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[tapewormfound]

A Thorn in Bloom

Pairing: Tighnari x Male Reader

Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Slight enemies to something- not quite lovers, Emotional Repression

Rating: T

Synopsis

He calls you a nuisance—loud, reckless, always in the way. But no matter how many times he sighs or snaps, he never tells you to leave. And somewhere between the sharp words and quiet nights, you start to wonder if he ever meant them at all.

Tighnari had always prided himself on his patience.

Botany required it. Dealing with forest visitors demanded it. Mentoring Collei tested it—but he endured, because he cared. But you?

You were a thorn in his side. A loud, stubborn, reckless thorn who always managed to show up when he was at his most tired and least able to tolerate nonsense. And yet somehow, somehow, you kept coming back to Gandharva Ville like it owed you peace.

And the worst part? You didn’t even seem to notice how much you grated on him.

Or maybe you did. Maybe that was the point.

—

“I told you not to touch that,” Tighnari said sharply, snatching a vial from your hand before it tipped. “Do you even listen to anything I say?”

You didn’t flinch.

Didn’t apologize, either.

Just blinked at him, slow and unimpressed, like the weight of his irritation barely registered anymore.

“I heard you,” you muttered, letting your hand drop to your side. “Just didn’t think it’d matter.”

Tighnari stared at you.

Not because of your words, but because of the way you said them—flat, like you were too tired to pretend to care. He hated that tone. It was the same one he heard in himself when he hadn’t slept for three days and still pushed through fieldwork like a ghost on autopilot.

And lately, you always sounded like that.

He turned away.

“You’re exhausting,” he muttered. “I don’t have the time or energy to fix your messes on top of everything else.”

You scoffed. “I’m not asking you to fix me.”

“But you’re still here,” he said bitterly. “Hovering. Poking. Getting under my skin like you want me to snap.”

When he looked back, your expression had twisted — not with anger, but something closer to resignation.

“Yeah,” you said quietly. “Well. At least if you’re yelling, it means you see me.”

That hit harder than it should have.

Tighnari didn’t respond. Couldn’t, not with the words coiling like vines around his throat. He clenched his jaw and walked away, too fast, too stiff, like he could outrun the shame building in his chest.

—

He found you again that night, sitting alone under one of the Avidya trees, curled into yourself like you were trying to shrink out of the world.

Moonlight touched your face in soft streaks, and for a moment, you didn’t look like the boy who drove him insane. You just looked small.

He hated how that made his chest ache.

“You shouldn’t be out here,” he said, more softly this time.

You didn’t look up. “I like the quiet.”

Tighnari exhaled. “You don’t like being alone.”

“That obvious, huh?”

“Painfully.”

You laughed once—short and bitter. “Guess I’ve always been good at that. Being a burden. Taking up space no one offered.”

Tighnari crossed his arms, but it didn’t feel defensive. It felt like a shield he was too tired to hold up anymore.

“You’re not a burden.”

You finally looked at him. Your eyes were red-rimmed, not from crying—but from holding too much in for too long.

“Then why do you talk to me like I am?”

Silence.

Tighnari dropped his gaze, jaw tightening.

“Because… I don’t know how to be soft with you,” he admitted. “Because you—you get under my skin, and I don’t know how to stop it. You’re reckless. You don’t listen. You challenge me at every turn and laugh when I’m furious and—”

You were watching him like someone listening for the moment a dam would break.

“And yet,” he whispered, “I notice when you’re not here. I hate that I notice.”

Your expression crumbled a little. Not fully. Just enough for the edge to soften.

Tighnari stepped closer. Slowly. Carefully.

“You’re not easy to like,” he said, not unkindly. “But neither am I. And maybe that’s why I keep letting you come back.”

You swallowed hard.

“I thought you hated me.”

“I thought I did too,” he whispered. “Turns out I just didn’t want to admit how much I cared.”

Your breath hitched.

And for once, you didn’t say anything clever, or push him away, or pretend you were fine.

You just leaned your head against his shoulder.

He let you.

And neither of you moved.

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some chuuyas i drew for a vid for his bday :^] happy bday chuuya !!!!

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do you understand now?

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Push Me Away, Pull Me Back

Pairing: Itadori Yuuji / Fushiguro Megumi

Genre: Slow burn, angst, emotional repression, enemies to lovers

Rating: T

Synopsis: Megumi Fushiguro doesn’t hate Itadori Yuuji—he just tells himself that because the truth is harder to swallow. Every reckless decision Yuuji makes feels like a personal betrayal, every smile a reason to look away. But as their missions grow deadlier and the distance between them shrinks, Megumi realizes he’s not angry—he’s afraid of what Yuuji means to him.

Yuuji’s limping.

There’s blood on his leg, matting the fabric, and the scrape across his cheek is red and ugly, but he’s still grinning like an idiot when he says, “It worked, didn’t it?”

