#and Dazai holds his own heart in his hands and cries while Chuuya holds them both | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

starb3rrys · 1 month

Note

Hi!! I stumbled upon your blog yesterday and have been binge reading your stuff cause I love it so much!!! I have a request if they are still open and if you are still taking them!! I crave a little angst with comfort at the end where the reader almost does for them?? But they’re just severely injured T_T Maybe for Tetchou and Dazai and Chuuya if possible?? Thank you so much for reading till here and hope you’re doing well <3

Hello!! Agh, it makes me so happy to hear you love my stupid little fanfics. ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و ♡ I apologize for the lateness but no worries, as promised your request shall be answered! Who doesn't love a little angst? So let's get to it! ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧ ────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────

The Things You Do for Love

Angst--> Comfort

Ft. Tecchou, Dazai, Chuuya

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Tecchou

He knew he shouldn't have brought you...for god sakes its military business. But he just had to give in didn't he? He couldn't deny your pleads to join him on a mission, his defenses crumbled at your sweet pout...and now look where his weak will power landed you two.

With a loud thud, your body heavily slammed into a concrete wall creating a small crater...your eyes struggled to stay open as you slumped forward. What had just happened? He told you to stay behind him, he told you to run away and prioritize your own life if the fight got too bad. The attack was aimed at him so why...why on earth did you jump in front of him?! Tecchous mind ran in turmoil, his body frozen in a defensive stance, holding his swords hilt as his hands trembled. He was fully ready to take the blow, if he got hit he could get back up, but you...you...

"[Name]!!", his voice broke as he immediately dropped his guard off the enemy and ran to you. His steps were staggered as he dropped his sword and grabbed you. His unsteady hands grasped your shoulders, shaking you as his eyes were wide in panic. "[Name]!! Can you hear me?! Open your eyes, talk to me!!", his voice leaked with desperation. Tecchou moved the hair out of your face to inspect your injuries only to be met with the horrible sight of his lover unconscious in his arms as their head bled. "No..nononono, no come on wake up look at me. Look at me come on open your eyes!" He tapped your cheek and after getting no response he checked your pulse. His eyes grew wide as he felt a feeble weak little heart beat. His breath became shaky as he held you close to his chest, allowing your forehead to stain his already crimson uniform. His face darkened as his eyes ran over your sprawled out figure all bloodied and beat up.

"Weak useless pawns should not be on the battlefield", the deep stern voice of the enemy rang out through the large building. Yet to Tecchou, it was nothing but background noise. Tecchou stood up, his arms carrying his beloved. He turned and looked at the filthy creature who dared lay a hand on you. "You..." Tecchous voice did not spare the enemy of its threatening tone. Tecchou raised his head, revealing his blood shot eyes as he reached for his sword. "Useless are the ones who hurt and torment the weak.", he barked. Before the enemy could retort, he felt a deep pain on his arm...or at least where it used to be. A loud cry of agony shot into the sky as blood poured on the concrete floors. Tecchou looked at the enemies severed arm, the same arm that caused you suffering. He glared at it and stepped harshly, his sheer stomp was enough to crack every bone within.

*Shing* a single sharp noise from his sword was all that was needed to cut the enemy into pieces, forever silencing his cries. He spared not a glance at the enemy as he carried you away. His lips quivered slightly as his eyes were hidden under the shadow of his hat.

After a while, he stopped walking at the feeling of soft shuffling in his arms. He looked down at you with hope and his eyes flooded with tears at the sight of your half lidded eyes. "Te...cchou?", your weak voice was enough to break him as he immediately wrapped his arms around you. Burying his face into your neck, his hands found their way around your back and into your hair. "[Name]...you're okay, you're alive.", his words aimed to reassure himself. "Don't ever do that again..", he sternly spoke into your skin. "Tecchou...you would have gotten hurt..." "Then allow me to be hurt!", he retorted. He held you tightly, as if letting go would make you disappear forever. "Don't ever do that again...I don't know what id do if I watched you slip through my fingers like that again...please, don't put me through that again...", his voice broke your heart and you couldn't bring yourself to turn down his request. "I just didn't want to see you get hurt", you explained. He tightened his hold on you and whispered, "I would choose a thousand deaths if it meant you could stay unharmed."

Closing your eyes, you rested your throbbing head against his chest as his arms held you. Your ears picked up on the rapid beats of his heart, a heart so devoted to you that it would surely break if he ever lost you.

Dazai

High pitched ringing followed by muffled voices filled your aching head. What was happening? Did you successfully complete the mission? Why was your body so stiff? Oh right, you took a heavy blow to the chest to shield Dazai, but it’s nothing major you should be fine right? Whose unsteady hands were holding you? Why were they shouting? These were your final thoughts before your vision went black.

You awoke in a familiar room. Gazing up at the white tiles you could faintly tell you were back at the agency. Your eyes fell on a vase full of beautiful flowers in the prime of their bloom, adding life to the otherwise bland room. Looking past the flowers, a man sat in a chair with a pensive look, his eyes stared at the floor seemingly lost in his own world. “Dazai…”, your frail voice was like a call from heaven to your lover as he immediately perked up with hope. He quickly stood up and walked over to the bed. “You’re awake,” his voice was deep and raspy, deprived of its usual cheerfulness. His slender hands found their way around your body in a tight embrace, allowing you to take in his comforting scent. “You had me so worried,” the way he spoke was enough to show you just how anxious and agitated he had been. His appearance wasn’t any better. His coat seemed tattered, his hair was messy seemingly due to running his hands through it so many times, and his eyelids drooped slightly. How long had it been?..

“I had Yosano heal your injuries, if there is any discomfort rest is the best option. Although resting is all you’ve been doing for 3 days…” he explained aiming to ease your confusion. “Three days?” “72 hours and 15 minutes to be exact…Ive been by your side waiting for you to wake up.”, he pulled away and stared at you. His hands moved down and took a hold of yours. “Why?”, hearing no response from you he grew more upset and continued to probe. His hands squeezed yours as his voice shook with anger and frustration,“Why did you jump into the fight? I told you I had a plan all you had to do was stay where I said. I-i put you there for a reason, i always have a reason and a way to keep you safe so why- why did you move?!”, his voice was drenched in anger but his fury was directed at himself. How could he not have taken your stubbornness into consideration? The love and devotion you have for him and his useless life to the point you’d risk your own for his. How could he have overlooked this potential outcome and taken measures to protect you?

Solemn silence filled the room as your lips stayed sealed. You didn’t know what to say…you had never seen him so agitated and vulnerable in your life. At this point in time, no words could be spoken…only actions could bring peace. You both embraced each other for what seemed like hours, your eyes brimmed with tears as he melted in your arms. "Im sorry...", you muttered into his skin. Pulling away, you cupped his cheeks and placed tender kisses on your lovers tired expression. He relished the feeling and relaxed into your soothing touch as he spoke.

“Please, don’t leave this world without me…we go together. There is no point to this thing called life if I cannot live and die alongside you…I will not allow death to do us part.”

Chuuya

Chuuya was known to be violent and single-minded when fighting against an enemy. No building was spared of his destructive ability as he easily crumbled walls and floors to capture a single opponent. In the heat of battle all of his focus was placed on his enemy, disregarding his surroundings. Yet hearing your voice call out to him as the ceiling collapsed snapped him out of his reality. Time suddenly slowed down, he slowly turned his head but he was too late...you had already pushed him out of the way. He could only see your panic stricken face, hand still reached out from the push before, time resumed.

**BAMM** the sound of rubble crashing down nearly shook the earth. Dust filled the air and fogged the eyesight of both participants present. Chuuya stumbled and covered his mouth as coughs erupted from his throat. His stunned eyes scanned the area, hoping to catch a glimpse of you but he saw nothing...he fearfully looked down, hoping, praying even..that you hadn't-his heart sank as he stared down at a hand sticking out from under the rubble. There you were...

"[NAME]!!", he yelled as he immediately used his ability to lift and break the rocks above you. He cleared the area in an instant, his eyes turning bloodshot as he saw your body sprawled out like a lifeless corpse. He fell to his knees and grabbed your body- turning you around and checking for any signs of life. His breath hitched at the sight of your injuries; scrapes and bruises adorned your hands as blood freely leaked from your mouth and nose. The panic overwhelmed his mind, not allowing him to think rationally. All he could think to do was shout your name, shake you, and urge you to wake up. “Fuck- no no no, Come on dammit wake up! Open your godforsaken eyes. Don't joke around anymore come on!!! You have to wake up Plea- I can’t- I can't lose you too!”, his chest ached as his mind raced with thoughts of his old companions and how they all met an end. He couldn’t risk losing you too…you were all he had left. This cannot be real, he refuses to believe the love of his life is on the verge of death because of his own carelessness.

Seeing this as a perfect opportunity, the enemy quickly fled the scene yet Chuuya could care less. He held you in his arms as he clenched his teeth. The rim of his eyes turned red, glowing crimson lines began to creep up his arms, his emotions were so out of control that his own corrupted form threatened to erupt at any moment.

A frail cough erupted from your throat, some blood soon followed. Chuuyas eyes widened--the red marks of his corrupted form shrank back down-- as he immediately sat you up, "[Name]! Can you hear me?!" He cupped your cheeks, his eyes darting to all the corners of your bruised face. Your lovers heart thumped seeing your eyes finally open, relief spreading through his body as he pulled you into a tight embrace. His relief soon turned into anger, "What the hell is wrong with you?! How could you think of doing something so fucking stupid?! You could have died and for what, to save me from some measly rocks? Quit trying to be the hero and for once in your life prioritize yourself!", his hands dug into your shoulders as he blew up in pure frustration. But even if his words were harsh- you could hear the distress and worry behind his broken words.

Your body felt so weak to the point you couldn't quite rebuke his scolding, only small phrases left your quivering lips. "I'm sorry...just didn't want to see you...suffer anymore than you already have...", although these words were small they had a deep meaning, and an even bigger impact on your lovers heart. His eyes widened at this, he froze for a moment. He clenched his teeth, pulling you into his arms once again. Resting your face in his shoulder all you could do was hear the way his heart thumped and his form slightly shook. Chuuyas face was buried in your hair as muffled words left him, "Seeing you get hurt right infront of my eyes is the greatest form of suffering you could put me through...you idiot, you never think things through..." Although these words were unrelenting in their harshness, they somehow found a way to ease your mind. Causing you to melt against his body, loosely wrapping your sore arms around his neck. You held onto each other, the warmth reassured him that you were still here, he hadn't lost you, you were here to stay by his side...forever.

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I had so much fun writing this small fic for you!~ I am a sucker for the romantic sacrifice trope, but I honestly prefer it when they die in the end- (I LOVE ANGST, LET IT STING.) (*꒦ິ꒳꒦ີ) Anywayssss, as always I hope you enjoyed this! Love ya! <3

#bsd tecchou #tecchou x reader #bsd dazai #dazai x reader #bsd chuuya #chuuya x reader #bsd x reader #bsd fanfic #bsd comfort #bsd angst #bsd #anime

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beastszai · 6 months

Text

✦ Dazai and Chuuya childhood headcanons (2/2) ✦

part 1

!!! THIS POST CONTAINS STORMBRINGER SPOILERS !!!

♫ Orchard - OMORI

✧ warnings : STORMBRINGER SPOILERS・mentions of s*icide, death, hospitalization, alcoholism, etc.・angst・pure angst…・ooc (???)

✧ a/n : got way too long im sorr… but I love chuuya so much and all these headcanons have been eating dust in the back of my head and im so happy (lie) to finally post them

w/c : 950

!!! these are just personal headcanons and are not accurate to the canon story !!!

✦ Chuuya :

Chuuya’s parents weren’t blessed with a child even after years of marriage…

…So when he was born, they were so happy that they celebrated 3 days and nights (like the real Chuuya Nakahara !!)

Such a sweet boy… very polite and a tiny bit shy

He actually had an amazing bond with both his parents

And they loved him a lot, too!

How mini Chuuya would help his mom around the house, how he would randomly tell her that he loves her :,^)

Chuuya was probably interested in his father’s work (military doctor, like the real Chuuya’s father!!)

AUGHH he would peek at his dad working with those big blue curious eyes

Also, unlike Dazai, I headcanon that Chuuya has siblings!

2 little sisters!!

When his first little sister was born, he was probably around 3 or 4

Was quick to grow attached to his sister

And when his second sister came around, he was around 7

Was very overprotective of his sisters, and had a big soft spot for them

Would piggyback carry their younger sister every morning to school while holding his other sisters hand

Brilliant kid

Adored by absolutely everyone and everything

Chuuya and the family dinners with the rest of the Nakahara family SIGHHH

His mom always worried about him not eating enough (even though he did.)

His dad developed this hobby and habit of checking Chuuya and his sisters’ heights and mark them on the wall

Chuuya wasn’t the happiest when he figured that his younger sister was nearly the same height as him…

And regarding Stormbringer and how he was put in a lab…

Ohhh how his mom was losing her mind over Chuuya’s father allowing such a thing

His family kind of… grew distant and fell apart from then on

Constant arguing between his parents while he was in the lab… how his sister would cover their younger sister’s ears each time they’d argue

She’d ask where Chuuya had gone every now and then, but it was like a forbidden topic in the house

His mom would either tear up or just lash out on his sister

And his dad would yell and cuss her out, saying things like “Goddammit stop asking stupid questions! He’s fine for god’s sake!!! Be patient and he’ll be back sooner than you think!!!”

Chuuya’s dad wasn’t very happy with the decision he made either

Regretting it like crazy and losing sleep, losing focus…

And once the news broke that their one and only son was dead (aka his clone… fuck stormbringer bro…)

His family was worse than ever before.

Chuuya’s dad cried… a lot. Fell into being an alcoholic for a long time

His sisters? Despite their young age and how they couldn’t wrap their heads around the idea of death…

They were devastated. Completely had their hearts and souls shattered

But his mom… she was the worst out of them all

It broke her so much that she couldn’t even cry over her son’s death

She was left in a daze, unaware of her surroundings and just… in her own world

Though, once it registered in her mind? How she would scream and cry at odd hours of the night, begging for Chuuya…

She would push away anyone who would try to comfort her, hit them and curse them out, only wanting Chuuya

Even though Chuuya’s ‘death’ had sunk in and she understood it, she’d scream at everyone to get away from her and that ‘only Chuuya can come close to her’

S*icide attempts became a regular thing

…the amount of times Chuuya’s dad was called during work hours and just rushed home to stop his wife from taking her life…

His sister lost sleep and stopped being the top student at school because of how difficult everything had become

Their younger sister was a bit better, considering she was small

But it still hurt, she’d call Chuuya out of habit, just to remember that he was never gonna answer her calling out to him

His mom’s situation got so bad that she was hospitalized for years

And even now that the entire Nakahara family has accepted Chuuya’s ‘death’

His mom hasn’t. She’s doing a lot better than before getting hospitalized but…

She always seems to be spaced out. She doesn’t smile or laugh, and even when she does… it seems forced and it’s only for a brief moment

His mom doesn’t talk much, not to anyone

She often spends her time talking to framed pictures of Chuuya. She still cries every now and then, but tries to hide it…

And honestly? I think that Chuuya has considered going back to his family

He’s coincidentally seen his sisters and made sure they got home safely from school/work while watching from afar… then return to his own work

It scares him to go back, not only because of him putting their lives on the line for being a mafia executive

But also because he’s supposed to be ‘dead’. That’s what his family believed and has learned to live with…

So if he were to show up at his childhood home, he’d make them confused

And he can’t even imagine how they would react if he were to go back

So Chuuya just watches over them from a distance…

But maybe, just maybe one day he’ll gather up the courage and listen to the voice in his head telling him to go back

That day won’t be anytime soon, not now. He can’t go back until he’s sure the time is right for him to do so.

Until then, Chuuya just prays that they’ll stay safe and alive…

That’s when he can return to his family, his home…

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universallychaoticpan · 1 year

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AAHHH I LOVE YOUR BLOG SM. IF YOU'RE TAKING REQUESTS I WOULD LIKE TO SUGGEST THIS. i am tired of reading about myself dying. i want chuuya or dazai to die. this sound so weird, i love them so much- but here is the scenario i have in mind, chuuya or dazai, gets really injured, chuuya might've used corruption, dazai got shot in a crossfire or sum like that- and reader runs up to them and they try to tell the reader that everything will be alright and stuff. so basically, full angsty angst. if you're comfortable with writing this of course. i wanna suffer a bit more before going back to school HAHAHAHAH

AAHAHAHAHA you have awakened my angst muscles and I am out for blood. I hope you enjoy because I reworked this a million times for maximum effect. ;)) Enjoy?

"No, no NO, not yet, please, not like this-"

Chuuya heard your voice before he saw you through his blurred vision, heard you scream, agony tearing through your voice, through your body as he ached to comfort you. But try as he might, he couldn't reach you- his body was giving up, his strength was leaving him, ebbing out slowly and he could feel it.

And you saw it. His eyes, usually so bright and clear, were half lidded and groggy, staring up at the sky to something you could not see. When you'd found him, you feared he was already gone. But now, you knew it was almost worse: he hadn't died

But there was nothing you could do to stop it from happening.

Kneeling at his side, you wept openly, sobs running through you, ripping through your body, making your chest heave with the weight of your grief. You cried with his hands pressed to your lips, prayed to whatever cruel god had decided his fate, mourned the life you could've had before he lifted your eyes to his own.

"I didn't think it would feel so cold when- when it was time to go. Y/n, I'm scared. I don't want to go."

You moved closer, pulling his broken body up to lean against you, holding him close with his head against your chest.

"Don't be afraid," you whispered, choking back your own tears. "You don't need to be afraid. It's just you and me. It's just us- just feel me. Nothing else."

He shuddered, darkness creeping into his vision as he tried to focus on your beating heart.

"I'm sorry I couldn't give you more time. You deserved more time."

Softly, you turned his face to you, smiling for his sake even as you felt your heart shatter in your chest.

"Don't be silly," you chuckled, "we have all the time in the world. You and me, alright? I'm here and I- I'm going to be here when you wake up."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Then I'm not afraid anymore."

You kissed him then, your cheeks wet with tears, your chest aching knowing this would be the last time you would feel his lips on yours like this. In that moment, you turned a second into a lifetime. You imagined this was what it would feel like when you woke up beside him in the mornings, and how it would feel when he kissed you slow at night. You pictured him kissing you the same way when you were old and graying, could feel the same familiar press of his touch on your body, the comforting feel of his love that kept you safe. You imagined a life beside him, a life spent loving him, poured your hope and every dream you had for the two of you into that second where the world's rules bent to two lovers on the edge of death.

You kissed him and held him close while the fire in his eyes dimmed, while the drum of his heart grew weaker and finally, ceased it's beating. And still you stayed, because as long as you stayed, he could still wake up.

You had promised to be there when he did.

It wasn't supposed to happen this way. He was strong, he was so strong- he had survived so much. Too much. He had survived too much to die because of you. He wasn't supposed to die on the ground, surrounded by gunfire and fear, felled by a bullet that was meant for you. It was supposed to be so different.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," you moaned, biting your lip to keep from crying. "It's going to be ok, I promise- it's going to be ok." Frantic, you tried to stop the bleeding- god there was so much blood- as Dazai held tight to your hands.

"It's going to be ok- I promise." god, why was there so much blood.

He winced as you brought him into your arms, smiling up at your beautiful, tear stained face.

"You're here?"

"Of course I am," you laughed, another sob making your voice tight and small. "I'm right here."

He reached for your cheek, then cried out with a sound that pierced your soul and twisted the blade.

"It- it hurts so much- y/n please, can you make it stop hurting?"

"I wish I could," you whispered, leaning your head down to him so he could rest a palm against your cheek. "But it'll stop hurting soon, I promise. Just hold on a little longer for me, ok?

Keep your eyes on me."

"Hey y/n?"

"Yeah?"

"It- wasn't your fault. Even if it meant dying a million times- I would protect you in every life."

"I never deserved you," you whispered.

"Liar," he smiled. "You were always too good for me. Never did I think I would get to love someone as good as you. But I need you to do one more thing for me."

"Anything."

"Promise me you'll keep living. Promise me you'll move on and- and promise me you won't stop your life for me. Just- make yourself as happy as I am right now. Make yourself as happy as I am to be here-

being held by you."

You smiled through your tears, caressed his face as his breathing got shallow, as his heartbeat got weaker. You kissed his face, his cheeks, his eyes as they fluttered shut, tried to press the memory of his peaceful expression onto your heart forever. You wiped the blood and dirt from his skin, tucked his coat around him like he was a child again, as loved and safe as any child could be. You told him stories and sang to him, hummed lullabies like you were trying to sing him to sleep. And with every moment he was still with you, you made him a new promise.

I love you

I'll stay with you

You're safe

You can rest

You made him promises until his grip on your hand went slack, until his breathing stopped, until you could no longer hold on. And then you screamed, cried, raged at his side, and made a promise you knew you could never keep. You told him you would be happy.

You lied, knowing your happiness died with him, knowing you could never love anyone the way you loved him.

The way you would always love him.

#dazai xreader #chuuya xreader #dazai osamu x readfer #chuuya nakahara x reader #dazai x reader angst #chuuya x reader angst #bsd x reader #bsd angst #bungo stray dogs x reader

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gaoau · 7 months

Text

devil worship (lesson number one)

theory of the two demons warnings — very explicit puppy murder word count — 1.2k note — its not necessary to read this ch if youre uncomfortable cause im really pulling some weird shit (read this and my sachiro vet fic side by side lmfao). this is only to fill the space between chuuya seeing mc with the puppies and then finding the puppies dead the next day. you can totally skip this for the sake of your sanity. thanks for putting up with me thumbs up emoji

prev. — next.

the last person [Name] expects to see in this familiar alleyway is Dazai. perhaps that is why they mistake him for another stain on the ground. he blends in with the darkness, melting into a dense shadow, never to be found by anyone with abnormal thoughts. but [Name]'s mind is so painfully normal, with ideas so painfully normal and anger so painfully normal. however dark and darker the shadows might grow, with everything they have both come to learn, they know just how deep it all cuts. it takes a second, but [Name] finds him among the endless abyss where the moonlight doesn't reach.

they stop dead in their tracks. empty eyes glowing with wrath, hands twitching as if they knew what will come. Dazai standing over a box of three innocent puppies is a death threat.

"you know, [Name]," he starts, voice airy and gentle. there's a sweet smile twisting his lips as he meets his mentee's eyes. he bends down at the waist, a lazy arm reaching to brush his hand over one of the puppies. it wags its tail and pants excitedly as Dazai continues with a darkened tone, "i'm not very fond of dogs." his fingers latch tightly onto its scruff. when he straightens up again, he holds the puppy away from him as if it were trash. "how long have you been keeping these?"

"only a few days."

"why?"

"i didn't want 'em to—Dazai-san, you're hurting it."

