#raven cincaide works

[ravencincaide]

Shhh -oh shit

Summary: You were not the kindest when someone disturbed you; especially when studying for finals. Or the time you shushed a talking bastard in the library's quiet section, not realizing who said ‘bastard’ was. 

Pairing: Student!reader x Chuuya Nakahara. 

Inspired by Sweetober prompt 29: Texting/email 

Warnings: Cursing, random Chuuya fluff, minimal edits

Enjoy this little bit of sweetness~ 

Shh

You couldn’t understand how ignorant one had to be in order to speak on the phone in the library. How completely self absorbed to dare do it in the quiet section. Especially amidst final weeks- when it was crawling full of crying and desperate students who queued from the library's opening to the very last second before its closing. Studying reference literature, begging librarians to expedite archive requests just a little bit faster. Buying seniors notes and pleading for tutoring sessions.

“ If this is another goddamn attempt at wasting my time with your bloody stupidity….” the male voice carried loudly, cutting through the otherwise silent section of the library but for the gentle tipp-tapp of keyboard keys or barely hearable flickering of pages. In contrast to those monotone sounds, his voice boomed like thunder, completely breaking your concentration. With each syllable past his lips you could feel your understanding slipping away. 

Why no one said anything was beyond you. 

It was so bluntly obvious that this man was disturbing everyone in the surrounding area. Yet either he was oblivious enough not to see it, or self centered enough not to care. Neither of which sat well with you. As if to make matters worse, his voice grew louder and louder as he drew nearer, now it was not only the phone conversation that was disturbing you, but also the stomps of his feet against the carpet clad floor. “I’ll have you die.. I–” 

“ Shh!” you snapped, making a low, angry hiss towards the owner of the voice somewhere in the distance behind you. You saw the head of a student opposite you snap up and give you a quick, earnest grateful smile. However, that smile quickly faded as the student paled a sickly shade of white before he quickly snapped his head back down, staring at the study books in front of him. His reaction puzzled you, but the blessed silence made you ignore that fact in favour of your studies. 

However the peaceful silence did not last long. 

“ Goddamn it! I swear I’m going to kill you myself this time, you good for nothing, perverted, enemy of all—” 

Slamming your fist into the table you finally lost your patience, your voice, the ‘shh’ resonating through the area. An angry echo which bounced off the walls and furniture throughout the entire second floor of the library’s silent section; “Its a goddamn library so for crying out loud, can you shut the fuck— oh shit” you cut yourself off as your eyes landed on the man with the phone pressed to his ear. 

It was him; it couldn’t be- shouldn’t be, and yet it was. 

You would recognize that ginger hair and black coat anywhere. The piercing eyes which searched the sea of students before they landed onto you, and stared you down mockingly. The cocky grin which matched the handsome boyish expression. And that top hat, the most memorable goddamn top hat in the entire Yokohama. You had seen that hat, and the man it belonged to, in wanted posters and news segments all over Yokohama city. 

The long and loud media warnings to never engage or provoke him. The most dangerous and bloodthirsty member of Port Mafia; Nakahara Chuuya. 

And you had not only encountered him in the most mundane place in the entire city; but also shushed him; not once, not twice but an entire three times. That is without the curse-filled scolding you unknowingly send his way for his less than adequate library manners. In other words you were a deadman walking; a soon to be corpse which currently filled the barely-comfortable study spot. Judging by the annoyance edged onto his features, it was time for you to say your goodbyes and start digging your grave. Then again, your mind reminded you all too bitterly, if you failed the upcoming exams the humiliation, loss of income and homelessness you’d face, would make you wish you were dead. 

Instead of feigning ignorance or getting up and apologizing on your hands and knees, you stared back into his face with a scowl that matched his own. It was as if you challenged him to say something. Chuuya responded with a raised eyebrow. In that instant, your mind flickered between the ‘you’re gonna be brutally murdered or worse’ and ‘ holy hell the media did not do those gorgeous blue orbs justice.’ A part of you still couldn’t grasp the fact that you were actually seeing those eyes in real life. 

You were so, so fucked. 

That sentiment was reinforced as you saw the frown on his lips turn up into something almost morbid. Chuuya’s eyes ran up and down before he rolled his eyes as the voice in the phone demanded his attention, growing so loud you could almost distinguish what it was saying from such a distance; “ I’ll get back to you, slimeball” Chuuya stated midway through slamming the phone shut and slipping it into his pants pocket.

Then he advanced towards you.

You swallowed thickly, and fixed the ginger with an even firmer stare. Then you summoned what little bravery- or insanity- you had left in you; “ Listen with all due respect Nakahara-san your future is set for life; glory, terror and all that. While us pitiful students have our lives decided by the horrors of exams which are primarily out of our control so I kindly beg you, for the love of god and anything unholy; please be quiet.” 

Chuuya stopped in front of you; an unreadable expression on his face half shaded by the tophat.You swore he looked less menacing and more entertained than moments earlier- or was it your wishful thinking? No, there definitely was a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of them; “ Whatever, fork over your phone” 

“My phone?” you asked in bewildered as you stared up at the man currently towering over you. 

At another glare, you quickly unlocked and surrendered the device to him. You watched him type something in before handing it back to you. Looking down at it, you noticed there was a new contact added in your list, listed under the simple initials NC. You glanced back up at him in question. 

The angry look was replaced by a boyish grin. To you it looked almost.. Flirty?!

 Chuuya pointed towards your phone with a gloved finger; “ I wanna know what kind of exams are scarier than a Mafia executive. Text this number when you’re done.”

Your eyes widened a little before you shook your head slightly. Your brain not able to comprehend what he was saying, your mind blanking out long enough for your mouth to speak before you had time to think; “ If I didn’t know any better I’d say you were hitting on me” you mumbled in disbelief earning yourself another cocky smirk. He really was?! 

 “ Nakahara-san I don’t think it’s–” 

“Shhh”  you heard another student hiss at you making you instantly grow silent. Before biting your lips in a feeble attempt to keep your expression neutral. You failed; the edges of your lips pulled up into a smile, barely containing the bubbly laughter readying to spill past your lips. Your expression remained  bewildered and a little shocked, while his expression remained cocky almost sweet yet so very confident. 

Who knew such a meeting could derive from a single word; a hissing of an annoyed student in the middle of the exam season in the libraries quiet section:  

Shh.

Author note: A little sweetness is what we all need some days. I hope this fic made you smile at least a little on this (very cold!) Sunday morning.

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[raven-cincaide-words]

𝓒𝓸𝓶𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓫𝓪𝓬𝓴 𝓯𝓻𝓸𝓶 𝓪 𝓫𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴/𝓱𝓲𝓪𝓽𝓾𝓼

When writers take a break because something happens- you lose a friend, burn out from writing or spend three months obsessively creating a master thesis on naked activism to the point you can’t stand seeing another dick or titty- the absence is talked about a lot. Including a ton of support. So WE see tons of posts about writers and artists deactivating, leaving, or disappearing because of one thing or another. But, what we rarely talk about is the ‘coming back’ part. 

Especially if you’ve grown a bit of a following in the months you’ve been gone, and suddenly you log in and see all the people who adore your stuff and can’t wait to see more of your work, and who are so freaking overjoyed you’re online it’s surreal, it’s amazing. Really. But it’s also pressure. It’s pressure from them and pressure you put on yourself to come back as if nothing happened and continue writing as if you hadn’t just torn up all your art and shut down the draft folder in frustration seemingly for good. 

To come back as if nothing happened and write to the same style, tempo, interests as you did before your hiatus, break or pause. 

But the fact of the matter is, whether it’s a week, a month or years, you’re no longer the same person you were when you were creating every waking moment of every day. Maybe you’re like me and feel rusty. The scenes are there but the words don’t flow. Or it’s like you’re stuck in a permanent writer's block staring at white pages and blank google docs. You want to write but nothing comes out, So you’re suddenly staring at quotes and guides to get out of writers block; maybe even prompts or your old works wondering how the fuck did you write this in the first place. It seems amazing in comparison to the kiddy text you’re struggling with now. 

You remember writing as ‘easy’ and ‘fun’ and now it’s not. It’s hard and painful and far from ‘fun’. So what can you do? I don’t have an answer or a magic solution but I can share what I do to make ‘coming back’ flow smoother and be less awkward for all parties involved. 

Be prepared that everything WILL take more time than it did before. If you could churn out a chapter draft a night; give yourself a week for writing and a week to read through it, at least. Keep that in mind when you set up goals (because you should have goals!) so you don’t get disappointed because you’re too ambitious, don’t meet them, and thus end up just giving up instead. Slow and steady wins the race- or wins getting back into shape.

If you feel pressure from your followers/readers/Beta readers, keep an honest and open communication. Explain that you’re still not fully back but may be around more than before- or not. Your choice.  

To take a little bit of pressure off- create a new account. Either with a similar username or a completely new one and just have fun with it, try different things, post, edit just to feel like writing/blogging/whatever you do again. A little like colouring outside the lines without knowing what it will be; if you like it, yaay, and if you hate it you can just tear out the page without ruining the rest of your pictures. At the same time giving you a chance to get back into routine, style, feel and interest of writing. 

Stay away from things that make you feel like you’re in a box; try new styles, new art, new prompts. For the time, move away from your usual settings, or usual pairings. Quite frankly, don’t even think about characters for the time being!  

But for the sake of everything holy, stay away from guides and ‘how to get out writing blocks texts’.  No, they aren’t for you, not at this stage at least. Instead focus on figuring out what- if anything- you find fun. What peaks your curiosity? What makes your creativity flow? 

As a writer I stay away from scenes or very rigid prompts. Such as A takes B out on a date. Even if it can feel like the easiest approach to getting back into writing- after all most of the work is done for you already, right? Wrong. For me that is very much putting writing into a box rather than having me explore. Instead I work with short- often one word- prompts. For example I am currently working with: Back to the basics. Here is how I approach it: 

First I look at the word, for example ‘rejection’. For me, when I write something with rejection it is almost always angst or hurt comfort. So first thing is that I define, for myself ‘what rejection means’; is it rejection of someone, rejection of something, is it from the perspective of the rejector or the rejected? Why is it important/why should we care about someone- or thing being rejected? What importance does it have and how do I convey that importance? Do I have an idea here or should I work more with the word? Maybe a synonym or antonym?

Then I start playing around with it. Okay so if rejection is always angst- can I make it the opposite, for example happiness? Can it be a happy ‘rejection’ why?/why not? Who would be happy to be rejected? (For example in an arranged marriage when one part is in love with someone else? Or maybe being rejected is the push a character needs to make a difficult decision such as move away, commit a crime, etc?)  At this point I start trying to gather my thoughts a little with; Who? What? Where? When and Why? While still circling around the word. 

Then after I’ve played around I usually have some kind of storyline or idea. No matter how rough, can be just answers to the questions above. No biggy. Then it’s time for a sprint. So I sit down and type it; usually set a 20 min timer, no distractions and type every single word that comes to mind. No edits at this point- not even spell check- just pure word vomit. 

Do I have energy for another sprint? IF yes- keep going. IF no, then I start going over the words and beating them into shape. Is it a silly fic? Which barely makes sense? Perfect, post it!

Leave it out there on your new account. Come back to it, maybe write another chapter of it, or just laugh that it exists. Then repeat it again if you feel your anxiety spike. After a while writing will stop feeling daunting- the pressure won’t be so suffocating anymore. And then it really will feel like you’re actually back. 

Liked this advice and want to see more? Check out my profile below! Main| About Raven | Beta & Rules |Prompts | Masterlist | Tags & links|

All fics and beta work are unique works by © raven-cincaide 2024. Do not copy/repost/translate or spread my work(s) without my explicit permission. If you see any of my work(s) reworked/reposted/copied anywhere, please inform me!

[goxjo]

! 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐓𝐎 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐌𝐄 𝐟𝐭. 𝐠𝐨𝐣𝐨

ALPHA! GOJO x F OMEGA! READER

+ synopsis. you live in a world where omega and alpha qualities are medically treated at birth to become dormant later in life. present day, only betas & pseudo-betas exist, pheromones & its effects are left in the distant past, and heats & ruts are reduced to monthly cycles of being slightly hornier than normal, nothing more.

so, what happens when a curse you encounter induces a heat in you far worse than anything recorded in modern times?

+ alternatively. in which even a special grade sorcerer isn’t immune to the curse-induced heat of an omega — you, the partner he's pined for over the course of your entire friendship — forcing you and him to go back to your primal roots.

+ cw. forced A/B/O dynamics, lovesick! gojo, slight! geto x reader, sorcerer! reader, dubcon (technically sex pollen), reader is born an omega, gojo and geto are born alphas, gojo's infinity can't block scent for fic purposes, geto doesn’t turn au, use of restraints, mating call, mutual pining, it gets playful / lighthearted in the middle, implied 'medical' use of sex toys, dirty thoughts, lordosis, petnames (angel, love), pussy job, constant pov switches towards the end, cunnilingus, ass fingering, piv, cervix kisses, confessions, shared orgasm, creampie, knotting, no beta bye, 3.5k+ words, MDNI

+ masterlists. general ┆ jujutsu kaisen ┆ collab

♥︎ aki’s note. big thank you to raven (@raven-cincaide) for sprinting with me ♡ ++ this very late fic is part of my into the omegaverse collab ♡ please show some love to everybody’s amazing works when you can!

