#Raven Cincaide's ask

[ravencincaide]

Precious flowers get picked first

Summary: Being in charge was not an easy feat for Chuuya  especially when his subordinates reached a new level of failure. A mission a glorified monkey would be able to accomplish. Yet here they were, humiliated in front of the entire Yokohama by a little brat. Still if you kept up with that attitude then Chuuya would just have to make the move himself. Before anyone else managed to pluck his flower from him. 

Pairing: Ability user fem!reader x Boss Chuuya!

Inspired request from anon: “Placed in a universe where Chuuya is the port mafia's boss and the reader is someone who made a mistake and caught the eye of the port mafia. Maybe they got involved with some mess and ended up being a port mafia's target?” 

Warnings: Cursing, blood, an intrigued, possessive and annoyed Chuuya

Enjoy~

“ So let me get this straight” the executives words were spoken slowly, condescendingly, as if addressed to a child or a barely competent idiot who sputtered pure gibberish “- you butchered the fuckin’ mission; got your asses kicked, pick pocketed and left naked at the bank of Yokohama river to waddle all the way to the base by a fucking brat?!” 

Chuuya’s piercing eyes studied the dozen men in his office. He ran his gaze over each and every one of them; their blank faces, fear filled eyes and a slight shift in their body language that loudly screamed ‘failure’. The disheveled appearance of the more experienced members and the fish-out-of-water expressions from the new recruits only added to the awkward atmosphere. They all looked like they would have preferred anything- even death- to the predicament of delivering such a humiliating report, in person, to their boss. To stare Chuuya in the face and admit that they not only failed in their assignment but did so in the most shameful fashion- a disgrace so spectacular that death was the least of their worries. In fact they all looked like they would have preferred the encounter with the grim reaper instead of this. 

For a second, Chuuya shared that sentiment. Frustrated sigh escaped his lips; a gloved hand reached up and pressed against the bridge of his nose between his eyes in a futile attempt to combat the oncoming headache at the realization that he had yet another mess to clean up. Why bother with subordinates if they were this fucking incompetent? Why be a boss if he spent more time in the field than ever before? 

Fucking morons. 

Chuuya’s free hand rested on his desk, a nervous finger tapped away against the mahogany wood right beside his top hat, a freshly poured and forgotten glass of wine and an unlit cigarette propped up against the ashtray. A ritual to mourn the lost. The initial plan was the lost comrades- now he had the mafia’s tarnished reputation to lament for. An incident that would make Port Mafia the laughing stock of the entire district; an invitation for other organizations to challenge them. To challenge the current world order, the long since established status-quo. 

“..A girl” 

Chuuya’s eyes instantly shifted to the youngest recruit who’s pitiful voice echoed around the office. The man ducked his head; finding the carpet-clad floor uncharacteristically interesting as he repeated himself an octave louder “ It was a girl” 

“ So you had the fucking time to check the brat out instead of roundin’ her up?”

Several men flickered their gazes between each other; the closest to a lewd grin they’d dare express in front of their boss. It was as if they took Chuuya’s question as an invitation to share their observation- perhaps if they appealed to the man rather than the boss then their punishment would decrease from certain murder to manageable- albeit torturous existence.  

“ Well she was really pretty, like a serene pretty and her voice was-—” Chuuya’s fist made contact with the table; the crack of protest from the splintered wood- like the fracture of bones- silenced the office. The red power surrounded him like an ominous warning; it dared the next person to open their fucking mouth, and  become very acquainted with gravity.  

“ A little girl beat a dozen mafia and you’re fucking raving about her appearance? Get out of my sight before you regret it” Chuuya’s voice was a dangerous hiss that came out in between deep breaths. When none of the men moved he launched an ashtrash at their heads; the heavy glass hitting the youngest subordinates in the forehead. It split the skull in half, spilled its dark red insides all over the boy's face and Chuuya’s office. Not sufficiently to kill but damned near close. 

The final warning. 