"am i?"

instantly, Dazai lets go. he opens his palm and watches the puppy slam against the floor, uninterested. it cries out in a shrill squeal of pain. [Name]'s shoulders jolt at the sound, grimacing and cringing at noises they would normally not bat an eye at. their legs move on impulse as they rush towards the dog. before their hands can reach, Dazai steps on its frail body. [Name] hovers by his shoes helplessly on their knees, staring with fear they've never felt before. it clogs their throat. the puppy tries to wiggle its way out of danger, but Dazai's weight overwhelms it.

"Dazai-san, please stop, you're hurting it." their voice trembles. their fingers tremble. they tremble. they have trembled before—with anger, never with such fright.

"i know."

relief lasts a brief instance when Dazai lifts his foot. [Name] isn't enough to beat Dazai at anything. the puppy's cries echo in the alleyway while he mercilessly stomps on it like it's a persistent cockroach. its siblings whine in fear and try to seek refuge further inside a shallow box. [Name] feels bile crawl up their throat. bones snap and blood splatters and their heart pounds in their ears. it's not long before the puppy can't complain anymore.

the glow of their ability is useless when they scramble to shield the dog. "stop!" comes their choked plea, fumbling to grasp Dazai's ankle. he sees right through their sacrifice and kicks them square in the forehead. their skin splits open, but they stand their ground. it's too late, though. the puppy twitches with its last breaths on a puddle of its own blood.

Dazai shakes his shoe clean of stains. he lazily pulls out his gun and points it at [Name]'s fresh wound. "why do you want them to live? for what?" he spits out, a voice they struggle to recognize. it's shaken and furious. it's sick of alienation. he cocks the gun. "they can't do anything for themselves. they'll just starve, attack others, they'll get kicked around like you. they'll suffer the cold and the hunger and the sickness. that's what you want them to live for?"

his pulse doesn't tremble when he pulls the trigger. the bullet flies past [Name]'s side, barely missing their ear. but Dazai's shots never miss. it hits the corpse of the puppy.

"or are you doing this for yourself?" however hateful [Name]'s eyes may glow, Dazai glares back with the same intensity. "there's no value in your life, so you pretend there's some in others'. you think if you save them, you'll save yourself, don't you?"

they grit their teeth to hold themself back. this is a battle they can't win. "i don't want to be saved, Dazai-san." the line is blurred between who they think of and who they want to save. maybe they only think of themself. but if so, what? maybe they don't think at all.

Dazai sighs with exaggerated irritation, "of course you don't." he points the gun again to shoot at the cowering puppies. [Name] reacts just as the bullet darts out. they snatch the box to their chest, eyes squeezed shut, flinching at the burning pain of lead slicing their skin open. "listen, i'll give you some advice for once, like a proper mentor. if you can't guarantee prosperity, you're better off cutting the line early. otherwise you're just prolonging their suffering."

he doesn't wait for his wise words to sink into his mentee's brain. with one swift kick, the cardboard box disappears from their grasp and the puppies tumble out with squeals of fear. he chooses not to waste bullets on a pair of frail dogs, returning the gun to his waistband. the scent of blood grows stronger with every thrust of his leg. even when [Name] throws themself as a shield again, they're just another puppy in his eyes. eventually, the puppies stop whining. the scars on [Name]'s arms multiply. (he's already told them to not rely on their ability alone.) one puppy is left twitching, silent.

another sigh tumbles from Dazai's tongue, as if he were finished with strenuous training after a long day of hard work. he bends at the waist again, using one hand to lift [Name] to their feet by the collar of their bloodied shirt. "if you want to help, put it out of its misery, yeah?" with his other hand, he lifts a mangled puppy by its scruff. then he forces its spasming body into [Name]'s hands. "you did this with Q as well, didn't you? how'd that turn out?"

they don't answer. they stare with wide, hollow eyes at the mess of fur and blood on their palms.

"listen to me," Dazai hisses like poison. he harshly pats them on the shoulder. "you don't get to decide value in other lives."

[Name] feels the puppy struggle in their hands. its tiny, innocent body twitches, its head lolls weakly from side to side. it's not blinking. it's staring right at them with a dead gaze. they close their own eyes and breathe in shakily. the pungent scent of blood—both theirs and the puppies'—pierces their nose as a reminder of their own mistakes. Dazai digs his fingers into their shoulder. they have never been afraid of death before. they wish they could use Mirror Mirage. they tremble with fear.

hesitantly, they snap the puppy's neck and put it out of its misery. they let its limp body drop next to the other two corpses.

"don't do this again," is all Dazai leaves them with. his hand disappears from their shoulder and his footsteps fade into silence.

"i won't do it again… i won't do it again… i won't do it again… i won't do it again… i won't do it again…"

note — okay but listen. hear me out. i know people regularly love dazai, and dont get me wrong, i like him too a normal amount. hes a great character. but. port mafia dazai is a thing. and i think this dazai, specifically dark era dazai, after he becomes an exec (which we're getting into), was a piece of shit. sure, maybe having him kill puppies isnt the best idea ive had, but i dont think its too far fetched. he was an asshole, cruel and abusive (ie. akutagawa) and we should talk about it. he canonically doesnt like dogs for whatever reason and hes got this very particular attitude towards mc, so mix the two together, and it really doesnt matter to him if he murders a bunch of tiny little puppies in cold blood (fun fact: i got this idea while watching ep 5 of bsd wan haha) im saying, think fifteen light novel when he puts that dude out of his misery and keep shooting and shooting and shooting. think the day i picked up dazai light novel side b and the dude he tortures for info. think every crime we dont know of that the hunting dogs arrest him for. i cant be too off i know this fic may seem like its dazai slander and i hate the guy, but if anything, the fact that im willing to reach my gloveless fingers into his amygdala and pull apart his chemicals is a testament to how i actually do like him. i just want to tear him into pieces and do his character justice, cause who the fuck knows whats up with him. ive read the manga, ive watched the anime, ive read every light novel under the sun, from beast to fifteen to the day i picked up dazai, ive done it all. its not enough to understand how his brain is shaped exactly, but i have enough of a vague idea to manipulate it and have a take on him. this is my take on dazai thank you for reading. im coming for akutagawas throat finally lets go. drink water have day

#theory of the two demons

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sirenascales · 3 years

Text

-> double black [part six] 18+

-> Chuuya x 1stPOV!F!Reader x Dazai

-> Who knew getting fired from work could lead to this?

-> Content: SMUT, slight angst, violence, murder, swearing

The case is concluded and Chuuya collects his prize. [Chuuya x 1stPOV!F!Reader x Dazai]

3,461 words

warning: mentions of violence, murder, nsfw, smut, slight voyeurism

note: so i lied, there is one more part, which will be nothing but smut so be excited for that hehe

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Final || Masterlist

My ability is called Hell Hath No Fury and it gives me the ability to make a perfect clone of myself that is fueled by the anger, rage, pain and despair that dwells inside of me, and has been inside of me since I was small. The anger isn't something that's just there, I've been through a lot of things in my life that left my weary soul full of the negative emotions that powers my clone. I don't particularly like using my clone, as she could be quite scary. Like anger and hatred, she could be very hard to control sometimes.

"She is quite scary, huh?" Dazai hummed, voice full of humor as I told him about my ability, us now back at the ADA. I sat at my desk, shoulders slumped. "Took me by surprise~"

I laughed softly at him, shaking my head as I read the official report that was written at the conclusion of the Taichi investigation. There was an unreadable look on my face as I read through the text, Dazai swaying his chair from side to side beside me.

"It says that Taichi was killed by the drug dealer..." I repeated, grimacing as I recalled Chuuya shooting the same man right in his head. "I don't... know how to feel about this."

I was the one who killed Taichi, yet here I was, sitting at my desk in the ADA office with no consequences coming my way. Further reports say that the drug dealer soon met his own demise due to the retribution from the Port Mafia, which wasn't an exact lie.

"Just go along with it, Bella. The only ones who know the truth are-"

"I can't believe you would do something so... incredibly stupid." I winced as soon as Kunikida started barreling down on me, sighing as he continued to lecture me.

Of course, we had to tell Fukuzawa, as well as the rest of the core members of the ADA what happened. It was only fair, considering we had to make sure the story was solid. It was rather nerve wracking to say the least, and in total me fashion, I had cried right in front of the President.

I thought I would get fired, but all I got was a week's suspension. "Get some rest," Fukuzawa said to me, leaning back in his chair. "You're going to need it." I nodded my head, standing up and bowing to him quickly before I left his office.

"I guess I'll see you guys soon," I said to the others, holding my bag full of belongings in my hands. I gave them all one last wave before walking out of the office, aware of Dazai following behind me. As always, I chose to walk down the stairs, only going down two flights before I turned on my heel, dropping my bag and wrapping my arms tight around the taller man.

"Oof," Dazai gasped out before he wrapped his arms around me, chuckling a bit as he gave me a squeeze. "It's not like you'll be gone forever."

I sighed, keeping my face pressed against his chest. "I know. I think all the adrenaline from... everything finally left and now I honestly feel like shit. I'm so tired, Osamu."

"... would you like me to come with you?" Dazai asked and I shook my head, giving him a playful, scolding look.

"You need to finish that report, you lazy bastard," I replied, Dazai already whining and I rolled my eyes. "Call me later?"

Dazai stopped whining, gently cupping my face with his hand. He leaned in and kissed me, stealing my breath away as he always had. He smirked at my flushed face, stepping back. "Yeah. Now go."

I left him by the stairs, making my way back to my apartment. Now that I had a week off, I wasn't sure what I should do. I guess doing was Fukuzawa said and just resting would be a good thing, seeing as I was tired, both physically and emotionally.

But even as I try to sleep, I find myself tossing and turning, waking up every hour. I slumped on my back, letting out a frustrated breath as I stared at the ceiling.

"You know, bella... you're disrupting my beauty sleep," Dazai spoke from beside me and I rolled my eyes, huffing out a breath. Dazai chuckled softly, laying one arm under his head while the other rested over his tummy. "This will pass in time."

I sighed softly. "It's weird... I don't regret it."

"But you still took a life."

"Did you feel this way when you first killed someone?"

"... I honestly don't remember. When you're surrounded by nothing but darkness and carnage for a long time, stuff like that is nothing to be concerned about."

I frowned. "When you were in the Port Mafia... you were partners with Chuuya, right?"

"Like I said, we were the best~" Dazai sang and I smiled softly.

"Just imagining the two of you fighting together is kinda scary..."

"Well, when you have someone like Chuuya and the youngest executive in Port Mafia history, yeah, we were pretty scary!"

I choked. "You were an executive?!" I exclaimed in shock. I thought about Chuuya, and how he worked alongside the Leader of the Port Mafia himself. Dazai was that powerful? And with someone like Chuuya...?

"That's..."

"Terrifying?"

"Hot."

Dazai sputtered, bursting out into a fit of laughter. "You like dangerous men?"

I grinned widely, finally turning to cuddle against him. "Blame it on the daddy issues," I answered, making him snort. "Why did you leave?"

"You should try to get some sleep," Dazai replied, changing the subject and I shrugged my shoulders.

"Yeah, though I won't be surprised if I can't," I mumbled unhappily, shifting a bit to get comfortable. I closed my eyes, hearing Dazai chuckled softly as I started to doze off.

Unsurprisingly, I slept like shit that night, my eyes were sore, the bags under my eyes puffy and dark. I groaned, waving Dazai goodbye tiredly as he left in the morning, heading to work after I scolded him for trying to sleep in and skip work.

The door closed behind him and I let myself fall back on my couch, just staring into nothing for a while before I grabbed my phone, pressing on Keiko's contact and calling her. She didn't answer.

After pressing the button on the side of her phone to end the incoming call, Keiko sighed nervously as she approached the man sitting in the desk before her, hands shaking as she placed down a large, thick envelope.

"Here you go. That's all of it," she said softly, quickly withdrawing her hands away and clasping them together against her chest.

Chuuya watched her carefully, noticing just how scared and timid Keiko was acting, and he honestly didn't blame her, not after what she's been through, and especially how Taichi continued to throw her under the bus, even after his death.

"I swear... I had nothing to do with what he was doing..." her voice trembled and Chuuya sighed deeply. He dug into his drawer, producing a cigarette for both himself and Keiko. She allowed him to light hers for her and there was a silence as they each took a drag.

"I believe you," Chuuya started, leaning back in his seat. "He used your name to open that offshore account and the safety deposit box, making sure not to have this all trail back to him." Keiko hung her head and Chuuya thought back to when he first saw her. She was way more outgoing and cheerful, and admittingly had a very sensual, attractive aura that even he himself would be into if she hadn't been with Taichi.

It was a shame to see that all gone, all because of one coward. It pissed Chuuya off immensely. She was essentially betrayed by someone she trusted, and Chuuya could relate to that all too well.

"But, everything is finally coming to a close with all the money Taichi stole from us coming back. Don't worry, Keiko, our investigation makes it more than clear that you are innocent in this. You have nothing to worry about," Chuuya said, but Keiko still looked troubled. She said my name softly and he looked at her questionably.

"What about her...?" she asked softly. "Is she clear?"

"You did see the official report, right?" Chuuya replied in turn, taking another drag from his cigarette. Keiko nodded silently. "It wasn't that hard to form the story. There was at least some truth to it. The drug dealer was as good as dead... as well as Taichi. She just beat us to it. We can let this slide."

Keiko sighed in relief, taking another drag from her own cigarette. "That's a relief... I was worried about what would happen to her."

"Nothing," Chuuya answered. "And we will be keeping an eye on her for a while too."

Keiko nodded in understanding. "I'm still worried about her, though. She's been having a hard time sleeping and I'm sure it's just... everything finally getting to her..." Keiko sighed deeply, rubbing her eyebrows. "But I don't know what to do... she's in this mess because of me, I wanna help her but I don't even know how to help myself!"

"And that should be your main focus right now," Chuuya spoke, crossing his arms over his chest. "Don't worry about her. I'll take care of her."

"But why?" Keiko questioned. "It's not like you care about her. Or love her."

Chuuya rolled his eyes. "There's no love there, but she's... fun."

Keiko snorted at that. "She's not one for love and relationships. I guess that's why she's involved with you, and Dazai. There's a mutual understanding there, and I guess if it works for you guys, then it's okay. But-"

Chuuya quirked an eyebrow. "But?"

"She's still sensitive. She wears her heart on her sleeve, so even if there really is no love here, I'm sure she still cares for you guys. That's just how she is. So I ask... just don't hurt her. That's all. If it all ends... just make sure she doesn't get hurt." Keiko clenched her fists. "I don't know what I'll do to you if she does."

Chuuya just stared at her, pleasantly surprised. He let out a short laugh. "Are you threatening me?"

"Yes."

Chuuya grinned, laughing again as he shook his head. The loyalty in this friendship was honestly a sight to see. It was refreshing. "I don't usually respond well to threats, so I'll let this slide. You've done all you can do, so you can head on home if you want. If you're lucky, we won't see each other again."

"Well, if you're still seeing my best friend, we probably will," Keiko said, standing up, feeling a little less nervous. "Goodbye, Chuuya. Stay safe out there."

Chuuya nodded. "I hope you can heal and become your old self again. It's sad to not see that pretty smile on your face."

Keiko blushed brightly. "Shameless flirt," she shot at him playfully, turning away from him to leave. Chuuya laughed loudly from his desk.

"So, are you okay now?" I asked Keiko over the phone, her telling me about her meeting with Chuuya. She first apologized for ignoring my call, but it didn't bother me that much. I was only glad that she was doing okay.

"Yeah, I'm alright. Gonna spend the rest of the day home and figure out what to do."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Well... I'm thinking of going away for a while. Maybe for six months... just to heal and find myself again."

"Six months?! What about your job?"

"I quit. I want to start my life over again, but I love Yokohama, so I figured... I can get another job when I come back! I'm gonna sell my condo too!"

I was stunned. "I... but where do you plan on even going?!"

"Hm... maybe Europe? I'm not sure yet. Are you... okay with me leaving?"

"Of course! I support you with everything you do in your life. I just want you to be safe and okay..."

"I'm glad. I'm pretty determined, but don't worry! I will always come home!"

Keiko and I talked for a while after that, a smile on my face as we ended the call. I was happy to see that Keiko was trying to turn her life around, proud of her for being so strong. It was rather inspiring, and helped me to gain my own strength to get my shit together as well.

The day went on, and I was in the kitchen making an early dinner when there was a knock on my door. I was annoyed, thinking it was Dazai flaking out on work again, but as I opened my door, I was surprised to see a certain red head at my door.

"Chuuya?"

"Wow. You look like shit."

I rolled my eyes and scoffed, turning and walking back into my kitchen, Chuuya following behind me.

"Gee, thanks."

"What are you doing?"

"Cooking an early dinner. You want some?"

"Yeah, sure."

It wasn't long until Chuuya and I sat across from each other, chowing down on some food and filling our bellies.

"So, what's up?" I asked him, drinking some water. Chuuya was still stuffing his face, almost choking at one point before he downed his glass of water to save himself.

"Well," Chuuya coughed. "I came here to collect my prize."

I blinked. "Your prize? What are- oh," I rolled my eyes, shaking my head. That stupid race Dazai proposed. Chuuya was the one who figured it all out first, and I was the prize for the lucky winner. "So, you wanna have sex later then? I'm cool with that."

Chuuya scoffed and crossed his arms over his chest. "No. Well, yes, but no. Not yet. I'm taking you somewhere."

I raised my eyebrows. "Where?"

"Shut up and don't worry about it. You'll see when you get there."

I narrowed my eyes at him, just wondering what the fuck he was up to. What could it possibly be that he wouldn't tell me what his plan was? It was rather suspicious and I began to grow wary.

But we finished eating and Chuuya didn't even give me a chance to pack before he dragged me out of my apartment. I managed to get my keys, phone and purse, and I gave him the stink eye the entire time I was stuck in the backseat of a fancy car with him.

"Are you having me killed?"

"I will if you don't shut up."

I scoffed, crossing my arms over my chest as Chuuya took me to my supposed doom. But we arrived at our destination, and I was extremely confused as I looked up at the rather luxurious hotel. I didn't get the chance to question it, Chuuya leading me inside. We were immediately greeted by the hotel attendants, and led to the elevator. We rode it all the way to the top floor, the attendant leaving us alone as the doors opened and we walked out into the hallway.

"Chuuya..." I let out a small breath as he led me inside the penthouse, my jaw dropping as I took my first look at the very luxurious space. "What is this?"

"Keiko told me you were having a rough time," Chuuya spoke, taking off his hat and then his jacket, hanging them up carefully. "I figured this would help you. Full body massages, jacuzzi, anything you could ever want to just... relax. It's all here."

"But... Chuuya, you didn't have to," I whispered, still in awe with my face heated up.

"Well, just deal with it," Chuuya huffed.

"Isn't this expensive though?"

"It's nothing. Just... think about this as my prize. Taking care of you."

Now my face was burning hot, Chuuya's own flushed red. I gave him a look, his words making me smile a bit despite how flustered they made me.

"You sound like a sugar daddy."

He didn't respond. That made me giggle. "How long will we be here."

"For the week, until you get back to work."

"But how did you..." I trailed off, gasping when Chuuya gave me a light push further into the penthouse.

It was an amazing, large open area space with a full kitchen, all the top appliances, a flat screen and a huge king size bed. The bathroom was just as fabulous, the large soaker tub calling my name.

"Oh, I need to get in that," I declared, making Chuuya laugh lightly. He watched as I looked around the bathroom, taking it upon himself to start filling up the tub. I turned to him and smirked. "Will you join me?"

"Like you have to ask that."

After finding a nice smelling bath bomb to put in the tub, Chuuya and I undressed and carefully climbed inside, sighing blissfully as the hot water immediately began to relax our muscles. I sat between Chuuya's legs, my back against his chest and my head resting against his shoulder. My eyes were closed, Chuuya's strong hands roaming all over my body.

"Tired?" Chuuya asked me softly and I sighed, nodding my head.

"Yeah... like Keiko said, I've been having a shit time sleeping," I answered, turning my head to lightly kiss Chuuya's jaw lightly. "But maybe a relaxing massage would help. Oh, but it's kinda late, huh? The masseuse would be gone by now."

Chuuya's hands continue to roam my body, one moving south. I let out a deep sigh when he began to rub circles on my clit.

"Yeah... but I can think of other ways to make you sleep," Chuuya whispered in my ear before he bit into my earlobe. I sigh again, Chuuya then capturing my lips with his own.

After making me cum on his fingers in the tub, we finished up in there before we found ourselves tangled up in the sheets of the king sized bed. Chuuya had my legs thrown over his shoulders, his cock plunging deep into me with every thrust he made.

"You're mine..." Chuuya breathed out, hissing and moaning from the pleasure. "... for the entire week... gonna make sure the only name you know is mine." He growled, clenching the sheets on either side of me tightly in his fists.

"Oh, yes, yes yes!" I cried out, back arching off my bed, eyes going wide as a voice that was not Chuuya's spoke up.

"Oh, that's just cute."

Whipping our heads around, we were shocked to see a certain detective standing at the foot of the bed, lecherous grin on his pretty face. We froze, Chuuya's cock still inside me, my heart pounding in my chest.

"Dazai?!" I shrieked.

"How the fuck did you get in here?!" Chuuya followed, glaring at the man. "What the hell?!"

"You can't hide things from me~" Dazai sang, not even hiding the fact that he was enjoying what he was seeing, his eyes slowly trailing over both of our naked bodies. "I was wondering why you called me to ask about her schedule... so I did some digging."

Chuuya hung his head, gritting his teeth in annoyance. "I am going to kill you."

Dazai laughed heartily, waving his hand dismissively. "No, no! Don't let me disturb you! I can watch! You guys were having so much fun!"

Before Chuuya could even react, he ended up groaning, his wide blue eyes finding mine. "Did you... fucking like that?" he asked and I stuttered a bit. "Do you want him to watch us?"

Another chill went down my spine at the thought and Chuuya groaned again as I clenched tightly around him. Chuuya cursed, feeling his cock twitch inside of me. He cursed again, becoming more overcome with arousal.

"Interesting," he breathed out, small puffs of air hitting my face. He smirked slightly, glancing back at Dazai. "This brings back memories."

"Fond memories," Dazai hummed and I looked back and forth between the two of them questionably.

"What are you guys talking about?"

Both of their eyes were now on me, and the intensity of their gazes made me gasp sharply, another chill going down my spine.

"Why have him just watch," Chuuya began, nuzzling his face against my neck. "When he can join us? Oh, fuck, you squeezed me so tightly just now..."

I trembled, heart hammering in my chest at the mere idea. A threesome? With Chuuya and Dazai. Looking over, I catch Dazai slipping off his tan jacket, gulping as he started to work on getting his shirt off.

"We have a week, right? Oh, this is going to be so much fun."

