shakes his head. "Nope, that's all we got, so either take it or don't." He shrugs a little. You just give him a small glare. "If you chose not to take them, I don't wanna hear a single complaint from that big mouth you've got." Your friend says, twirling his finger a little as he passive aggressively points at you.

You just sigh and sip on the water her brought you. "Hey, that's supposed to be for taking that medicine." He says, his furrowed eyebrows really displaying his expression of annoyance. You continue sipping on the water until it's gone and completely empty. You can almost see steam coming out of his ears after that. He quickly gets up, walking over to the desk, and snatching the glass from the surface, angrily marching out.

You knew he'd be back, he has never angrily marched away from you for long. You just assumed he did it for dramatic effect at this point. A couple moments later, the doors swing open and Dazai walks in, his pace a little less aggressive but certainly faster. After closing the door, he walks up to you, shaking the pills out of the bottle until one was in his hands. He put the pill on his tongue before filling his mouth with water and roughly grabbing the back of your head, pulling you in for a kiss.

You were caught FAR off guard. You had an inkling of a feeling that your feelings for your best friend were requited and not one sided as you previously thought, but now you were reassured. You leaned into the kiss, not even caring about the pill that was currently in your mouth. Dazai tilts your head back right before pulling away. "Swallow, got it?" He says firmly, his hand still placed on the back of your head. You nod right before swallowing the pill, suppressing a cough afterwards.

You deeply inhaled and exhaled seemingly desperately, almost gasping for air, considering your relatively sniffly nose. Once you caught your breath, the sound of your voice bouncing off the walls as you speak. "Good going, dumbass, now you're gonna get sick too..." You sniffle some more while blushing at the memory of Dazais action.

He just laughs for a moment, then shrugs. "Well, if I get sick I won't be a brat to you and refuse to take my pills, especially if you so kindly go out of your way to get them for me." You just scoff and roll your eyes. "Oh yeah, so far out of your way, fifty feet down the hallway is an utter journey, I'm sure." You reply back snarkily.

"Oh, it was." He says exaggeratedly. You just laugh a bit under your breath, examining the pill bottle again. "They better be miracle pills and cure you immediately after the struggle I put up to get them down your throat." He says, staring at you. "Well at least I know you care 'bout my safety." You give him a small smile, to which he reciprocates.

Fyodor Dostoevsky ੈ✩‧₊˚

Fyodor has so kindly offered to take care of you in your vulnerable moment of need, and he hoped you would be appreciative of that, but your unwillingness to take your pills does not really reassure his hope.

Scenario ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

Sniffles. Sniffles were all the filled the room the two of you sat in, you curled up in a blanket and Fyodor reading a book on a couch on the other side of the room. Most of the time, he had kept his distance from you because of your insistence on keeping him in good health. "Ugh, this is so annoying." You whined, rolling around in your blanket, your body language displaying just how fed up with this whole cold you were. You can hear a sigh from Fyodor, as will as the sound of his book closing.

"Well, y/n, I offered you pills and you have continuously refused to take them." He says, his face blank as he crosses his legs and rests his book on his lap. You just let out a soft whine. "Well yeah but....those pills are nasty, they're so big, I'll throw up before I can even try to feel better." You mumble, exasperatedly rubbing your face, pulling a bit at your skin. You can feel Fyodor staring at you from afar.

"Then I suppose you're not going to feel better as quickly as you potentially could." He replies, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear and re-opening his book. "Well yeah, but like...well, in my defense you weren't very forceful about it." You say, trying to justify your actions. His attention turns back to you again.

"Oh, did you want me to be? I figured I wouldn't be forceful or push it onto you because you're very close to me." He says, almost as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Your heart couldn't help but flutter the tiniest but, a small smile coming over your face. "Well, I'm definitely gonna be more likely to take them if you're a little more insistent." You mumble a bit, to which he sighs, setting his book down once more and grabbing the pill bottle. He makes his way back over to you, holding the pill up to your mouth.

"Go on." He says, waiting for you to take the pill into your mouth, but you just grimace at it. "Okay, maybe I'm just not gonna take them.." you say, gagging at the idea. Fyodor just shakes his head. "You have to. As much as I don't want to force you to, I want you to feel better and stop complaining." He says softly. His face matches his words, not a single sharp edge or expression to either. He was gentle. You groan at the pill some more, earning yet another sigh from him.

"Okay." He shakes his head before placing the pill on his tongue and taking some of the water into his mouth. "Hey, what're you-" you're cut off by Fyodor softly pulling you into a kiss, passing the water and pill from his mouth to yours. After it's completely in your mouth, he pulls away but tilts your head back by guiding your chin upwards with his pointer finger. "Swallow." He mutters, watching your flustered facial expressions. You swallow the pill and water with a 'gulp' and stutter over your words a bit before you can get them completely out.

"That was really your method of choice?" You mutter, hiding your blushing face with your the back of your hand. He raises an eyebrow. "Is that not what you wanted me to do?" You rapidly shake your head. "No, no! I just...I don't even know, thank you...for helping me take my pills..and kissing me, 'nd stuff..." You mumble, a bit embarrassed but so giddy at the same time. He just smiles a bit and rubs your back gently.

"You're welcome. You're an open book for the most part, y/n. Very easy to read." He says softly, before reclaiming his seat on the couch. "Now, I don't want to raise my chances of myself getting sick, or else I would sit with you." He says, grabbing his book again. "Yeah, alright...fair." you mutter, still a little excited over the whole thing. You giggle a bit to yourself and he hears it, he can't help but smile ever so slightly in amusement.

[vintageflowerangel]

Poly! Relationship with CHUUYA NAKAHARA and PM! DAZAI OSAMU

♡ A relationship between the two is just pure chaotic... You have two boys fighting over you all the time, a hot head, and a suicidal boy. (Tug of war wow-) 

♡ There's always back and forth arguments and bringing you in the middle of them just to see who's right or who's dumber than the other. 

♡ Arcade dates are a must in the relationship. The three of you have a little bet that whoever loses the most has to pay for dinner, and it's either you and Chuuya who lose because Dazai always jacks up the games to win. If you lose, don't worry! Chuuya will offer to pay so you won't have to spend your money. (He'll threaten Dazai that he won't pay for his meal but still pays either way.) 

♡ They're both really possessive over you. Sometimes, it can be overbearing, but they're just overprotective (it's mostly because they're jealous), not appreciating the way people glance at you out of interest or people talking to you like friends as an example. 

♡ There is no serious fighting in the relationship. It's mostly for fun and games, but if anything serious happens, they'd comfort you or give you some space, whatever you prefer. 

Date: 4/13/2024