A warning no one questioned as the men shuffled out of the office; some of them lingered just long enough to gasp out an apology and a ‘thank you’ for his mercy. A sharp look made them rush out and shut the door firmly behind themselves. It left Chuuya in dead silence for once during this entire damned day. Surely no one would be stupid enough to disturb him more on this godforsaken night. 

Chuuya took several calm breaths. Regained his composure, calmed the spiraled bloodlust into a manageable humm in the back of his skull. Then he stood up from his desk and made sure to take the glass of wine with him. He took a sip of it, the sweetness of it shifted the murderous bloodlust into a different emotion-  a different type of lust. For a moment Chuuya lingered by his desk, torn between going back to the icy luxurious apartment in the city or to remain in the stuffy spare room of his office. He glanced at the paperwork; eyes lingered on the late evening newspapers that depicted his underlings humiliation. 

Then he groaned audibly. 

He would need to gather his executives first thing tomorrow. Silence the publicist- deal with anyone who dared question Port Mafia's authority. Sign new deals; shut Dazai the fuck up before the damage could spread to irreversible proportions. 

With quick steps Chuuya headed towards the door in the corner of his office partially hidden by a dark curtain. Past it was a simple room with a bed, a dresser and another door which led towards the bathroom with a shower. He walked past those and towards the tiny glass table with a lamp in the corner by the only window.  He flickered it on. The lamp flared and lit up, the strong rays chased back the darkness of the room. In doing so, it illuminated a handful of pictures on the wall. 

Your pictures.

 The ones stolen from city archives- copied from security cameras. Most were fuzzy with the exception of the largest one in the middle which he had stolen- purchased- from your old family photographer. A picture unfitting the family album- or engagement-proposal photo. It was most certainly Chuuya favorite. This was the one where you showed your true character. Large curious eyes half lidded in boredom behind long lashes, lips pulled up into a displeased frown and arms stubbornly crossed over your chest. A huge red flower in your hair, just barely held in place with hair pins. 

“ You’re losing your touch, flower” Chuuya murmured as he stared at your picture. “Such a mistake to be seen; so careless. Tsk tsk tsk” 

A twirl of his wine, its sweet aroma filled Chuuya’s senses. He took a sip of it- salvaged it in the moments it took to walk up to your picture. A gloved finger trailed out your features; from your hair, to the outline of your face, over your neck then up to the frown on your lips. He ran his thumb over them, as if to brush out the sullen look. His own lips itched up into a humorless smile.  

“ hmm  m’precious, keep showing off, keep being a such stubborn naughty girl and I might just need to fetch you myself” Chuuya’s grip tightened over the photograph, scrunched it in between his fingertips as his expression twisted into something obsessively morbid. Indeed you, alive and in front of him, would be magnificently better than a mere photograph. A precious little flower who would not escape his grasp; a pretty flower he would not let others-  let any other man-  touch ever again.

After all, Chuuya was the boss of the strongest underground organization, the leader of Port Mafia. And what kind of boss would he be if he let someone else pick his precious flower first? 

Author Note: Finally this fic is out! It took me longer than I wanted it to and I hope this piece fulfilled the anon's request (if you're still around of course! So so sorry it took me so long!).

And for the rest of my gorgeous reader I hoped it peeked your interest enough that you'd wanna read a (possible) part two ;)

Liked this fic and want more? check out Raven's masterlist!

©ravencincaide 2024. Do not copy/repost/translate or spread my work(s) without my explicit permission. If you see any of my work(s) reposted/copied anywhere else without my consent, please inform me!

[raven-cincaide]

Give me some tissues. I’m legit crying over your day 2 of Flufftober.

Oh I'm sorry *Hands tissues* I didn't intend to make you cry? I kinda thought it was sweet.. oppsie? Still hope it was satisfying tears at least? Also huuuuge thanks for reading and rebloging <3 <3 You made my shitty evening fantastic and now I can skip off to bed with a smile <3

[seiwas]

Hey there! I saw your one-year anniversary collab and absolutely loved the idea! Although I'm quite a new reader of your stuff (and JJK fandom overall, although I've been writing for a long while for BSD on @ravencincaide in case you need a sample of my writing), could I join the collab with some lovely JJK characters? I would love to write either a SFW Megumi Fushiguro fic from this account, which is my main one. Or in a month or so (once it's properly set up) a NSFW fic from my NSFW account, @miss-cincaide, in which case I'd be more likely a Sukuna fic.