-End

#bsd x reader #chuuya x reader #dazai x reader #chuuya smut #dazai smut #bsd smut #yeehaw were finally on the home stretch

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arigatouiris · 4 years

Text

remember... me? // nakahara chuuya x reader

Author’s Note: Being awol for so long could only mean I was drowning in Bungo Stray Dogs and am now a hoe for Chuuya and Dazai. No regrets. I’m on season three rn and I’m only going to go on and read the manga after this, so I’m just THIRSTY. Hope you like this!

Word count: 5k+

Pairing: Nakahara Chuuya x Reader

Summary: Ever since laying his eyes on you, Chuuya sensed a familiarity that almost suffocated him. The ever-growing sense of deja vu didn't disappear even as he had you locked in his arms, or even as he stayed away; there was no explanation to it, whatsoever. He wondered if love was an emotion that would constantly have him question every action, every thought, and every moment that occurred, but what did he know of love? But then again, what didn't he?

Warnings: angst to fluff, soft chuuya, mentions of sex, mentions of drinking alcohol, mentions of blood, swearing (because Chuuya ofc), slight amnesia? ah, you’ll see, ig that’s it?

Even before you fell in love, you had always known that it was a bad idea. As unfortunate as you were, every time you felt a close connection with someone, it ended negatively. Whether it was the first boy you had ever kissed, who had broken your heart ruthlessly by kissing another boy a few days later, or the first person you thought you were in love with who had broken your heart by declining your proposal. Love had always left a remnant of displeasure and fear in your heart, and even without these experiences, you were certain that the concept of love was scary as it was. It wasn't as if Nakahara Chuuya was any different. Well, at least, he wouldn't be.

As soon as you opened your eyes, you noticed how the sun blossomed right outside your window. You knew from the telltale signs of dawn that it was your cue to leave; getting dressed would take less than 30 seconds, and heading out the door would take another 30. In less than two minutes, you'd be out of Nakahara Chuuya's hair, and live your life without the worry of any unnecessary attachment sticking to your psyche. However, for a moment, you lay there, admiring the lone tear that leaked out of his left eye, and you mindlessly wiped it away before it reached his cheek. You wanted to smile at his apparent softness, something you knew he'd try to hide with everything he had. You quietly got off the bed, careful not to throw the covers off his naked torso, and just as you were putting on your pants, your eyes darted to a very asleep Chuuya on the bed, obviously naked from the events of last night, before a thought crossed your mind—oh, how you'd kill just to linger around, but duty calls. A person so devastatingly afraid of love had no business to wish for fluff, it was just roll-call. A sigh exited your lips as you traversed on, mindful not to lay any loud step to awaken the sleeping beauty. To Chuuya, you were someone he had met just the night before, you weren't aware of his opinions on one night stands, but you were of the firm belief that they had to remain just one. Goodbye, Chuuya, you thought before sneaking out the door, almost as easily as you came in.

When Chuuya woke up, he smelt you. He felt a long-forgotten feeling at the back of his eyelids as if he had cried—but Chuuya stopped doing that long ago. He never cried again, he had seen and lived through too much even to consider letting his emotions loose. Yet, why had there been that feeling lingering behind that morning? His eyes searched for any sign of you but when he found none, his heart sank; he was familiar with one night stands, but he hadn't imagined that you adhered to such rules so stringently.

Ah, f*ck, he thought, as he sat up on the bed. He let out a shaky breath before feeling his eyes burn once more. His left hand reached forward and wiped off an incoming tear from his right eye before he frowned. What the f*ck? He thought before groaning. Something must've gone into my eye, he thought; desperate not to think of you. You had left behind your smell and as people say, memory and smell are intertwined. However, Chuuya didn't know that.

A short while after his shower that morning, Chuuya's phone rang indicating that he was needed elsewhere. The stupor that he had been transported into was over, and the feeling that he may have forgotten something had to be buried.

"Yeah?" Chuuya grumbled, ignoring his aching stomach; he knew he was forgetting something, something almost vital to his existence and identity, but his common sense reminded him that post-sex emotions can be overwhelming.

"Oh, rough morning, Chuuya-kun?" Mori's voice from the other end did little to ease his growing uneasiness.

"What is it, Mori-san?"

"I'm starting to worry about you. Chuuya-kun. You disappeared last night and just left. Regardless, your private affairs are your own, after all. I need you to look into something."

Took him long enough to come to the damn point, "What is it?"

"There's a large collection of ammunition that the mafia's stored by the bay. Rumor has it that someone's discovered that location and is intending on... borrowing our merchandise. I can't have that happen, you see. It's our produce, after all."

"Ah?! You can send someone else for something so small! Why can't you send the Black Lizards or something—"

"Oh, Chuuya-kun! I'm asking you because I know I won't have to ask again."

Chuuya hated taking orders from someone else, but he liked to believe he held some amount of agency in these areas. Letting out a long breath, Chuuya ended the call once accepting what needed to be done. It was simple enough, considering he didn't have anyone to kill or torture for information. As long as this meant he could work alone, Chuuya was glad. His life had reached a certain blissful limbo ever since Dazai's disappearance, not that he was complaining. Walking over to his hat, which was gracelessly laying on the floor, he felt the familiar smell reach his nostrils again—your smell, to be precise—and he almost froze as he reached to pick his hat. A sense of deja vu burned through his veins; strangely, these moments were occurring far too many times for him even to count. Some days, Chuuya could sense mornings repeat themselves, and nights disappear. Days would sometimes come to a standstill and sometimes, he'd lose them entirely. Time was breaking itself down rapidly, and sometimes, it grew numb.

Chuuya then did what Chuuya did best and ignored the entirety of it before letting his legs carry him to his next destination; he had always been a journey first, destination later type of guy, but Chuuya had mellowed down through the years. He wasn't the same free-spirited, arrogant 15-year old—he was now a man.

On reaching the bay Mori had mentioned, Chuuya's eyes narrowed when he spotted members of the Port Mafia having already been posted there. If people are here, then why'd Mori-san tell me to come here? Chuuya walked toward them before tapping a seemingly large man on his shoulder and waiting to hear from him.

"Ah, Chuuya-san! Thank goodness you're here!"

"What the f*ck's the hold up? If our guns are here, then just relocate—"

"We'd do that, but... there's a deranged person inside who's locked themselves in there! I think they've got an explosive and that could jeopardize everything! The guns, the dock, uh... Mori-san will—"

"Shut up, will ya?" If this was already annoying him, Chuuya could only wonder what the rest of the task would do. "Did you take a look at this deranged person?"

The man shook his head, "N-Not really. They've been here all morning, in fact."

"Oh? No one's seen this person get in?"

"I don't think so—"

"Tch, useless." Chuuya turned toward the entrance of the building and noticed how the shutters were closed.

"Also, one more thing, Chuuya-san," the man admonished, "There was a letter that was slipped out of the shutter. It was addressed to you."

This got his attention. Addressed to me? That's why Mori-san sent me here. Chuuya took the slip of paper before opening it, and on it was written with a neat cursive — 'I'm willing to speak to only Nakahara Chuuya, not anyone else. You do not know my ability, so if anyone approaches the building apart from him, I'll blow this place up.' A smirk landed on his face at the seemingly suicidal note that this person had written, and half of his mind wondered if it was Dazai who had played this ridiculous scheme. Letting out a breath, he waved his hand before walking toward the building and standing right in front of the shutters.

"Alright," He said loudly, "Open the damn shutters. It's me. Nakahara Chuuya!"

When the shutters did open, Chuuya stepped inside without a second thought; once he took close to six or seven steps inside, the shutters closed right behind him, keeping the light away. His eyes didn't waver, though. He had spotted the person in question's silhouette before the light left the room.

"This is mighty stupid," Chuuya said, laughing, "Blackmailing the Port Mafia? You're some idiot, aren't ya?"

"It isn't blackmailing, really," Came a familiar voice, and Chuuya froze. "It was a bad calculation, is all. I got a tip that there were illegal weapons here and I wanted to find out myself if that was true, but little did I know..." You stepped out of the shadow, with a sweet smile plastered over your face, "...that the Port Mafia was involved. By the time I could think of a justification, I trapped myself here and willingly gave myself to you."

It took him a couple of seconds to register what to say. He wasn't always thrown for a toss, Chuuya was sometimes quick-witted, but you seemed to have that annoying wit that reminded him of a certain suicidal moron. Your smile was infectious. But then again, so was the plague.

"You're not very smart, are you?" Chuuya countered with a straight face.

You only tilted your head in that annoyingly sweet way and said, "It wasn't a problem last night, was it?"

Chuuya's face brightened at the sudden recollection of your interactions from the night before. He turned his face away from you, not before regretting the action since that caused you to laugh at his sudden change in behavior. Chuuya wasn't shy, he didn't have a shy bone in his body—but, Chuuya could be put in awkward situations that made him feel bashful. Once your laughter ceased, he noticed how sullen your expression got suddenly. A dim look of hesitance plastered all over your face and there it was again—the deja vu—he recalled someone having written in a book he had once read that deja vu was simply a remembrance of the future. But then why had your facial expressions struck a chord in him the way that it had? Letting out a sigh, he pulled his phone out of his pocket before dialing the one person who could end this.

"Mori-san? Yeah, it's me. The issue's solved."

As soon as he placed his phone back inside his pocket, Chuuya chose to accept what he was feeling right then. Yes, it had been a one night stand with you, but something had been altered in the due course of time that he had spent with you. Ever since he laid eyes on you drinking alone in that bar, wine that he knew was cheap and low-class, ever since he had offered to buy you wine that you swore you'd love more than the cheap stuff you were drinking, Chuuya knew that interacting with you was a poison that he willingly swallowed, as if his life was dependent on it. Your quirky smirks, the way your eyes crinkled at the pressure of his gaze, the way you licked your lips after tasting the wine he had recommended, the way your eyes widened at the tenacity of the flavor, and the way your eyes met his, just a moment after, and a smile crawled its way to where a surprised look was—Chuuya was quite aware what this feeling was.

But, you had gotten out of bed hours before he could open his eyes. You had run away from the possibility of Chuuya getting to see those very reactions from you again. If you had denied him those experiences in the future, could Chuuya even ask them from you? It felt deeply insulting that you didn't choose to give them to him yourself, but for some reason, Chuuya didn't mind taking another step forward.

"What is it? You want me to repay you for saving my life?"

Chuuya scoffed before straightening his posture. "That's right. You owe me."

Your eyes twinkled at the teasing tone of his voice, "Oh? And what is it that I owe you, Nakahara Chuuya-san?"

"A date," He said, almost too quickly, knocking the air right out of you, "I want a date."

You were staring at Chuuya as if you were a blind person staring at the sun for the very first time. You weren't just surprised at his blatant honesty, but you were surprised that he had outright asked you out as if it were some demand. There was no hint of hesitation lodged in his voice, but that was Chuuya; he never hesitated before doing something he was sure would result in success. You had to give him more credit than that, honestly. You would have honestly laughed if your heart wasn't accelerating like a fawn running for its life, but at the same time, you were glad. More or less.

"I'm... surprised."

Chuuya scoffed before turning around to leave, "Yeah, I don't like it when I wake up to an empty bed. If we f*cked last night, then I'd like to know it was stellar. Or I'd rather it doesn't happen."

If that's the premise, so be it, you thought, a soft smile etched on your face. A smile Chuuya had seen many times before but simply had forgotten. When you walked out of there, no member of the Port Mafia followed you or even gave you a stink-eye, you were left to wander on your own. However, a hand gripped your wrist just as you were about to leave—your eyes widened to see Chuuya's intense gaze burning yours.

"Not a word to anyone about this."

It took you a second to realize he was talking about the ammunition and not him asking you out. When you blushed right then, you were glad he didn't spot it; or if he did, he didn't make too much of it. There was no need to say anything more, you knew when to meet him and what time as well. Just as the previous night. Chuuya never had to wait three days to know if someone was interested; Chuuya took what he liked because, for the most part, it definitely liked him back as well.

Unlike what most people believed about Nakahara Chuuya, he hated being angry. Even though he sported a constant frown across his face that he seemed to carry with pride, anger was quite rare for him to carry around with it. Anger made him feel vulnerable, dangerous—in a way that he didn't like; it deprived him of control, agency, dominance; it was a paralyzing emotion that rendered him helpless. He didn't need anger to get anything done—in fact, Chuuya was beyond that. However, that night, when he waited two hours for you to show up and you didn't, Chuuya felt a different sort of anger.

An ire born out of devastating humiliation was no ire at all. It was a rage nestled in a dark place, reminding him of the Corruption that he desperately wished to forsake. Chuuya not only felt humiliated for being stood up, he felt a deep, growing sorrow—a sorrow that didn't involve tears or screaming but silence, which was the worst indicator. Quietly, he left the bar where he had first met you and walked out only to notice that it was raining. One of the things he prided about himself was his ability to deduce things quickly—sure, he wasn't as witty as Dazai was, not that he'd ever admit that, but he was smart where he needed to be. Recalling details about you that most people would have forgotten seemed simple not because he was as talented as he thought he was, no, it was because you were impossible to forget. A drug that he just couldn't shake off.

His legs then carried him toward an area that seemed so familiar that he felt a wave of nausea itch at his throat. Chuuya clawed at his collarbones to stop the feeling from spreading but the nausea had reached his head and he felt as uncomfortable as when he had too much wine in a single night, on an empty stomach. Reaching a particular door that screamed at him for some godforsaken reason, Chuuya didn't bother knocking; the confidence bubbled inside his chest alongside the nausea. He spotted you on the couch, a bottle of wine in your hands—the wine he had recommended to you the night before—and your eyes widen at his sudden appearance.

"Chuuya!?"

"You f*cking stood me up—"

"How did you remember where I lived?"

Perhaps it was your choice of words. He was always good at guessing what people meant from the words they use, it had always been a certain gift he carried with himself. However, Chuuya didn't care right then. The ire rendered him blind. He rushed to you and knocked the glass off your hands, having it spill all over the carpeted floor before grabbing your collar and pulling you close. He was seething but for some reason, just the sight of you—surprised and quite possibly drunk from the wine—burned down his ire as if it were embers sparking off a tree trunk on a rainy night. Your silky robe slid off his hands with ease as he let you go, before darting his gaze away from you.

"Chuu—"

"I don't f*cking understand it either, alright?" He said, eyes stuck to the spilled wine on the floor. "I don't understand what this is, I don't understand why I can't let it go. I've had sex with women whose names I don't even bother to remember, but I can't forget your stupid f*cking face, or your stupid f*cking smile or the way you annoy the crap out of me. I can't forget how you'd rather drink cheap wine at the store and drink the wine that I f*cking recommended to you in secret, so I know there's something there, alright?!"

"Chuuya, I'm sorry—"

He looked at you with a deep frown, "What is it, then? Was the sex bad? Was it me—"

Your hands sprung to his face and it hit him again—the wave of deja vu—the feeling of your skin against his; it was intoxicating. He breathed in deeply, trying to recollect where he had smelt you before for it to have become so deeply rooted in his mind.

"How is it..." You began to mutter something under your breath but Chuuya's hand lifted your chin and forced you to meet his gaze, "Chuuya, I... I'm sorry. It's not that. It's not any of that. You're amazing. You're... I love you."

His eyes widened. Words that he normally would have run away from suddenly felt like home—he swore he had heard them before. He had heard them, from you, a long time ago and the smell of it resonated with the way you carried yourself. Apricots and honey, a smell so utterly natural yet devastatingly intoxicating, Chuuya was certain that whatever it was had to be love; because if it wasn't, then he didn't know what love was. Moving in, Chuuya's lips captured your own, and your hands quickly reached his hair before pulling him closer as if your life depended on it. A lovely trick designed by nature, Chuuya used it to silence you from uttering words right then. There was no need for words when action spoke so loudly. It didn't take long for his hands to reach your neck, pasting your body to his; and for this to lead further to a place of no return. Not that you minded, of course.

When Chuuya woke up, he smelt you. There was no long-forgotten feeling, there was no remnant that he desperately needed to remember—there was just you. You were breathing beside him, eyes closed, mouth slightly open, looking as peaceful as he had ever seen you; a sight he believed he had seen many times before. The intensity of which made him wonder if this was what people meant when they said soulmates existed; perhaps, he knew you in a past life, and had reunited with you in this one. Whatever it was, he felt content. His hand reached to brush a strand of stray hair off your cheek before noticing you inch closer toward him, blinding him with your scent again.

As established before, Chuuya was good at guessing what people meant by the choice of their words. He instantly remembered something odd that you had let loose the night before, something that made him wonder if there was a reason why he felt so intensely for you. Reaching forward and placing his hand at the back of your head, he pulled you to his neck, feeling your arms wrap around his naked chest. Chuuya's gaze fixed at the wall behind you before trying to decipher just what you had meant by 'How did you remember where I lived?'

A second later, you stirred before looking up at him and he cocked an eyebrow at your emotionless stare.

"God help me..." You said, "You're so pretty."

"Don't call me pretty." He argued, and you swore he could kill you with his morning voice and you'd be glad.

"Hey," He began, clearing his throat, "What did you mean by... what you said yesterday?"

"That I love you? Aw, Chuuya... Don't you know what that means?"

"No, you idiot. You asked me how I remembered where you lived. Why would you ask me that unless I..." His eyes widened. "Unless I somehow forgot..."

"Wrong choice of words, I guess. Forgive me, I was down three glasses of wine before you got here."

Chuuya laughed at your words right then before pulling you closer, feeling more content with your explanation than the gnawing suspicion that raged inside his brain. He wondered if love was an emotion that would constantly have him question every action, every thought, and every moment that occurred, but what did he know of love?

But then again, what didn't he?

Blissful days were cursed, or so he believed; Chuuya noticed how quickly they passed. He could, on some occasions, watch the days as they passed, exiting his body and seeing himself interact with the everydayness of things. The only thing that brought him life was to return home to you. Even with the ever-growing blissfulness, Chuuya didn't malinger. However, he couldn't shake off the feeling that every word that exited your mouth was a red herring—something that you were deviating from a fact that he had missed. He hated feeling like he was missing an important detail, but each time you smiled at him or stole a kiss, Chuuya was taken back to the very moment he fell for you.

Suddenly, as if his mind was taking him somewhere else, he recalled something. He didn't know if it was entirely a made-up scenario or something that happened in a past life because if it happened in this one, he'd have remembered. He spotted you, stumbling in front of a broken wine bottle, the owner of the store screaming in your ear—and you were trying to sound convincing. Chuuya watched himself walk over to you, and turn to the owner of the store before quickly understanding what had happened. You had dropped an expensive bottle of wine, and you had no means to pay for it; it caused him to chuckle a tad bit before throwing some money (or more) at the owner, causing you to turn to him with wide eyes. "It's alright," he had said to you, "I've got money."

Chuuya watched as he walked away from you, but missed how you had removed one of your shoes and thrown it at the back of his head. He froze before turning to you with a deadly expression, but instantly blinked when he noticed how heavily you were blushing before thinking, 'Holy shit, she's cute,' before having you walk over to him and scream—

"What do you think you're doing, pretty face?"

Chuuya stared at you as you chopped onions without shedding a single tear; he had no clue how you had learned to art to do so, but boy, was he glad you knew how to cook. You reached forward before using your wrist to wipe off a tear from his eye, scrunching a bit before realizing the onions must have done it. You giggled before turning back to them, chopping them quietly. That wasn't it, Chuuya thought, narrowing his eyes. That wasn't how he met you. He met you at the bar, where he spotted you drinking cheap wine and he walked over to you and recommended something else. He didn't meet you in a wine store—he didn't have a shoe thrown at the back of his head. Yet... His hand reached the back of his head and his fingers grazed the area where the shoe supposedly landed, It feels like it actually happened.

He shook his head before entwining his hands around your waist, before kissing the back of your neck. He wasn't usually so affectionate, but you didn't mind. Every time Chuuya touched you, it left scorch marks that were welcome; it was passion breathing fire, reflecting the color of his hair, the aura of his heart.

"What're you thinking?" You hummed, unaware of how intensely Chuuya was watching you.

"Nothin'."

Blissful days were cursed, Chuuya knew this for a fact. He could watch happy days pass by with him barely breathing, existing, feeling; but the bad ones lasted ages. He remembered walking into his own home one day, drenched in blood, covered with soot and mud, the urge to feel human contact was strong just then. He knew he could call you, he knew that he could rely on you especially since you had said the words 'I love you' to him over and over again, despite him having not said it in return. He wondered if that bothered you, he wondered if that made you want to leave him but you made no sign so far that you were displeased. He watched you like a hawk, after all, with that growing suspicion that drowned him on nights like these. He rang you in a moment, before feeling the phone vibrate next to his ear, his eyes ghosting on a dark patch in front of him. He needed your hands, your body, the smell of your hair; he needed the familiar apricot and honey to cover his nostrils whole. He needed you, just before asking you why you lied.

"Chuuya? It's 4 a.m., what's—"

"I need to see you."

You were quiet on the other end, wondering if he had figured it out. He must've, you thought, a bitter smile formed on your lips.

"I'll be there in—"

"No," He wasn't going to risk it, "I'm coming to you."

Your eyes glanced all over Chuuya's bloodied appearance before hearing the sound of your heart break—it was a soft sound, like a twig snapping under the weight of a stone. Your heart fell as he gave you his hat and removed his coat before you threw it into the wash. You led him to the bathroom, having him strip, and let him sit aside while you filled the tub. You knew he was watching you, you knew he was going to tell you the very same thing he had always told you.

"We need to stop this."

You didn't know why, but you laughed. Every single time that it had happened before, you had cried and asked him for an explanation, or even threw things at him—but this time, you laughed. This time, you desperately tried being away from him until he magically appeared at your home, shocking you to your very core at how your powers were slowly slipping off of him. You turned to spot Chuuya's eyes fixed at your form before a nasty frown formed on his face. You touched his cheek before whispering, "The bath's ready."

He sat in the water before letting out a groan, indicating that this was what he needed before he could reprimand you and leave you once again. However, just as you were about to leave, his hand gripped your wrist, another action that shocked you, and he stared at you.

"Wash my hair."

You nodded wordlessly before following through with it, wondering where this was going. All the other times, Chuuya would leave instantly after saying those words. All the other times, he'd ensure that he wouldn't see you for another month or so—before realizing that he had never met you. You weren't a cruel person, you were just desperately in love, having uncovered an ability that you thought could save you from torment. Yet, it presented more than it took away. One of the things you admired most about Chuuya was his hair, of how soft and luscious it was despite it being coated with blood on many days. You admired how well he took care of himself on the days that he could, and how he'd managed to put on that responsibility to you as well. You only began taking care of yourself because of him; and in a way, he had saved you.

"I..." Here it comes. "I didn't meet you for the first time at the bar, did I?"

You were quiet. But, silence at an occasion such as this was admittance.

"I've met you for the first time an exact three times. When you broke the wine bottle, and when you were scrambling around during a case, that's when I learned you were a journalist. And then... And then the bar,"

You didn't answer.

"I was chasing this guy, this..." He leaned his head over and sighed, "...this guy who ran off from the Port Mafia with some documents or some shit. He... He found you, and I... I thought I lost you," You couldn't tell if he was angry or just overwhelmed, "That's when I left you for the first time."