He came as soon as he heard. Plagued by his racing thoughts, Satoru stands still, chewing on the inside of his cheek as he watches you from behind the glass window. Though he appears to be calm, seeing you like this is torture.

“How long has she been in there?” Suguru puts his hands in his pockets, taking the spot next to Satoru.

“Too long,” he breathes. And it’s only been half a day. His 6 eyes have been agonizingly locked on your form the entire time, piercing blue eyes peering through the glass and into your poor disturbed soul. You’ve been crying non stop ever since they found you. Eyes glossy, pupils blasted, spewing incoherent words, skin damp and hot.

They needed to restrain your arms and legs to be able to perform tests on you, but that didn’t stop you from crossing your knees, relying on friction to rub your pussy as best as you can. All this, as your body wriggles beneath the harsh clinic lights. You’ve gone absolutely feral. Your cries are pitched an octave higher than what Satoru’s used to. And as much as he doesn’t want to believe it, it’s as if… “It’s as if she’s calling out to someone.”

“To you, you mean?” Suguru scoffs.

Paper seals secure the walls of your room. Remnants of the curse linger around your body and because of that, they’ve deemed it safer to assume only born-betas are allowed direct contact. For now, at least. Shoko says they don’t know if there are aftereffects — meaning, if exposure to a victim could also trigger a rut in an alpha. And now they’re dealing with pheromones, not just cursed energy, so infinity is out of the question. That means Shoko gets to stay with you, and the two born-alphas are to stay on this side until further notice. 

Satoru hates it – being separated from you by a wall like this. Not like you weren’t already normally separated by one, considering your room in the dorms is right next to his. But he particularly hates how this renders him unable to barge in on you any time he wants.

Right now, he wants to annoy you. He wants to poke fun at you. He wants to pull your strings because he likes it when you get fake-mad. You’re cute when you do that. Plus, he uses it to his advantage knowing you can never actually stay mad at him for too long — a weakness the two of you share.

“Heard the report got it all wrong.” Suguru pats Satoru’s back. “Special grade 1, was it? Quite the leap from semi-grade 1.” Suguru shakes his head, chuckling in disbelief. He’s never seen his best friend so distraught. But Suguru reassures him, telling him not to worry and reminding him of the fact that, at the very least, “She’s alive and kicking. Well, kicking too hard for that matter. Those knots are gonna bruise.”

“She should’ve called me. Fucking idiot.” Satoru clicks his tongue.

They have brought in experts — historians, even. They have tried every omega medicine known to man. Emergency suppressants that were once obsolete are concocted that same day. Everything should’ve shown immediate effects. And yet, it’s almost laughable how it all seemed like they were only giving you placebo meds, forcing you to down so many in so little time. Since nothing has worked, Shoko sent them away.

What’s worse is, the curse is exorcised. And in the world of Jujutsu Sorcery, killing a curse usually takes all its enchantments with it. So, if the curse is dead and you’re still experiencing the worst heat known to man, they could damn well consider your revert permanent if they don’t do something about it quickly.

The two men jolt back upon smelling a very pronounced aroma of burnt cinnamon on Shoko who’s left the room for the first time in the last 6 hours. Her hair is slightly disheveled, slightly damp from sweat. And the circles around her eyes have grown visibly darker and heavier.

“Can’t imagine our forefathers going nuts over that stench.” Suguru lightens the mood, fanning his hand in front of his face. He blinks his tears dry as a result of inhaling a whiff of the strong odor.

“It’s not that bad.” Satoru scrunches his nose as he’s suddenly taken aback, though he’s not particularly repulsed by the scent. If anything, he’s immediately convinced it’s something he doesn’t mind living with. “Plus, I heard it’s slightly different for every omega.”

“Finally, some fresh fucking air,” Shoko murmurs as she leans on the glass, head thrown back as she lights up a cigarette. Apparently, she hasn’t had one since they brought you in. “Welp, tried everything. Even left her alone with toys to do—”

“Herself?” Suguru teases.

Satoru scratches his throat. “Did it- uhm… did it help?”

“Not one bit.”

“Maybe you… didn’t give her enough time?” Satoru nonchalantly suggests, pouting as he subconsciously takes notes for himself if he ever gets presented with the opportunity.

“I let her at it for an hour.” Shoko huffs out smoke in the direction opposite to the two men. “I even gave her… options, you know.”

Satoru mentally kicks himself as his thoughts run wild. He can still see the tip of the pink silicone popping out of one of the trays, girth not so different from his. He hates Shoko for doing a shitty job at concealing it because blood rushes to his cock just by looking at that thing, knowing it had gone inside you. He thinks about what other toys Shoko had you use — thinks about which one was able to make you cum the fastest, which one was your favorite?

Fuck. Now, he has to keep adjusting his stance, marching in place like a damn soldier till he manages to get his half-hard cock into a better position in his pants. Using his hands then and there is not an option for obvious reasons.

“Satoru.” Shoko’s tone becomes more serious. “You can drag this longer than it needs to be. But you know there’s only one surefire tried-and-tested-literally-by-millions-way to cure a heat.” She takes a long puff, blowing smoke in between words, embers flickering on the end of her half-done stick. “You up for it?”

“Don’t be stupid.” Of course he is.

Suguru and Shoko shoot each other knowing glances, the former raising an eyebrow as if to say ‘watch this’. “Satoru, If you’re not gonna do it, I wi—”

“I’ll fucking kill you,” Satoru spits, not letting his best friend finish his sentence. The two quickly exchange low fives, chuckling at the expense of their lovesick friend. Satoru turns to Shoko, paying no mind to his friends so blatantly enjoying themselves in the middle of a crisis. “You’re sure you’ve done everything you can?”

“Everything I can, yes. You’ve exhausted all the favors you can ask of me, it’s high time you deal with your own problems.” Shoko prods two fingers onto Satoru’s chest.

“Want her to want it,” Satoru speaks softly.

“Are you blind? Did your fucking 6 eyes stop working?” Shoko looks at Satoru, puzzled, as if she wonders why Satoru isn’t seeing what she’s seeing. “Oh, I’m pretty sure she wants it bad.”

“Want her to want me.”

Shoko rolls her eyes and disposes of her cigarette though it’s a couple more puffs away from when she usually stops. She’s at her limit. “Wait here.”

Trying to prove a point, she goes to the supply room and comes back with two handkerchiefs — a white one and a blue one. She then pats the white one with the sweat off of Satoru’s nape, and the other with Suguru’s. “Pray with me, boys. One of you’s gonna have to return to their roots.” She cracks her neck, preparing to head back in.

The sound of your cries increase and decrease in volume when Shoko opens and closes the door behind her.

“Shoko, Shoko, please! Make it stop! Make it stop! Make it—”

Shoko waves the blue handkerchief above your head, grabbing your attention for only a few seconds till you’re back to screaming in agony. She can almost hear Suguru scoffing on the other side. She then takes out the white cloth with Satoru’s scent, and like a moth to a flame, you’re instantly drawn to it. Your breaths have finally steadied. You take quick bouts of whiffs, head craning every which way she drags the piece of cloth.

She leaves you with the handkerchief after letting your arms and legs loose, allowing you to curl up in a ball as you desperately inhale Satoru’s scent. It’s the first thing that has calmed you in hours. Nonetheless, this relief is temporary. Pretty soon you’ll be needing something stronger. Something more potent. Something in its rawest form.

“S-satoru,” you breathe through the handkerchief, staring at the two-way mirror like a faint prayer to the god you know is there. “Shoko, please get me Satoru.” Your words are clear as day, and that’s the first coherent thing you’ve said all day.

Shoko’s eyes dart to where she’s sure Satoru stands. “Do you see it now?” she mouths.

Satoru’s jaw stiffens, stomach now a mangled mess of anticipation and guilt. On the one hand, he’s relieved. He’s not sure what he would’ve done if you’d reacted the same way to Suguru’s scent. On the other hand, he knows what’s going to happen now. Not like he didn’t see this coming.

…

Though she didn’t have to, Shoko chose to make a nest of Satoru’s clothes for you in his own bed. “Thought I’d at least make the effort to help make it romantic, no?”

Except nothing about this is romantic. Jujutsu dorm walls thankfully aren’t thin, but thin enough for him to hear your cries from behind his door.

Satoru takes a second to collect himself, getting square with the fact that this isn’t how he wanted your first time to go. He can smell you from where he stands, forcibly reminding him for every second he delays that you’re in there, waiting for him.

He’s played your first time over and over in his head as he fucked his fist — almost every morning in the shower, once or twice in your room when you were out on a mission, and many, many times in the very bed you’re nestled now. Out of the hundreds of scenarios he’s made up of him making love to you in his head, he’s never once pictured this.

His friends have pestered him about this for so long, urging him to take the first step or else Suguru — and on some occasions, Shoko — won’t hesitate to whisk you off your feet. But he tells them he has his reasons for constantly holding off. He says it’s because you’re perfect for him, and so he wanted your first to be perfect — plain and simple. He says it so matter-of-factly, too. But now, to hell with the perfect scenario because as it turns out, it’s mother nature herself who decides to give him one crazy hell of a push to make a move.

Satoru enters his room. Greeted with the raw and unbound fragrance of your heat, his heart pounds in his chest. He coos upon seeing you hugging his pillow, all plump and ready for him. Suddenly, it registers in his head that he’s seeing you naked for the first time, lying in his bed. “God, you’re so beautiful,” he says more to himself, trying to convince himself that this is real — that you’re real.

“‘M sorry, it hurts— hurts so bad, Satoru. ‘M sorry!” He’s sorry it has to be like this, too. But he’s not so sorry that you’d asked for him.

With dried up tears along your cheeks, and fresh ones in your eyes, your cried out voice croaks, “Satoru, help me please. I need you.” You roll on your belly, propping your forearms as you bury your face in his scent, whining into his pillow, back arching + ass perked up, as you shamelessly stroke your pussy to his face. “N-need you now, please, please, please?”

Fuck.

Even now, it melts his heart seeing you so full of want.

“Shh, shh, shh. I’m here aren’t I?”

Satoru doesn’t miss the way your hand grips the sheets as you watch him discard his clothes. He sees the absolute delight in your face, the flexing of your belly, the further bend of your back, the quicker strokes of your fingers around your clit. But it’s the sight of your nectar dripping out of you that finally makes him break.

With how hard he is and how much he wants to devour you like crazy, he could easily be mistaken for an alpha in a rut. He swears his chemical makeup has nothing to do with it. He just wants you that bad.

Suddenly, the space between you and him doesn’t exist. You moan out loud just by being touched by him. He engulfs you in his arms forcing you to sit up, hot skin against even hotter skin, your back pressed flush against his torso as he buries his face in the crook of your neck. And your slick — god, your honeyed slick — begins to coat his hard cock speared between your legs and along your puffy folds.

Fuck.

“Sweet angel.” His eyes roll back as he takes in all of your scent.

His cock twitches between your legs, pre-cum starting to drip off his tip. He feels a tingling sensation in the pit of his stomach as soon as he gets into contact with your slick. Your touch is so fucking electric. One hand wraps around your stomach while the other reaches for your breast, cupping and kneading the soft flesh, feeling your thuds of a heartbeat beneath his palm. You smell so fucking good upclose, your scent keeps hooking and hooking him in, and taking care of you is all he cares about. That's all that matters. He’s holding you now and yet he’s unable to satiate this mad need to be closer to you. He needs to be closer. He needs to make love to you. Needs to be in you—

“S-Satoru.” You guide the hand on your breast, intertwining with his fingers, pressing harder, rougher, against your skin. “You feel so good, Satoru. Please move. N-need more.”

Satoru releases a deep groan in your ear when you bring your knees together, locking his cock between your legs as you begin to grind your pussy on his erection, nectar lubing your every sway.

“E-easy, eaaasy,” Satoru’s voice is low and breathy. He hisses with every roll of your hips, breath hitching as your pussy drags his foreskin back and forth, balls kissing the back of your thighs. Mind hazy with want, he presses his cheek on yours, planting open mouthed and sloppy kisses on the side of your face.

“Not so fast!” Satoru holds your hips in place when you start to pick up the pace, making you whine, “Wha–”

“Too fast, I’m sorry.” Satoru trails apologetic kisses along your jaw. “Not there- don’t want to cum there.”

He apologizes as a tinge of guilt prickles his throat seeing you so utterly vulnerable. Your eyes plead for him to fill you then and there but he needs this moment to last as long as possible, even if it means prolonging your agony.

“S-Satoru, can’t wait any longer!” You try to move your hips but they’re locked in place. 

“No.” He says, firmly, and it hurts to tell you that. “Not yet.” Tears well up in your eyes as your chest heaved at the height of your confusion. Your mouth opens, trying to find words, but before you get to complain, he gives you a soft, chaste kiss — your very first one, he realizes — and tells you, “Get down for me.”

And with tears in your eyes, you oblige. He supposes this is the work of the reemergence of your makeup and raging hormones, making you so pliant and submissive, you’re willing to do his bidding even when you’re on the verge of insanity — when, before this, you always had a stubbornness in you he’d always been fond of. But then again, at this very moment, you’re desperate. And you’re desperate for him.

“Satoru, I don’t know what you’re up to b-but please, don’t take long- oh!” Your protests are quickly replaced with cries as you feel a soft, wet muscle slide across your folds. He’s always had that habit of not letting you finish. To think it’s something he takes to bed with him makes your stomach coil. “Fuck!”