Megumi doesn’t look at him. Doesn’t stop walking.

“You’re bleeding,” he says.

Yuuji jogs to catch up. “It’s not that bad. You should’ve seen the other guy.”

“I don’t care,” Megumi says flatly.

Yuuji pauses, just a beat. “Right.”

They keep walking.

Megumi’s hands are in his pockets. His jaw is tight. He doesn’t look back. The silence is thick, but Yuuji fills it the only way he knows how.

“You’re mad.”

“No,” Megumi says.

“You are.”

“I’m not.”

Yuuji laughs, but there’s a crack in it. “You know, for someone who supposedly doesn’t care, you sure act pissed every time I get hurt.”

Megumi stops walking.

Finally turns to face him.

His eyes are blank. Icy.

“You getting hurt is inconvenient,” he says. “That’s all.”

Yuuji blinks.

“Oh.”

“You slow us down when you’re injured. You’re impulsive. You make stupid decisions. It’s exhausting.”

Megumi doesn’t mean it. Not like that.

But he says it anyway. Because if he doesn’t, the other truth will slip out. The one with teeth. The one that would hurt worse.

Yuuji’s smile falters for real this time.

“Right,” he says again. Quieter. “Sorry.”

Megumi walks away before the silence can settle. Before he does something stupid like take it back.

He tells himself it’s better this way. Cleaner.

Yuuji gets to keep thinking Megumi doesn’t care.

It’s a lie. But Megumi’s good at those.

Megumi’s hands stay buried in his pockets, fingers tightening. He hates how much the sight of blood on Yuuji’s clothes unsettles him. Hates how his heart thuds too loud, how the tension coils in his chest.

He wants to be cold. Detached. Unmoved.

But every scrape, every bruise Yuuji carries feels like a weight pressing down on him.

He doesn’t know how to say that.

So he says the only thing he can.

“I don’t have time to babysit you.”

Yuuji’s laugh is quiet. A little bitter. “Since when did you care about babysitting?”

Megumi doesn’t answer. Doesn’t want to explain that it’s not about babysitting—it’s about not losing him.

Not yet.

He keeps walking, leaving the space between them filled with unspoken things.

“You don’t have to pretend you don’t care,” Yuuji says, voice low but steady. “I see it. Even when you say you don’t.”

Megumi’s breath catches, but his face stays unreadable. He doesn’t want to give Yuuji that satisfaction.

“I’m not pretending,” Megumi replies, voice colder than he feels.

Yuuji’s eyes burn into him. “Yeah? Then why do you push me away every time I get hurt? Why do you act like it’s a nuisance?”

Megumi wants to look away, but something in Yuuji’s gaze pins him in place.

“Maybe I’m scared,” Megumi admits so quietly it’s almost a whisper. “Scared that if I care too much, I’ll lose you.”

Yuuji’s expression softens, just a fraction, but it’s enough.

“You’re not going to lose me,” Yuuji says. “Not if you stop pretending.”

Megumi swallows, the wall around his heart cracking for the first time.

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Would love to see you expand on #4 from the fic ideas you posted the other day!

In the Afterglow

Chuuya survives a mission where Corruption is used too long — too deeply. The damage is slow, not instant. It starts with migraines. Then nausea. Then his hands shake when he’s alone. The ability is no longer an on/off switch — it’s bleeding into him, eating through the borders of his mind.

At first it’s easy to hide.

He’s always had headaches — from Dazai’s voice, from Mori’s orders, from too much wine after too much blood. A couple pills, a stiff drink, and he gets through the day.

But then the nausea starts. Subtle, lingering. Like something’s off balance inside him — not quite illness, not quite exhaustion. He keeps moving.

The shaking is harder. Only when he’s alone. Only when it’s quiet. His hands twitch like they’re still remembering a fight, like something inside him never stopped.

Corruption doesn’t shut off anymore.

The red fades from his eyes, the mission ends, the enemy dies — and it’s still there. Like residue. Like radiation. He feels it when he breathes too deep. When he stands too fast. When he closes his eyes and sees nothing but light.

It’s bleeding through. Slipping past the lines Dazai used to hold. He can’t stop it. Can’t contain it.

And he doesn’t tell anyone.

Because if it’s changing him — if it’s undoing him — then he’d rather rot quietly than let them see.

Chuuya was never afraid of dying. But this — this slow erasure — this is different. This is worse.

This is being turned into something he can’t control. Again.

—

It gets worse in winter.

The cold makes the tremors more visible. The pain sharper. He stops wearing gloves — what’s the point? Let them see. Let them wonder. No one asks.

He doesn’t remember falling asleep anymore. He just wakes up in strange places. On the floor. Against a wall. Once, on the roof of headquarters, coat gone, lips cracked blue. No one mentions it. Maybe they’re afraid to.