"Chuuya..."

"I left you one more time after. I can't remember everything..." His eyes met yours, steady and intense, "...and that's thanks to you, isn't it?"

"Chuuya, I—"

"You have an ability," He said, finally, "An ability to make people forget you."

You sat there, behind him, with your hands sunken in his locks. Your heart was rummaging against your chest and you bit your lip enough to draw blood; if he asked you why what could you say? Was there even a reason why you did what you did? Despite having him forget you for a total of three times, he had somehow magically returned, somehow asking for more and staying longer than he did before. It was almost a curse than anything else. The more you used your ability on someone, the less of an effect it would have each time. It was only a matter of time Chuuya figured things out. And now he had.

After the bath, he silently wore a change of clothes that you surprisingly had. He wanted to ask if this was from the first or second time he had met you, but he didn't. He turned to spot you standing a few feet away, before meeting his gaze.

"You did that for me, didn't you?" He was expressionless. To see Chuuya this way broke your heart. "So that it doesn't bother me."

"Also because I genuinely wanted you to stay away from me." You let out a laugh.

"I didn't f*cking stay away, did I?" He demanded, taking a step toward you, "No matter what stupid trick you used, I kept coming back!"

"You were the one who left first." You snapped, gritting your teeth.

Chuuya bit back his words for a moment before turning away. This action always melted your heart, when Chuuya turned away from you because you had stolen his words away.

"Things are different now, aren't they?"

"Yeah," They were different. He didn't leave. "Yeah, they are."

Silence followed a deep revelation such as this. His eyes didn't leave yours and you stared right back—it almost reminded him of the shoe-throwing incident. He chuckled before earning a frown from you.

"For being played around like that, I should be the one glaring at you." He scoffed.

"Chuuya, I love you."

It was at that second he remembered something. He believed you'd leave him because he hadn't told you he loves you or even bothered to say it back even when you had said it multiple times before already. However, at that second, he remembered that the first person to say those words between the two of you was Chuuya himself. I'm not going to leave, he thought before letting out a breath. He kissed the side of your head before wrapping an arm around your waist.

"Don't f*cking do that again." He scolded you.

"I could have stayed away from you each time, but you're like... a disease." You laugh.

He rolled his eyes before raising his voice, "Who're you callin' a disease?! If anything, you're a goddamn manipulator. F*cking stupid."

He rested his head on your shoulder before smelling the apricot and honey attached to your skin. It was just as intoxicating as the first time.

"I ain't leaving so..." His voice was muffled with how his mouth was pressed to your shoulder, "...I love you too."

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tayaminaka · 4 years

Text

'S/O dies while giving birth to their daughter' with Kunikida Doppo, Dazai Osamu, Chuuya Nakahara and Fyodor Dostoyevsky

Kunikida Doppo

His dream of a perfect family was gone...along with you. He tried to pull himself together but as he saw your lifeless, cold body, tears started to streamed down his face. He fell on his knees, lowered his head so that his forehead was laying in the sheets. took your hand and held it as long as he cried into the sheets

Now he's on his own. He would try to stay with his daughter as long as possible but he knows that work won’t wait. He would mostly hire a nanny but if Naomi really insist he would let her babysit his daughter

In his free time he would mostly go for a walk with your daughter. He would go to the most beautiful places and try to tell your daughter something about the places, even if she doesn’t understand anything yet

It was only 6 a.m. when your daughter woke up. Laying in her cradle she reached up her hands everytime he passed by, a sign that she wants to be picked up. After he had done everything he wanted to do, he went to her cradle and finally picked her up, receiving a happy sound from her. He knew that she didn’t want to sleep so he decided to make a little morning walk with her.

„This is the Yamashita Park, here i met your mother the first time. This park was built...”

He stopped as he saw your daughter trying to reach down to some flowers. He got on his knees with your daughter in his arms, so that she could reach the flowers. With her fingers she lightly touched the flower, looking really excited. He smiled, after all she was just a little kid. These were your favorite flowers, he remembered. You would always stopped by them to simply look at them. Oh how your daughter reminds him of you right now. He looked at his watch, it was time to going home. With a slowly becoming heavy heart he stood up...

„...Let’s go Home. You didn’t even eat breakfast, it’s bad for your growing body.” he said trying to brush off the heavy feeling in his chest. Oh how he wished that you would be with him now.

If she gets older and ask him about her mother he would first say that she’s at a better place now but when she’s old enough he would tell her the full truth. They both would casually sit in the living room and he would tell her some stories about you two.

If she’s old enough he would also go to the cemetery with her. When she was little he went alone to your grave but now even if his heart becomes heavy by the thought of you, your daughter still deserves to visit you. Even if you aren’t alive anymore.

Dazai Osamu

As he heard about your dead, a strong feeling of emptiness grow in his chest. Time stood still for him. He didn’t hear the doctor, he didn’t hear the noises around him, he didn’t hear anything anymore. He was thrown back to reality as he felt Kunikida‘s hand on his shoulder,reminding him that his daughter needs him.

He would sit right beside you,place your already cold hand on his cheek, a small tear would fall down from his eye and he would ask only one question ‘What should I do?’ over and over again only to be greeted by a pitiful silence

After your dead he would stop with his suicide attempts. Of course he wanted to do suicide but the thought of your daughter stopped him everytime. He didn’t want that your daughter becomes an orphan, is all alone or even worse, ends up in the port mafia

At night he would let her sleep in his bed. He would look at her peaceful sleeping face, pet her head a little and pull her closer to his body. Oh how much she reminds him of you.

„Look...the Sunset...”

It was evening, the sun was slowly settling but it was still pleasantly warm. He was standing at the balcony with your daughter in his arms. A few minutes ago your daughter was peacefully playing in the living room with some plushies. Dazai was sitting right next to her on the floor while holding another plushy in his hand to play with her but as he looked out of the window, he saw the beautiful sunset. The idea of showing your daughter something new spread through his mind, so he quickly grabbed your daughter and went to the balcony. Looking at the peaceful sunset made his heart ache. Of course he was happy that his daughter was with him, of course he liked the sunset...but it felt like...something is missing...

„I wish...you would be here with me...”

A sad smile was on his face as he looked into the sky,...you were gone and nothing would bring you back. Your daughter yawned a little, she became sleepy. With that he was thrown back into reality. As he looked at her cute sleepy face he chuckled...

„Well...lets get you ready to sleep, shall we?”

With that he looked the last time at the sky and went back in with your daughter in his arms.

Even if she gets older she would still be his little sunshine in his darkness. Maybe because of her, he would finally find his meaning in life.

Chuuya Nakahara

Out of anger he punched the wall beside him. It was hard for him to restrain himself from destroying everything around him.He was angry. He was angry, that the doctors didn’t save you, that his dream of a happy family shattered, that life is so fucking unfair

But after a while his anger setteled and sorrow came. He cried over your corpse as he held you in his arms. He stroke your hair, called your name desperately and hugged your tightly in hope that you would wake up and hug him back...But it never happened

Now he was alone with your daughter. The first weeks were the worst for him. Your daughter would cry the whole night, sometimes even the whole day and he would try to calm her down, give her food or change her diapers but it seemed that nothing of that worked.After two weeks he snapped...

„What do you Want?!” he shouted

He sat down on his bed and covered his eyes with his hands. He tried everything already to calm her down but nothing worked. Everytime she calmed down he put her back in her cradle but as soon as he laid down to sleep at least a little she woke up and started to cry. He looked in the mirror in front of him. Dark circles were already under his eyes, due the lack of sleep. Your daughter cried in the background,with a loud sigh he stood up to pick her up. He started to go around in the room with her in his arms and she slowly calmed down. But instead of putting her back in her cradle, he put her next to him on the bed and covered her with a blanket. A few strands of his hair were in her hand as she slept peacefully beside him.

„Good Night, Little sweetheart.” He said and a little smile appeared on his tiered face as he gave her a little kiss on her forehead

After that night your daughter slept with him constantly. At some points he would sleep on the edge of the bed while your daughter would sleep in the middle in the form of a star. Even if she gets older, when she has a nightmare she would run to Chuuya’s bedroom to sleep there

At some points he would get very sad. This sadness usually comes when something big or beautiful happens, like the first steps or words of your daughter or simply a lovely evening with your daughter at the park. Everytime a small tear would fell down his cheek but he will simply brush it off, so nobody see it.

Fyodor Dostoevsky

On the outside he remained cold, ther was no reaction or emotion but on the inside something in him ached.

He went to you, placed his hand on your cheek and brushed it a little with his thumb. He bowed down to you and placed all last kiss on your lips before he left, promising a better world for your daughter

After your dead he would work much harder on his plan to create a better world for his daughter. Because of that he would let Sigma look after his daughter (He's the most trustful and adequate from them all)

But sometimes if he has some time he would play a little with your daughter. Maybe with some (rat) plushies or other toys but as she gets older the games would start to get mature and mature. At some evenings he would play chess with her while chatting about some philosophic questions about god or the meaning of life and death.

It was already past midnight when he got home. It was quite and peaceful. He entered the room where his daughter was sleeping. He went near to the cradle your daughter were laying in. She held a little grey rat plushy in her arm while the white on was laying right over her head. He corrected her blanket and started slowly pet her head. She was so small, so weak, so defencless, oh he will make sure that nobody ever lay a hand on her. A little smile appeared on his face as his daughter frowned in her sleep and turned around...

„Sleep well,little mouse.” he chuckles „Soon the world will be a better place.”

With that word he gave her a kiss on her forehead and left to get himself ready to sleep. He’s gonna make the world much better for himself, for your daughter, for everyone.

About the existence of your daughter would only knew five people (Nikolai Gogol, Sigma, Ivan Goncharov, Alexander Pushkin and himself) because of safety reasons and the possibility that your daughter becomes a part of his plans. After all, having a trump card in his hand is nothing bad...for him,...right ?

#bungou stray dogs x reader #bungou stray dogs headcanons #bsd #dazai osamu x reader #dazai x reader #kunikida x reader #kunikida doppo x reader #dazai headcanons #kunikida headcanons #chuuya nakahara x reader #chuuya x reader #chuuya headcanons #fyodor dostoyevsky x reader #fyodor x reader #fyodor headcanons #bungou stray dogs #anime

339 notes · View notes

orphic-osamu · 4 years

Text

Stars; Dazai Osamu

my last minute oneshot for dazai’s birthday

wc: 1.2k

warnings: none

synopsis: Dazai Osamu was a murderer. He had an astounding record of 136 murders. He was a suicidal freak, wrapped in bandages. He liked to flirt with numerous, engage in dramatic antics. He hated paperwork, dogs and his former partner Chuuya.

Dazai was a horrible person.

But not to you.

Puppy love.

They called it puppy love. You thought it was puppy love. But could it really be that when even after years your heart still beat for him? Your very life carried so many evidences of his existence. It was like how the sun was always a part of your day. Several little moments, rituals, brought with you as you grew up into the person you were now.

Stargazing was one. He always loved stargazing with you. And as you relished in the familiar feeling of the rough sand, your hand subconsciously tapped around searching for the warmth that was supposed to be there. Your actions came to a screeching halt at the realization that you were doing it again.

Looking for him.

Your eyes fluttered shut while you pulled your feet up to your chest. Desperately, you tried to think of something else, anything else to think about but him. You wanted to forget about him. But today was his birthday after all, it was no use to try and push him away from your mind. You’ve been trying for years.

Instead, you open your eyes again. You began looking at the different people around you. There were only a handful of them. It was dark, but you could see most of their features well. An old woman was lying down far away from you, sleeping. Nothing seemed to catch your interest after that. But a two kids came into view.

They were arguing over something. One of them stuck their tongue out at the other. After which, his face morphed into what you recognized as happiness.

Ah, there it is again.

Having Dazai as a childhood friend made you highly sensitive to the emotions given out around you.

And ever since he left, your nights ended with sentimental thoughts and tears. He was the sun in the solar system of your world, shining brightly and warming you up from deep inside. And if he was the sun, you were the moon, unable to glow without him.

Dazai Osamu was your sun, a boy you met in your childhood. He had a coy smile and soft brown eyes. He was perceptive and aware of what you felt without having to ask you. He played countless games of hide and seek with you and let you win almost every time until you asked him to stop pretending he sucked.

“Stop pretending.”

But you meant more than hide and seek, and he knew that.

It wasn’t easy for him to repress his need to ignore his own heart and instead satisfy everyone else, but gradually he did.

Dazai Osamu had a real smile. It wasn’t flashy, it didn’t show all his pearly whites. It was just a simple one, where the corners of his lips turned up, and his eyes crinkled the slightest bit. His smile was foreign, with wisps of nostalgia weaved into it.

Dazai Osamu had a real smile the day he left you.

He pulled you into an embrace, which was a first. He told you of all his struggles and his plan moving forward. His voice was empty, but the smile that graced his features was real.

“I’m leaving.”

You didn’t notice the tears rolling down your cheeks ‘til he brushed them off with his fingers. Your little heart felt like it was being pulled apart.

“Don’t leave.” The whisper that left your lips was so quiet, so hushed, afraid that your voice would fail you if you spoke any louder. He took your trembling hands into his and pressed a kiss to them. His smile shifted, and it wasn’t so foreign anymore. It was the smile you saw most of the time.

One that showed pain and suffering.

“Forget about me,” He pleaded.

You lips parted in attempt to say something.

How can I?

How can I when you’re my sun?

But one look at his figure and you decide not to. It didn’t take long before he let go of you and asked you to leave.

It’s been years after that, but you didn’t dare forget him. He was your first love after all, once the center of your solar system, the boy whose love filled you to the brim with light.

And yet, Yokohama spoke of him in ways that were strange to you.

Dazai Osamu was a murderer. He had an astounding record of 136 murders. He was a suicidal freak, wrapped in bandages. He liked to flirt with numerous people, and engage in dramatic antics. He hated paperwork, dogs and his former partner Chuuya.

Dazai was a horrible person.

But not to you.

He might have grown into a stranger with an unfamiliar aura but you’d always recognize him.

Like how you did just now.

He stood by the shore in front of you, clad in his signature trench coat. His hands were coated in bandages, you noticed, something he didn’t do as a kid. His hair was longer, parts of it draping down the center of his face.

Feeling your gaze on him, he turned to look at you. His body seized up in panic, something you remember from the days he did when you cried after losing hide and seek.

“Osamu..”

It felt odd, saying his name after not speaking it for years. His figure stiffened up even more, hinting that he felt the same. He casted his eyes downwards as he took tentative steps towards you. He came to a halt in front of you. You gestured for him to sit, and he followed awkwardly.

“I thought you forgot about me already.”

His voice was deeper than you remembered, sending shivers down your spine. You debated on answering him. Your first instinct was to shut up, like you did years ago. But you weren’t letting him leave without your words.

“How could I? You were—“

You pursed your lips, thinking of the right words to say next. He tapped on your arm, something he did when he wanted you to speak your heart out.

“You loved me like the sun, Osamu. How could I forget you?” Your voice was lowered, like on the night he left you.

He frowned, and you knew what that meant. He was going to stay something you didn’t want to hear. And there was only one thing you didn’t want at that moment.

“No!” You cried out in desperation.

Your arms shot up to pull him close and hold him tightly. The tears started falling from your eyes again and he was quick to return your embrace.

“Osamu please..! Don’t leave me!”

The stars twinkled continuously, oblivious to your shaking body and Dazai rocking you back and forth, his own pain seeping through his eyes.

He sat you on his lap, one hand cupping your cheeks and wiping your tears, while the other held you steady at the waist.

Dazai Osamu had a real smile, and he showed it once again while he cradled you. You mirrored it, with tears rolling down and your face twisting in sadness.

“Look at you, my angel. Still so beautiful after all these years.”

It made you laugh. He found you beautiful while you were sobbing like a baby. Almost on reflex, you kissed him. You kissed him like if you pulled away he’d disappear into dust. He returned the kiss with the same eagerness, if not more. Soon, his own tears fell on your cheeks.

You pulled away but you stayed close, breathing in the same air as him. His face contorted into a look you can only guess to be peaceful happiness.

“Be mine, Osamu. Be my sun again.”

#bsd #bungo stray dogs #bsd x reader #dazai #dazai osamu #dazai x reader #dazai x y/n #bungou stray dogs dazai #dazaibsd #bsd osamu #osamudazai #osamu fluff #bsd imagines #bungosd #bungou sd #bungou stray dogs #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs imagines #happy birthday dazai

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yandere-daydreams · 5 years

Text

A Yandere!Dazai/Reader piece for the lovely @ramannnn. It’s been a very Dazai-centric few days, but... I think it fits the theme well, considering how *controlling* I got to make him, here. I can only hope everyone else is having as much fun as he is, honestly.

TW: Dub-Con, Explicit Material, Groping/Rough Sex, Gun Violence, Blood, Death, and Slight Emotional/Physical Abuse.

Word Count: 5.2k

Dazai still wasn’t used to it, he guessed.

Relationships were a foreign concept to him, intimacy as alien as an unknown creature and affection just as strange. Hell, gestures as simple as holding hands made him flinch and pull back, even when he knew it was only you, the girlfriend who could main him about as brutally as a house-cat. It’d taken him two months to get used to cuddling, another three weeks to actually initiate a session, and he still had to think over his actions strategically while going in for a kiss, if only to keep from embarrassing himself. You were patient with him, sickeningly so, smiling and letting it go whenever he failed to reciprocate, always asking before trying something new. You didn’t have to be told that this was his first relationship, his first real relationship, and you didn’t make him say it. It was something Dazai loved about you, why he’d bothered with making himself seem vulnerable in the first place.

The feelings were new, too. You could still make his heart skip a beat by looking at him the right way, the air around you always too thin, his head in a constant state of spinning, regardless of how composed he presented himself as. It was embarrassing, at first, a lovesick spell more fitting of someone Atsushi’s age than his own, but you were great about that, too. Dazai was neglected when it came to love, simultaneously chasing after your approval and refusing to accept it, but you nursed him on small displays and gentle touches until he could stomach entire dates. He wondered if you knew you were doing it, sometimes, if you’d been conscious of the effect you had on him. Stuck on the thought, Dazai let his attention stray from the case-file in front of him, thankful he’d taken it down to Uzumaki before starting.

It would’ve been a pain to walk down from the Agency every time he thought of you, considering how often his paranoia tended to flare up. Kunikida never seemed pleased by the honest reasons behind his absence, either.

He relaxed as soon as he found you, helping a customer at the end of the cafe’s bar. It was only natural that you worked so close to him, managing to infiltrate your way into the fringes of Dazai’s life. He liked being able to find you, too, even if he was rarely in the office most days. Seeing you was like a tranquilizer to him, a narcotic, Dazai getting… twitchy whenever you weren’t around. Still, he couldn’t help but wince when he got a better look at the person you were chatting with, the conversation having gone on too long for you to only be taking his order. The jealousy was fresh every time he felt it, restored and more powerful than any time before, blunt nails soon tearing through the thin folder as he watched you close your eyes and laugh at something the man said.

You shouldn’t be doing that. He didn’t like it when you did that.

Without a hint of hesitation, he pushed himself up, not thinking as he moved towards you. Your attention from the interaction at hand didn’t waver, letting Dazai approach without notice, his arms wrapping around your waist and earning a small yelp, quickly covered up by a breathy giggle. Reflexively, you leaned into him, not looking away from the customer. You two had gone through this too many times for that.

“I’m sorry… he can be clingy sometimes,” You said, the remark equal parts an excuse and a tease. He felt you make a weak attempt to pry him off, an elbow jabbing at his rib cage, but Dazai only buried his head in the crook of your neck, letting his teeth graze over your skin as you sighed, exasperated. “Will that be all, sir? I can get you something on the house for the interruption.”

Dazai perked up just enough to stare at your customer through his bangs, narrowing his eyes just enough to get his point across. Whether or not he noticed, Dazai wasn’t sure, but the man squirmed nervously, gaze dropping to the floor as he fiddled with the lid of his cup, the disposable kind. Good. It meant the bastard wouldn’t be staying very long. “I… I should be going,” He mumbled, half-heartedly throwing a few bills on the countertop. “See you tomorrow, (Y/n).”

He didn’t speak until the man had gotten up, forgetting his drink as he headed towards the door. Even then, Dazai found a tender spot on your neck and bit down before you realized what he was doing, his teeth managing to sink in enough to leave a mark, only separating when you shoved him back. You were scowling when you turned to face him, barely suppressing a grin, trying to look hurt as you rubbed at the forming bruise. “You a real creep, you know that? I’m going to get fired one of these days, and all because you keep harassing my regulars.”

“Wonderful,” Dazai replied, pausing to peck at your lips. It was a hasty kiss, but there would be more later. He’d make sure of that. “You can be my adorable little housewife, and I’ll be the loving husband you brag about ever time you see your old coworkers. That sounds dreamy, doesn’t it?” He sighed loudly, overdramatically, closing his eyes and slumping against your chest. “Why don’t you quit now, sooner than later? We’ll get married this afternoon, I’ll invite Chuuya to the ceremony, and you’ll be a widow by the time the sun rises! It’s better not to draw these things out.”

“Oh, no, you’re not allowed to die after you trick me into marrying you. Chuuya or no Chuuya.” It was tentative, but soon enough, you were carding through his hair, feeding into his neediness. “We’re still on for tonight, right?”

Dazai pursed his lips, thinking before answering. “Tomorrow. The Agency’s trying to drain me dry, this week. Will dinner and a movie be enough to buy your forgiveness?”

You took the news with a sober nod, but he didn’t miss the heat that rose to your cheeks, the red tint you suddenly couldn’t hide. “I want… something else, too,” You admitted, the confession not needing an explanation. Your ‘purity’, for lack of a better way to put it, was something Dazai was well aware of, and it made sense. You were as innocent as they came, doe-eyed and naive, even if you tried to hide it. Just asking to be defiled, really. He couldn’t help himself, his hold on you tightening ever-so-slightly, clueing you in much too soon. “You’re a pervert.” With a huff, you crossed your arms, wedging a barrier between you and the offending aggressor, despite said aggressor’s complaints. “Don’t make me regret it, I’m doing this because I love you. I don’t want it to turn out like--”

“It won’t.” He was quick to reassure you, knowing just the right way to cup your cheek, straightening his back and meeting your eyes in a way that always made you more agreeable. This time was no exception, a shy simper returning as you melted into the support. “And you won’t regret it, either. I promise.”

There was a short silence, his words rolling over in your head. Your answer was a painstakingly slow one, but the bright, beaming smile that accompanied the wait more than worth it.

“I trust you, Dazai.”

Yuri. That was what the man went by. Dazai hadn’t bothered with a surname.

A warehouse worker, night-shift. He’d stop by Uzumaki before every shift for a black coffee, and he’d always ask for you, leaving without making a purchase if he couldn’t get his favorite barista. He didn’t have friends, his family lived overseas, and from what Dazai could tell, he was a coward no one would miss when he finally bit the bullet. If anything, Dazai was doing the leech a favor. He was doing you a favor.