Hot breath fans your folds as he splits your slit open with his tongue, and all you can do is shudder in place, wallowing in the extreme pleasure that dozens of toys weren’t able to give you. You’re practically leaking on his face, honey dripping down his chin, the tip of his nose pressing into your ass.

His tongue squelches with every lick, twisting your core in knots with every line drawn. And then it’s as if Satoru’s lips are sealed around your clit, puckering and sucking on the sensitive bud.

“Satoru, oh god. ‘Toru, so good, ‘s so fucking good~” Your eyebrows furrow, lips pursing as he relentlessly flicks his tongue on your clit.

“Oh!” You scream when a honeyed digit enters your ass, thumb hooking and pressing hard against your g-spot, all while his tongue remains fixated on your clit. “Fuck- mmm!”

You can’t help but mewl and cuss into your first orgasm — the first one he granted you, that is — wave of pleasure washing across your body as he eats out your high. And while it’s a sensation that gives you a sense of satisfaction, you’re left wanting more. You’re left needing more.

“Please fill me- can’t wait any longer- please, alpha~”

Oh, now you’ve done it.

“Sorry, love.” Satoru pulls you back into his chest and cups your cheek, making you look over your shoulder and into his face. “Neither can I.”

“Sato- Oh!” Gagged by the feeling of friction in your aching walls, the very first one you had welcomed since your heat, you’re at a loss for words when his cock enters you, bottoming out straight away. Your mouth forms an ‘o’ and he instinctively closes the gap, savoring your mouth, and with every click and swirl of your tongues, he thinks you are probably the softest, most delicate thing he’s ever tasted.

He knows he’s screwed, tasting you for the first time, knowing he’ll never want anything other than you, your lips, your pussy, this feeling ever again.

You feel as if every pump of his cock scratches that stubborn itch that’s spread across your pussy since your heat. And every satisfying ram of his hips kisses your cervix, bringing you closer and closer to your high, as if this — his cock, and the feeling of his body rocking your own — has been what’s missing in your life.

“Scream for me, angel,” Satoru grumbles against your ear as he feels himself nearing his own climax. Suddenly, his mouth is back on yours, kissing you, with you purring against his lips as he fucks you through your shared high.

“I–” When his pace comes to a full stop, you know what’s about to come. And he doesn’t know what to say. Shoko’s already briefed him on what’ll happen to an alpha who cums in an omega in heat, not that he doesn’t know what a knot is. He just doesn’t know what to expect. Still, he wants you to take it. Even now, he wants you to want it. But he studies that curious look on your face, and as he scrambles for words, it seems it’s your turn to finally shut him up.

“I love you, Satoru.”

Satoru chuckles. More to himself.

“I love you, too.” Satoru, with breaths uneven, relaxes his forehead against yours. Satoru steadies himself, and pretty soon, you collapse in his arms as his knot locks in your core.

...

"Hey," Satoru breaks the silence. "You know... taking my knot like that means you practically asked me to marry you."

"Shut up."

—

Shoko alternates between looking at you and flipping the pages of the report in her clipboard. It seems that you’re technically back to normal but she’s got that look in her face as if a couple of words are stuck behind her throat.

“It’s fine. Hit me with it,” you prompt. “What is it?”

“Well, you’re now a full-blown omega is what it is,” Shoko says without an ounce of concern in her voice. “But seeing as you’ve got… help now,” Shoko’s eyes dart to Satoru who’s standing in the corner, “there’s really not much to do about it.”

“Is that so?” You chuckle at the playful tension between Satoru and Shoko.

“You’re ‘help’, by the way,” Shoko addresses Satoru.

“A big one, too,” he adds.

“Keep it in your pants.” Shoko puts her clipboard aside and scratches her temple. “Still, it’s insane that this is what finally brought you two together.”

Shoko’s words put a longing, knowing smile to your face. "This silly guy waited too long."

“Hey, if that’s what it took. Who am I to complain?” Satoru shrugs, ego fluffed by the thought that you’re finally his. And the fact that he and you are the only active alpha and omega in the world? How special is that?

pspsps. reblogs and comments are appreciated ♥︎

[ravencincaide]

The First Time is the Hardest 

Summary:  You got yourself in the biggest shit in your life and didn’t know where to go or who to turn to. Luckily Chuuya’s door was always open for you, no matter the time or the state you were  in. Or the time you find out your innocent boyfriend may not be so innocent after all. 

Pairing: fem!reader x Chuuya Nakahara

Inspired by Sweetober prompt 20: Showering 

Warnings: Murder/implied self defense, blood, heavily implied abuse, cursing, nudity + showering together, dark content. Light angst/ Hurt and Sweet Chuuya comfort. 

Enjoy~

You barely registered the whipping rain. The large drops of icy water were hitting your practically nude body; dressed only in a torn, shredded drenched- summer dress which clung to your body like second skin, Over it; a black scarf, a large thing which you had draped over your head, snaked over your shoulders and then bunched up at your chest. You held it up with both arms, giving you an almost widow-like eerily broken appearance. A sight that made most humans uncomfortable on a normal day. To add to the grim sight; you wore no shoes on your feet and no socks, just the reminiscence of your tights, full of long holes, as if you got caught on something and pulled, tearing the thin synthetic to slivers.  

A young woman in the middle of a heavy rainstorm with that appearance made people avert their gaze from you as though you bore the plague. No one wanted to get involved; no one dared to engage. 

Slowly you dragged yourself forward, head bowed. You didn’t know how long you walked, you didn’t even know where you were going. Your feet just carried you seemingly at random. When you had nowhere to go, it didn’t matter what path you took or how long you strolled about. It was not like you were wanted or waited anywhere. 

No, that was- 

You cut your trail of morbid thoughts off as you recognized the area. Your eyes widened and you  looked up just as you came to stand in front of a house. Like a fairytale, it stood on top of a hill, fairly isolated from its neighbors. With large modern windows, two stories and a flat roof perfect for private picnics. One side of it overlooked the water while the second faced the city. You could see the lights in the windows of the top floor, peeking through the tiny gap between the thick black curtains. 

At that moment, you didn’t know whether to feel sad or relieved that he was home.

You barely registered  as your feet propelled you forward with a speed you didn’t know your body had. Stumbling over rocks and your own feet you caught yourself over and over again as you ran to his front door. On the last step you tripped again and fell forward unable to catch yourself. Your knees made painful contact with the cobblestone outside his door. The pain was barely noticeable on your chilled skin but that little amount of it was sufficient to make you burst into tears. Your arms wrapped around your shoulders, sobs tearing through your body. You needed to save yourself, to reach up and ring that doorbell but you were too damaged to do so.

Was this going to be the end of you?

“ Sweetheart, what the hell are you doing here?” Chuuya’s alarmed voice suddenly reached your ears. You sobbed harder. You didn’t know how long you were sitting there, or when he had opened the door, but his voice felt like heaven. A sweet salvation you did not deserve. 

“ I’m sorry” You sobbed out as he pulled you up to your feet. You couldn’t bring yourself to face him. “ I didn’t know where else to go-” 

“ C’mere” Chuuya sighed as his arms grasped your body and pulled you inside. His foot kicked the door shut behind you, yet he instantly regretted the action when you jumped from the sound. A kiss on the forehead as an apology made you less stiff. Another kiss, and Chuuya’s hands began to pry away the soaked scarf out of your icy cold hands. His lips pressed more kisses to your head as he worked on unraveling it from your body. Half way through however he visibly froze, a hitch in his breath sounding louder than your quiet cries. 

The scarf fell out of his hands, slapping against the marble floors with heavy duns; “ Dollface w-why are you covered in blood?” 

You had never heard his voice sound so different; so small. So shocked and perhaps a little scared. An almost vulnerable sound you couldn’t quite understand. But you knew you were at fault; you caused this mess and now were dragging him into it. Truly you were the worst human being in existence. Could you even call yourself human any more? 

You hung your head lower, larger tears rolling down your cheeks as you wrapped your arms around yourself. “ I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I did it, I-I– him I– K-ki— I’m so so sorry” you repeated that cursed word in between sobs as if it would somehow fix everything. Would take away your guilt; turn back time and erase your sin. 

You expected him to yell, to scream and curse and call the police. To shy away from you; to express his disgust at the fact that you had taken a life. To chase you away like the monster you were. Without the scarf your hands could only feebly grasp at the remanence of your blood stained dress, the sticky splatters on your clothes which reinforced your sin. The sight- the smell of it made you cry harder. 

“ I – What? Tsk’ed okay, Come on Sweetheart, let’s get you cleaned up first” Chuuya stated in a calm voice; his hands wrapped themselves around your shaking bloody body and guided you in the direction of the bathroom. He helped you up the stairs, through the door then held onto you as he turned on the water. One arm around your waist, the second checking the temperature. 

Then he stepped under the water, clothes and all, pulling you with him. 

One arm remained propping you up and close to his chest, letting you sob into it.  His second worked on getting the shreds of the dress off. He tossed it into the corner of his bathroom. Then he tore your tights the rest of the way before tossing the damaged material into the same corner as the dress. His breath hitched in his throat as his fingers brushed against the bruises on your body; newly forming ones on your arms- old ones on your stomach, back and thighs. His look darkened- how the fuck did he miss those?! 

“ Oh my sweetheart” Chuuya mumbled in a whisper, careful not to scare you further. The next kiss he pressed was longer. You could have sworn Chuuya, himself was shaking. 

Before you could apologize again he got to work; determined to wash every last drop of that bastards blood off your body. He started with your shoulders, the sponge with soap carefully scrubbing each inch of your skin. Then down your back. Then to your stomach. At your permission he unclipped your bra and ran the sponge over your chest. 

“ You’re doing so good m’ gorgeous girl” he mumbled, gently hushing your sobs, calming your tears. 

He waited until you seemed a little calmer before he shifted you ever so slightly. “ Here hold onto me” he said as he raised your hands and rested them on his shoulders. Then he knelt down running the sponge over your bare legs. He focused extra attention on your feet, determined to scrub the dirt and hours of bare-foot walking away from your skin. As scratches reopened Chuuya growled, feeling of anger and incompetence, a hopeless feeling filled his chest. A reminder of his own failure to protect you. A sensation which made his hold tighten on you; “ How long were you walking around sweetheart?” he asked quietly as he dropped the sponge and rested his head on your stomach. “ How long?!” 

“ I don’t know” you whispered numbly, your eyes staring blankly at the soaked head of ginger. The once white dress shirt had splotches of red on it. And the suit pants didn’t look much better  for wear. All bećause of you-

“Hmph- Did anyone see you?” 

You swallowed and shrugged. You didn’t know. How could you know- you were still out of it. Still in shock over why he was washing your bloody body instead of having you locked up behind bars. Why was he still with you; still kissing you, holding you all that much closer, as if you had suddenly become all that much more precious? 

Why? 

 “ Chuu” you whispered and instantly he looked up at you. Blue eyes rimmed red- but whether it was from tears or shower water you couldn’t tell. “ You don’t need to cover for me. It’s okay, it’s okay– I’m sorry for dragging you into this I’--” 

“ Hah, as if one corpse is gonna make me turn tail, pretty girl. Get to hundreds and then we talk” Chuuya chuckled and pressed another kiss to your bare stomach before standing up. As if he had said the most natural thing in the world. He reached for the shampoo bottle and poured some into his hand before beginning to rub it into your hair, his eyes focused entirely  on the way the white froth turned red. 

“ W-what?!” you gaped not even being able to fathom to repeat this more times; one time was hard enough- a sin enough- wasn’t it? 

“ You heard me sweetheart; trust me when I say, the first time is the hardest. After the fifth it’s no different than doing taxes” 

You close your eyes as he tilted your head backwards, gentle fingers washed out the shampoo. Then tilted your head up again as a cold dollop of conditioner was applied. Chuuya began to massage your scalp, then the lengths of your hair, making sure to focus on the tangled strands. He was going to wash every single single reminder of the heinous act off your body. 

Your lips pull up into a wry smile at his comparison. Then you hesitate for a long moment. Salvaging the feeling of him washing your hair. The feeling brought you the tiniest bit of hope that things would turn out okay- a firm reminder that you did not deserve him  “Then… can you make it go away?” you whispered as fresh tears rolled down your cheeks “ To make it all okay?” 

Chuuya sighed and brought you closer to his chest, your tears tugging on his heart in ways he never wanted to experience ever again. Your broken expression and agonized cries felt worse than any stab wound he experienced. “ I’ll take care of everything baby, trust me? Shhh my sweetheart. Come tomorrow, this will feel like a bad dream- a nightmare you won’t give a second thought to. In time my sweets this won't cause you tears anymore; as I said, first time is always the hardest..” 

And as he pressed his lips to yours, you prayed that was the case. 

Though a little voice inside your mind told you Chuuya knew what he was talking about. At least when it came to this. You knew you should be afraid but at that moment you were just thanking the gods. If he was going to help you cover up your sin, then who were you to be concerned over the blood on his hands? 

Author Note: ... No one gets to point out my counting abilities okay? Lets focus on the fic instead, mm? It's a bit dark but definitely in my sweeter category. Originally it was like 3 times as long but hey even I can't have however-long-fics posted in one post. That being said it's only quickly edited because I just don't have the strengths for a longer edit rn. So I'm sorry for all the mistakes i'd normally catch; I'll most likely go back one day and fix it up. Until then, please enjoy this Chuuya "fluff?" Wait, can it even be called that?!