Since I think you have a better idea of how many collab requests you have and what you're looking for, I'm fine with either :) Also since I'm writing this 5 min before an exam I don't have any details set. But thought I'd reach out while I have fools bravery from coffee and adrenaline!

Once again huge thanks for reading this and sorry if I'm bothering Much Love ~Raven

hi raven! nice to meet you 🥺 i'm so happy you like my anniv collab!

of course you may join in!! i don't need samples nor do i check 🥹 my only requirements for joining my collab are: that you be 18 or above, that you stick with the theme, and that you express an interest to join 🥹

you are so sweet sending this in with fools bravery from coffee and adrenaline dfajsd i relate 🥹 i'll be adding in both in the masterlist, just so you have options when you decide to write 🥹 you can let me know eventually if you'll choose to write one over the other or both 🥹

join my one year anniversary collab here!

[bloodycotton]

Day seven, okey, this whole tober thing is way harder than i thought.

Prompts by: @raven-cincaide-words

(English is NOT my first language)

Day 7.- Soul Mates

Daryl Dixon (The Walking Dead, 2010) x Fem!reader

When night fell on the road and the sounds of the wandering dead were all you could hear, the most terrifying thing was that you couldn't see them. And sometimes, when you did manage to see them, it was too late, so the nights were the most difficult, the most uncomfortable and the most dangerous. 

You slept as much as you could and where you could, trying to stay alert for any kind of threat, dead or alive. Every little sound put you on the defensive, the rustle of dry leaves, the small twigs breaking as animals passed overhead. 

The higher above the ground you slept, the better you were able to fall asleep, even if your body complained about the discomfort, and you were sore, sleeping in the trees was the safest option you had in mind. 

A month and a couple of weeks had passed since the dead populated the land, and only a couple of the living were left fighting for their lives. You included. 

If finding your soul mate was difficult before, now it was impossible, but you had the consolation that this person was still alive for you, because soul mates had a special connection, a shared empathy, they felt each other's emotions. And you could feel everything he or she felt. 

And you were worried, he was lonely, anxious, distressed, fatigued and couldn't sleep even for a second, something was wrong with him, and you were scared that you couldn't help him before something bad happened to him, that you couldn't get to your soul mate before death claimed him. 

That's why you were trying so hard to survive, to stay calm, to at least give a little peace of mind to the other end of the loop, as another night fell on their heads. 

What you didn't expect was to find a little girl running from a walker in the middle of the woods, almost across an internal Georgia road. You helped her, of course you helped her, she was no more than ten years old, and she looked exhausted and scared, more than scared she was terrified. 

With precise movements you raised your weapon and took down the walkers, bringing them both to safety, setting off on a journey to the road where she had told you her mother would be waiting for her, but your heart broke when you saw no one, only the pile of abandoned cars. 

Her little hand squeezed yours, you were sure she was distraught. "Do you have any idea where they were?" You asked her, maybe they had left some kind of directions they could follow or some clue as to where her mother might be. 

"Just up ahead" I pointed to the little girl, Sophia, as she had said herself, her name was when you saved her from the walkers. 

"Let's go and look for her then" You said trying to sound a bit more hopeful, but there was a knot in your stomach, you didn't want to be negative, but the chances that her mother could be alive were very low. But with a sigh, you decided that you wouldn't leave her alone for anything in the world. 

You both walked into the tangle of cars, the sound of your soft footsteps contrasting with the thump of your heart pounding in your chest. Without meaning to, the anxiety and anguish was growing in you and Daryl could feel it, he could feel your emotions boiling over, and it scared him, you were always calm, in a state of serenity, he was the anxious one, the one who always put himself in dangerous situations. And those thoughts sent him into a spiral at one of the worst times, for he was supposed to be looking for the girl and some trace that she might be alive, but he was thinking about his soul mate and his growing anxiety while he was on a horse. 