The fewer inconveniences you had, the better.

The less competition he had, the better.

‘Yuri’ was already trembling by the time Dazai’s pistol had been drawn, the barrel forced into his mouth when he tried to scream. It hadn’t done much to muffle the sound, but the sharp click of the weapon’s safety switching off had his breath hitching, any sounds turning into high-pitched squeaks and cries when he realized exactly what kind of situation this was. Dazai wasn’t sure how he hadn’t caught on earlier. Hidden between packed-together buildings, the sky dark and the city fast asleep… not much good can come under those conditions, but luckily, ‘good’ was the last thing Dazai had in mind.

“I don’t want to kill you.” Some of the tensions in Yuri’s shoulders dissolved, a mistake quickly corrected by a tap of the front-sight against the roof of his mouth, Dazai’s finger sliding onto the trigger. “It doesn’t matter to me, whether you live or die. I’d let you go, if I had a choice. It’s less clean-up.”

Yuri tensed up, glancing at Dazai’s hand, at the grip of the Desert Eagle currently half-way down his throat. As if to ask what the catch was.

He obliged swiftly.

“It doesn’t matter to me, but I don’t like people touching things that don’t belong to them,” He explained, not bothering to keep the venom out of his voice. “And you’ve been doing just that, haven’t you? Coming into a place you don’t belong, talking to someone who’s not yours, and acting like you have the right to step onto someone else’s territory. It’s disgusting. I should’ve ended your pathetic life months ago. You’re just lucky I’m so nice.”

In a confident, practiced movement, he brought the Desert Eagle out of Yuri’s mouth, letting the worn metal scrape against his lips, tearing at the thin skin. Before Yuri could move, the muzzle was shoved into his solar plexus, bruising the underside of his ribs. “Talk,” Dazai commanded, shoving his free hand into his coat’s pocket. “Make me believe you won’t fuck-up again.”

Opening his mouth, Yuri stuttered incoherently, swallowing and mumbling and getting on Dazai’s nerves before spitting out something intelligent. “I… I’m sorry! (Y/n) is nice, we’re friends, I didn’t know she had a boyfriend!”

“You’re friends, or you didn’t know she was taken?” Dazai paused, raising an eyebrow. “I’d keep my story straight, if I were you. Considering the stakes and all.”

“I’m sorry!” He was yelling, now, eyes shut and voice shaking. There was an attempt to grab the handgun, but Dazai was able to discharge his attempts at bravery with a sharp thrust and a sigh, the ordeal turning out to be much duller than Dazai thought it would be. “I won’t go near her, I swear! Just… just let me go, and you’ll never see me again. I won’t even think about your girl. You two can have your weird-ass romance, I won’t be a problem!”

Dazai smiled, unable to stop himself. “You’re not a negotiator, are you, Yuri?”

Yuri only shook his head, daring to open his eyes, almost relieved at the slight softness in Dazai’s tone. That might’ve been what did it. He was moving before he realized it, slamming the grip into Yuri cheek with the force of a grown man’s weight, the suddenness and the power behind the blow knocking him to the ground, Yuri hardly even tried to push himself up. He made the mistake of looking back at Dazai, of wasting those precious seconds, but their eyes never met. His silencer muffled the gunshots, muted ticks the only sound to signal the end of Yuri’s life. There wasn’t a scream, no fighting or struggling or pleading, just a labored breath and a splatter of blood on Dazai’s shoes.

Still, that didn’t stop Dazai from emptying the rest of his magazine into Yuri’s head. If only to save such a pitiful creature the pain of having to go on for another hour.

You didn’t think you’d ever been this nervous before.

Calming down was a fruitless effort. You’d tried to tell yourself that you were an adult, that Dazai loved you and didn’t care, but… just the thought had you buzzing. It was a palpable anxiety, something that had you walking unevenly and dropping mugs while you cleaned them and laughing when anyone said anything because everything was funny. Your coworkers took notice, but they were dissuaded with an excuse and a few comments about an ‘off-mood’, and luckily, your regulars hadn’t been around enough lately to witness your odd behavior.

They hadn’t been around at all lately, really. You made a mental note of that. You’d have to check in on them, soon, if you remembered to. It was hard not to worry, considering how many frequent visitors had disappeared so abruptly, recently.

Still, Dazai was a source of comfort. You were a timid person, closed-off despite how badly you tried not to be, but you really did love Dazai. He was persistent, consistent, and just as unused to affection as you were, albeit on the opposite side of the spectrum. That might’ve been why you trusted him so much. He was like you, in a way, but so different at the same time. Just as closed-off, but with all the confidence you lacked.

Without thinking, you let your mouth fall open, mumbling the first thing that came to mind. “Thank you.”

Dazai hummed as he glanced over his shoulder, sending you a questioning look as he unlocked the entrance to his flat. It took him a second to understand, but you didn’t have the nerve to explain yourself, letting Dazai come to his own conclusion. It must’ve been a good one, though, judging by the way he pulled you a little closer as the door fell open, kissing your temple and tugging you through the threshold. “Don’t thank me yet,” He chuckled, softly. “We’re just getting to the fun part.”

You didn’t have time to ask what he meant. As soon as you’d stepped into his apartment, his mouth was on yours, the kiss as overeager as it was underplanned. No attempt was made to ease you into it, no trace of reluctance or consideration, only his arms wrapping around your midriff and your back hitting the wall, crashing into it as he found the first available surface to pin you to. Keeping up with him was a futile effort, but you tried anyway, pushing your lips against his and nipping at the tip of his tongue playfully when he tried to deepen the gesture. You could feel it as he smirked, pulling away and focusing his kisses on your jaw, hands falling to your thighs and lifting you off the ground without a trace of effort. It was easy to forget how strong he was, but as Dazai slotted himself against you, far closer than you’d ever let anyone else get, it slipped your mind to tease him about it, too.

Instead, you let out a cracked laugh, one that turned into a small whimper as his teeth brushed against your jugular. “It… this feels kinda sudden, doesn’t it?”

“Not at all,” He said, before choosing a spot and biting. This wasn’t your first hickey, this wasn’t the first hickey he’d given you, but this was the first time Dazai’d been so violent about it, sucking viciously until a purple, bruised mark covered the area. Hot, open-mouthed kisses traveled downward, each a little more primal than the last, only pausing when he hit the unwelcoming fabric of your shirt, the annoyance eliciting something near a growl. He dropped you in a heartbeat, leaving you to wrap your legs around his waist and cling to him as he all-but tore at the offending clothing, not seeming to care what he ripped. “You wanted this, too. It’s a natural progression.”

A natural progression. That’s what it was, a natural progression.

This was the next step.

So, you didn’t complain as your shirt fell away, his coat dropping to the floor not long after. Your whimpers and yelps turned to low, muffled moans as he went on, the pain fading into a light sting. You pulled at his collar, too, beginning to undo the first button with one hand while the other remained uselessly draped over his shoulders, but if Dazai noticed your work, he didn’t see it necessary to show it. He occupied himself with pushing up your skirt, letting it pool around your hips as he groped at whatever he could reach, only growing more aggressive as you writhed against him. It was only as he slipped a finger under the edge of your panties that you spoke up.

“Bed.” Your voice cracked, the whisper coming out helplessly. “Please, Dazai.”

Again, he didn’t waste time. You were pulled wall from the wall one moment and thrown onto a plush surface the next, the terrain suddenly strange, unfamiliar. You couldn’t help but freeze-up, but Dazai wasn’t hit by the same affliction, kneeling between your legs and continuing where he’d left off. Your panties were discarded in a matter of seconds, leaving you partially dressed and unprepared when thin fingers started to run over the length of your slit, his thumb hardly making contact with your clit, testing the waters. He slid two digits in as soon as he decided your wet enough, pausing for a moment.

“You’ve touched yourself, haven’t you?” The question is punctuated by a curl, his fingertips rubbing against slick walls. The stretch made you want to whine, but you bit your lip instead, nodding as he scissored you open. You balled your fists around the sheets, closing your eyes as Dazai moved lower. “Naughty girl. You won’t be allowed to do that, anymore.”

Before you could wonder what he was doing, his mouth latched onto your clit, sucking just harshly enough to have you grinding against his face. Your thighs went stiff, then twitched, attempting to clench around Dazai’s head, but he held them open easily, his other arm too busy finger-fucking you to do much else. You almost got used to it, almost, but the moment Dazai’s fingers hit something spongy and soft, your composure was done-for. Pressure pressed down on your chest, the air choking you, but Dazai never let-up, never relaxing, not until you were clenching and squealing, slicking building up and flowing over his fingers, Dazai only slowing down to pull out.

You thought he would kiss you, or smile, or say something.

Instead, he began to undress.

You watch in anticipation as a layer fell to the floor, then another, a sensation between excitement and dread forming a tight ball in your throat. This wasn’t how you pictured it happening. This wasn’t how you wanted it to happen. It was supposed to be more… romantic, less passionate and more loving. You thought it’d feel more loving. This wasn’t how you pictured it, but you couldn’t make yourself say something.

So, you laid back and shut your eyes again. You hoped he would notice.

The kiss came too late, but you accepted it nonetheless, running your hands through his hair as his lips brushed against yours. It was conciliatory, if anything, simultaneously more apologetic than it should've been but less than it needed to be, for whatever reason. “Don’t worry,” He reassured, lining himself up with your entrance. “I’ll be gentle.”

But he wasn’t. As soon as he was inside you, all pretenses of self-control abandoned him, Dazai bucking into your wildly and forcefully. The ache was worse, eliciting something near a sob, but it was all you could do to hold onto him and let it happen. His hips rolled against yours without any regard for the way his cock couldn’t fit inside of you, determined to go deeper, faster, harder with every movement. You found yourself burying your face in his chest unconsciously, grabbing anything you could reach, just trying to find a center before Dazai ripped you away from it, again. Distantly, you could hear the bed creaking, wet sounds echoing off the walls, but his voice was close enough to overtake it all.

“Mine, mine,” He repeated, the single word turning into a mantra. The head of his cock pushes against your cervix, Dazai intent on fitting you to his shape or tearing you open in the process. “None of them can have you. You don’t belong to anyone else.”

You tried to speak, but the sound was cracked, hollow. “I don’t--”

“None of them can have you.” He pushed himself away from you, fucking into your with twice the strength and half the consideration. Still, a coil forms in the pit of your stomach, something tense and hazy taking root in your mind and refusing to leave. Something you didn’t know if you liked. “Say it. You belong to me.”

You obeyed. You weren’t sure what would happen if you didn’t. “I-I only… I only belong to you!”

Your orgasm was less earned and more torn from you, crashing down with the same delicacy of the man who’d caused it. It was suffocating, euphoric, the world going white as you forgot how to inhale, Dazai’s mouth slotting itself against yours. So enraptured in holding you, he hardly remembered to pull out, your cunt clamping down on him like a vice. Still, you felt it as cum splattered across your thighs, warm and sticky, as repulsive as it was disgustingly comforting.

Neither of you said anything, heavy pants and enduring whines monopolizing the conversation. But, after a long minute, Dazai’s attention re-focused, his eyes meeting yours and a small grin spreading across his features. His hand came up to cup your cheek and willingly, you melted into it, relaxing as he wiped the stray tears from your skin.

You only smiled back, wondering when you’d started crying.

“I’m just worried about you.”

You could’ve groaned at the familiar sentiment, hardly gathering the energy to glance up from the order you were punching into the register. Lucy was a new recruit, still green around the edges and not quite a skilled communicator, but you could appreciate her for what she was… most days. It was just the two of you on staff, at the moment, only a handful of customers in the cafe at such an ungodly time in the morning, leaving her with plenty of time to voice her oh-so-persistent concerns. It was sweet, honestly, a newer girl becoming so protective of her coworkers so quickly, and you couldn’t help but feel the same way, even if the age gap between you two was barely two years long. She wanted the best for you, and you for her.

So, you let her go on.

“Osamu’s not a nice guy.” Her voice was impassioned, just as genuine as the muffled curses she let out as a few drops of steamed milk spilled over the side of the cappuccino she was working on. “You should hear the stories Atsushi tells about him, they’re not… they’re not good. It’s hard to listen, sometimes. Especially when it’s so easy to tell he’s got the poor boy wrapped around his finger.”

“I’d hate to say it, but ‘they’re not good’ isn’t exactly compelling evidence,” You reasoned, biting the inside of your cheek. Your legs were still sore, your back aching, but you ignored the pain. That was normal, wasn’t it? For the first time, at least. “He’s a hard man to warm up to. It took me a while, too, but he’s really not as bad as he seems. Playful, but nice. With me, at least.”

Lucy sighed, shaking her head. “It’s the way he looks at you. I don’t like it,” She explained, a little too bluntly for the comment not to irk you. “Sometimes he’ll just sit and stare at you, and it’s impossible to tell what he’s thinking. He’s always asking the other girls which regulars you’re talking to, or for a copy of your schedule, and he gets so rude when we refuse. It’s not playful, it’s obsessive. Like he doesn’t trust you.”

You hoped she didn’t notice the way you frowned at her last comment. “He… he asks about my regulars?”

“Oh, all the time.” The words were too tired to be rehearsed. Not angry, annoyed. Like she was used to it. “A few of us slip up, occasionally, but nobody ever tells him anything. That doesn’t stop him from tryin’, though, nearly every time you’re not working. He tries to say it’s for the Agency, like half our customers aren’t detectives.”

Now, that got you to pause, your fingers slipping as you tried to focus on the task at hand. “I’m sorry you have to deal with that. Please let me know if he does it again.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” She mumbled, stopping to wave her free hand in some abstract, dismissive gesture. “Trust me. Or talk to him, do something. I just don’t want to see you cry over someone like him.”

It was hard not to smile, to thank her, even if you weren’t sure how you felt just yet. It would’ve been a lie to say you’d never had your doubts, but hearing someone else voice them was an entirely new experience, one you couldn’t say you were used to. You wanted to say that, you wanted to tell Lucy how much you appreciated her, you wanted to ask if there were supposed to be bruises on your hips, but as soon as the words made it to your tongue, they were swallowed back down, your mouth refusing to let them escape. It felt wrong, but staying quiet felt terrible.

You did the best you could, considering.

“You don’t have to answer, but…” You trailed off, unsure of how to phrase it. “Do the people you love ever start to scare you?”

For a second, she didn’t respond. She pursed her lips, something between surprise and concern coming across her expression, both emotions disappearing in an instant. A reply came eventually, tender and reassuring, but you had your answer the moment she failed to meet your eyes.

You needed to talk to Dazai.

Dumbfounded didn’t seem like the right word.

Shock would’ve been better, maybe. Dazai didn’t know how to react, flinching and laughing half-heartedly, the two acts mixing into something painful to see. He only grew more sure of your discomfort as you looked away, keeping your eyes on his walls or his rug or anything but the man who owned them, despite failing to pull away as he moved a little closer, closing the space between you. It wasn’t hard, the furniture in Dazai’s apartment as sparse as it was scattered, the loveseat no exclusion to his rule. He still hadn’t adjusted to having guests, even with all the time you’d spent together.

“Could… could you run that by me again?” He asked, the question more a whisper than a demand. “I don’t think I understand.”

“I just think it would be a good idea if we… took a break.” You were nothing short of meek, defenseless, curling into yourself as you spoke. “You haven’t been acting like yourself, lately, and everyone seems so worried about me. I don’t really think--”

“It’s those girls, isn’t it?” Dazai didn’t try to ease you into it, he couldn’t ease you into it, he was too angry to ease himself into it. That what it was, anger. Dark, ugly anger, potent enough to make him pull you closer, a hand on your knee and the other around your hips, refusing to budge when you nudged at his arm. “I knew they were against me, against us. You can’t trust anything they say, especially if it’s about me. They don’t want you to be happy--”

You cut him off abruptly, catching Dazai off-guard. Even if your actions didn’t reflect your violent tone. “They don’t want me to be with someone who can’t stand making me happy,” You retorted, digging your nails into his arm, this attempt to distance him more sincere than the last. “You don’t have to pretend you care about me, anymore, I get it. I’m some… thing, to you, that’s why you’re always checking in on me, why you’re always acting like I can’t handle myself. It’s fine, or, it was fine, I mean.” You sighed, shaking your head. Confliction wasn’t a good look for you, Dazai realized. He didn’t like that look on you. “I don’t want to do this anymore. You got my virginity, you win. I just want to go home, Dazai.”

He was silent, for a moment, as motionless as he was stiff. “You can’t do that.”

“I don’t care.” This time, you tried to get up, to pull yourself away from him, only gritting your teeth when he dragged you back down. “Let me go. I’ll call the police, if I have to.”

“And I’ll break your fingers before you can find a phone.”

You snapped around, but you didn’t have time to respond, not before you were thrown against the couch-cushions, Dazai straddling you reflexively, acting on instinct. He didn’t want to lose you, he couldn’t lose you, not after how far you’d come, how beautifully you’d opened up for him. You fought back, weak and misguided, but Dazai only had to shift his weight onto your diaphragm to stifle your rebellion, the hands soon wrapped around your neck more of a flourish than a safety-measure. You tried to grab at his wrists, but the resistance wasn’t forceful.

Still, Dazai tightened his hold, pressing up into the bottom of your chin. If only to hear that whimper he doubted you show him willingly, anytime soon.

“I thought this might happen. Chuuya used to call me crazy for planning ahead, but this always happens.” His laugh was genuine, this time, light and airy and genuine. Dazai could feel you go still under him, your stare burning holes through his skin, but he didn’t care. What you were feeling was secondary, as long as you were directing those feelings towards him. “People get inside your head, and they turn you against me. It doesn’t matter how many parasites I get rid of, there’s always a dozen there to take their place. You know how annoying that is, don’t you?”

This time, you were the speechless one, swallowing thickly before answering. “You’re insane--”

“There’s only one thing left to do, when keeping the bugs away doesn’t seem to help.” The smile that spread across his lips must’ve been wicked, because you began to struggle once again, kicking and thrashing and fighting, but Dazai was far from caring. He bent down slowly, letting you bite at his lips, not caring when blood was drawn. The metallic taste spread across your lips as he kissed you, only making him all the more keen to remind you why you belong to him, in the first place.

“I’ll just have to keep you away from all those bad influences, won’t I?”

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astxlphe-fics · 4 years

Text

Dazai didn’t plan for any of this to happen to Akutagawa

The first thing he does, upon being pulled out of his cell by Ango, is planning on how to get him back.

Fix it fic

Pairing : Dazaku, Dazai Osamu / Akutagawa Ryuunosuke

Word count : 5 361

Content Warnings : mentioned character death, vomiting, blood drinking, vampire, biting

There is a commotion in Yokohama, and Ango comes to pull Dazai out of his cell.

"I managed to convince them to let you out," Ango tells him, gaze severe. "That you were essential to putting a stop to what is going on."

"Smart." He smiles, tilting his head, and wonders how Atsushi and Akutagawa are doing. If he's right — and he usually is — Kamui is someone influential, and the two of them will have exposed him. "And what exactly is going on?"

Ango doesn't look happy, and Dazai can feel a tiny bit of suspicion worm it's way inside his brain. He remembers when he glanced at Fyodor, in the cell facing him, as he walked out of the prison, and the Russian man smiled, mocking.

Smug. Why is he so smug? Dazai is free, Fyodor is not. Dazai wins.

"What," he repeats, "is going on?"

"I picked up Atsushi at the drop point, as planned. Kamui is Fukuchi Ouchi, the head of the Hunting Dogs. Atsushi barely managed to get away."

And what about Akutagawa, he doesn't ask, because he feels enough dread and he's smart enough that maybe he can guess.

"We are now dealing with a vampire outbreak," Ango goes on, and the look he sends him is too close to pity for Dazai to stand his gaze for too long. "As for what exactly happened...I think Atsushi should be the one to tell you."

It's bad then. His mind conjures images of Akutagawa, bloody and face blank and heart still, and his own skips a few beats. He stops his train of thoughts before they get the best of him. He’s not ready for where it's going, so he hangs onto Akutagawa as much as possible.

Angry scowl and rebellious and slightly petulant “I don’t care" to his request to help Atsushi and a fiery temper and eyes that make Dazai's stomach flip in a way he’s still not quite ready to face.

He breathes. Akutagawa is strong, he is fine. He was always strong, in spite of Dazai's reluctance to actually tell him that.

Atsushi and Akutagawa are young, and still inexperienced, but their combined power is nothing to laugh at and pulled them through several powerful enemies.

But is it strong enough to beat Fukuchi Ouchi, he wonders, and quickly he knows the answer is “probably not”.

“Bram Stoker?” Dazai guesses. There is only one known ability user capable of creating something close to vampires, and it’s Bram Stoker — who caused a terrible calamity eight years ago and was since then not heard of again. Officially, Fukuchi himself killed him, but if Fukuchi is Kamui then—

“Very likely.”

Ango leads him out of the prison, not through the front door but through the underground tunnels leading out in the deeper parts of the city.

“The outbreak started within the Port Mafia,” Ango goes on, “and spread throughout the underworld through them. The Black Lizards went down first, according to Tachihara. We have no idea what happened to the high-ranking members, but—” he trails, scowls. Checks his phone. “We’re not optimistic.”

The Port Mafia should be able to hold back against such a thing — lock down their Headquarters and safe houses, carefully comb through their members for any wayward vampire, keep the infection to a minimum in their ranks, and then hit back against the source of it.

This kind of thing means loss of business and Mori, he knows, would not stand for it.

With Chuuya, Kouyou, and Mori out of the picture, they can’t count on their strength to fight back, which is a less than ideal situation.

His mind races as he follows Ango through quiet, empty streets, trying to figure it out. The source of it — Bram Stoker, obviously, but who is the first victim? Would putting Stoker out of commission be enough to turn everyone back? So, does it mean Dazai only needs to find him and touch him?

If Atsushi came back alone from the confrontation with Fukuchi, instead of walking away from it with Akutagawa at his side, probably means that—

“We’re here.” It's a house. A nice one, at that, nondescript and, he guesses, some sort of safehouse for spies or criminals. He doesn’t recognize the address, but the Mafia is always shifting and changing to avoid being caught. “It’s a Mafia safehouse,” he confirms, “the Agency is here, Mori gave them access before the outbreak.”

“Dazai!!”

It’s a chorus that welcomes him, and he grins, trying to be lighthearted even though their faces tell him how tired they are. “My, my, what a mess,” he exclaims, “you guys are really lost without me, aren’t you?”

Some muttering and eye rolls answer him, but they all smile and pat his back and Naomi and Kenji draw him into a tight hug, but to be honest they’re not the ones he expected to jump at him.

The president pats his shoulder, and tells him how good it is to have him back, before his eyes slide to the teen sitting on the ground in the corner. "He hasn’t said a word since Ango brought him back here,” he informs him. “Six hours ago.”