Corruption flickers at the edges of everything now — when he walks, the ground warps slightly beneath his feet. When he speaks, sometimes his voice vibrates too low, inhuman. The ability is feeding on him, or through him. And there’s no off-switch. No Dazai. Not anymore.

He doesn’t know where Dazai went.

He never asked.

And when Dazai finally does come back — months too late, shoes dry, eyes sharp — Chuuya is already gone in the ways that count.

His body still moves. Still fights. Still drinks, even. But there’s a distance now, one Dazai can’t touch. Not with a hand. Not even with that cursed nullification of his. Because what’s breaking isn’t the ability — it’s the man underneath.

“You look like shit,” Dazai says lightly, like nothing’s changed.

Chuuya doesn’t respond. He just laughs — quiet, breathless, like he’s running out of air.

“You took too long.”

He doesn’t mean it as an accusation.

He means it as a fact.

The words hang there, weightless. Not bitter. Not angry. Just said, like stating the time.

Dazai frowns. Not the theatrical kind — the real one. Small, tight at the corners. His eyes flick over Chuuya’s frame, slow, calculating. He notices the tremor in his hand, the way he doesn’t hide it. The pale around his mouth. The slight flicker in the air around him, like heat shimmer on pavement.

“You’re not using Corruption,” Dazai says.

Chuuya doesn’t answer. Doesn’t blink. Just keeps looking past him, like there’s something else in the room Dazai can’t see.

“I said—”

“I know what you said.”

Chuuya’s voice is flat. Distant. Not tired — something colder than that. Like fatigue that sank too deep to feel.

Dazai steps closer. Reaches for his arm without thinking, instinct. Skin to skin. Nothing activates. No weightlessness. No red glow. No rush of power. But Chuuya still flinches.

“You’re not using it,” Dazai says again, quieter this time.

Chuuya finally looks at him. Really looks.

“I never turned it off.”

Dazai stills.

It’s not confusion now. It’s dread. That sharp, cold realization that comes too late — when the blood’s already on the floor, when the damage is past undoing.

“You mean—”

“Don’t bother.” Chuuya cuts him off, eyes dull. “I already tried that. Nullification. Pills. Restraints. You name it.”

He smiles — or something like it.

“Turns out, there’s a limit to how many times a body can be rewritten before it forgets how to be human.”

And Dazai, for once, has nothing to say.

Because what do you say when the weapon you built learned how to kill itself?

I feel like a lot of people wanted more of this prompt so i hope this holds up to everyone’s standards and i hope you guys enjoyed!! :))

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Tapewormfound Masterlist

Bungo Stray Dogs

Jujutsu Kaisen

Obey Me coming soon

Genshin Impact coming soon

—

Fic Ideas

Edits

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BUNGO STRAY DOGS MASTERLIST

SOUKOKU-

Like He’d Meant It

Chuuya keeps walking. He doesn’t look back.

He says he won’t miss Dazai—but even he doesn’t believe himself anymore.

genre: angst,bittersweet,post-relationship,emotional suppression,hurt/no comfort,canon-compliant,character study,reeeeeally short fic

In the Afterglow

Chuuya survives a mission where Corruption is used too long — too deeply. The damage is slow, not instant. It starts with migraines. Then nausea. Then his hands shake when he’s alone. The ability is no longer an on/off switch — it’s bleeding into him, eating through the borders of his mind.

prompt 4 on my soukoku fic ideas

FYOLAI-

The White Room Theory

Prologue, CH1

trigger warnings: Psychological manipulation,Dissociation,Implied captivity,Isolation / sensory deprivation,Unreliable reality,Suicidal ideation (later chapters),Violence (psychological, implied physical),Claustrophobia / existential horror,Obsessive relationships,Possible self-harm themes,Religious undertones (in a disturbing/symbolic context)

BSD As _ Series

Random Texts

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JJK MASTERLIST

GOJO-

Last Night Always

Gojo knows he won’t survive what tomorrow brings.

You don’t. Not yet.

So he lets you sleep—wrapped around him, unaware—while he prepares to leave without goodbye.

ITAFUSHI-

Push Me Away, Pull Me Back

Megumi Fushiguro doesn’t hate Itadori Yuuji—he just tells himself that because the truth is harder to swallow. Every reckless decision Yuuji makes feels like a personal betrayal, every smile a reason to look away. But as their missions grow deadlier and the distance between them shrinks, Megumi realizes he’s not angry—he’s afraid of what Yuuji means to him.

MORE TO COME

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FIC IDEAS MASTERLIST

SOUKOKU FIC IDEAS

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Edits Masterlist

Bungo Stray Dogs-

jouno: 1

dazai: 1

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Soft Reset (Barbatos x Male Reader)

Synopsis:

Barbatos keeps resetting time to save you. You don’t remember dying—but he does. Every time.