[ravencincaide]

 Not everything is as it seems 

Summary: You had every right to be angry- furious- at Chuuya, and no amount of apologies or tears was going to change that. In fact, you were considering breaking off your engagement that very second, packing your things, and leaving while putting put your relationship on hold- though just sleeping alone after months apart would do the trick. OR the time you find out that communication is both the greatest strength and weakness in your and Chuuya’s relationship. 

Inspired by Sweetober prompt 30: Cuddling + an independent part two for ‘And The Truth is Out’ Warnings: Cursing, drinking, rash decisions, guilt, tears, hurt, comfort, FLUFF and a little bit of suggestive sweetness. 

Enjoy~

You pressed three fingers to the bridge of your nose, eyes shut tightly. You were doing your absolute best to handle the onslaught of emotion which washed over you in steady, suffocating waves; anger, frustration, annoyance, humiliation and guilt, And with them came a pounding headache which all served as a brief preview of the hangover you were certain to experience the following morning.  

“ So Chuuya, tell me once again how you did it for me or, well, what was it you said? ‘With me as the only thing on your mind’?“ you muttered, not opening your eyes or even turning to face him. If anything you dug your fingers even deeper into the bridge of your nose, your nails leaving small crescent markings on your skin. 

You heard him groan; a tortured sound as if repeating what he just said was a punishment in and of itself. A kind of sadistic torture that was on par with Dazai’s methods. “ Please” he sighed, a heavy, tired, drained sound “ Once was enough- don’t you think?” 

You growled in warning, a rather weak sound, but it was sufficient to have him tense beside you on the couch. Undoubtedly he was well aware of how angry, no, furious you were at him. Still, Chuuya hesitated. You could practically hear him chewing his lips to shreds as a pitiful distraction from your words. No, he chose silence over admitting his own fuck-up for a second time. A moment longer, then he reached for the almost finished fancy bottle of wine on the table. 

The one he bought, the one you stole at the beginning of the night.

He shook it slightly, raised an eyebrow at how little was left, and then sighed. Clearly not in the position to school you for the barbaric way you consumed Chateau Lafite. No, Chuuya valued his life more than wine and his relationship with you over the temptation of bringing up your wine consumption. Even if he had been right in his assessment that you needed something significantly stronger than wine to deal with this day and the issues that kept pilling up in your lap like a morbid magician trick. No, Chuuya was a lot of things, but he was not stupid enough to add more fuel to the fire by repeating himself or offending your drink consumption. 

Especially when you had heard him loud and clear the first time and were already walking the fine line between tipsy and wasted, or better yet, balancing the tightrope between someone he could actually reason with and.. Well,..his own definition of hell.

The silence dragged on for only a few moments before your anger finally reached a burning point; “ No, Chuuya, you’re going to explain to me exactly what you mean by the fact that you cancelled the restoration of my great-grandmother's wedding dress, forgot to pick it up. While also ordering another dress that, surprise, surprise, won’t be here in time for the wedding!” Your voice echoed around the apartment. Your hand dropped away from your eyes as you turned to face your fiance- now degraded to boyfriend- who once again wiped at his eyes. 

“ I told you, sweetheart, I’m sorry. I’m sorry you had to find out like this- m’bad I thought the store called ya. But honestly, doll, that dress was ugly, and no way in hell am I letting m’girl walk down the aisle looking like a breaded condom!” Chuuya snapped back, tiredness and tipsy shifting his position from grovelling to something snappier as he pressed the back of his hands against his eyes. 

You gaped at him, a flash of hurt at his words, then a look of horror drew on your face as your drunken mind took his words literally and conjured up an image—a look which somewhat resembled the above-mentioned once-treasured-family-hairloom dress. 

You sighed, then ran a hand through your hair. The disappointment that the dress was gone was still eating away at you. Accompanied by a sense of humiliation at the description of said dress that Chuuya so unkindly used,  More importantly, however, there was anger, something between frustration and rage at the prospect that your so-called soon-to-be would rather hide and exchange dresses behind your back while on a mission away from home instead of coming up and talking to you. No, the anger in the pit of your stomach did not allow you to let him off the hook just yet. 

The devil on your shoulder probed for you to break up with Chuuya then and there- if that was how he acted prior to marriage, only the devil knew the kind of manipulative bastard he could become once the ring (or noose) was tied around your finger. While the angel on your shoulder whispered he did it entirely out of care and love for you; Chuuya knew how much the dress meant to you, but he was also very aware that your already shaky reputation could be affected negatively by said dress. Not to mention how it would affect Chuuya’s image as an executive of Port Mafia if he let his soon-to-be become the butt of the underground society joke. 

Perhaps you did not need to be too harsh on him; a week on the couch and a half-cold shoulder would probably be more than plenty to make sure he never again tried to mess with your clothes, body or choices. Although you’d never admit it, but being separated from him for a few months may have affected your decision in his favour. 

If only slightly.

Admitted defeat, you turned to face him; “ And the tears? Surely you’re not such a pussy to cry about the dress now” you asked, your eyebrow raised as you finally looked at him, twisting and turning on the couch beside you, if not in pain, then in the very least huge discomfort. The sight of it tugged ever so slightly at your angry heart; not enough to cuddle and kiss him but sufficient to ask what the issue was. 

“ ‘Course not, baby, it’s these godamned fucking cheap ass lenses that I can’t get out. Fuck” Chuuya moaned in pain as he pressed the back of his hands against his eyes, somewhere between wanting to claw his eyes out together with the lenses and desperately trying to get the irritated tears to stop streaming down his cheeks. 

You were not even going to ask why he wore ‘cheap ass lenses’. Sometimes you just did not want to know. 

“ Come here”, you sighed and reached beside the couch towards the drawer. There you pulled out a hand sanitiser and squirted some foul-smelling liquid onto your hands before rubbing it in. “ Lay your head in my lap before I change my mind.” 

Chuuya did not need to be told twice. He dropped sideways, his body weight sprawling mostly on the couch with his head landing right in the middle of your lap with heavy, almost painful duns, knocking off his hat in the process. You glanced at it only briefly, feeling the tiniest bit of pity for the way it landed on the floor before you turned your attention back down to Chuuya. He had removed his hands from his bright red eyes, tears still streaming down his cheeks. 

The sight was pitiful, but the still burning rod of anger in you left little pity or warmth in your tone—just frustration at how childish he could be. Like an oversized five-year-old, “ You know you did that to yourself, right?” you muttered as you leaned over him and raised your clean fingers towards his eye. He didn’t even flinch, though his sensitive eye twitched several times as you touched the bottom edge of the lens and slid it downward, pinching it ever so slightly off his eye. It popped out without much difficulty;  “ Your eyes are damned sensitive to everything, and you thought it was a fantastic idea to pop some lenses in?” 

“ Come on, babydoll, have mercy” he pleaded as you purposefully took a long moment to discard the first lens before reaching towards his second eye to repeat the process. Once done, Chuuya let out a groan of relief before he wiped the last of the wetness off his cheeks. His eyes were red, irritated and likely hurt a lot, but they were already better than before you took the lenses out for him. 

Without another word; you motioned for him to sit up. Then you stood up and confidently walked towards the bin, discarding the lens. Instead of returning to the couch, you picked up your forgotten phone and reminisced wine from the couch table. 

“ Sweetheart-”

“ No Chuuya, you get the couch. So just stay there and think about your behaviour!” you grumbled, then yelped as you felt a pair of arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you backwards until your ass once again made contact with the soft leather. A little maneuvering, some gravity manipulation and you were sandwiched between the back of the couch and Chuuya, his hot breath hitting your ear, his arms cuddling you closer to his chest. 

“ Fair enough, Sweetheart, but you never said I had to sleep alone”, he purred, a smirk evident in his words as he began pressing kisses all over your skin. If apologies and explanations couldn’t pacify your anger, then maybe this will…  

Author note:  This fic was inspired by the following dress. So if I had to see it, so do you. No, but honestly, re-reading the comments on the independent part one of the fic made me want to write something that wasn’t cheating but also equally complicated. IDK if I succeeded but ehh I had fun. Hope you did too

Until next time 

Raven 

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

[ravencincaide]

And the truth is out 

Summary: A shitty day at work seems like the end of the world until fate dropped something even more horrendous into your lap. OR the time you saw Chuuya cry, 

Inspired by and dedicated to my friend: @chuuyaswifeandhoe Thank you sweetheart for letting me steal your idea and turn it into something less fluffy, and more bitter sweet <3. Hope you enjoy whatever my tipsy mind came up with in an hour. 

PS: A Fenodyree is a supernatural creature often fairy or fae, often hairy and messy in appearance but with great strengths.

Warnings: Cursing, drinking,  light angst rash decisions, guilt and tears,

Enjoy~ ______________________________________________________________

There was nothing like the relief you felt as you dragged your tired body through the front door; pulling one heavy leg in front of the other one. You tugged your bag somewhere behind you, dragging the large thing over the dirty ground. Your keys were dangling from a single finger, just long enough for you to get through the door and close it behind you, before they fell to the floor. You stared at them for a second, sighed, then continued with your task of coming home; you shrugged your coat off your shoulders before grasping it in one hand. Reaching a heavy arm up you attempted to hang it on its usual hook, but missed, making it drop to the floor in a messy pile.

Fuck it, let it be, you decided grimly and threw your bag on top of the coat as if that had been your intention from the very beginning. Then you kicked your shoes off, one landing on top of your coat sleeve while the other hit the shoe stand and bounced off it landing somewhere in the middle of the hallway. 

Screw it too, you would be damned if you were going to go and deal with all that now. 

Your feet padded against the wooden floors of your two storied mansion full of latest designs treds and expensive decorations. None of which you cared for at that very moment. Not having the energy to walk yourself upstairs to the bedroom, you moved towards the couch in the living room, grabbing one of Chuuya’s wines on your way. You flopped down inelegantly onto it and sat cross-legged as you fought with the cork, cursing the damned thing until it finally gave away. Then you tossed it somewhere in the general direction of the trashcan before you brought the bottle to your lips. A sweet red wine with just a hint of tartness filled your senses, a gentle comfort which reminded you of your fiance. Just as sweet as he was, and just as bitter as the distance between you. 

How long was it since he left for a job in Hokkaido? A month? four months? At this point you had already lost count- each day feeling as bleak and fleeting at the previous one. Each moment was as sad as the one before. A mundane routine of work, home, chores and sleep. 

Well not anymore. 

The notion made you bring the bottle back to your lips and take another deep clunk. From tomorrow- no from that very evening your routines had changed.  And you did not know how you were going to handle that. Half a bottle later you set it back onto the couch table and dropped more comfortably onto the familiar leather. Your eyes stared up into the ceiling, your body craved sleep while your mind refused to give you such mercy. 

A tiny voice in your head purred how you got exactly what you deserved; this was what happened to someone as incompetent as yourself pretending to play at the grown-ups table. While another voice- much quieter one- tried to reassure you that everyone made mistakes now and again. Even if your mistakes were larger than most peoples and were definitely going to follow you until the end of your days. Competent adult, your ass, you mused to yourself. Finally closing your eyes as you felt the familiar sting behind the eyelids. 

How much more humiliating could this get? 

You didn’t know how long you laid there, sprawled out on the couch, bringing the bottle of strong wine to your lips ever so often in a feeble attempt to drown all the unpleasant emotion. God why did this have to be you? 

You flinched as you heard the lock of the front door open and turned away from it. It was just your luck that Chuuya would return the second you fell to your absolute worst. That he’d make it home not one of the days when everything was in order; clean, washed, dinner ready and you looked like a candy. No, he had to return the one night when you could very well be mistaken for a Fenodyree. You dropped your arm over your eyes and silently prayed that if you stayed still and quiet, then Chuuya would be too tired to notice your presence in the living room and just stumble upstairs to the bed. 

By morning, you’d sober up, shower and have a pleasant, civilized conversation along with a warm welcome home. A picture perfect greeting, and all of that. As long as it was tomorrow. 

“ Sweetheart, I know you’re awake” you heard Chuuya’s voice followed by the gentle shuffling of feet as he slowly approached the couch you were laying on. You feigned sleep, still holding into the hope that he would not notice your condition. Prayed that he’d satisfy himself by pressing a kiss to your forehead, a gentle touch of your hair, before leaving the difficult subjects until the following morning. You hoped in vain. 

“ I’m sorry sweetheart” Chuuya mumbled as he took a seat at the edge of the couch, close enough so you could feel his weight and warmth but far enough that he wouldn’t touch you. “ I did not intend for you to find out this way” his hand was inches away from your own. It looked like he wanted to take it but stopped himself. As if he didn’t have the right to do that anymore.  

A frown graced your lips and you dropped your arm away from your eyes and stared into his mournful blue ones. You watched him swallow heavily, his fist clutched in his lap; “ I’m so fucking sorry” he cursed a second time as if it would convey his regret. 

“ Why are you apologizing?” you asked, feeling your cheeks flush red. But if it was embarrassment, shame or alcohol you couldn’t quite tell. “ If anything I should be the one to be sorry; it was my fault it happened.” 

“ Don’t you dare take the blame!” Chuuya’s voice went up an octave, his fist shaking in his lap from how hard he was squeezing it. “ Don’t you fucking dare blame yourself. It was  wholeheartedly my fault- I put myself in that situation– and it had nothing, NOTHING; to do with you!” 