So, Dazai turns to his protégé, who is staring at a spot on the opposite wall and resolutely does not look at him, or anyone. Kyouka sits next to him, so close she might as well me melting into his side.

No Akutagawa in sight, but Atsushi is wearing a familiar black coat. Still, while Dazai usually trusts his brain to come up with the answers by itself, this time around he wants to hear it. He will not let Akutagawa go until he doesn’t have proof before his own two eyes.

He crouches in front of Atsushi; whose gaze focuses on him and Dazai just has the time to smile and say “ hello Atsushi" before he bursts into tears.

“I’m sorry,” he cries, and rubs at his own face until it’s red. “Akutagawa—he— Fukuchi killed him.” He says the words as if he barely believes them himself, as if it’s the first time he actually speaks them out loud and is just getting used to the notion. “He— Fukuchi offered to train him and said he had to kill me but Akutagawa said no and we tried to fight him together and we won.” He pauses, catching his breath before his words can turn too garbled by his hiccups and sniffles. “But his sword, it cut through time and with it he also — he cut his throat with his sword and Akutagawa knew and he still did it to help me get away— I’m so sorry Dazai, I didn’t want—”

Dazai’s blood has gone cold, and he isn’t sure what Atsushi tells him next. This is one of the worst outcomes. He estimated, when he asked for Akutagawa’s help, that the risks were minimal.

He miscalculated.

This isn’t what was supposed to happen.

Akutagawa and Atsushi were supposed to make it, together, and come out on the other side stronger than ever.

“—and now he’s this—this— vampire thing and it’s my fault, I should’ve listened to Ranpo but Fukuchi had the page from the Book so— I don’t understand,” he ends up saying. “Why would he—”

“It’s not your fault,” Dazai hears himself say. “Akutagawa took on this mission out of his own, free will.” He still sees himself insisting until he agrees in spite of his misgivings, and this affirmation feels a little like a lie. “Akutagawa made the choice to save you. It was his decision and his alone. It’s not your fault.”

It’s not Atsushi’s fault, but it’s Dazai’s, a little, and Fukuchi’s, the most.

“He said he didn’t want to die until you acknowledged him,” Atsushi adds quietly, wiping his nose, as if it doesn’t make it worse. “That he couldn’t afford to disappoint you.”

Fukuchi, in Dazai’s mind, is already a dead man, and he can feel the cold dread in his insides turn into white hot fury.

“I’m not.” Atsushi doesn’t look convinced, so he insists. “I’m not mad or disappointed in you, or in Akutagawa.”

He’s disappointed in himself for not seeing it coming and mad at Fukuchi and Stoker for doing such a thing to Akutagawa.

“That’s good.” Atsushi sniffles, the whispered answer has Dazai pulling him into an embrace.

Atsushi grabs onto his coat, hands closing into fists, and buries his face in his chest. Dazai rests his chin on the top of his head for a short time, holding tight on the grieving kid, trying to put order in what he’s heard.

“Akutagawa is a vampire?” he asks the rest of them. Ango shrugs.

“He told me, on the way here, that he saw him. I didn’t though, and I guess we could write it off as a hallucination of sort, but—”

“The outbreak started with the Mafia, specifically the Black Lizards,” Ranpo cuts in, glasses firmly up on his nose, sucking on a lollipop. “According to Ango here, Akutagawa’s subordinate was turned first and spread it to the rest, but she hasn’t been anywhere close to Fukuchi or Bram Stoker.” He stumbles on Fukuchi’s name, and the president looks nothing but pained. “Short answer is yes.”

“And he’s probably our patient zero,” Dazai completes for him. “I figured as much.”

“Do you have an idea on how to combat the infection?” Kunikida asks. From the beginning, he has been standing close to Atsushi, obviously unwilling to push him too much to speak. He sits down, though, and his hand now rests on Atsushi’s shoulder.

“Well, Ango came to get me, didn’t he?” He smiles blandly. “You guys think No Longer Human can cancel it?”

Dracula is an ability, which means that No Longer Human can erase it. “If we can find Stoker,” the president suggests, “we could put a stop to it.”

“Would it turn everyone back, though?” Yosano wonders.

“We believe it would.” When everyone turns to him, Ango elaborates: “From previous records, all of them are linked to him in a way. On their first report, Fukuchi and his team noted that while they acted wild, they seemed to have some sort of hivemind. That was before Stoker was discovered to be at the origin of the phenomenon, so Fukuchi would not have falsified that information. After Stoker's defeat, everyone infected was cured on their own.” And, back to Dazai: “So yes, we track down Stoker, you erase his ability, everyone is be back to normal. You’re the only one who can do this, Dazai.”

“It appears so.”

It doesn’t change the fact that Fukuchi killed Akutagawa, and right now they have no way to know if turning him back into a human will send him right back into death’s embrace.

In any case, Akutagawa is Dazai's student. His responsibility. His. If someone has to stop Akutagawa on a blood drinking spree, it's Dazai. He refuses to allow anyone else to do it.

“And I will fix it, as you ask, but only—” Ango's almost silent sigh of relief is cut short. “Only if we find Akutagawa first.”

No, he’s not ready to let Akutagawa die. Death has already taken much from Dazai, and he will not let it have Akutagawa. Not now. Not as long as Dazai is alive to pull him away from it.

Ango stays silent for a long time, lips pinched. “Dazai.” His tone is very careful. “I understand your position but we can’t prioritise Akutagawa over the rest of the city. Stoker is our priority.”

“Akutagawa first,” he insists. He knows Ango is right, but a plan is already forming, and adjusting to his previous miscalculations and going off into several directions until he thinks of something coherent enough that he’s sure it’ll end with Akutagawa coming back to them.

Coming back to him.

“Thousands of people are being hurt because of Stoker,” Kunikida argues. “We should—”

“Akutagawa,” he repeats firmly, glaring at Kunikida, whose mouth closes in a clack of teeth, though he is not any less frustrated. “Then Stoker.”

And then…And then the president’s clench around the handle of his blade and, one way or another, Fukuchi will not get away with it.

He doesn’t know what the others see when they look at him, but whatever it is it shuts down any other attempt at supporting Ango's argument.

“Fine,” Ango relents. “But be careful. We don’t know if you can be turned.”

“Very unlikely,” Ranpo pipes in.

Dazai nods along, and ruffles his distraught junior’s hair with a smile. “Hear that, Atsushi? We can still get Akutagawa out of all this trouble.”

“I—” Atsushi pauses, sending Dazai a sidelong glance, which lets Dazai know that he’s still making that face everyone seems to find scary. “I’m sorry.”

“No need,” Dazai tells him again. “It’s not your fault. Which way?”

Atsushi stops and raises his head, breathes in deeply through his nose and mouth, licks his lips. Dazai watches him intently — he is slightly better, less distressed than before. The perspective of saving Akutagawa, even if only to repay him for what he did for him, seems to lift his spirit. Good, because Atsushi is an essential part of the plan — if anyone can track down Akutagawa it’s him, with his keen tiger nose.

They have been following his trail for about an hour now, after another full hour of Ango explaining what he knows of Stoker’s ability.

The other person needed for it is Yosano, because no matter the outcome they’ll need a doctor on site.

“This way.”

Atsushi leads them deeper into the city, towards the slums. Atsushi keeps sending him little nervous glances, fidgeting with the collar of Akutagawa’s coat. It’s obvious he has something to say, and a twinge of guilt lets Dazai know that he dislikes making Atsushi feel like he can’t speak to him.

“What is it?” he asks, willing his tone to be softer, like Atsushi needs.

Atsushi needs kindness and guidance. He doesn’t need to see the Dazai with the itch in his bones, with the urges to repay his enemies tenfold, waking up after years of forcing them down. Old habits die hard.

Those urges, he knows, are only back because he feels stupid and useless and angry.

“It’s just—” he bites his lips. “I want to help Akutagawa too, but Ango is right, isn’t he? And if we stop Stoker, wouldn’t that help Akutagawa all the same?”

“It’s riskier,” he explains. “If Akutagawa died — or was dying — before being turned, then he could die soon after he turns back.”

Atsushi blanches. “So, you want to knock him out and bring him back so Doctor Yosano can be around when he turns back?”

“We would not be able to hold him until we found Stoker and put out of commission — remember that the vampires have increased strength? Besides, we would have to leave Yosano and several of ours behind to keep him in check, and they would risk being infected before we deal with Stoker. So, my plan is a bit different.”

“And... are you sure it’ll work?”

“Of course, I am!”

Of course, he isn't. He can see two outcomes right now but who knows how many he’s missing? He completely missed the vampire development, didn’t he? What if it doesn’t work?

“According to Ango, Dracula works by blood consumption — when Stoker drinks someone’s blood, he infects them with a component which alters their very being to transfer a part of his ability within them. This is what allows his victims to spread it to other people. Now, Atsushi-kun—” he wags his finger in front of the boy’s face, confidently, as if he’s sure of what he’s doing and not hoping he’s not missing something big “—what do you think will happen if someone tries to infect me ?”

“With your ability? I guess it wouldn’t work and— Oh!” His face brightens. “If they drink your blood —”

“No Longer Human will also cancel Dracula within their body.” Or so he hopes. “If he starts dying on us, Yosano will be able to heal him. Right?”

“Right.” Yosano plays with the handle of a large knife. She's carrying a first aid kit which contains everything under the sun that could be needed.

Even if all vampires are connected to him, Stoker can’t individually control them. There are too many of them. As a result, the brain functions and blood flow must be conserved for each infected person to move on their own.

If Akutagawa was dead when turned, then Stoker had to reactivate them, which means being under his ability's influence he is functionally alive.They still have a chance at healing him even if those functions fail once Stoker’s ability leaves him.

If they don’t but his wounds reopen, Yosano can heal him. If his heart stops, Yosano can revive him.

Akutagawa depends on him being right on this — and a few years ago he would have scoffed and scorned at Akutagawa for being too weak, too dependent on him. But even then, he would have tried everything to save him, and then taught him a lesson to remember.

(Now he just wants to hold him, make sure he is alive, and maybe kiss him one day, but it’s neither the time or the place or something he likes thinking about)

Atsushi leads them through the slums now. It’s midday, and so far, they’ve managed to avoid any large groups of vampires thanks to Atsushi’s nose detecting them before they could.

“They smell like blood,” Atsushi explains, wrinkling his nose. “It’s kind of gross, actually. The only reason I can pinpoint Akutagawa is because I spent time with him and I have this—” he tugs at the coat again.

“Are you sure we aren’t following an old trail?”

They’re approaching an old road Dazai knows very well, as it leaves the city to turn into an even more familiar path as it goes through the woods.

“I’m sure.”

He can see, in the distance, the old tree stump he met Akutagawa almost 7 years ago, and another time, just a few days before.

“He’s close,” Atsushi whispers.

His lips twitch into a small smile. Of course, he comes back here. Even if he doesn’t have all his mind, even if it’s only instinct, Akutagawa’s steps always take him back to Dazai.

“Stay here, and remember to protect Yosano.” Then, to Yosano: “Be ready to jump in.”

She nods resolutely, and he can feel their eyes on his back as he walks alone towards the clearing. His stomach turns, presumably from apprehension.

“Come out now,” he calls out cheerfully. “I know you’re here.”

The woods rustle, and footsteps ring out. Too heavy to be Akutagawa’s, he knows him to be light on his feet, but when he turns to face the newcomer, he pinches his lips.

“Hello there, Akutagawa.”

It is Akutagawa, but it is not.

His steps are heavier, louder, uneven, and when he appears his body is hunched over.

Port Mafia’s rabid dog, Akutagawa is sometimes called.

And as this Akutagawa snarls, showing off sharp fangs, features twisted and distorted, his eyes blood red, the color filling the pupils and cornea, Dazai figures that he finally lives up to the nickname.

It’s the first time Dazai gets to see Bram Stoker's handiwork up close and he does not like it at all. Akutagawa stares at him but there is no recognition, and the only sounds out of his mouth are beast-like growls.

He smiles ruefully. “What have they done to you? Do you even know who I am anymore?”

How dare they try to steal his student, kill him and turn him into this? Dazai will not stand for this, and the itch is stronger now, but he’s not that kind of man anymore, no matter how furious he is he will not rip Stoker’s teeth out of his mouth and he will not bury the head of a gun down Fukuchi’s throat and press the trigger over and over again.

No, he’s a different man, the kind of man that saves, and he will save him.

He waits for Akutagawa to make his move. Further down the path, Atsushi is restless, he can tell, but he does not interfere.

Then Akutagawa pounces, fast enough that Dazai flinches back, but he forces himself to stay still, fighting against the instinct that commands him to get out of the way.

The things he won’t do for his wayward student.

Akutagawa slams into him with surprising strength, knocking him off his feet and the air out of his lungs. Akutagawa pushes him back, and Dazai’s head hits the ground with a thud. He bites back a cry of pain, stars dancing in his field of vision while Akutagawa pins him on the ground, hands pressing on his chest.

He glances back to Atsushi and Yosano, to find his protégé hackles raised, pupils slit. He shakes his head in spite of the vertigo. “Don’t move," he mouths.

“That’s right,” he manages to say, struggling into Akutagawa’s grip to raise on his elbows. He succeeds, though Akutagawa rips through the collar of his shirt in the process. Akutagawa’s fingers grasp at his hair, pulling them harshly, dragging a hiss out of him.

He bites.

His fangs pierce Dazai’s throat with ease, and at first, it doesn’t hurt more than a scalpel breaking the skin. He feels his own blood run down his neck and Akutagawa’s tongue on his skin and it takes longer than Ango said it would before the ability tries to change him.

When it does, it burns .

No Longer Human always cancels ability from the outside, it’s the first time it has to do it from the inside.

“That’s right,” he chokes out again, through the pain. Dracula tries to change his nature and clashes with No Longer Human and his whole body screams and tries to push the intruding ability out . He raises his hand, rests it on the back of Akutagawa’s neck to pull him closer. “It’s almost over.”

Then the pain recedes, or maybe he’s feeling too light headed to care about it. On top of him, Akutagawa’s fangs are still deep into his neck, and to be perfectly honest it almost feels good.

Above him Akutagawa slows down and takes in a shaky breath. He raises his head, eyes still red, and maybe it doesn’t work, Dazai’s plan fails again, he can’t save him, so he pulls him down again —

He said he didn’t want to die until you acknowledged him

“You fought so hard,” he whispers, because if the one last thing he can do for him is telling him the truth then he might as well do it. “You were so strong. I’m proud of you.”

— instead of pushing him back into his neck, he kisses his lips, not minding the blood dribbling down his chin or the fangs scratching his skin.

Then, Akutagawa shakes his head. “D—” His body shivers, and he opens his eyes — two dark, human eyes, wide and afraid staring down at him. “Dazai-san— ”

“Yosano.” He calls, and he doesn't think he's loud enough. "Yosano!"

Akutagawa's body heaves again and he drags himself off Dazai, collapsing on the ground. He pushes himself up with his hand, before another shudder runs through him, dragging a strange sound out of his throat, and he promptly throws up.

Dazai pushes himself up, ignoring his own nausea. “Akutagawa,” he calls out, and his student lets out another pitiful sound as he empties his stomach in the grass. At least his heart hasn’t stopped (yet), so once Dazai sits he lays his hand on his nape again. “It’s okay.” His tongue feels pasty and everything else slightly blurry. “I’m not letting you go.”

He doesn’t think himself capable of anything more, for now.

Yosano is here before Dazai can call for her again, and Atsushi pulls him away. “He’s throwing up blood,” he hears Yosano say through the sound of Akutagawa vomiting and the strange buzzing in his ears, and what he feels is relief. “I think there is some in his lungs— you said Fukuchi cut his throat, right? and check on Dazai —” Atsushi scrambles to the first aid kit, and Yosano swears as Akutagawa suddenly goes limp.

He can’t see, because Atsushi is all over him now, and he tries to push him away. “No, wait—” Atsushi protests, “I need to clean and bandage your neck, you’re bleeding. Doctor Yosano is taking care of him, he’ll be fine. You planned for this, remember?”

“Yes,” he answers out loud, and smiles at Atsushi. “You're right, I did. He’s going to be okay. Yosano is a great doctor.”

“Are you going to let me bandage you, now?” Atsushi doesn’t wait for his answer before getting to work, grabbing disinfectant and a roll of bandages. "Don't move."

Yosano mutters more swear words under her breath. Then, she leans back, wiping her forehead. “Good,” she declares, nodding, and Dazai can breathe. “He’s fine —” she raises an eyebrow at the still unconscious Akutagawa, “—and hopefully, you’ll stay that way, or Dazai might kill me.”

Akutagawa is alive, Dazai can’t think of anything, and he throws his head back and laughs.

Ryuunosuke dreams.

It starts, he is not quite sure why, with a detached head who calls itself Bram Stoker. It has something to do with this man he’d been fighting with a weretiger, though both their names escape him for now.

(What the hell is a weretiger anyway?)

It moves along, and there is this woman— her face is wet with tears and she's saying something he can’t hear because he’s too hungry to listen, because everything around him feels wrong and now she’s screaming at him, in fear? Maybe, but she was never afraid of him before—

(Before?)

—and the screaming stop, and she is gone and he is running somewhere, looking for someone—

— someone he wants to see, but he can’t name him quite yet, not until he’s standing in front of him, smiling, eyes dark, hello there, do you even know who I am anymore — the answer is no, yes, the name forces its way through his foggy brain as he sinks his teeth into his neck and his blood gushes down his throat and his body hurts.

It's almost over

You fought so hard

Pain shakes his body as if something is trying to crawl out of him.

You were so strong

It burns.

I’m proud of you

Dazai. It’s Dazai.

The dream ends and he focuses, breathless, at Dazai, his throat bleeding, face stained with blood in a way that wakes the memories of lips on his own.

The metallic taste in his mouth is disgusting, makes him want to retch, and he’s pretty sure he does just that, before the world goes cold and dark in a scarily familiar manner.

I'm not letting you go

When he wakes up, Akutagawa is understandably confused.

Dazai opens up his third energy bar as Atsushi frets over the mafioso, trying to explain what happened in coherent sentences. Dazai does not intervene for now, watching them from where he’s sitting on the tree stump.

He has not lost too much blood. Just enough to feel light headed and vaguely sick, but not enough to pass out, which is good news. All he needs right now is some food to get him back on his feet while Yosano checks Akutagawa up.

“A vampire outbreak,” Akutagawa repeats plainly, and Atsushi energetically nods.

“— after the fight with Fukuchi, an ability user called Bram Stoker turned you into a vampire.” He frowns. “You spread it to the rest of the Mafia, through Higuchi first.”

“But I was—” He pauses. “Dead. I remember that.” His voice is strange, Atsushi winces, and Dazai ponders on the clarity of the memory.

Ponders if Akutagawa still remembers what it feels like to die.

“Yeah. You were, Fukuchi he—” It’s his turn to pause, unwilling to go into details. “You saved me,” is what he ends up with. “Everything you did on that ship saved me . The coast guard you didn’t kill bought me enough time that Fukuchi couldn’t catch up to me.” His voice wavers. “Thank you.”

And Dazai can tell that Akutagawa has no idea what to respond to that — has he ever been thanked before? Dazai doesn’t know, he doesn’t remember ever doing it, anyway. Akutagawa shifts awkwardly, picking at his hair, probably still too dazed to think of a witty retort, so Dazai decides to come to his rescue.

“We need to get back and start hunting Stoker. We have thousands of people affected by his ability; we need to get a move on. Atsushi?”

The kid immediately raises his head and takes a good whiff of the air, then grimaces. “Some are getting closer.”

“The vampires,” Akutagawa says blankly and Atsushi nods again, so Akutagawa glances at Dazai doubtfully.

“Yup. Blood suckers. We have been calling them vampires though, because it’s self-explanatory.” He stands and smiles, and Akutagawa looks back at him with eyes Dazai isn’t sure he can read properly. He wonders if Akutagawa remembers what he said (I'm not letting you go) and what he did ( kissed him ), and if he does, how much will those admissions — confessions — change between them. “We need to go. Can you stand?”

(Now is not the time to think about that, maybe once the Decay of Angels is no more, if Dazai doesn’t chicken out of it.)

He extends a hand to Akutagawa, who stares at it, trying to find the catch. It is another test. If Akutagawa remembers, Dazai thinks, then he’ll take it. If he doesn’t, he’ll get up on his own. Or maybe he’s still too weirded out to think things through.

The wait isn’t long. Akutagawa is hesitant, but he takes it, and Dazai’s fingers close tightly around his hand to pull him on his feet.

He still has fangs (seeing him experimentally run his tongue over them makes Dazai’s stomach do a little summersault that is definitely neither fear or worry) and looks like death warmed over. Stoker’s ability might take time to dissipate completely, but beyond that he’s back to normal.

Still, the marks of his latest trial are stark. Face pale, dark bruises under his eyes, and a thick scar on his throat.

“This isn’t how it was supposed to go.” It’s the closest thing to an apology he’s able to put in words.

Akutagawa scowls. “If I didn’t want to do it, I wouldn’t have.” He narrows his eyes, glaring at Atsushi. “Is the weretiger wearing my coat?”

“Uh? Oh, yes, he hasn’t left it in days, from what I was told. That's how he found you.” He taps the tip of his nose. “The smell.”

Akutagawa crosses his arms, shivering, his steps still unsure. He seems on edge — sending little glances around him. He has been dead twice, then hasn’t eaten anything consistent for days. Considering the fourth energy bar in his pocket, Dazai shrugs off his coat.

“Here.” He drops it across Akutagawa's shoulders.

“What are you—”

“You looked cold.”

And defenseless, but he will not tell him that, he won’t take it well. For Akutagawa, his coat is both a weapon and an armor, it’s natural that he would feel ill at ease without it.

Sending him a suspicious glare, he pulls it tighter around himself, and Dazai catches himself thinking, as a red spark runs across the fabric, that he quite likes this color on him.

Atsushi leads them safely through the slums, occasionally having them duck around and hide, while Akutagawa shuffles around under his coat. It takes him a minute to find the snack and he tears it open without bothering to ask Dazai if he can, looking very intently at his own shoes.

Dazai reaches out to put his arm around his shoulders, pulling him closer, and he is glad to feel him, alive and heart beating, leaning into him. “Come on now,” he says, “let’s go home.”

#bsd #bsd spoilers #dazaku #daaku #bsd akutagawa #bsd dazai #writing #cw blood #cw vomit #fix it fic

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bungou-stray-dingus · 5 years

Note

Hey there! Can you right how S/o would comfort Chuuya and Dazai when she caught them crying? For chuuya, he thinks back when he was a member of the sheep and for Dazai, he thinks of Oda and his death?

OH THIS IS SAD, I LIKE WRITING SAD STUFF

(SAD BOI/GURL GANG)

I hope you enjoy!!! ❤️❤️❤️❤️

Chuuya

You had told him that you were gonna go grocery shopping, and that’s when you first suspected something was wrong. He usually went with you, always so protective when it came to you leaving the house by yourself, but this time he just kissed your cheek and told you to be careful.