His hands tightened on the rein, and he tried to take slow, deep breaths. When the mare he was on saw a snake, making her jump and dropping him off the small cliff, he yelped in surprise as he was thrown from the saddle and fell to the rocky ground, landing with a groan and a cry of pain as his back hit a large rock and one of his own arrows burying itself in the side of his abdomen.  

A wave of pain and anguish hit you, and you knew he was in danger, and despair washed over you. 

The forest thickened as you moved through it, the trees closing in around you, obscuring the path even further. Sophia was still at your side, her small hand clutched tightly in yours. The fear on her face reminded you how fragile hope was in these times.

You both moved on, the silence of the forest was overwhelming, only interrupted by the rustling of the wind and the rustling of branches. Your mind whirled around your soul mate, growing more and more restless. It wasn't normal for him to feel this way. You knew there must be something else. A shiver ran down your spine as you remembered the connection you shared, that strange empathy that bound you together, as if your hearts beat in unison.

Suddenly, a muffled growl echoed through the trees. Instinctively, you stopped, causing Sophia to stand still beside you.

"What was that?" Sophia asked, her eyes growing wide with fear.

"I don't know," you said, trying to remain calm as you moved a little deeper into the thicket. Every step seemed like an echo, but there was something in the air that pulled you forward, like a tugging at your insides.

Your heart was racing every moment, and then you felt it. A surge of pain and anguish came from your soul mate, a silent scream that echoed in your chest. Without thinking, you began to run, leading Sophia behind you.

You couldn't stop. Anxiety flooded through you, pulling you forward, like a magnet you couldn't ignore.

Finally, you came to a kind of clearing, where the light illuminated a small stream. There, on the ground, with pale skin and an arrow through his side, was a man, and you knew immediately that this man was your soul mate. His face was covered in sweat and a grimace of pain plagued him, as his eyes closed and opened, as if he was struggling to stay conscious.

"Daryl," Sophia murmured behind you, quickly approaching the man lying in the water, Daryl was his name, and you knelt down beside him. The world around you faded away, all that mattered was him. "God... What do I do?" The pain was searing, and you still felt it, which was good, it meant he was still okay, or at least that's what you told yourself. 

He looked at you, confusion and pain reflected in his gaze. "You...?" he murmured, his voice cracking. "Sophia...?" You felt a new surge, but now of reassurance, of relief, Daryl was relieved to see you, you and Sophia safe and sound. 

He didn't know you fully, but he knew who you were, he felt it. 

[ravencincaide]

While I don’t block blogs as of right now (because I'm too busy to be playing monitor police. But maybe I should) I have to agree that it’s annoying, at times even discouraging to see like after like after like without comments, reblogs or any other engagement. Just spam liking everything in sight which can make me miss important things, like you know, comments and taggs which actually make a difference. Fact of the matter is, unfortunately, likes don’t do much besides being a personal bookmark of sorts on this platform. "But why do I have to do it? I can just read without engagement and then you'll get even less" Well first I won't get less because likes don't give traction to my blog. They don't get more people to see my stuff, to encourage me to keep writing, ball ideas with me and more importantly, they don't get people with similar mindsets to engage with me. You know; talk, chatt, send inboxes that aren't 'write this thing I want and DO IT NOW'. They also aren't an indication of my writing. Most of the time the fics with high hearts are the ones I like least. So, rather than be a reflection of my writing, they're just the things my current active fanbase ON THIS SITE prefer; before it was NSFW now its fluff, next who knows. Secondly; many creators on here, be it writers, artists or whatever you share, are doing it to build their name. Their trademark so to speak. To have a fanbase, to have those precious readers who read, comment and send suggestions to their writers (like good old fanfic community!) That you like a fic I have is of course amazing and appreciated but it's not really helping me become a better version of me. It's not really making writing all that fun either when it's reduced to a capitalistic 'provide provide provide for fast consumption' thingy. Me and a lot of creators are sharing content we spend hours on with you. For free. Instead of hiding it behind paywalls, or re-writing it into a "50 shades of grey" kinda thing or just.. not sharing. So please be a little appreciative and nice to writers and artists. If you want to keep us around that is. *Answer for Anon who made a comment about me not blocking blogs.

a friendly reminder 🙃

Some of you are new here, and I won't fault you for that. Some of you are learning or re-learning stuff here. That's okay.

but please for the love of fucking everything holy

PLEASE DONT BE THIS PERSON

Please don't spam like, thinking you're doing something. It does absolutely nothing to help us authors out.