You frowned more and moved to sit up, that way you could see him more clearly. The room was spinning; your heart pounded in your chest. A sense of dread- no realization washed over you and you just had to make sure you were talking about the same thing. “ I got into a fight at work and got fired on the spot, what were you apologizing for?” you asked, a hint of alarm in your voice. 

“ I.. ehhh” Chuuya cut himself off rather lamely before he ran his hand over his face; between the black leather of his glove and the shade of his top hat there was little of his expression that you could see. But even from this distance you could tell it was riddled with guilt and regret. “ I think this calls for something stronger than wine Y/N” his voice sounded heavy in the dull silence. 

“ Chuuya, what did you do?” You whispered your eyes staring at the normally cocky man who looked so tortured, so uncharacteristically small. “ What the hell did you do?!” 

You watched in horror as tears, actual tears, rolled down his cheeks. He didn’t face you, he had no right to anymore. Still you deserved an explanation, no matter how painful t was for him to admit to you what he did; “ I love you sweetheart and as I did it you and only you were on my mind.” 

And as he quietly admitted his sins all you could do was gape in pain and horror. 

[ravencincaide]

When the dead talk

Summary:  Sometimes you wonder whether Dazai seeks you out because of your ability or if there is an obsessive element to your encounters. Either way as long as he keeps his part of the deal, you’ll make the dead talk for him. OR the real reason Dazai is always dirt poor. 

Pairing: Necromancer!reader x  Dazai

Inspired by Sweetober prompt 19: Teeth Brushing 

Warnings: This is a somewhat morbid and contains: Necromancy, toxic-unhealthy relationship, hint at suicide (lets face it, it’s BSD and Dazai!), hint at Odasaku, cursing,  

Polish polish polish bones, grimy bones, dirty bones 

Polish polish human bones, my fair lady

You ran the slim blush over each and every tooth; first the top ones. You paid  extra attention to the canines. Then down the jawline and up to the second row of teeth. There you scrubbed a little harder to brush away the dirt that got in between the crevasse. You changed brushes several times; first the normal toothbrush, then onto a different thin one and then into an even thinner one. Each one able to get more easily into the crooks and gaps. 

Once satisfied you went back to brushing the jawline, focused on removing any of the dirt gathered there before you  flipped the skull over. You did a similar meticulous job of cleaning the underside. Being thorough to remove soil and all the other nastiness from the precious bone. Under your breath, you were humming the tune of “London bridge is falling down”, though you replaced the words of the familiar nursery rhyme with more bone related appealing lyrics. That was until you heard the metal door far above open, while its hinges squealed loudly in protest. The sound made you lose yourself in the made-up lyrics; a groan of annoyance making it past your lips. 

“ Was that really necessary?” you whined as the worn out dress shoes made an irregular tip-tapping sound against the concrete floors. 

“ Still working donna?” was the reply you got instead. The voice was neither warm nor icy, something lukewarm. It grew closer, the steps tipp tapping away until they came up right behind you. A bony bandage-clad hand placed a paper bag with a take away container and some other items beside you. The hand lingered there for a moment longer, waiting until you fully acknowledged the generous gift he brought you. When you didn’t, the hand snapped upwards, grabbed your face and twisted it to the side. 

Face to face with the young devil. 

 “ I told you to be done by the time I arrived.” Dazai’s expression was displeased, raw chewed lips turned downwards into a frown. The hand on your chin tightened; no doubt tomorrow you would wake up with finger-shaped bruises on your skin. 

“ You pay peanuts, you get monkeys” you replied back, meeting his hollow gaze with your unafraid one. Still your hands slowly lowered the skull you worked on onto the table, the gentle clang of bone against metal seemed to snap him back into reality. He gave you another warning look before he shoved your face away from himself.  

You danced away; twirled to the opposite side of the otherwise tiny room and the metal sink placed there. Hands reached for the soap, scrubbed at the dirt and pieces of flesh before running your digits under ice cold water. You were not about to dig into much needed dinner with dirty hands- even you had standards.You held them there until you lost feeling; skin red- almost blue from the cold. Then you turned the water off with your elbow, while you wiped your hands onto a nearby paper towel, Then back you went towards Dazai and the paper bag he had gotten for you. 

“ Awwe Rice on Tea again?” your smile dropped as you opened the half-cold container. “ C’mon really? Even prisoners get more variety than this!” 

Dazai chuckled at your reply, a humorless sound at your choice of words, while his eyes watched your every move with hawk like dedication. Dazai tried to look unbothered, tried to hide the itch in his hand and the frustration which brewed in the pit of his stomach.  “This is plenty in return for your services” he replied stiffly. 

You dug your chopsticks in, twirling the half soggy rice around the plastic bowl. Then brought a grain to your lips. Although tasty the food left you to craving a new blend; “ I bet Port Mafia’d give more” 

“ You’re not cut out for Port Mafia” Dazai growled, his one uncovered eye narrowed. Just daring you to continue this conversation. You knew he wouldn’t kill you- but that did not mean starvation and torture was off the table. “ You're still too weak; its safer here” 

I don’t share.

That was what he was actually saying. The underlying threat right there; care twisted into sadism with you balanced on a thin beam between. One wrong step and begging for mercy would be the least of your worries. Setting the food back down, your eyes shifted onto the rest of the bones beside the human skull you had spent the last few hours cleaning. Your fingers reached out towards the femur and you picked it up with interest “ Can I keep these?” 

“ No.” he answered in a heartbeat. “ Not these ones” 

You frowned and turned to face him. A pout on your lips “ Oh come on, pretty please. I already do so much for you and you get me so little in return” you moved closer, practically in his face.

“ I SAID no!” You tightened your grip on the bone, the brittle thing beginning to crack in your grasp. The sound made Dazai snapp, his hand moved faster than your mind could register. But you knew what he’d do; whenever he got emotional he was so much easier for you to read. 

“ Ahh ahh ahh marvelous, are you gonna shoot me? Let this ugly flesh rot away until my sceletton can join the others, to be feasted on by vermints and rats, or tossed outside as vulture food. Please hurry up, you’re getting me all so excited” you clasped your hands and held them cutely to the right side of your face, tilting your head to the side and giving him long flaps of eyelashes.  The sight might have looked cute- endearing even were it not for the bone covered in dirt and half rotten flesh clasped in between your hands. 

You were flirting with death; literary. 

“ Do that again and I’ll shoot you to pieces, inch by inch” Dazai hissed in warning, nudging the gun closer to your temple. You grinned in response, yet your grin dropped the second he whacked you with the weapon. 

“ Holy fucking shit- ouch!” you yelped as you took a step back, your back hitting the metal table, adding insult to injury. Your head clasped in your hands; part in actual pain and part in a feeble attempt to guilt a softer responsible- a gentle reaction out of him. 

Seeing right through your act, Dazai took a step closer, almost suffocating you with his murderous aura.  The look in his eyes told you, you were going to regret pushing and toying with him. “ How long until you’re done?” Dazai barked, not a sign of the usual softness he’d use whenever he wanted something out of you. 

You were unbothered by it; neither his loudness nor the gun in his hand scared you any longer. You could see that the rage was there to hide the more vulnerable emotion; longing, fear and desire. Human emotion not reserved for the demon protege. 

“ Hmmm about an hour” you answered without even flinching as he slammed his gun against the metal table behind you, right beside the remains, careful of them, less careful of your hand.

“ An hour? I told you to get this finished before I come!” 

“ You pay peanuts, you get monkeys” you repeated a second time, softer this time. You watched the infuriated emotion pass over his face, then saw it twist into something almost gentle. A caring seductive look that did not suit this terrible man. 

“ You disappoint me Bella,” his voice a silky purr, a heart-wrenching sigh; his body in your space again. Arms on either side of you, head bowed to rest on your shoulder. “ I thought you weren’t going to do that” he turned his head to the side, hot breath fanning your neck. 

You barely resisted a shiver, then felt your knees grow weak as his lips landed on your skin, right above your pulse. You could feel his smile as he pressed more open mouth kisses. Making your mind a jumbled mess, your body an involuntary respondent to his advances. 

God this man was a demon; a monster who played you like a flute. 

You gasped, your head thrown back as his teeth nipped at your skin. Your knees shook, growing weaker with every touch; “ ahh h-he is w-waiting in the other room.”

At your words Dazai let out a low hum, finally stopping his assault on your skin. When he pulled back, he wore a smile. The kind of sweet hopeful look that was not reserved for you. 

Never you. 

You felt his finger tap your nose, bringing your mind back to reality. “ Make sure you keep it up for longer this time, and you’ll be well rewarded” Dazai flashed you a smirk and then stepped away from you. There was a slight skip in his step, a humm that wasn’t there before as he moved towards the door on the opposite side of the room; a bottle of whiskey he swiped from the paperbag in one hand and two glasses in another.  

You heard the door open; Dazai’s sing-song voice calling out “Odasaku~” and a less pleased reply before the door slammed shut. Keeping you out locked out of their conversation, yet just close enough that your ability wouldn’t fade. Not like you would be going anywhere; not when his kisses had turned your body to jelly. 

A dirty yet very effective trick. 

But it was okay; as long as Dazai kept his part of the deal, you did not mind making the dead sing for him. 

Author note: An anon asked if i'd be posting more Dazai fics. And my answer is basically this. Another one with unclear dynamic between reader and Dazai but still I hope you enjoyed,

[ravencincaide]

A Hit Beyond Rock Bottom 

Summary:  You may not be able to bond with your children but you were still going to be a good mother, a wonderful mother. You would not abandon them and you’d make sure they didn’t unnecessarily suffer in this cruel cruel world. If only Dazai and Chuuya would let you. 

Pairing: Dazai x Chuuya xfem! Reader (skk x fem!reader) 

Author note: An independent part two for Happy unhappy home!Check that fic out if you’d like more angst, skkx reader new parents and see more of what happened right before this scene! 

Warning: Cursing, depression/ postpartum depression, New parents/exhausted parents =bad choices/reactions, Angst, 

Enjoy~

The water was warm. 

Yet against your freezing body it felt almost burning. Boiling. Scalded your skin on the feel- yet left the flesh normal coloured, barely tinted pink in comparison to its usual pale shade. As you stare at your hand, you understood that it couldn’t be as hot as it felt. And yet each shift- each rocking back and forth motion seemed to hurt you. The manifestation of imaginary pain. A pain you just wanted to stop as much as the responsibilities and the lonely suffocation feeling. And yet the more you thought of leaving the safety of the bathroom- of the bathtub, the more it filled you with dread. It made the tears stream harsher down your cheeks. Thankfully your crying was muffled by the sound of the running water. 

-art

You held the twins closer to your chest, cradled them. Rocked them back and forth, back and forth in the water. Here, in this tub, in this warm liquid they’d be safe and comfortable, They were protected, sheltered in their mothers embrace. Fed and clean. Not loved- not yet at least but tolerated and guarded. You were going to shelter them- from the darkness, from the yelling downstairs, from the world that only consisted of pain. You would save them from all this suffering. 

-heart

They were not loved; but at least not abandoned. They were cared for and their every need met. Even if you did not bond with them- you wouldn’t forsaken them. They were yours; your two precious ginger balls of anything-but-joy. Yours- they came out of you and you had put so much into their care and well being at expense of your own. They were the physical token- the manifestation of your deep love for your partners. More accurately- for your once partners; Dazai and Chuuya. The thought of their names broke something in you. Reminded you of your earlier argument; 

“– we think you might have postpartum depression”  

 The way they looked at you–the iciness in their eyes- as if you were a murderer. No, as if you were worse than a criminal. All because there was something so inherently wrong with you that you couldn’t love them; your twins. A sob tore through your chest, then another as the twins let out a sleepy coo’s. As if sensing your distress amidst their slumber. You brought them even closer to your chest. Then bit your lips hard- so hard you tasted blood- to hold back the wail which threatened to spill into the open. No.. Quiet. You had to be quiet. The twins were snoozing. A good mother would let them sleep. Rest peacefully. A good mother would make sure her babies were fed and happy and sleeping in her embrace the way they were supposed to. The way things were always supposed to be. Happy, cared for and safe. 

You couldn’t love them but you could be a good mother for them. You were going to do everything right for them. You would make sure they were safe and peaceful. You would make sure they did not experience the painful reality that was this world; protect them from the agony that existed all around you. The endless torture- the human existence. 

“ SWEETHEART!” 

The sound of the smashed bathroom door snapped you out of your trail of thoughts. It made you aware of water overflowing out of the bathtub and then the paddling of feet right through the mess. 

“ No, don’t take them from me. They’re mine, MINE, STOP!” you screamed as you felt hands grasp at you. You felt them grab at your arms, trying to pry them away from your twins. Two male voices hollered- the sound rang painfully in your ears. They were more desperate now, trying to take your twins out of your hold “ They’re mine! Don’t take them from me!” you screamed just as the babies were torn out of your grasp, away from your chest. 

You felt panic set in, and rushed to stand up in the tub, desperately trying to follow Chuuya out of the bathroom. You felt lightheaded, dizzy and yet forced your body out of the tub. You stumbled, your ankle bruised as your feet made painful contact with the bathroom floor. You ignored it trying to run and yet--- You were blocked by Dazai’s chest; his hands on your shoulders; they pressed down painfully onto your skin. He was holding you back from going after Chuuya, from going after the twins. 

You realized you were screaming- making inhuman wails of anguish. You were trying to escape his hold, thrashed and screamed in the inhuman fear of not seeing or hearing your babies. The terror of never seeing them again. 