When you walked in you were shocked to see that he was still in the same spot as when you left, but he was curled into himself on the couch, his body shaking and he sobbed silently. He must not have heard you come in, he didn’t look up at all, or maybe he just didn’t care that you walked in on him crying, which wasn’t like him at all. He never cried, not even around you. You quickly set the bags down on the floor by the door and walked over to where he was sitting.

“Chuu, what’s wrong?” You asked quietly, taking a seat next to him. You didn’t touch him, not knowing whether he would accept it or not. You weren’t expecting him to fall over onto you, laying his head on your lap as he continued crying. You ran your fingers through his hair, letting him cry for a little longer before you asked anymore questions. You knew how hard it was to talk while crying, you had to just let him get it all out first.

“You know that group of kids we saw yesterday?” He asked, finally rolling over on your lap to look up at you. You nodded as you wiped away a stray tear from the corner of his eye. It was a small pack of seven or eight kids running around the streets, led by three older, maybe teenage year kids. “They just reminded me... so much of....” He couldn’t finish his sentence as he started to break down again.

“Hey, shhh.... Take your time, honey.” You crooned as he curled up in fetal position, burying his face into your stomach. You weren’t used to seeing him like this and it made your heart break. He seemed like a child in this state, and the only thing you could do was hold him for now until you found out what was wrong.

“They just made me think of my old friends. They betrayed me, but... I betrayed them.... It’s all that stupid Dazai’s fault. They were all I had though, when I had no one else, I had them. I just think back to when it was just me and the sheep....” He hiccuped as he finished his explanation, sniffling as he stared up at you with glossy tear framed eyes.

“It was easier then... yeah?” You asked. He hadn’t told you about the sheep, not even once. It was a part of his life that he usually didn’t dwell on, but seeing those children must have triggered memories that tore him apart inside.

“I guess... Not really, now that I think back. But back then, when it was just the sheep I felt like it was. They were real friends, we would look after each other, and I left them to work with the Port. I hated the Port Mafia then, I let them down. Am I a bad person?” He asked, and you quickly shook your head no. This was a completely different side of him, he seemed so... fragile. You leaned over to kiss his nose, then his forehead, then his lips.

“Chuuya, you are an amazing person. I don’t know much about what happened then, if you’d like to tell me about it I’ll gladly listen, but you must have done what you thought would be right. You always do what’s right. That’s why I trust you, that’s why everyone at the Port trusts you. You’re a great man.” You nodded to him and he weakly smiled and took a deep breath before finally sitting up. You stretched your legs and he sheepishly apologized.

“You really think that?” He asked, and you smiled back to him.

“I know that.” You said, and he leaned over to kiss you, deeper this time. You tasted the salt on his lips from the tears that had fallen earlier.

“I guess you’re right. If I hadn’t have left the sheep I wouldn’t have met you.” His hand slid to the back of your neck as he pressed his forehead against yours. “I’m so glad I met you Y/N...” You kissed his nose before you pulled back, he was smiling wider now, and the only sign that he had been crying were the red rims of his eyes and the glistening streaks on his cheeks where his tears had ran.

“I’m glad I met you too. Are you okay though?” It was still a shock to see him like that, and it worried you more than you’d let him know.

“I’m fine, don’t worry. Now that you’re here, it’s alright.” He nodded and got up off the couch, smoothing out the wrinkles in his pants and walking over to the door to pick up the bags of groceries that you had dropped.

He acted as if the whole thing never happened, and you didn’t want to bring it up, knowing how much it hurt him to think of those things. He helped you prepare dinner, smiling the entire time, just having you there next to him was enough to brighten his mood. You usually feared that type of emotional responsibility, but with him it was different. You would do anything for him, even if it was just being there for him when he was surrounded by dark clouds, you would gladly do it.

Dazai

The golden brown and red leaves littered the ground and Dazai kicked through piles as the two of you walked through the streets. He wasn’t his usual self today, but you didn’t question his mood, you had no reason to. You knew exactly why he was acting this way, and you couldn’t blame him. Oda’s birthday was always a rough day for him, he would be silent the entire day, usually holing himself up inside and sulking. This was the first year that he had wanted to go to the cemetery, and you agreed to go with him, even if just for the emotional support that he might need.

He bought a small bouquet of flowers and held them in shaky hands as he walked up the stairs to Oda’s grave under the large tree. He brushed the leaved away from plot and dropped to the ground in front of the headstone.

“I’ll give you some time.” You said, leaning down to kiss the top of his head before walking away. You knew that it was what he would want, its what you would have wanted too if you were him.

As much as Dazai talked to you about Oda, you were never able to fully grasp how close the two actually were. Sure, they both worked in the same place, and they often went out at night to Lupins, but you weren’t aware of the deepness of their friendship.

You made your way back to the grave, slowly walking back up the stairs. Dazai was leaning against the tombstone, but you could hear him sniffling.

“Why did you have to leave?” Dazai asked as he stared up at the sky through the bare spots in the tree where the leaves had already fell. “You were my only friend. Are you... are you at least proud of me...?” A muffled sob escaped his lips and you took the final steps to be next to him.

“Dazai...” You whispered his name, kneeling down on the ground in front of him.

“I’m not crying.” He said quickly, wiping his eyes with the back of his hands. He tried to push himself up off the ground but you placed a hand on his leg to stop him, and he sighed.

“You don’t have to be embarrassed, it’s okay to cry. If you’d like I can leave again.” You said, and you saw how hard he swallowed, trying to hold back his tears.

“Don’t leave. You don’t have to. He never got to meet you.” He mumbled, dropping his head into his knees.

“Well, I’ll introduce myself.” You said, and he peaked up at you from behind his legs. “Hi Oda, my name is Y/N. I’m sorry I didn’t get to meet you before, Dazai has told me so much about you. I hope you’re proud of him and watching him from wherever you are. He’s such a great man, and that’s all thanks to you.” You said, and Dazai finally broke. The tears rolled down his cheeks in streams, he couldn’t wipe them away fast enough.

“He would.... have.... loved you....” Dazai said between choked sobs and you felt the lump rising in your throat. “Do you.... think he’s p-proud of me?” He asked, looking at you with the saddest eyes and you felt the warmth of your own tears start to fall.

“I think he’s so proud of you Dazai.” You said, and a sudden gust of wind rushed by, sending the leaves circling around you, Dazai, and the tombstone. “It must be him, letting you know he’s here. He’s always with you Dazai, that’s how you have the strength to do what you’re doing. You changed, and you did it for him.” The leaves settled at Dazai’s feet and he reached down to pick one of the leaves from the ground.

“He’s the reason we’re together... if it weren’t for him I wouldn’t have joined the Agency... do you really think he’s always with me though?” He asked, sniffling loudly as he tried to calm his shaky breaths.

You reached over and placed your palm over his heart. “He’s always in here, and I think that it’s the best place for him to remain.” He nodded, wiping the remaining tears that clung to his lash line.

“Thank you, for coming here with me. I don’t think I would have been able to do it without you.” He got up off the ground, grabbing your hand to help pull you up. He wrapped his arms around you from behind as you both stared down at Oda’s grave. “I think he’s proud of me for finding you, he must see how happy you make me.” He turned you around to face him, he was smiling for the first time all day and you mirrored his smile right back to him. “Maybe we can do this every year?”

“Of course. I think he’d like that.”

Dazai and you walked out of the cemetery together, hand in hand. He had a new aura to him, it wasn’t the same sadness that he carried with him on this day every other year. It was bittersweet, still somber, but not completely black. There was some light coming back in the day as he spent the rest of the evening reminiscing on fonder memories with his best friend.

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midnight-strays · 5 years

Text

His Fault (Part Two)

Knee; meet stomach. Fist; meet jaw. Do try to get along. You could feel bile rising up in your throat, but not wanting to lose what you had eaten, you swallowed, leaving a burning sensation in the back of your throat and a bad taste in your mouth that was quickly overtaken by the taste of blood. “You fucked everything up again. That’s all you ever do these days,” the man standing over you sneered, kicking your arms out from under you so your upper body would drop to the ground without the support. Just managing to save your face from the concrete by landing on your elbow, your glared up at him. “If I hadn’t done it, everyone would have died. Yourself included,” you explained yourself, spitting blood onto the floor, getting a little onto his shoe. Growling, you were suddenly sent backwards by a powerful kick to the face. It was a miracle that nothing was broken. “Now listen here you little bitch. I call the shots around here and you will fucking respect me. It is your fault the mission failed, your fault that you’re beaten on the ground now so shut up and take it.”

You stared down at the ground, jaw aching terribly and bound to be bruising already. ‘Your fault’. It wasn’t your fault. You heard the door open and from the corner of your eyes, you saw a familiar pair of boots. Chuuya. ‘Your fault’. No- he left you. You didn’t tell him to leave, you didn’t hint for him to leave. He just left. Chuuya stood there quietly, watching on in silence to see what you would do. He needed to speak to you, but he was not to interfere with these beatings. Mori forbade it. ‘Your fault’. It wasn’t your fault Chuuya wasn’t allowed to help you. It was his fault. ‘Your fault’. You lifted your head, finally looking up at the ginger man who stood about five meters away from you and his eyes held a simple question. ‘What are you going to do about it?’

“I fucking hate him! Why did he have to come here?! Why can’t he just kill himself already?” You cried out, pulling at your hair while Chuuya adjusted his hat on his head, then brushing off any dirt on his jacket from when he dropped it on the ground. By now, Dazai was definitely long gone, getting the information he needed. “I don’t want to suffer anymore Chuuya. He’s ruined my life. I was fucking happy and he had to go and fuck everything up!” You sobbed, wiping your eyes desperately to rid of your tears. Stepping up to you, Chuuya gave his jacket one last shake before setting it over your shoulders. “He’s here because he can be. You suffer because you allow it. So, what are you going to do about it?”

What were you going to do about it? This couldn’t continue on like this. If it continued, it would only end in two similar ways. They’d kill you or you’d kill yourself. You weren’t going to allow this to continue. You couldn’t allow this to continue. Your thoughts were cut off as a boot jabbed into your stomach out of the blue. You tried to suck in a breath out of surprise- you had really been that lost in thought- only to choke and for your lunch to finally come up and spill onto the floor. Not as much as you had thought though. You managed to keep the rest down but trembled pathetically all the same.

You glance back up at Chuuya who had taken a step back and held a grimace on his face. You could practically read his mind. ‘Ew’. Yeah, you felt that way too. You were pretty sure your throat was slowly decaying thanks to how often you threw up these days. Maybe you should just stop eating? No… No! No, this wasn’t going to continue, remember? You were going to make it all stop. “Get up.” It would all be over soon. You were strong. You would make your status known again. You would return to your rightful place on the Port Mafia food chain. “I said get up!”

Swallowing, you slowly pushed yourself up, earning pathetic ‘praise’ for doing so. You brought your hand up, using the back of your hand to wipe away the spit, blood and vomit on your lips before turning around to face those beating you. You watched as they looked you up and down, struggling to stand up straight, looking weaker than ever and unaware- oh so unaware- of what was running through your head. “You fucked up the mission. Anything you want to say about that now bitch?”

You swallowed again and forced yourself to straighten up. Your back cracked, both painfully and satisfyingly as you stood up straight and without warning, a smirk grew on your face. Not a playful smirk, a dangerous one. A warning. Chuuya, who had moved to watch from a better angle, saw this smirk of yours, and for the first time in four years, he felt hope for you swell in his heart. ‘That’s it. Just like that,’ he thought to himself, leaning against the wall with a smirk of his own. This was going to be good. This was going to be oh so entertaining, watching you put these bastards back in their place and take on your title again. Port Mafia Executive (Y/N) (L/N). Mori never took that title from you, you disowned it. You refused to hold it while you were being beaten like this. You were being beaten because you fell into despair. You fell into despair because of him and now you were going to take back what was yours. Your title, your strength, your pride. It would all come back today.

“Get on your knees,” you finally spoke, smirk growing as you saw their eyes widen a little in surprise as your instruction. As if they were about to obey you. You were a traitor. A weak link. Oh, but you hadn’t betrayed them. No one had been betrayed worse than you. “Get on your fucking knees,” you repeated, but still, they failed to listen to you. Oh well, their loss. You rose your shaky hands, pinching your gloves at the fingertips and pulling them off, chucking them to the side. With every move you made, no matter how slow or how shaky, it sent a shiver up Chuuya’s spine. This is why he wanted you. This is why Dazai should have never gotten you and why you should have chosen him instead. You were fierce, a force to be reckoned with. And if you were the type to lose control, you could very well break every bone in their bodies. Luckily, despite your shattered mental state, he didn’t have to worry about you going over bored. You were weak from the beatings. You wouldn’t have the strength to go that far. Just far enough to put them in their places. He hoped.

“I… am your superior. I am the one in charge. I’m the one who makes all the calls here and I’m the one who told you to get on your fucking knees!” Your voice steadily rose and as you spoke, you stepped closer to the towering men. They weren’t afraid, but they were stunned. They were trying to process what was happening. Everyone knew who you were, what you were capable of, but it seemed people had forgotten while you were in your sad pit of grief. With your subordinates not moving to protect themselves or hurt you, you reeled your arm back, clenched your fist and even without using your ability, Black Mirror, you sent the man before you stumbling back with a powerful punch to the jaw. Your ability would have been useless here, it needed to be activated during the beatings to fully counter them with your own hit later. It didn’t matter anyway. You just needed your own raw strength to do this. You wouldn’t do it any other way.

Chuuya watched on as you beat the three men into submission. He watched as you stumbled from aching legs but made others fall onto their arses from the sheer strength of your hits. After the mackerel left, you never stopped training. You trained harder. You trained harder but never seemed to grow stronger because you were allowing yourself to be punished for something that wasn’t your fault. He watched as you kicked a subordinate across the room, a sickening crack bouncing off the walls after your boot made contact with his jaw. No one got back up. They all sat or laid there, beaten worse than you were. A clear message to everyone else. You were not to be fucked with any longer.

“Get on your knees,” you ordered one last time, lowly this time, watching as all three, slowly moved to kneel before you, giving in. You had won. You were an executive. You weren’t going to take their shit anymore. If they wanted to live, they had to listen. They had to obey. “Good boys,” you praised, leaning down to pick your gloves back up before looking over to your dear friend who started to slowly clap his hands. “I was wondering when you were finally going to do that. Good thing I came to speak to you today then,” he claimed with a grin, that raspy voice of his beckoning you closer as you pulled your gloves on over your bruised knuckles.

“Yeah, well, whatever you need to tell me, it can be done over dinner. Your treat. I’m freakin starving,” you claimed, rubbing your aching shoulder. Damn you were sore. From both beatings. You looked forward to that ever lasting ache in your ribs to finally fade away, for the taste of bile to not reach your tongue until it was justified. You looked forward to the expression on your boss’ face when you walked into his office next, wearing both your pride and title. Chuuya let out a laugh, straightening his hat and nodding his head in agreement.

“I’ve been trying to take you out for dinner for years. I don’t think that’d be a problem.”

#chuuya x reader #dazai x reader #his fault #his fault part two #dazai #chuuya #osamu dazai #chuuya nakahara #bsd #bungou stray dogs #scenario #bsd x reader #reader is strong #reader doesn’t need a man

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send-allmyloving · 4 years

Text

@sarasanddollar i accidentally deleted your request while editing what the fuck im so sorry and also this took me too long to complete aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

Request: BTA Dazai comforting reader who suffers from a panic attack after finding out she can’t leave the place due to have been locked up in her past life

Note; panic disorders and anxiety disorders are real, valid things that should never be taken lightly! If anyone of you are suffering from this please don’t hesitate to reach out, and my private messages are always open if you would like to talk.

Now let’s get started on this, shall we?

TW; panic attack, mental disorder, mentions of childhood trauma and abuse

BTA Dazai comforting fem!reader suffering from a panic attack

“What?”

You froze, knuckles harshly gripping the table in front of you as you tried to process this information. Memories of your nightmarish childhood flooded back to you. You couldn’t stand the thought of being locked in anywhere anymore; which is why you always had to stay in places with the biggest windows, why you were always out and about doing whatever you could to keep you busy, sitting outside of cafes as long as the weather permitted, writing about your fantasy life in little cottages in France, in the high seas, wherever your mind took you to. The only reason you ever took up writing was to create a fantasy world for yourself you could escape to while you were locked up in a room in your parents’ house, the tiniest window giving you only a glimpse of what the outside world was like. You wrote those stories to keep you sane, until you could escape out to the world.

And now you were stuck back in that same situation, again.

“You’re joking. Please tell me you’re joking,” you pleaded, your breath stuttering to a halt as you felt your head spin.

“Unfortunately, it’s the reality. We’re stuck here; we are just our souls from our past lives. There’s no concept of time here, only the books are our promise of an escape. Of course, there is the promise of an outside world, but we could never go out to it. We’re just souls, after all,” the cat stated, his slanted golden eyes gazing up at you with sympathy. “Are you alright?”

“N-no. I... I don’t believe you. I can’t.... I can’t just stay in here, I need to escape,” you muttered, your breaths labored as you stumbled back from the table, oblivious to the concerned looks dawned on the men’s faces as they peered at you.

“(Name)-san... what’s the matter? Are you feeling unwell?” Shimazaki asked worriedly, rising from his chair to step forward.

“S-Stay away from me, please.” Your voice rose, uneasily steadying yourself against the bookshelf behind you, your knees weak, threatening to buckle beneath you.

“Should we call Shuusei-san? I think she needs treatment,” Dazai asked Akutagawa, concern rising in him as he saw you struggle to maintain your composure, his heart clenching painfully.

Dazai was a childhood friend of yours when you were alive, so you felt some relief when you learned he was there with you. You felt fondly towards each other, and Dazai cared deeply for you, even past the want for plainly asking you to commit a double suicide with him. He was relieved when he saw you in this place for the first time, but now his heart was threatening to tear at the seems as he saw you fall apart, likewise your relief had been completely washed away with the realization that you were trapped once more, with nowhere to go.

So one could not imagine the torrent of sheer panic that coursed through your veins at the moment, the sensitivity that rose your senses to an uncomfortable maximum.

“Please, please just stop talking. Please,” you heaved, gripping to the shelves as you leaned away from the authors around you, feeling the room close in. You felt yourself start to spiral as the soft whispers of them voicing their concern grew too damn loud for your ears to bear.

“Shut up. Shut up. Just... shut up,” you muttered, repeating it like it was a mantra, your hands moving to grip your head, tearing at the locks as you spiraled down further into complete hysterics.

“I don’t know if Shuusei-san is needed right now... she’s close to hysterics, won’t she be frightened?” Chuuya questioned Dazai, his usual playful demeanor completely disappearing from his face.

Stop.

“Yes, but she needs help or else she will be stuck in her head for too long... she’ll suffer,” noted Akutagawa, his voice calm, his expression unwavering.

Stop.

“What should we do then?”

Stop.

“Shut UP!” you shrieked, sinking to the floor as you tore at your scalp, hot tears blurring your vision as fear overtook your body. “Stop talking, get away from me!! Get away, get away! Get the fuck away from me!” You screamed, hugging your knees close to you, your breath ragged, your voice sore as you cried out, sobs violently surging up your body.

Everyone was frozen. Everyone you knew, and even those you didn’t know, watched you unravel as the trauma, the utter terror of being transported back to a hell you wish you never experienced rammed every coherent thought out of your brain, and your mind was jumbled with sheer fear. You were trapped inside your mind, and you didn’t know how to get out.

But thank God, Dazai knew just what to do. He had been a witness to such events in your past life; he helped you through the anxieties of being trapped once more. And he promised you that, God forbid, were you ever stuck back in that situation, he would help you every step of the way until you could live your life the way you wished you could, once more.

And now, Dazai was determined to keep that promise. So he moved forward with it.

“Everyone, out of the room, now. I’ll handle this. She needs space, I’ll talk her through it, okay?”

No one argued. They filed out of the room, to their own chambers. Even the cat went back to his own office, trusting Dazai to take the matter into his own hands and bring you back safe.

Once you and him were alone, Dazai approached you slowly. Before you knew it, he was kneeling in front of you, watching you with the utmost pained expression, his heart ripping as he saw your terrifically panicked state.

“Hey,” he spoke softly, his golden eyes trained on you.

No response, except for your heavy sobs.

Dazai bit his lip anxiously, reaching out to place a gentle hand on your knee. “(Name)-san, listen to me,” he said calmly.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” you snapped, shifting sharply away from Dazai’s touch, hugging your knees closer to your chest as you shook, your breaths short and uneasy.

Dazai easily retracted his hand away from your knee, looking at you sympathetically, still keeping his cool as he tried to reason with you out of the trap in your mind.

“(Name)-san, I need you to listen to me, okay? Just... listen to me. I’ll get you through this,” Dazai pleaded with you, still crouching down, his hands clasped together as he attempted to talk you through your panic.

“I don’t want to fucking listen! Get away from me!” You screamed at him again, your fingernails ripping at your roots, hot tears staining your clothes as your curled in on yourself. “I can’t fucking breathe... God.. I can’t... breathe,” you gasped, writhing to the side as you felt the room close around you, your chest tightening. You felt yourself go lightheaded. You felt like you were going to die.

Dazai felt like he was about to cry at your state. You looked so helpless, so trapped.

So... scared.

He gently took your shoulders to turn you towards him, his golden eyes meeting your bloodshot, teary ones. “I need you to listen or you’ll be stuck like this forever. We don’t want that now, do we? Come on, let’s take a deep breath,” he said gently, hands coming down to rub at your arms before pulling back to take your hands.

“I can’t!” you cried, your body weak and shaking. You heaved and choked on air, trying so hard to breathe. You felt like you were drowning, the panic weighing onto your lungs, shrouding you with an air as heavy as lead. You were too weak to draw back your hands; the only thing you could do was clasp tightly to his.

As much as he felt like he was going to lose circulation in his hands at how tightly you were gripping on to them, he managed to give back a gentle squeeze, eyes continuously trained on you as his soothing voice directed you back to stablility.

“You can do this, (Name)-san. Just listen to me. Let’s take some deep breaths together, ok? Inhale, hold for four, exhale, hold for four. That’s easy, right?” he coaxed, smiling reassuringly at you.

Your eyes were squeezed open and shut, trying to regain some sort of sense around you, but you nodded, his calm voice easily perceptible through your hysterics.

You breathed together, shuddering breaths leaving your parched lips, still shivering with anxiety as you tried your hardest to focus on the task at hand.

“That’s it, love, you’re doing so well!” he murmured praisingly, hands still gently clasping yours, thumbs rubbing soothing circles around your knuckles as a small smile dawned on his face, proud of how you were handling yourself.

“Now, name a few things you can see around you. Can you do that for me?” he asked, his voice ever so gentle as he spoke to you.

“I-I can’t... I don’t want to be in here,” you hiccuped, squeezing your eyes shut in hopes of waking up from this nightmare of a situation.