It's also fucking annoying. Even more so when you look like a goddamned bot 😀

Spam liking without reblogging, looking like a bot, and/or having no age in your bio, IS AN AUTOMATIC BLOCK.

and this isn't just from me. You will be blocked by so many other authors as well.

please, if you aren't familiar with Tumblr or fandom etiquette, there are SO MANY posts about it. If you need any help navigating, I promise my DMs and ask box are ALWAYS open for questions. I've been there. I made mistakes too. But I learned. Y'all need to, too.

[saywhatjessie]

He's being so brave about it

Advent Calendar Day 18! (prompts by @raven-cincaide-words) Today’s prompts: Ice skating | Athlete | Spontaneous Date Fandom: Ted Lasso - Pairing: RoyJamie .3k[Ao3]

Roy clenched his jaw, doing a Sharon approved measured breath before hitting “call”.

“You dying?” Jamie asked, picking up immediately. “Did you fall and you can't get up?”

“No, you fucking muppet,” Roy growled. He paused to take another breath. “No, everything's fine.”

“Then why you calling me?” Jamie said, sounding both irritated and concerned. “Don't you have Phoebe today?”

“Yeah, and you're coming, too.”

“Mint,” Jamie said, immediately sounding happier. “Where we going?”

Roy sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “Phoebe wants to go ice skating.”

“Roy, your doctor said–”

“I know what she said, which is why you need to come skate with her.” Roy fumed. “I'm feeling very vulnerable and shit and I'm being so brave asking for your help so can you please shut the fuck up and get fucking ready so you lot can have fun on the ice while I sit with your coats.”

Jamie was quiet, letting Roy breathe on it before speaking. “Yeah, mate,” he said, casually, in the voice Roy knew he used to spare him the embarassment of being treated softly. “‘Course! Little skating date with Phoebs should be fun! I'll bet her she can't do as many laps as me and tire her out real quick.”

Roy snorted. “Not sure about that. She's a proper little athlete now – she trains suicides and everything.”

“Yeah, but you'd never made her do half the shit you make me do. So I think I can still take her.”

Roy grunted, hiding a laugh. “I'll pick you up. We can head over together”

“Yeah, you gonna pick me up?” Jamie teased. “Treaty me nice, see if you get lucky?”

“It’s never luck with you,” Roy said fondly. “You’re a sure thing.”

Jamie laughed. “I definitely am. Love you, see you soon.”

“Love you too.”

[by-speaker]

Rituals (ENG. VER)

Prompts by @raven-cincaide-words and Happy Halloween!

There were rituals that were purely Missa — lighting incense every morning, leaving offerings of fresh bread and water, murmuring blessings in Nahuatl while hanging fresh cempasúchil in the windows. Santa Muerte had its own traditions to uphold, after all.

There were rituals that were uniquely Philza's — boiling water three times for morning tea, hanging horseshoes over every new door, whispering ‘white rabbit’ on the first day of the month. The Angel of Death had his own customs to observe.

And then there were the rituals they had created together, as a family.

Every night, without fail, Missa would tuck Tallulah in while Philza read a story to Chayanne. Then they would exchange children — Philza would kiss Tallulah's forehead and tuck in her nightcap, while Missa would sing softly to Chayanne until his eyes closed. It was their nightly ritual, as sacred as any ceremony.

‘Why do they always have to do everything in that order?’ asked Chayanne once, half asleep.

‘Because that's the way it should be,’ Missa replied simply, running his bony fingers through his son's blond hair. ‘Like the sun rises every morning and the moon rises every night.’