“ -donna” you managed to shake one hand off your shoulder and did another desperate attempt to leave the bathroom. But Dazai held you back; he pushed you further and further away from the door and towards the bathtub. His now free hand grasped at your chin, trying to get you to look up and face him. To look at him. You thought he was saying something- could see his lips moving but all you could hear was the rushing water around you and your own desperate cry

“ THEY’RE MINE, I’m their mother, you can’t; YOU CAN’--” 

Slap

The force of the slap threw you to the ground; your knees made contact with the bathroom floor and the several inches of cold standing water there. The coldness of it sippied into your body, chilled you down to your soul. But not as much as the sudden silence in the bathroom. You didn’t realize what happened. Stumped by the fact that your normally controlled lover would dare raise his hand against you. To hurt you, to humiliate you. You. If not his lover then at the very least the mother of the twins- the children. Your children. 

You said nothing, did not even look at him as Dazai knelt down to your height a few paces away. He wasn’t touching you anymore. Did not even reach out to check on you, to comfort you. Just stared at you as if you were no different from anyone else in his life; no different from any of his so-called students. 

“ I have never had a reason to hit you. You’ve always been a smart girl- don’t give me another reason to do it, again. If you’re sick- get help.” You felt a shiver- a fear induced shudder settled in your body as Dazai stared you down. The distance between you was so painfully obvious. The clear indifference on his part hurt you more than the thumbing of your cheek and the pain in your knees. 

Why couldn’t he see that you were doing your best? That you just wanted to be a good mother, and a good partner. That you just wanted to be appreciated for everything you did. That you just wanted to be his and Chuuya’s wife. 

“ They’re fine!” Chuuya’s voice echoed from outside the bathroom. “ Heard that Mackrel?! The twins are fucking fine- thank fuck for that” 

You heard Dazai breath out a sigh- an frustrated hissing noise. His eyes searched you for a moment longer, searched your gaze. But you didn’t meet his eyes. Did not even look at him as the tears streamed down your cheeks.

In ice cold fashion Dazai stood back up. He fixed you with one final pointed look. A sharp glance filled with detest and anger. Like you were his enemy. Then he brushed past you and out towards the wailing twins and Chuuya outside. He did not care about anything else besides them. No, he left you all alone on your knees amidst the still gushing water. Left you all alone to do whatever you wanted, seemingly completely indifferent to whatever happened to you. 

More tears rushed down your cheeks, your hands balled into fists. Your cheek stung, your throat hurt. Yet not as much as the sound of your twins wailing and the words of sweetness and comfort spewing out from Dazai and Chuuya’s mouths. Words of praise and affirmation they so easily uttered towards the babies, yet not towards you. 

The kind of words that just told you, you had just lost it all.  Your family, your lovers and most probably, most frighteningly; your twins. 

Authors note:... Happy ending and resolving it all? Nope not this one either. Better luck next time?

This fic exists thanks to all the people who wished to see how this series of fics would end. Thank you so much for your continued support and motivation. I know this one does not entirely fit the style but trust me, I have a plan with it (or well more of an idea really)

Click here for: Part 1 and part 2; or Check out Raven's masterlist. For next part see: The word that made the difference

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

[ravencincaide]

The word that made the difference 

Summary:  You knew you had to get professional help even if you did not want to, Dazai’s words and actions made it absolutely clear to you he wouldn’t tolerate anything else, and Chuuya seemed to silently agree with him. Still the answer you got was not for the question you asked; but that one word was enough to make you reevaluate everything. 

Pairing: Dazai x Chuuya xfem! Reader (skk x fem!reader) 

Author note: An independent continuation of Desperate times series, and next part of  Happy unhappy home! Check that series out if you’d like more angst, skkx reader, new parents, all that and see more of what happened right before this scene! 

Warning: Cursing, depression/postpartum depression, New parents/exhausted parents =bad choices/reactions, Angst,  

Enjoy~

Pregnant

The word felt unfamiliar- surreal- like a misdiagnosis wrapped in excuses, wrapped in women’s issues and wrapped in reasons to get you out of the office. Yet it was as if that singular word explained everything you had experienced lately and nothing at all. Maybe it explained the hopelessness, the darkness, the unbearably tense existence that has become your home; but it could not explain the way you felt about the twins. The inability to connect with them. Or the inability to feel any warmths from Dazai and Chuuya. Perhaps, at this point, you were so ruined and wrong that you could not connect with anyone. Not the twins, not Dazai and not Chuuya. 

We think you have postpartum depression

A part of you wanted to stand up, run out of the medical office and into the waiting room right outside where the four of them were waiting. To rub it into the two mafioso's faces that they were wrong. Ha the geniuses were not genius enough to sidestep medical school, and it wasn’t as easy as to use some template they took from god-knows-where and assed you by it instead of talking with you, asking you, helping you. They were wrong- you were right. You won. 

But what was your prize? 

“ I have never had a reason to hit you. You’ve always been a smart girl- don’t give me another reason to do it. Again. If you’re sick- get help.” 

Dazai’s words from a day ago rang in your ears. His tone, the iciness in his gaze as he brought you down to the knees in cold standing water with a single slap repeated itself in your mind. Like a never-ending loop it played before your eyes. Your mind, the twisted bastard, hadn't left the image unchanged, but rather conjured up the way it must have looked from all angles; from the side, from above and even from below. Driving in the humiliation further. Like some dramatic exaggerated scene out of a soap opera, a middle aged housewives tv-series, and the act was meant to be a huge burden for the main stars in season one but then it gets solved three episodes later. 

Forgiven and forgotten.

But this wasn’t a soap opera, this wasn’t some lame drama created to satisfy lonely women as they waited for their loving husbands to come home from golf. This was reality. Your reality- your life. And soon, not only your own. That one realization grounded; it was enough to escape the clutches of shock and confusion and placed you back inside the small, simple medical office and the woman opposite you.  

“ Well yeah, it’s no wonder you’ve been feeling like shit the last few weeks. I’d say congratulations but really— “ 

Yosano’s voice faded into the background again; your mind tiffany twisted, drowned out her words as more flashbacks pulled you under the surface of reality. Simple things, comparisons like the joy last pregnancy brought and the dread this one carried. How caring, sweet and gentle it started but how difficult the previous one ended; and how difficult this one started while the thought of it getting worse filled you with dread. 

Blood rushed to your ears; your pounding heart overshadowed all sounds, dulled the quiet medical office into an obnoxiously loud space. Your vision blurred, tunneled and span. Inadvertently you pressed the fingers of your shaking hand to your eyes and rubbed them, then shook your head to try and clear the dark dots which played in your sight. 

You wondered how and why it happened. You couldn’t fathom the idea that you were, yet again, carrying a life inside you. No, it was absurd. Surely Yosano was mistaken, it hadn’t even gone that long since the twins were born and– 

All at once the reality came crashing back down again. You were back on the hard chair, back opposite Yosano and suddenly very aware of every inch of the office. And the continuation of her displeased rant; the way her tone grew louder, annoyance sipped into every syllable. The barely held back curses which evidently played on the tip of her tongue. Yet she tried to look casual, head rested in the palm of her hand, body language open and turned towards you. But the anger was undeniable in the way her second hand gripped the pen, almost snapped it in half and poured the goey black onto a pile of papers- the results that signaled your doom. “ I told the damned bastards to–” 

“ – But I thought you couldn’t get pregnant at least until 18 months have passed after birth” you interrupted her, your voice a fraction away from hysterical. You looked at Yosano expectedly, begging her for the confirmation that this was some weird biological fluke. A mistake that no one of you could have predicted.

You jumped as she slammed her fist against the wooden desk. 

“ Where the hell did you hear that bullshit from?” Yosano took a deep breath, slipped back into her composed doctor mask and did you the courtesy to reply to your questions calmly and professionally “It’s not recommended to get pregnant earlier than 18 months after delivery, to give the body time to heal. However, biologically speaking, there’s nothing preventing you from it once you’ve gotten your period. Some can get pregnant as early as four weeks after.” 

You bit your lips to hold back a curse, and hung your head at your own stupidity. “ But one time..” you mumbled absentmindedly as memories of an unromantic quickie on the same night the pair returned home from their months long mission ran through your mind. A disappointing act that drove a rift in your relationship. That became a silent fight you never openly addressed; just picked up your things and moved into the shoe-sized spare bedroom. Something which neither part of double black seemed to mind. 

If anything you swore your absence in the bedroom brought them relief. 

To your surprise, Yosano rested a comforting hand on your shoulder. “ Sometimes one time is plenty. Now then to break the news-” She moved away from you and began stomping towards the door which separated her office from the rest of the medical bay. And ultimately, the space where your so-called lovers waited with the twins. 

“ No wait!” you cried. In an instant up on your feet, both hands wrapped around Yosano’s arm. Although she was undoubtedly stronger, the action was shocking enough to halt her movements. She turned to face you, surprise edged into her features. But you couldn’t meet her eyes. No, you did not want her to see that the seemingly perfect relationship had been reduced to shambles. A broken thing which had become filled with responsibilities and fear. The thought made your cheeks redden in shame; never ever in your life would you have thought you’d be fearful of your lover's reaction to seemingly joyful news. And even more shamefully, feel the need to make excuses for it in public. 

“ Tell me honestly Y/N” Yosano’s voice was low, the accusation unmistakable. 

“ It’s Dazai’s” You answered in a heartbeat, met her gaze full on with the most earnestness you had ever displayed in your life. “ Undoubtedly his.” 

You dropped your hand from her arm and brought it back to your side, wrapped it protectively around your stomach. You forced your lips up into a smile, hoped it looked innocent yet nervous. Then mellowed out the look in your eyes to the point the blush looked more shy than guilty. “ W-well, you know, Dazai’s been wanting a child of his own since the twins and I.. just want to break the news to him in a special way.” The lie rolled smoothly off your tongue and Yosano seemed to buy it. 

She laughed at you, teased you for the still corny behavior while lightly reminded you this wasn’t your first kid as she sat back down and began going over essential medical information with you. Information you took in with a smile, nodded in appropriate places without really listening. But who could have blamed you? 

Your mind was for once on your side as it formed second by second a feasible plan for you. Not easy, but manageable. Drunk on thought that you, YOU, the innocent little weak dove had gotten away with such a blatant lie gave you the courage you needed to indulge in those thoughts. The thoughts you hadn’t even dared to think of before. Now they felt so close and so real. 

Although, admittedly, the lie you uttered wasn’t a complete lie. Indeed, you intended to make sure he would find out this news in the most unforgettable way possible. 

You just never said the surprise was going to be good… 

Author note: The first part of this chapter is dedicated to each and every person who thought A Hit Beyond Rock Bottom was not heavy /angsty enough and Dazai’s actions weren’t too bad.

The second part is for us who can see that the reader is strong and it's time to see that strengths manifest itself into something useful. Well hope you enjoyed this and until next time~

Click here for: Part 1 , part 2 and part 3 or Check out Raven's masterlist.

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

[ravencincaide]

Precious flowers get picked first

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

Pairing: Ability user fem!reader x Boss Chuuya!

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

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

Enjoy~

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

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

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

Fucking morons. 

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

“..A girl” 

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

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

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

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

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

The final warning. 

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

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

Then he groaned audibly. 

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

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

Your pictures.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[ravencincaide]

You have a collect call from–

Summary:  Just because you’re still single doesn't mean you were waiting for him to come crawling back to you.You were moving on at your own pace- or so you told yourself. OR the time you made Dazai sweat a little.

Pairing: Fem reader x Osamu Dazai

Inspired by sweetober prompt 28: Calling  

Warnings: Cursing, lying, a little toxic, a little manipulative. It's BSD come on.

You have a collect call from Dazai an inmate at Mersault correctional facility. If you wish to accept the charges and proceed with the call, press 1. Otherwise–You hung up before the automated voice could finish the standard message and placed the stationary phone slowly back into its place atop the heavy, dark wooden desk inside your office. Your hand lingered atop the device for a few moments- just ready to rip it up to your ear if the bastard tried to get ahold of you again with a typical, back to back, call. 

Surprisingly, none came.  

A deep sigh escaped your lips as you pulled your hand back to your body, and dropped it heavily into your lap. Then you leaned further against the fine leathery back of your office chair. A somewhat comforting motion that put some distance between you and the thing that dared disturb your peace. As if by habit your eyes shifted to the clock which ticked away time at the opposite side of the desk. Right beside a face-down picture frame. The cursed thing showed a few minutes shy of midnight. Too early to go home in a feeble attempt to get some rest before the start of another working day; too late to go to the local bar for something stronger than a cider. 

A pity. 

Then again you were going to participate in a workshop the following day, and reeking alcohol while sitting next to the highest bosses of the organization seemed like an amateur move. As much as you wanted to take a drink; sober was your only option. 

It was for the best, you persuaded yourself for the uptenth time as you rested your head on the palm of your hand. You did not want to give Dazai the satisfaction of knowing he still had such a profound effect on you. Did not want to make him believe that just hearing his pre-recorded voice was enough to unsettle you - to make you a whirlwind of complicated emotion that only the sip of booze could dull. 