“I know... I know you feel stuck, my darling. But you won’t be stuck in here forever! You’ll be able to escape to paradise whenever you feel like it. Remember those books you wrote about? Those lovely fantasy places you would tell me about when we talked?” asked Dazai, helping you reminisce your past days with him, sitting on a swing in the sunlight, eating cake and reading to him the books you wrote.

You nodded slowly, trying to remember those words of his.

We can do whatever you want, together. We can escape to paradise, now that we’re together!

“But then... you...” you choked back on your words, recalling when you found out about his sudden death.

His lifeless body. The broken promises. The heartache.

Every hope and happiness that you had ever found. Gone from your life.

“No... no, no, NO!” You sobbed frantically, your head hitting back against the wooden shelves, again. And again. The pain was the only thing that would distract you from those horrid thoughts of losing the only one you loved so dear.

Dazai’s hand quickly shot out to cradle behind your head, pulling you away from the shelves, his other hand not letting go of yours. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m sorry I left you alone like that, my angel. My mind bested my heart at that time. I’m so sorry...”

You sobbed and trembled, your free hand gripping the sleeve of his shirt as you succumbed to your cries.

“I’m here now. I won’t ever leave you again,” he promised, his hand soothingly coming over your back in an attempt to calm the tremors that wreaked havoc over your body.

“What I was saying earlier... you won’t be stuck in this place forever. You can leave to the world of your books whenever you would like; whenever you feel stuck or scared, you can come with me and we can stay in the worlds you wrote about for as long as you wish. Doesn’t that sound wonderful?” Dazai told you, a gentle smile gracing his face as he spoke. “You won’t ever be tormented by your past again, as long as you’re here. You’re safe with me.”

“But... the Taints...” You began, the severity of your panic rising again once more as you worried about having to face those monsters of darkness.

“Hey, look here, darling.” Dazai slowly moved his hands to your face, directing you to meet his eyes. “You’re a strong girl. You’ll get through this, and if you’re stuck, I’m here to help you. We’re all here. Alright?”

Those words of reassurance melted away all your doubts, replaced by absolute trust in him and the rest, but especially him. He was the one you adored so much. And he adored you all the same.

You sobbed in relief, the pent up emotions all released in a flow of tears as you relaxed in his arms, the tremors of panic finally subsiding. Dazai carded his fingers slowly through your hair, gently massaging your scalp and rubbing your back as he hushed your sobs.

“Shh, shh... you’re alright now, my love. Everything is alright. I’m so proud of you, you got through it so well...” he praised you quietly, planting a soft kiss to the top of your head.

He slowly helped you to your feet, and you both walked to the infirmary for Shuusei to give you a proper antidote for your anxiety. For the remainder of the day, Dazai was at your side as Shimazaki, Chuuya, and the cat calmly explained to you your duties along with the rest, and with everyone’s help you slowly became adjusted to your new setting. Later, Dazai took you to a room with windows looking out towards the night sky. As you admired the dark blue hues surrounding the twinkling stars, Dazai hugged you from behind, placing a chaste kiss on your cheek.

“See? It isn’t so bad here, is it my love?”

You smiled softly to yourself, placing a hand on his arms around your torso. “Yeah, it isn’t. Thank you, Dazai-san. Really,” you said softly, looking to the side to meet his golden eyes.

He beamed back at you and kissed your forehead. “Anything for my dearest.”

He pulled back and took your hand in his. “You must be tired from today. You need to rest... come now, I’ll show you to your room,” he said, leading you out towards the corridor as you both went to find your bedroom.

After bidding you goodnight with a kiss, Dazai started back to his own room, but was stopped by you tugging on his sleeve.

“Um... can you stay for just tonight? Please?” You asked him timidly, looking down shyly at your feet.

A fond smile made its way to his lips as he looked back at you, turning to take you into his arms and placing another warm kiss on your lips. “Of course, my dear. Let’s rest now, shall we?”

And so you did, whisked off to the world of dreams in your bed, safe in Dazai’s arms.

// I hope you liked this Sara! Thank you so much for requesting, and sorry for the delay!

#bungou to alchemist x reader #bungou to alchemist #bungou to alchemist imagines #bungou to alchemist scenarios #bungou to alchemist dazai #bta dazai #bta dazai x reader

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izanyas · 5 years

Note

prompt suggestions!- the phantom thieves pov regarding akechi and akira's relationship, a continuation of portrait of you with uraraka as a working hero, a snippet of agency chuuya ...?

it’s been 10000 years since i updated Nothing Noble and you guys will have to wait 10000 more years before i can get back to it so here, have chuuya and dazai’s reunion, you deserve it

When Chuuya woke up, it was to the distorted and fake sound of gunshots, and grunts and cries running thin through the cool air. A video game, he thought blearily, his head ringing still with the blow of the girl’s ability—a demon with a sword folding out of her back, just like—

His temple throbbed. Chuuya groaned, frowning, feeling the dry pull of skin under crusting blood. So sharp was the pain that he felt nauseous; and either the girl had been as highly-trained as she had looked, or he was very lucky, for a few centimeters lower and he could have died on the spot. He swallowed back the bile. He exhaled painfully, and reached up to touch the wound.

Or he tried, at least.

His right wrist was stopped by a bond of some kind. His left wrist by another—a skin-soft, skin-warm other.

New cries and gunshots rang out of the game just as Chuuya realized that the emptiness in his chest was not simply due to fatigue.

“Oh, just great,” he spat out.

His voice broke over the words, but it was no matter. Chuuya was having to breathe and clench the teeth now, to acquaint himself again with the feeling of nothingness where his ability should lay. The fingers circling his wrist tightened.

“Welcome back,” Dazai replied. “Please don’t bark so loudly, I’m trying to beat my record.”

Chuuya inhaled sharply and opened his eyes.

He immediately regretted it: the light of the port mafia’s infirmary was still the disgusting, blinding white he remembered from his childhood, and the brightness made the side of his head shout with pain. He was definitely concussed, he thought, feeling nausea roll up his throat. With any luck he’d vomit on Dazai’s clothes and not his own.

Dazai took his sweet time. As if wanting to draw out the moment—and maybe he did, the sadistic bastard—he finished his game. He must be doing it one-handedly too, considering his fingers hadn’t let go of Chuuya’s wrist for a second. Chuuya refused to be the one to look at him first. He sat straighter in the chair he was bound to and stared at the window opposite him, through which a pale square of grey sky showed.

At last, the victory jingle of Dazai’s game rang in the silence. Dazai let it play for a while before turning off his console. He sighed loudly; the very sound of it made Chuuya’s chest feel tight, pressurized. Dazai rose to his feet, still holding Chuuya by the wrist, before letting go. He walked around the chair to stand before him.

And Chuuya would rather die than look meek before someone, before Dazai, so he met his eyes defiantly.

He was so stupidly tall. Of course Dazai had always been lanky, skinny and long-limbed, but now his legs and torso stretched without the awkwardness of adolescence. His face was thinner, his eyes wider-apart. His hair was still the same mess, lighter-brown rather than black.

His shoulders had grown to fit the coat Mori had given him so long ago.

“I hate what you’ve done with the hair,” Dazai told him conversationally.

His voice was deeper too.

“Piss off,” Chuuya couldn’t help but reply.

“I wish. I’ve been holding it back for an hour.”

“I can’t fucking believe you.”

Dazai looked thoughtfully aside. “I see you haven’t gotten any less rude,” he said, still in that same even voice Chuuya had always despised. “Although you have gotten weaker.”

“Let me go,” Chuuya growled, all of his body strained against the bonds; “and I’ll show you just how weak I am, you son of a whore.”

Silenced crushed the space between them to smithereens.

Dazai sighed again. His fingers found the side of Chuuya’s neck a few seconds at most before the Tainted Sorrow would have gone back to him. Chuuya wanted to rage as the feeling of emptiness deepened; he wanted to bite off Dazai’s hand, to spit out of his own chest the nostalgia now holding him back.

“Well, I can’t say I didn’t use Kyouka-chan for this purpose,” Dazai said. The pad of his thump pressed right above Chuuya’s clavicle, right under the collar of Chuuya’s shirt; right above his pulse. “I was counting on the surprise. Good thinking, me.”

“You’re such a piss poor excuse for a human being.”

“You’ll hurt my feelings.”

Chuuya snorted audibly.

Still, he was reeling from the sight of the girl’s ability. Still his heart ached with the memory of Kouyou’s Golden Demon.

“Who is she?” he asked.

Dazai’s hand shifted around his neck. It fit against the line of his shoulder full-palmed. “Izumi Kyouka,” he replied at last. “Her ability is called Demon Snow. Looks a lot like ane-san’s, doesn’t it? I even dressed her up like her—”

Chuuya’s foot erupted out of the rope keeping it tied to the chair leg and hit Dazai in the belly.

Dazai crashed into the opposite wall satisfactorily. The sound of broken wood as he fell over the desk there was music to Chuuya’s ears, as much as the pained grunt he let out, squeezed from his throat. Chuuya bit down on the twisted regret flaring up his ribcage. He lowered his foot again, focusing on the pain of rope-burn and of his twisted ankle.

“Don’t fucking say her name,” he warned Dazai lowly.

Dazai pushed himself to his feet again slowly while Chuuya tested the give of the chair under him. It was bolted to the floor, and his left foot was too solidly roped to hope to tear it out as well. He couldn’t risk two twisted ankles while in port mafia custody. Still he tensed within his bonds, his spined arched off of the wooden backrest as far as it would go, his arms bulging against the rope. When Dazai touched his neck again, he growled in frustration.

“You’re such an animal,” Dazai complained.

His voice was hollow. Chuuya saw with half-satisfaction, half-guilt that his right shoulder hung limply out of its socket.

“You’ve been hiding around civilized people for years, and you still act like this? I’ve heard of Fukuzawa Yukichi, you know. Mori-san calls him a righteous man. It’s a wonder he welcomed you into his group.”

“Mori won’t be saying shit for much longer,” Chuuya bit out harshly.

“Biting and barking and drooling everywhere,” Dazai replied. “You know you won’t get to him like this. Or to Ango.”

Or to me, he didn’t say.

Chuuya wouldn’t have know what to do if he had.

Dazai’s hand lifted from his neck again. Chuuya jumped back as it rose into his face, hating himself for it and hating Dazai more—but Dazai did not laugh or make any comments to him. His hand simply followed the path of Chuuya’s head until it knocked into the wall; then he touched Chuuya’s cheek right where gauze hid the scar. His cold fingers pinched the edges of it and tore it away without a care.

The ugly hole there always stung when the weather was damp and cold; it stung now, being freed from the bandage, a crater of scar and skin high up on Chuuya’s bone. Dazai looked at it in silence.

When he could stand it no longer—when the quiet grated at him and made him feel as though his skin were being peeled away—Chuuya spat out: “Admiring your handiwork?”

Dazai breathed out quickly. He threw the dirty gauze into a paper-basket by the desk with disgusting accuracy, then rubbed at the finger hanging from his dislocated arm for a second. He took hold of Chuuya’s shoulder again and did not look at him.

“You’re out of luck,” he said, even and bored. “Mori isn’t in Yokohama now. Neither is Ango.”

“Like you would know if he was.”

“He was my friend, you know,” Dazai whined to him.

Chuuya was about to kick him again, twisted ankle or not, when someone knocked on the door.

They looked at each other in silence before looking away as one; Dazai’s hand flexing over Chuuya’s shoulder as if to brace him, Chuuya’s hurt foot touching the floor as if ready to kick away and fly.

As if this were combat, the both of them standing on the same side again.

Oda Sakunosuke entered first. He took one look at Chuuya, his serious face plying with—with pity or fucking compassion, Chuuya didn’t know and didn’t care. If he had the means now, he would plunge a first through Oda’s chest and tear out his beating heart, no matter that he had once protected him for Dazai’s sake.

Oda may now where Sakaguchi was. Out of them all, he was the most likely to know, and the most likely to be able to hide the information from Dazai successfully.

“Don’t bite, now,” Dazai murmured.

His fingernails dug into the soft flesh between bone and tendon, made all the easier to feel for Chuuya’s tension. Chuuya clenched his teeth. Dazai threatening him physically again, without even a gun this time—what a joke.

He relaxed only when he saw the shadow behind Oda: Akutagawa, as tall and skinny as Chuuya had seen him last over the tiger boy’s prone body; and still looking at him now with fear in his eyes.

Dazai’s hold relaxed. His hand left Chuuya’s body altogether as he walked leisurely toward his subordinate. “Did you bring it?” he asked jovially.

“Yes,” Akutagawa rasped out.

He handed over a small box, which Dazai took from him without a word. Akutagawa stood still then, his hand still outstretched, his eyes still jumping between Chuuya and the floor uneasily. His black coat seemed to shiver about his skin as if moved by his powers; as if, even now, Rashoumon were preparing for someone to bring a knife out.

“Hi,” Chuuya told him bluntly. “How’s that wound?”

Akutagawa jumped. Rashoumon flared off of his shoulders like wings, posing against the door at his back in defense.

“Thank you,” Dazai said pointedly. He threw Akutagawa a dark look. “You’re dismissed. Shoo.”

Akutagawa didn’t have to be asked twice. He nodded curtly and left, bowing the head when he passed by Oda’s side, who gave him the same look he had given Chuuya.

Chuuya’s guts squirmed unpleasantly. “What the hell did you put through that kid’s head?” he asked Dazai. “He keeps looking at me like I’m about to tear him a new one.”

“Nothing much,” Dazai replied distractedly. “Just incentive enough not to get any ideas about fraternizing with you.”

Oda shook his head and sighed. He still hadn’t said a word.

Dazai did not look at him anyway: his hands were busy with the box Akutagawa had brought. He slid the lid of it open one-handedly, taking out a syringe full of water-clear liquid, letting the box drop to the floor uselessly.

Chuuya’s heart skipped a beat. The pain in his temple sharpened; he pulled against his restraints uselessly.

“What the fuck is that,” he growled.

“Just something to keep you nice and put while I tend to some business,” Dazai replied, flicking a nail against the glass vial. “Now be still.”

Excess air erupted out of the needle head, and a droplet fell out and crashed onto the wooden floor.

Bile swarmed within Chuuya’s mouth.

He hardly saw Dazai approach. His ears rang under the rush of his own blood; fear the likes of which he hadn’t known in fifteen years blinded him, taking away sight and smells and sounds, as if he were afloat in green water again; from deep within his belly, the growl of a great beast echoed, enraged, uncontrollable. Pulling against the bright-gold bonds that Fukuzawa’s ability granted, showing Chuuya once again what a flimsy excuse for control this was—

“Dazai.”

Chuuya stilled, and blinked, and heaved.

That had been Oda’s voice. Dazai had stilled as well, his cold hand frozen upon the skin of Chuuya’s forearm. Chuuya first saw Oda standing behind Dazai and having grabbed Dazai’s unhurt shoulder; then he looked at Dazai, whose eyes were wide open and fixed onto Chuuya’s face.

There was an expression there that Chuuya had seen before, a long time ago. Something fragile, something outlining the youth of Dazai’s mouth and cheeks, the fatigue bruised under his eyes. Something that made Dazai lift his injured arm as if to touch Chuuya’s neck again—as if to brush fingers against the numbers tattooed at his nape, as he once did every time Corruption ravaged Chuuya whole—before he stilled.

His hand fell. His thumb rubbed at the side of index nervously. He stared at Chuuya in silence, his other hand still pressed to Chuuya’s forearm.

“It’s just a sedative,” Dazai said. “And something to keep your powers in check.”

His voice was unbearably soft.

Chuuya licked his lips. His temple throbbed. “This is supposed to reassure me?” he rasped out.

“No,” Dazai replied immediately.

But it had, and he knew it. They both knew it.

Still Chuuya tried to jerk his hand back with Dazai took hold of him again. Still a whimper tried to escape his lips when the needle punctured his skin, as his mind once more shook with half-buried memories, with the sight of a book torn out of a dead man’s hand, showing pictures he wished he had never seen.

There were so many things one could do to him while sedated and powerless, even if Mori was far, even if Dazai stood before him with more sanity in his eyes than when they were children. Chuuya breathed in deeply. The very slight ache of the needle pulling out made him want to cry out.

Dazai’s hand lingered above his skin for a moment longer. He wiped the small wound with his thumb when a single drop of blood leaked out; he backed away; he pressed his palm to Chuuya’s skin again, and then stepped back entirely.

“I hate you,” Chuuya let out uselessly.

Dazai stared at him in silence. Already Chuuya could feel his eyelids weigh down as the sedative worked through him. He blinked open his eyes forcefully. Dazai’s face blurred and swayed, pale and haunting.

As consciousness faded from Chuuya, Dazai replied, “I know. You’re right to.”

The last Chuuya saw of him before darkness took him was the flutter of a black coat and a bowed head of brown hair; and his last thought flew to that same dark hair in the moonlight, to a blasted-open hangar stained with the blood of dozens of strangers—

—to Dazai holding a glistening pistol up, shaking through his body, begging him: “Please. Don’t make me do this.”

#bsd #soukoku #bungou stray dogs #fic: nothing noble #tumblr fic #anon #answered

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truthchosen · 4 years

Text

@antigifted

The violin was beautiful with a darkness that took Chuuya’s breath away whenever he looked at it. It was like looking at a stray physical embodiment of the void; a black hole that sucked the air from his lungs, or a darkness that would swallow him up in an instant if only it could. How fitting for the small piece of himself that Dazai had left behind as a traitor.

Chuuya hadn’t been in the room the day that Dazai’s belongings were cleared out, destroyed, and burned, but he’d had the forethought to request to keep the violin for himself. It was an expensive instrument, aesthetically pleasing to behold, and he insisted that he’d like to learn to play it for himself; perhaps learn to play a song that Dazai never could. Kouyou implored their mutual boss on his behalf, and thus, the violin became his. There was just something about it that he couldn’t quite place. It felt...oddly important, though he silently brushed that thought off as an inane, idiotic attachment to a man covered in far too many bandages.

It was now one of very few things that he dared to touch without wearing his gloves. Surely something that had once belonged to someone so insufferable wouldn’t shatter so easily under the touch of a being with an inhuman existence. Nowadays, he didn’t attempt to play it nearly as often as he once did during the first year after his former partner disappeared. It never sounded quite right compared to the notes he remembered Dazai coaxing out of it with bow and fingers. Something was always just a little off about it, and no amount of attempting to tune it or changing its strings ever corrected the issue. Perhaps, he’d thought, the instrument just wasn’t for him. Perhaps, as though mourning its true owner, it would never respond to his touch in the same way.

He held it now, the fingers of one hand wrapped around its neck, and the base of it propped up on his lap while he attempted to once again tune the strings.

SNAP.

One turn of a peg too many, and one of the strings broke, recoiling up to slice into the back of his thumb. Pain quickly blossomed, and he yelped, flinching without thinking. The violin clattered harshly to the floor before he could halt its descent with his ability, and the body of it cracked—not wide open, but enough. Initially, he panicked, overwhelmed with guilt that he had broken the instrument that had become a private, personal treasure to him. But then...something gave him pause when he reached to pick it up.

Peeking through a fresh, jagged crack in the violin’s side was an envelope. Chuuya’s stomach dropped. Eyes wide, he stared, and his uninjured hand snatched the envelope out of its confines as quickly as possible. A few seconds later—which suddenly felt like hours—he dabbed the blood off the healed cut and tore the envelope open with shaky fingers. Two small pieces of art fell out onto his lap, along with a folded letter. Suddenly terrified of what secrets the letter might hold, he examined the art first. One was of Dazai, he could only assume, but the figure in the drawing was twisted and malformed, reminiscent of something possessed. It tugged at his heart in a way he couldn’t explain, but the second drawing—oh, it knocked the air right out of his lungs. For a moment, he could barely breathe, and his fingers tightened on the edges of the paper, nearly tearing it.

It was him, and if this was how Dazai truly saw him... There weren’t words enough in the entire dictionary to explain the emotional rollercoaster it took him on in a matter of seconds. He looked beautiful. The drawing of him seemed to radiate a life and light of its own—and more, unless he was mistaken. There was a thoughtfulness to the strokes; a genuine tenderness in the shading. His fingers trembled, and he quickly blinked his eyes a few times in rapid succession, forcing himself to set the art aside.

Next was the letter, which he desperately tried to brace himself for, but no amount of mental preparation would have been enough. He had to stop reading after the first page and take several deep breaths. He couldn’t believe it. All this time—all this fucking time, right under his goddamn nose, was the goodbye he’d cried and begged and pleaded for, shouting and cursing into the sky late at night, when no one else could hear him. He likely would have drank himself to death that first night he felt so alone, if not for the power of Arahabaki inside him, keeping his heart beating as if to spite him. He’d cursed that same god the following morning, and barely had the presence of mind to ask for the violin later that week.

All those years gone by since that night, and this letter had been within his reach the whole time. He continued reading, reaching the reasons Dazai had listed for him to stay, and each one chipped away at his heart bit by bit, threatening to shatter it on the spot. Dazai cared, so much so that it was almost tangible in the written words, even four years later. It was as if he could hear his former partner’s voice, reading the words from over his shoulder and speaking them right next to his ear. And he believed them. He wanted to believe them; to know that this was all true, and really an accurate retelling of Dazai’s thoughts right before leaving.

By the time he reached the final page, there were tears in his eyes that he couldn’t blink away. They trickled down his cheeks, and he furiously tried to wipe them away so he could keep reading. That fucking idiot. This—it wasn’t fair. None of it was fair. Life in the mafia was rarely fair, he knew, but this was on another level entirely, his own mistake of never finding the letter cheating him out of so much for so terribly long.

But of course he would have wanted the two of them to leave together, risks and consequences be damned. Of course he would have searched high and low, had he found this letter back then. Memories of their years as partners came rushing back like a tidal wave, one after the other. He’d tried to repress so many of them to move on, but now he couldn’t ignore them anymore, nor could he ignore all the emotion poured into words meant for his eyes only.

There was no fucking way he was ever burning or tearing up the letter.

It was his now, and Dazai had long safely left the mafia. There would be no point in disposing of it. Later, he would hide it somewhere safe when his thoughts were more coherent and less zeroed in on a single person. Dazai’s name wouldn’t stop running through his mind, muddled together with all the emotions and questions that this letter brought forth. He had to see Dazai and talk to him, and it couldn’t wait another second.

Forgetting he hadn’t yet put his gloves back on, he fumbled through his pockets for his phone and typed out a few text messages. He didn’t trust his voice at the moment.

[To: Mackerel] Oi, Dazai. Where are you right now? [To: Mackerel] If you don’t tell me in the next 5 minutes, I’m calling you until you do. [To: Mackerel] If you turn off your phone, I’ll find you some other way. Don’t test me.

#antigifted #♔ — ; this me that I’ve become carries on as ever [ ic | chuuya ]#♔ — ; port mafia executive [ v; main ]#THIS IS SO LONG I'M SORRY

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