Sundays had their own rituals. Philza refused to do laundry, of course, but he compensated by helping Missa clean the altars. It was a curious sight - Death and the Angel of Death, side by side, dusting off the offerings and swapping wilted flowers for fresh ones.

‘Isn't it a bit redundant that Death has an altar?’ asked Philza once, as she held up a fresh bouquet of cempasúchil.

Missa smiled, his eyes sparkling with amusement beneath his mask. ‘Isn't it redundant that the Angel of Death fears bad luck?’

Tallulah had her own rituals as well. Every morning, without fail, she brushed her hair exactly one hundred times — she had counted it once and refused to do it any other way ever since. Then Missa or Philza (whoever was available) would braid her hair, always ending with a purple ribbon.

‘It has to be purple,’ she insisted in sign language. ‘It's the colour of royalty.’

‘Of course, princess,’ Philza replied each time, as Missa hid his smile behind his mask.

Chayanne, for his part, kept a secret ritual that not even his parents knew about. Every night, before going to sleep, he would take out his Technoblade stuffed animal and tell him about his day in whispers. He would tell her about his training, about Tallulah's antics, about the stories Missa brought back from her travels, about Philza's superstitions.

‘I know it's silly,’ he once confessed to his stuffed animal, ’but I like to think that somehow you can hear me.’

What Chayanne didn't know was that Missa, being who he was, could ensure that somewhere in the afterlife, Technoblade smiled every time he heard his little admirer's stories.

[ravencincaide]

Over a cigarette 

Summary:  You tried to do something nice for the Mafia, for your boss, outside your job requirements and working hours. And all you asked was a little something in return. OR it took the duration of his smoke for you to go from another stupid subordinate into someone possibly interesting. 

Pairing: Subordinate reader x Boss Chuuya 

Inspired by anon request: Boss Chuuya and reader who caught Chuuya's attention.

Warnings: Cursing, Smoking cigarettes and mention of alcohol,

“ The hell you want?” 

The highest executive- the boss of the entire Port Mafia- voice did not sound amused; if anything it held an angry undertone as it boomed around the dark, narrow cobblestone alley. The old street light shone a dim yellow hue casting long, demonic like shadows behind the mafiaso. Contorted the shape of his hat and the slim cigarette into something ungodly, in the most condemned definitions of that word. 

You saw him bring the cigarette up to his lips, heard the sharp intake of breath, noticed the red glow of the ash at the tip followed by a slow controlled exhale. Then a stern; “ Do I need to repeat myself?” 

“ Are you always this peachy or did I pick the short straw?” The attempt at playfulness and teasing was ruined by the shake in your voice; the unmistakable fear. He was an exceptional man but he was also the mafia boss. Your boss’s boss. 

“ I don’t need to be fucking ‘sweet’ to lowly pawns” he took another drag of his cigarette. The simple motion that was valued above your existence; the thing that saved you from his murderous wrath. Your life was worth less than the thin nicotine stick that was salvaged with his every sharp inhale. As long as you kept yourself brief, respectful yet valued at the price of that cigarette your life would be spared. Perhaps even rewarded for your brassiness. 

You shifted from one foot to another, an action which earned you a firm stare- a warning that you’d lose said foot if you did not start talking. 

“ Did you know your men are fraternizing with the government?” Despite your fear, your voice came out firm, clearly confident in your assessment. Chuuya gave you no attention, but he did not silence you either. This meant you could proceed with your observations. This was it, your chance; all or nothing. A make it or break it for your mafia career. 

You spoke of what you saw, rambled and stumbled over words in a fiery rush that not likely made much sense in the wee hours of the night. The ending of words swallowed by the icy wind, while the content, the red thread tangled in descriptions, side thoughts, additional details that came out in a jumbled mess. You were trying to be as clear as possible- and yet you likely made as much sense as a fish riding a bicycle. 