He was an ex; a part of your past. An unsatisfying, unconcluded but still a part of the past. As if on cue the phone rang again. You declined it after a second.Yet  you barely managed to pull it from your ear before the next call came. You declined that one, but then the next one rang and then the next:

You have a– 

You have a collect call– 

You have a collect call from Hello Belladonna~

With each call, each automated tone or a breath of his voice you could feel your emotions growing more messy, more intertwined. Then spiraling into a ball of burning humiliated rage. How fucking hard was it for him to take a ‘no’ for an answer? Did you seriously need to spell it out for him. Another call, another purr of his smooth voice and you finally pressed 1. A low beeping echoed in the phone then a rustling sound as your call was redirected and connected to Mersault. 

“ What the fuck do you want?!” you snapped in half a yell the second you heard his intake of breath on the other side. 

“ Aww my belladonna is angry at me, what a sad situation” Dazai’s voice sounded genuinely sad; a puppy dog whine that didn’t let you get a word in. “ Each phone call is so expensive and my Donna does not even want to pick them up. Imagine the hassle of calling your house, your phone and your cell only to find out you’re still in the office. Ahh my bella you're so cruel, I try so hard and I’m greeted with such a hateful tone. Truly– “ 

“ Cut the act Dazai” you finally gathered enough frustration to not be swept up in his skillfully crafted web of lies. Still even you could tell that your tone was not as sharp as it was before- the anger a fraction of what it was from the first dial earlier that night. 

“ My my there’s no need to be rude belladonna  I was just being polite; not easy being single in your line of work” the way he addressed you now was the more familiar tone, the playful casual smile that made it all too obvious that he thought he had you where he wanted you to. That he was certain in your infatuation with him which would have kept you waiting for his return like an obedient puppy. Clearly he didn’t expect for his puppy to grow claws. 

“ What makes you think I’m single?” you raised an eyebrow, a hint of genuine surprise sipping into your tone of voice. 

Your question made Dazai laugh; “ Come now, no one would spend a night in their office if they had a lover to come home to. Stop acting coy and just come back to me.” He sounded almost bored with his statement. Like it was the most obvious thing in the world, and yet you could hear the tiniest hint of uncertainty.  Combined with the fact that he was calling you; the questions he asked and words he spoke instead of simply turning up on your doorstep told you he wasn’t as certain in his statements as he made himself out to be. Wasn’t as confident that nothing changed in his absence as tried to make out. Perhaps he was even letting you see this thing- this weakness in exchange for an honest conversation- or maybe he was too tired and desperate to hide all his sides from you in a carefully crafted mask that was Dazai. Too bad you were not in the mood for his games. 

“ Don’t bother coming to my place, Osamu. It’s not your home anymore” you answered before hanging up the phone. Then you turned it off, not giving him the satisfaction to play with you. Nor the closure- or the ability to nag and manipulate your mind from an unknown distance away. If he wanted to talk to you, to persuade or trick you, he would have to do so in person. To get his scrawny little ass out of Mersault - which you both knew he was more than capable of achieving- and then grace you with his presence. 

Now all that was left was to wait; either you had just ruined any chances of rekindling your half-a-year-on-hold relationship with Dazai, or you had just intrigued and hurt him enough to make him crave you all the more, like the forbidden fruit dangling just out of reach of his lips. 

And only time would tell which one.  

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

[ravencincaide]

Over a cigarette 

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

Pairing: Subordinate reader x Boss Chuuya 

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

Warnings: Cursing, Smoking cigarettes and mention of alcohol,

“ The hell you want?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“ Were you seen?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[ravencincaide]

Over a gunshot 

Summary:  When you were called into your bosses office you expected a lot of things; a mission, a punishment, maybe even death. What you did not expect was to be taught a lesson. Even less so to have to show you were able and willing to be more than just a simple dealer.. 

Pairing: Subordinate fem!Reader x Boss Chuuya 

Author note: This is an independent part two of Over a Cigarette

Warnings: Cursing, guns, violence, murder and blood, mention of being a drug dealer, 

8:58

You rocked on your feet outside the office door. Your hands sweaty, clampy, as you grasped the door knob in between shaky fingers. A deep breath, one, two. You closed your eyes for a second, sent prayers to anyone who would dare listen and hoped someone would answer them. A little luck and a ton of mercy was what you were asking for. All in all, not an all that big request- although as you stood outside your boss's boss, outside the leader of the entire Port Mafia office, you knew mercy would equate to a miracle. 

One last deep breath before you pressed down on the handle and pushed the heavy office door opened. It gave away with a squeal. 

8:59

You were hit with the pungent scent of blood. 

You froze in the doorway, breath hitched in your throat. Your eyes locked at the boss seated at the heavy desk. Curtains drawn shut behind him, making the bright red glow that surrounded him that much more prominent. 

Ominous. 

Murderous. 

Like staring the devil in the face. A handsomely twisted face outline with the deadly red hue. The hue which made the blue of his eyes stand out all the more. His lips parted into a twisted grin at the sight of you. One gloved hand raised, while the second tapped the fountain pen against a stack of papers- undoubtedly reports. It was a custom one, parker if you weren’t mistaken and you swore you could see a hint of golden engraving on its body. Chuuya finished writing the sentence before he set the pen back into its stand beside the black digital clock. Even the innocent red letters were unsettling. They added to the morbidity of the situation. 

“ I-is it a bad time?” you stammered out as another whiff of blood reached your senses. You felt your stomach drop in fear, felt how your hand on the doorknob  shook. You kept your eyes firmly on the Mafia boss, on his calm composure and the menaced red. You were afraid. No, you were more than afraid- petrified. You did not dare look around to see where that metallic scent came from. 

“ You’re on time, get in here and close the door behin’ you” Chuuya stated as his hand readjusted the position of the fountain pen in its holder. Your eyes followed the gloved hands moment. 

You swallowed thickly. Your eyes landed back on the clock. Saw the seconds tick away painfully slowly until the digits changed. A screech came from the device; it broke you out of your trance. This ungodly sound dedicated to your arrival- a confirmation that you followed his order to the minute. 

You stepped inside Chuuya’s office and closed the door behind you to the sound of the blaring alarm. Your eyes never once left the clock. This Friday morning would forever be engraved in your memory. The once in your lifetime when being  on time undoubtedly saved your life; but also meant you were right on time to see your future change.

9:00 

The sound of a pained groan drew your attention away from the clock and your eyes flickered in that direction. You gasped, your hand flew up to your face in horror. Five men you had seen but a week ago drinking away at a pub were on their knees. The five you had taken a picture of. But it was the sixth man who made your blood run cold; the familiar face of your boss. The very man who brought you into the mafia. But-but why? Your eyes shifted back to Chuuya’s cocky expression.

“ What?! But you said-” 

“ I know what I said” he cut you off promptly “ Lesson one; never trust an executive’s words at face value. Especially outside closed doors. If I say ‘don’t hold back’ then–” he motioned for you to finish his sentence 

“ .. then show restraint?” your voice came out small. 

“ And if I say innocent” realization slowly dawned on you. It made you feel stupid for not thinking of that possibility sooner. Still despite your nod of affirmation, he forced you to say those words out loud.

“ - then they’re guilty traitors” Your eyes landed back on the men kneeling on the floor. Beaten, bruised and surrounded by the red ability which kept them pinned in place. Barely breathing, not moving, definitely glaring. In too much pain to do anything but to grind their teeth together and just-breathe. 

“ Port Mafia has no place for rats.” You heard the drawer open and flicked your eyes in Chuuya’s direction just as he threw something towards you. A red-hued gun which landed almost softly in your hands. 

You nearly dropped it but caught yourself at the last second. Who knew what he would do to you if you damaged his property. 

“ What? Never held a gun before?” Chuuya’s tone was mocking, accompanied by a roll of his eyes. Then his expression shifted into disbelief as you shook your head. “ What kind of fuckin’ mafia are you if you can’t even handle a gun, girl!” 

“ A bootlegger” you mumbled almost ashamedly. You had hoped that your sign of loyalty would get you higher in the ranks; maybe even your own clientele with a set of runners to watch over. Not- not this. 

“ Ehh? Well in that case there’s no harm in showing you how ‘ts done” Chuuya stood up from his seat and strolled over to you. 

Each step a deafening sound that made the soon to be dead men more rigid.

Each step filled you with dread; your stomach turned, heart hammered in your ears while the vile taste of bile echoed in just the back of your throat. 

Each step he took made the gravity of the situation hit you that much harder. 

“ W-Wait-”

You took a step back but Chuuya did not let you run. With a rough tug of your wrist he brought you himself, placed your shaking body in front of him. Your back against his chest, arms on either side of you. Skilled hands grasped yours, with the glock between. 

“ This here, you pull back, then push the cartridge here to reload-” his motion was fluid; he cocked the gun with ease as if it were second nature then raised your arms up so you aimed at one of the men. “ And none of that Hollywood one hand bullshit- both hands, steady. And then–” you let out a scream as he pulled the trigger with your finger. 

The gunshot made your ears ring. The body- the way it flopped to the floor was deafening. You heaved, dropped your arms back to your side. Your world was spinning, mind raced. You were— Chuuya grasped a fistfull of your hair and pulled you back up into an upright position. 

“ Get a fuckin grip and reload it” his voice a dangerous hiss in your ear; a knee between your legs propped you up. You shook your head, words of protest on your tongue that you couldn’t get past your lips. You hiccupped, shook like a leaf and if it weren’t for his fingers holding the glock in your hands you’d have dropped it long ago “Tsk, fine show you again, but better pay goddamn attention”  

He repeated the motion again, slower, made sure you watched his every move before he raised the gun a second time and aimed it at the man in the middle. His choice made your eyes widen;“ Now shoot him” 

“ N-No”  you flicked backwards, subconsciously pressing yourself up against Chuuya’s chest. “ He is my boss” 

“ Was” Chuuya corrected in a heartbeat. “ I am your boss. Where’s your bloody loyalty anyways?” His hands moved from your hands to your arms steadying your hold. 

Despite yourself and everything in your mind that screamed that you couldn’t fucking  kill anyone you kept the gun raised. Eyes firm on the man who had been your boss for so many years. 

“ I did so much for you, you goddamn brat and you had to blabber your ugly mouth” Your old boss wheezed; a clear intention of making this as painful for you as possible. Each pet name, each memory, each helping hand he had stretched towards you made your hands shake just a little more. Your old boss was someone you hated and admired, who forced you to grow up but also showed you a rare instance of kindness. He held an important position in your life. Although you would never admit it- never dear indulge in those thoughts but he always had and always would hold a fragment of your heart in the palm of his hand. 

But were you such a good person that you’d sacrifice your own life for your morale? Were you so righteous that you’d accept being tortured and murdered for a soon to be deadman? Memories and old loyalty- or to survive and get revenge. 

You took a steadying breath. Flickered your eyes away from the cursing, spluttering man and moved your gaze to your right.  Subconsciously your eyes were drawn to the dark red letters of the digital clock on Chuuya’s table. The time registered in your mind- forever engraved just like the angry betrayed look on your bosses- no old family, old friends face. 

 9:36 

The second gunshot echoed through the base. 

Author note: No one asked for a part two of Over a Cigarette but this is exactly what you guys got, yelp. Well if you're still here, reading this, I'm not sure what to say? Have a cookie? And I hope you enjoyed it! Not your cup of tea? Well I have a ton more works that you can check out instead by viewing Raven's masterlist!

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

[ravencincaide]

A Lucid Reality 

Summary: In which you are aware that you and Chuuya can never be in the normal sense of a “couple” but that doesn’t mean Chuuya won’t be there to comfort and protect you. Even if it means he has to visit you through a dream..

Pairing: Reader x partner/lover Chuuya

Inspired by “A month of Sweetness” Sneak peak prompt 1: Dream 

Warnings: Cursing, hurt/comfort,

Enjoy~

“ What’s the matter sweetheart?” Chuuya’s voice was deliberately quiet, barely above a whisper. Yet it managed to echo around the small living room in an almost deafening fashion. “ Hard day?” 

You didn’t reply.

Your gaze was focused somewhere in the distance, an empty space in the otherwise filled-to-the-brim room, the combination of your and Chuuya’s things, a messy awkwardly stuffed combination of your and Chuuya’s things. Some of which were duplicates; same cups, similar notebooks. furoshiki with half wrapped gifts and accidentally identical omiyage. Others were personal, a packet of cigarettes peeking out atop a box full of folders, dozens of plushies in all shapes and sizes; private pictures sliding out of albums and clothes. His pristine black coat draped over a box, your worn out one tossed carelessly to the floor right in front of you. 

Your mind was in a place far away from the safety and comfort of your dream home. Drifting in and out of reality with every syllable that dropped past his lips; some moments awkwardly aware of his presence, other times painfully aware of his absence. 

“ Goddamn it, are you even listening to me, Y/N?” He was close to yelling, yet the amplitude seemed the same. The words echoed around the space just as loud as his earlier whisper“ Y/N?”  

“ You’re not here” you sighed and brought the tear stained pillow closer to yourself; placing it in your lap, you wrapped your arms tightly around it in a feeble attempt to mimic a hug. Then you rested your head on top of it. A sigh escaped your lips as you felt the cursed thing deflate under your touch, as if avoiding you. 

An inanimate object too, huh?

“ Sweetheart..” you heard him breath out but you ignored it. The same as you ignored the way his lips pulled down into a frown, the look on his face turned serious. His arms crossed over his chest, eyes a fixed stare at your feeble form on the couch. He was telling you- no ordering you to look at him. Yet all you did was focus more on the spot behind his shoulder. 