Maybe this time, he’ll win.

You don’t know when it started—just that something is off.

Barbatos watches you like he’s afraid to blink. Like if he does, you might vanish. He’s careful with you now. Too careful. Always a step behind you in the halls, a breath too quiet beside you during tea. And when you laugh, sometimes he flinches.

You ask him once if he’s alright.

He smiles. Polite. Practiced.

“Of course, my love.”

But there’s something in his voice—something frayed.

You dream of falling. Of fire. Of silence stretching forever. Sometimes you wake up and feel like you forgot something important. Something crucial. But the feeling slips away before you can name it.

The others don’t notice. Or maybe they do, and no one says anything. It’s easier that way. Safer.

Then one night, you find Barbatos standing alone in the observatory. Motionless. Staring at the stars like they owe him something. You call his name.

He doesn’t turn.

You walk closer. Reach for him.

And just before your hand brushes his shoulder, he says—softly, not to you, but to the night:

“Please let it be this one.”

You freeze.

You don’t ask what he means.

And he doesn’t explain.

But the next day, he won’t leave your side.

Not even for a moment.

you’re probably like “oliver you’re starting too many fics” but i’ve been writing these for so long i just recently decided to post them oopsie

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i really wanted to write some of these as drabbles today but i’ve been having seizures all day and i had to go to the hospital😭😭

Soukoku Fic Ideas

let me know if you would be interested in me writing any of these!!

1. One year after Dazai leaves the Mafia, Chuuya is given a new mission: track him, not kill him, not contact him — just observe. Chuuya takes the job because he says it doesn’t matter. He lies.

2. In an AU where both are elite assassins in rival syndicates, Chuuya is assigned to kill Dazai. The twist? Dazai left him years ago — no explanations, no goodbye.

3. Chuuya receives a letter after Dazai’s latest suicide attempt. It’s not a confession or apology. It’s a dissection — a cold, methodical breakdown of his motives, body, method, and margin of error. It reads like Dazai never expected anyone to read it — or worse, like he hoped Chuuya would

4. Chuuya survives a mission where Corruption is used too long — too deeply. The damage is slow, not instant. It starts with migraines. Then nausea. Then his hands shake when he’s alone. The ability is no longer an on/off switch — it’s bleeding into him, eating through the borders of his mind.

5. Years after Dazai’s defection, he’s presumed dead. Chuuya never looks for him — until he sees someone who walks like him, holds a cigarette like him, pauses before crossing the street like him. It’s not confirmation. It’s a ghost.

6. Dazai left the Port Mafia without telling Chuuya. Not a word. Not a note. Just absence. Years later, Chuuya finds a discarded, half-finished poem in a burned-out safe house. The handwriting is his. The ending isn’t.

7. Chuuya finds Dazai’s suicide journal — a private notebook cataloguing every attempt, numbered, annotated, clinical. The 27th is unfinished.

8. Dazai leaves a clean, bloodless fake death behind. Chuuya knows it’s staged — it’s too neat. Too deliberate. But no one believes him. So he grieves in private. Angry. Cold. Waiting. Years pass. Then one day, a letter arrives. Not signed. Not dated. But unmistakably his.

9. Dazai is a former driver turned engineer, infamous for crashing his car deliberately in his final race. He’s now assigned to Chuuya’s telemetry data — reading everything from braking pressure to heart rate during laps.

What he finds: Chuuya’s numbers only

spike when Dazai speaks in his ear.

What he does: Keeps talking.

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Hii uhhh im still drawing this game after 1 year this is bad

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He was looking into my essence, Dos-kun was the one person in my life who understood.

(Click for better quality) for @nakaharaswife bday!!

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Last Night, Always (Gojo x male reader)

GO/JO

SPOILERS!!

You’re asleep on his chest, mouth slack, breathing slow. One hand is curled in the fabric of his shirt like you’re scared he’ll vanish if you let go.

Gojo stays still. Doesn’t sleep.

He’s been staring at the ceiling for hours.

The apartment is quiet. He could get up. Leave. Slip out the door and go do what he has to do without ever waking you.

It’d be easier that way.

But he doesn’t move.

Instead, he whispers, “I’m not coming back from this, am I?”

Your body shifts slightly, but you don’t wake. You just press in closer, like your half-conscious self still knows how to find him in the dark.

He swallows.

You’d be furious if you knew what tomorrow was. You’d try to stop him. You always do. You say things like “You’re not invincible” and “I’d rather have you than a world that doesn’t.”

He never knows what to say to that.

So he says nothing now.

Just lies there, heart loud in his chest, and lets you hold him like it’s the last time. Because it is.

Gojo presses a kiss to the top of your head.

You don’t feel it.

He hopes you don’t wake up until he’s already gone.