Still he let you talk. If anything you swore he took slower, more shallow drags of his smoke. The very smoke which now rested on the bottom of his parted lips. Gorgeous lips- not that you would ever utter such thoughts to the man aloud. But where were you? Your voice grew slower as you picked your brain for additional information that was essential to your report. To your surprise the demonic man before you threw a helping probe; 

“- Strong accusations girl” his eyes narrowed dangerously, the angry glare made you shudder in your boots as the gravity of the situation weighed on you. Cold sweat ran down your back as you stood frozen until his words registered in your frightened mind. Then you instantly fumbled through your purse until half a dozen pictures made it out. In an instant you passed them onto him,in the process you almost dropped them. Almost. The flicker of his fingers over the photographs echoed in the small space between you. The meters that separated you felt far too imitate, too close for you. Never before had you stood before someone this frighteningly powerful and you wished to not repeat this nerve wracking experience ever again. Perhaps you should have stayed in your lane- ignored what you saw and kept existing within your lowly rank? Maybe even– 

“ huh, so your price?” Chuuya fixed you with a firm stare that instantly snapped you out of your self critical thoughts. The price, right, you almost forgot all about it. Saying nothing would raise suspicion- and it was not like your heart was empty of desires. 

“ A week off” your voice sounded more confident than you felt. “ I want a week to myself- I- I think it’s a fair reward for spending my only night off from work for the sake of Port Mafia- doing something above my paygrade and–” you trailed off as Chuuya took another drag of his cigarette. 

“ Damn right you went above your paygrade, stuck your nose where it didn’t fucking belong and  risked the cover of m’men” Chuuya fixed you with a firm stare just as you felt your stomach drop. Ice cold dread washed over you as your mind registered the implications behind his words. The anger not at his mens supposed betrayal but at your inability to stay within your lane. 

An overachiever who’s actions brought more troubles than positives. 

“ Were you seen?” 

You shook your head, your eyes cast down and firmly locked on your intertwined fingers as though bound by invisible chains- a prisoner before their executioner. The morbid comparison was accurate nonetheless; “ No, I left before they could recognize me as anything other than a drunken party girl” 

“ hmm” that one sound said so little and so much all at once; a hint towards your destiny. Yet he said nothing more on the matter. Precious seconds ticked away as less and less of the now-almost bud remained. 

“ So.. how badly did I fuck up?” you asked in a quiet voice, rocking back and forth on your heels. The sooner you found out, the sooner you’d know whether your foolishness had cost you your pay, any chance of upward mobility within the Mafia or your life. You shuddered at the thought of the last option, hoped he wouldn’t notice. And if he did, then he’d attribute it to your skimpy attire on the chilly Friday night. 

As if to torture you, Chuuya remained silent, took his time to flicker the gathered ash from the tip of his cigarette onto the ground before he brought the almost finished smoke back up to his lips. 

“  Next clock in’s Friday, 9 A.M sharp in my office” Chuuya stated as he took another, final, drag from his smoke“ Don’t even think about being a second late.” 

His gloved hand flickered the cigarette bud onto the ground between the two of you as you let out a yell of happiness. Before he had a change of mind- you did not believe the mafia executive had a heart- you bowed to him. Half in gratitude, half in respect.  Then you turned on your heel and ran out of the alley, not even waiting for his dismissal. 

In doing so, you miss the almost mild expression on Chuuya's face and the quiet murmur; that maybe with the right training you’d make a fine protege. 

Author note: *Yelp* finally this fic is done! Thank you Anon for your request, I really had fun writing this pair of Chuuya-boss fics. And I will definitely do more of them in the future. Hope this was worth the wait~

Liked this fic and want more? check out Raven's masterlist! Want another part? See Over a Gunshot

©ravencincaide 2024. Do not copy/repost/translate or spread my work(s) without my explicit permission. If you see any of my work(s) reposted/copied anywhere else without my consent, please inform me!

[miss-cincaide]

𝑻𝒂𝒈𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒌𝒔

Raven Cincaide Status- important information, update, other info. 