Chuuya sighed; an exasperated sound that came from the soul before he pushed himself from the wall. He approached you slowly, as if in hope that you’d turn to face him with a bright smile and say you were fine. That you would make it- that you didn’t need him today. That you were going to be strong without him. 

Instead you remained silent, and he all too obediently sat down on the edge of the couch beside you. His body turned to face you, worried blue orbs running up and down your form. The edges of his lips twitched, as if he wanted to say something but could not bring himself to. 

 “ You are not actually here.” your words were accompanied with a sigh and the burning behind your eyelids. What you would do to have him beside you and yet you knew better than anyone it was nothing but an impossibility.

 A foolish dream from a foolish girl that would never amount to anything good. 

“ Does it matter sweetheart?” Chuuya asked as he took his hat off and studied it in his hands- something to do that didn’t entail staring at you. 

You scoffed, finally shifting your gaze from the wall and onto him. You were met with a gentle smile, clearly pleased that he had your attention. Your look however was less than amused; “ How can you even ask that? Of course it matters!” 

“ It shouldn’t”

You gaped at him. Your mouth opened and closed like a fish as all sorts of mean exclamations ran through your mind. What did he take you for? Why did he think it wouldn’t matter whether he was there with you or not? How dare he assume you would just-

“ Dollface I don’t have to be with you every second of every day to be ‘here’” Chuuya rolled his eyes. At your raised eyebrow he leaned closer, his gloved hand on your cheek, a ghost of a sensation on your skin. His lips pulled up into a boyish grin, mischief radiated off of it. 

“ C’mon don’t give me that; no self respected man can stay with their lover every second of every day, there’s work, life and other shit. This isn’t much different” Chuuya shrugged ever so slightly. You bit the inside of your cheek, holding back the half rude remark that even long-distance lovers had more than what you two shared. 

As if he read your thoughts, Chuuya’s smirk widened ever so slightly. “ Please sweets, we can talk and I can touch you. Long distance doesn’t have that” he then chuckled, his look turned even more mischievous. Suddely he leaned closer to your ear; “ And we both know I can rock your world even without 'touching you'” he purred then nipped your earlobe.  

“ Chuuya!” you gasped, your face flushed red. Your blush moved onto tomato-shade as his chuckle echoed around you. Still he held onto your face, not letting you pull too far away or look anywhere but him, anywhere but the sincere blue of his eyes. 

“ I can protect you sweetheart” he breathed suddenly, the words a tiny whisper inches from your lips, reserved only for you and your ears. If it wasn't so silent you'd have missed them “ I can guide you, but you need to put in the work my darlin” 

At the word ‘work’ you sighed heavily, your shoulders dropped in surrender. You closed your eyes and leaned into his touch. You salvaged the sensation of his thumb as it brushed your cheek, and the faint warmth against your face with his every breath. If you closed your eyes and disregarded logic then you could fool yourself into believing that this was a reality. The reality you needed the most at that very moment. The caring sensation of his lips on your skin, the salvation of his breath on yours. Affection with no strings attached; attention that was reserved for you and only you. Not to be shared with another; not to be taken away for a little mistaken or some other reason entirely out of your control. Not to be responsible for anyone but yourself. 

In here you were safe and not so very alone. 

Suddenly Chuuya pulled back, his lips leaving your skin. The warmth of his leather glove, a ghost of a touch, gone. The action made you whine and open your eyes, a silent plea not to stop. Just a minute- a second longer. Please.

“ Sweetheart” Chuuya leaned forward again until your foreheads connected, a grave expression on his face. “ You need to wake up” 

“ W-what?” 

“ You need to wake up Sweets; right NOW!” 

You opened your eyes with a startle just in time to hear the click of your front door lock giving away. Your heart in your throat; your mind vaguely registering that you were alone and were not expecting visitors at this hour. 

Author note: I was asked for some Chuuya sweetness/comfort and so peeked out of my studying to tease ya'll with this little thing. And what is it? Well this is a little sneak peek of a set of prompts i’m releasing in late March/April called “ A month of Sweetness” which will focus entirely on comfort, fluff and sweetness. A loving Chuuya, a protective Dazai and more. So stay tuned for those.

Until then, if you liked this fic and want more of my work: check out Raven's masterlist!

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

[ravencincaide]

Your work has nothing on me

Summary:  A fight on a stressed, hungry stomach can lead to snappy remarks which turn into something good;  OR the time Chuuya forgot about your very important pre-planned date.

Pairing: fem!Reader x bf! Chuuya Nakahara

Inspired by Sweetober prompt: 17 Cooking/ Sharing food

Warnings: Cursing, yelling at each other, hurt and some sweet comfort. 

Enjoy~

“Why are you all shuffling your feet like teenagers in front of their crush?” 

You watched in mild amusement, mild surprise how the two dozen well trained and exceptionally tall men, dressed to the nine’s in suits and perfectly done hair, jumped at the sound of your voice. Their attention turned instantly towards you either in horror or murderous glare; some of them had their fingers raised to their lips as if to tell you to be quiet. Others had raised their hands on the hilt of their guns as if about to shoot you for the insolent act of startling them. In response you merely crooked an eyebrow at them; half challenging them to pull their gun out at you, and half in an amused curiosity at how normally stoic foot soldiers were acting like scaredy cats. 

“ No! Really? Why are half a dozen mafia shuffling outside Chuuya’s office? IF you have missions you should be working- if you’re done then it’s just to hand in the report and go home.” you asked. When none of them replied you merely shrugged at them, readjusting your grip on the stack of take away bento boxes in your arms before moving past in the direction of the office door. 

“ Miss I wouldn’t—” One of the men started only to be cut off by a loud bang coming from behind the closed door- a silent warning? Chuuya letting out some steam? 

Judging from the row of curses that followed you concluded it was the later. Biting your lip to prevent yourself from giggling you took another step closer, almost pressing your ear to the door to hear your beloved better; “ God fucking damn it, I told them I don’t want guesses! Facts, FACTS! And I get this– how fucking hard can it be to fill out a goddamn template made for babies! God fucking damn–”

Moving away from the door you turned back to the mafia with a smile, an almost too pleased one. “ Ahh it’s report time, you’re late and all too chicken to go face his rage.”

Crickets.  

You did not bother to hide the Cheshire's grin; this was perfect. You were running low on favours you could call in without costing Chuuya an arm and a leg. “ Well then, let's make a deal? You owe me and I’ll make sure your reports get accepted without any delay fees” You shifted the containers in your arms and stretched out your now free hand, palm up, ready to receive the reports. 

The men glanced between each other before one of them cleared their throat; “ We couldn’t possibly trouble Miss with such mundane things—” 

Another loud bang could be heard from Chuuya’s office, followed by more curses, these ones more colorful than the previous bunch. All too quickly two dozen reports were neatly stacked into your arms. Then the door into Chuuya’s office was opened for you. As soon as you stepped inside, they shut it quickly and quietly behind you; and all you could hear was scrambling of feet and uncharacteristically happy yells and ‘sucker’ calls as they moved further and further from your darlings office. 

Fucking Cowards.

“ Oj did I  tell you, you could come— Oh baby” Chuuya started the scolding but shut up the second he realized it was you. He was up on his feet before the end of his sentence, coming to greet you midway through his office. His hands took the containers of food from you, not missing to steal a kiss in the process. “ Sorry sweetheart, my subordinates are fucking idiots” he said as he returned to his desk and began shuffling things about, struggling to find an adequate spot to set down the food amidst all the stacks of paperwork. 

You rolled your eyes slightly at the all too familiar complaints “ Ever thought of, I don’t know, educating them to be less idiots? Or at least participating in subordinate-recruitment?”  you asked as you came over to his desk and began blending in the newly received reports amongst the ones already littering Chuuyas desk.

“ We both know it won’t help” Chuuya sighed before turning to face you. His smile turned even more grim as he saw what you were doing. Instead of stopping you he just sat down and opened his dinner; “ Sweetheart, do you even want me home?” Chuuya questioned with a groan. 

“ Do you want an honest answer?” You asked as you glanced up, long enough to see Chuuya pause mid-bite of his spring roll, eyebrow raised, silently urging you to go on. “ Right now, no.” 

Chuuya choked. His eyes widened in surprise before he growled, his expression darkening with each passing second “ What the actual hell Y/N? I’ve been working my ass off to get this shit finished as soon as possible for us and you think that is funny?!” 

“ Then you shouldn’t have stood me up!” you snapped back, matching his loud voice with ease. “ We’ve been planning to introduce you to my family for months, MONTHS Chuuya and I had to make up excuses for the sake of your goddamn paperwork. ”  

“ What the hell are you talking about, we decided tomorrow, if you’re changing plans left and right you need to inform me, hun!” Chuuya snapped back, dropping his takeaway container of food back onto the table before beginning to search for his phone buried somewhere among the piles, clearly intending to show you each and every SMS, email and chat message you have shared with him on the topic. 

You did not seem bothered, if anything you merely rolled your eyes as you opened your own bento “ Go on, check your calendar, and today is?” you asked with another roll of your eyes as you stabbed a poor steamed broccoli with such violence you almost made a hole in the takeaway container. 

“ And today is– oh god it was today. Sweetheart I’m so sorry” Chuuya groaned to himself, pressing his gloved hands to his forehead as he silently cursed himself over his own stupidity. A light embarrassed blush dusted his cheeks which he desperately tried to push back before he looked up at you again. “ Sweets I–” 

“ Chuu the food is getting cold” you said motioning towards his container of food, a strain in your voice. “ You’re hungry, I’m hungry. Let’s not fight until we’ve eaten” you fixed him with a firm stare, your eyes just daring him to talk back and disappoint you further. Like an obedient puppy Chuuya sat back down and began eating with a little too much enthusiasm - a clear sign of his guilt. Even his paperwork was abandoned for the moment. 

Except for the sound of  chopsticks hitting bento and an occasional crunch from blanched vegetables there was silence. Something neither pleasant nor tense, just tired, somber kind.

“ Soo what kind of excuse did you give your family sweetheart?” Chuuya asked as the lingering silence between you became unbearable.. The food was half finished by then and the hungry, starving feeling was almost gone. “ Do I need to be worried?” 

“ Hmm I just told them we had a pregnancy scare” you answered bluntly keeping your voice as leveled as possible. 

“ Sweetheart, A what now? A pregnancy scare–?!” Chuuya cut off his tirade as the chopsticks in his hand snapped in half, the sound silencing him.  Closing his eyes, he took several deep breaths, trying to calm himself. When he addressed you again his voice was strained, almost tortured “ Do you really think that was the best lie you could come up with?” 

“ Who said it was a lie?” You asked tilting your head to the side. Your lips pulling up into a half smile trying to hide how much that news had affected you. The fear and happiness at the one false positive; the sadness and disappointment at the following dozen negative ones. Technically you hadn’t lost anything- everything was back at the way things were before that one positive pregnancy test. And yet somehow it wasn’t. 

Silence returned and lingered once again; neither of you knowing what to say. Your mind wondered whether Chuuya would ever want that type of family with you, or whether this half serious fling would always remain that, a fling. A part of you regretted telling him, afraid that he’d dump you now that he knew that you so clearly wanted more than what you had. Now that you’ve shown your greedy side. 

A more rational part of you knew however that if this was the end of your relationship then it was for the best in the long run. You couldn’t waste forever with a man who never intended anything permanent. No matter how amazingly sweet said man was.  You bit your lip before taking a deep breath, deciding to start on the heavy topic as gently as humanly possible; Yet all you managed to utter was his name before he cut you off. 

“ Well then sweetheart we’ll just need to get to the point where the next test is a definite positive”  he said, a light blush dusting his cheeks. Yet there was a tiniest honest smile on his lips, his eyes full of sweet adoration.

 His words touched at your heartstrings, filled you with fascination and warmth. Right then you felt you were falling in love with him all over again. “ Ohh Chuuya” you mumbled, wanting nothing else but to kiss him, to hug him, to show him how happy he made you in that very moment. Whether you would actually settle for children was a matter still to be discussed but the fact that he wanted more than what you two had now definitely made a world of difference for you. 

Before you could come over and shower him with kisses, the gentle smile on his lips turned into a boyish grin; “ But to find time for private matters, YOU will need to learn to help me with that and what better time to start than now?” he stated pointing towards the stack of paperwork. 

His words made your smile drop and you stabbed another vegetable in your bento with a little too much force, finally snapping your chopsticks in half. Talk about ruining a good moment.

Jerk.

Want more? See: Raven's Masterlist

PS Author note: Did I think today was Wednesday and updated a day too early? Yes, yes I did. Judge me all you want for it. I dare you.

[ravencincaide]

Honestly what is it with people stomping all over my boundaries today. Is there some challenge called “ let’s fuck over Raven and make her cry” that I don’t know about? No? You sure? Cuz you’re fuckin succeeding!

Given that several people have not only explicitly done/send to me what I specified in my rules not to ask/send me and others simply lack common sense this blog is going to take a couple of days break.

This should affect my followers minimally;

The Ravens special has still 7 hours or so left to send in your prompts so if you wanna do that, go ahead. There’s still time just please I beg you be kind. Read my prior to requests and remember I’m doing this solely in my free time and for fun. Remember I’m a human and for the love of god show me some respect. Please

The first prompt should be released on Sunday but depending how I feel may be delayed a little.

There will NOT be an update tomorrow.

I apologise to all my kind followers and hope to be in the right headspace to see you guys soon with new angsty, sweet and exciting pieces.

With quiet caws

A little sad Raven