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Raven Cincaide recs - recommendations

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𝑾𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒇𝒊𝒏𝒅 𝒎𝒆:

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[raven-cincaide]

i hope this doesn't sound rude but im pretty sure gege confirmed that uraume was a male in the heian era and got reincarnated in a womans body

Hey there

I hope I don't sound rude back but it's fanfiction, no need to take it so seriously (especially since the very premise of Sukuna taking in a child is pretty outrageous to begin with and besides to my knowledge the only Utaume we have seen was as a woman, even in the last scene) so I thought:

A) a woman was better suited in the context .

B) it's written from the perspective of a child who can be mistaken (if its any consultation for you).

If it bothers you, you're always welcome to just scroll by. I'm sure there are plenty if fics that are more cannon and follow whatever Gege said accurately :)

~Raven

[ravencincaide]

YALL SHES BACK HEYYYYYYY

HIIIII hun!!! It's been ages!!! <3 Missed you lots how are you? Hows life?

[ravencincaide]

You ever considered making a boss chuuya x reader?

Idk this idea might appear silly and very no-sense but anyway- could be placed in a universe where Chuuya is the port mafia's boss (and Dazai his subordinate maybe, please don't make Odasaku die or smt), and the reader is someone who made a mistake and caught eye of the port mafia. Maybe they got involved with some mess and end up being a port mafia's target?

(My idea is so much longer and more intricated in my mind but I don't really want to make this longer than it already is- also, I imagined a some kind of angst that ends with fluff-- with a "soft" Chuuya idk if you get what I mean)

Anyway this ask is actually so silly you can ignore it 😭

Hey Anon! 

To answer your question about Chuuya boss x reader- yes, yes I have. I have a set of prompts I want to do around the beginning of summer or early autumn that are gonna challenge my AU skills and among them, a few Chuuya boss/ superior/ teacher- stuff. That being said, making you wait another 5 month-ish felt a little bit mean. So I have created two fics for you. One is a sneak-peak for the kind of dynamic I’m going to mess around with in the future titled Over a cigarette where the ranks and roles are established but the reader just has to find a way to bend things just a little in her favor.  

The second one is a little more in line with what you requested; Precious flowers get picked first where the reader is an important -to-be-acquired-tool for the Port Mafia and Chuuya begins to understand what it means to be a boss a little bit better. 

That being said, your idea sounds absolutely amazing! Feel free to send me a message if you wanna discuss it or do some kind of collab together. Or just another Anon request :)

Hope you enjoy these two pieces and take care of yourself <3

Raven 

[ravencincaide]

Hello there,

Just read one of your fics, student!reader and Chuuya, "Sssht-oh shit". I had a good laugh, it was very fun. It made me remember my university days. Lovely fic.

Is there a possibility for a part 2?

Hi there! Aww I'm so glad you liked it! Yeah there's nothing like studying at university and then having someone interrupt you. I started sketching the next part but I'm struggling with a few parts. But I'll be sure to tag you once I finally get it out! thank you for reading, asking and have a wonderful end of the year!

[ravencincaide]

hi raven 🤍

he's plotting something

Oh me oh my he really is, must be something devious *grins* can’t wait to know what it is

Also @osachiyo thanks so much for reaching out to me, looking forward to chatting with you and good that you did since I just saw that tumblr unfollowed you but now I fixed it! *grin as apology, side eye glare at tumblr *

[ravencincaide]

Raven, so good to see you on my dash again! Hope you’re doing well darling!

Hii Phoenix!

I'm definitely doing better, thank you for asking. Seeing a message from you definitely made me smile!

I'm finding techniques to keep my creativity flowing so I should be around more than before. How are you doing? How's life?

Don't forget to take care of yourself

Lots of love

Raven

[ravencincaide]

Just read the one fic of yours containing dazai with chastity themes and I absolutely loved it. I was wondering if beast!dazai would be more ruthless and brutal than pm!dazai

Hi anon! Better late than never, right? And ohh that's a hard one! I don't necessarily think Beast!Dazai would be more brutal and ruthless but rather more psychological- a kind of push and pull relationship where he'd always push the readers limits just a little bit more than PM!Dazai would.

And I definitely think PM!Dazai gives affection more freely than Beast!Dazai, where affection is on a scale of more backhanded compliments than affection.

But it's all up to interpretation. What do you think?

~ Raven