causenessus

[causenessus]

foggy days . . . | chuuya + dazai

chuuya x gn!reader + dazai x gn!reader (seperate scenarios!)

"...god loves you, but not enough to save you. so good luck taking care of yourself." (sun bleached flies / ethel cain)

↑ you don’t have to take care of yourself alone. people come into your life and you enter those of others' so that everyone helps take care of each other. to be human is to love more than god can. more than god ever intended. - ness <3

3.2k words

notes: my og title was super long for this work so i’ve split it up into three parts each with their own song lyrics bc i’m in my yearning era. hopefully everything makes sense :> there is no longer any continuity between the formats of any of my posts and idrc. a little suggestive in chuuya's, a little bit of tongue action, once again i'm a whore for manga-chuuya so don't be offput by his eyes being described as brown LMAO. lots and lots of comfort, basically scenarios of chuuya/dazai + you on a foggy day,,, enjoy <3

thank you to @osamucide for helping me w/ dazai's choice of song <3 this ones for u <3 smooching u <3 ily <3 my life is dedicated to u <3 what a coincidence the lyrics you associated him linked directly back to the ending line i wrote for his scenario before i had even asked you for suggestions <3 we're just soulmates like that <3 mwah <3

. . . kisses on the tip of your nose (chuuya)

“hey, do you wanna see the west with me? ‘cause love’s out there and i can’t let it be." "...love’s never meant that much to me, but i’ll come with you if you’re sure it���s what you need.” (thoroughfare  / ethel cain)

on foggy days, chuuya finds you on a bench underneath the warm flood of light from a lamp post above. air is transparent; it has no color, the phenomenon behind fog is simply that the air has become denser, increasing its visibility while lowering the sight lines of others. yet the humid air eagerly reflects and intensifies any color that shines through it, which allows for the sight in front of him now: like a flickering candle in the middle of a dark room, the throw of the single beacon of light on what must be yokohama’s foggiest day frames and spills atop the crown of your head, making you look more angelic than you already always do. if he had a camera on him, maybe he’d try to take a picture, assuming that the fog wouldn't harbor the clarity of the lens.

you think he looks cute, standing there lost in his own thoughts for a moment, hands stuffed into the pockets of a coat lined with that prickly, stiff, woolen fabric no one like but, regardless, cannot complain about because it keeps them warm. he’s finally abandoned his normal attire for something that's still classy, of course, but more appropriate for the weather.

a scarf is tied around his neck, the way you taught him to so that he wouldn't complain about how itchy or tight it felt, and he’s buried the lower half of his face deep inside the warm fabric, trying to keep his nose from freezing off.

you want to hold his face between your hands, nuzzle the tip of your nose against him, kiss the tip of his nose, then maybe the bridge of it, then the space between his brows, then over each of his eyes, then his cheeks, and then finally, his warm, warm lips.

but you'll do that after he stops scowling at you, shoulders hunched up to try and shield his ears from the nipping cold as best as he can.

he's also, of course, wearing that hat of his. you almost tell him to go back inside in case the moisture of the humid air affects the worn leather it's made of.

but he's braved the cold and stepped out of the house to find you, and you know it's useless to try to suggest the idea to him unless you're following him back in.

"what're ya doing out here in this weather?" he's not scolding you or upset with you, just utterly confused. he steps closer, removing his gloved hands from his pockets to pick up your bare hands that you had resting in your lap, holding them between his warm ones. "shit, i can feel how cold you are through my gloves, doll. you okay?" even if he happened to be irked by something you did, he could never stay mad at you for very long before he was overwhelmed with how much he loved you. now his eyes are warm and soft, focused on your own, brows laced with concern and the scowl gone from his face.

this is where you kiss him all over his face.

and that's exactly what you do, humming a small "yes" to his question before escaping the grip of his hands, locking your arms around his neck and using all the strength you have to pull him on top of the bench you're on.

it's harder than you expect, although maybe that's on you for thinking it'd be easy. he's an executive of the port mafia and most certainly their strongest; no matter how much he typically lets his guard down around you, it's only natural that he tenses up at your sudden attack.

but it's an attack of kisses, to his surprise, and he exclaims as he comes toppling onto you, your back hitting the spindly worn wood of the bench below you. his legs are tangled with your own, and he's placed his arms on either side of you on the bench to support himself, but you don't let him move another inch away from you, running your hands (warming by the second thanks to all the heat your stealing from him) up his neck to caress the side of his cheeks, pulling him close.

whatever he's been chiding you about now dies in his throat when you pull him close. when only your noses touch, and you look into his pretty brown eyes with those flecks of amber and blue, the prettiest eyes you've ever seen, his breath is warm against your lips, his own curling into smile as he huffs. "don't tease me now, sweetheart," whatever consequence he was going to threaten you with falls silent again when you ignore the jeer, shifting his face down slightly so that the tip of his nose meets your lips, and then you're kissing him all over, small murmurs of "i love you"s whispered between every other kiss. his eyes are squeezed shut, cheeks warming by the second despite your freezing hands, unable to keep himself from getting flushed from your overwhelming amount of love he swears he’ll never get used to.

he’ll always get worked up just from the sight of you, overcome with his uncontrollable amount of desire to kiss you and hold you in his arms, and he’ll never be able to stop his eyes from always tearing up the slightest bit along with the stir of his heart in his chest every time you tell him you love him. he'll never get used to your love, he swears, but he doesn't want to.

when you finally place your lips to his, he hums in pleasant surprise, pressing against your lips with just as much fevor, shifting one of his arms to rest himself on his forearm so that he can run his fingers through your hair.

the fog and cold weather pricking your skin through your layers of clothes fade away when you feel his tongue swipe against your lips, asking to be let in. and when you part your lips and his warmth pulls you inexplicably closer, you don't think even the coldest of temperatures could freeze you to death.

not when you're with him, virtually and inexplicably the sun of your life. melting away any ice in your heart and mind with the warmth that comes from the brightest star that's always giving to others; all in the form of the single man who's in your arms right now.

the slight push of his knee against your legs, nudging them farther apart as he finally parts from you, leaving your mouth empty once again, your chest heaving while he takes to trailing burning kisses down your neck, acting completely unaffected, has you running your hands through his strawberry blonde hair, tugging him ever so gently up so that your faces are mere inches apart again.

"chuuya, we're in public," you rasp, and it seems it's your turn to scold him.

"are we now?" he's only grinning at you, fingers grazing the side of your cheek as he brushes a strand of your hair away from your face. "should've thought about that before ya kissed me like that, then. since we’re 'in public.'" he mocks your words and you can't exactly argue back. you’re racking your head for a comeback but he doesn't give you the time to reply before going on, "there's not even anyone around. that's why you came out here anyway, is it not?"

he knows you too well, and all you can do is give a small smile back, bringing a hand up to caress the side of his face. he leans into your touch letting your warming hands mold to the shape of his heated cheek. 

"it is," you murmur, feeling the need to explain yourself as if he doesn't already know you. but you keep talking anyway, and he doesn't stop you. he likes hearing you talk. "i just recently started to like this weather, around the same time i met you. i like how this weather makes everyone disappear. i like how I can't even see two feet in front of me, i think it's beautiful in its own way— like i’m stepping into the unknown, but i'm not scared. and maybe that’s because i know you’ll find me in it no matter what. you’ll be with me, and i’ll be with you. i like being with you. the only reason i left this morning was just to enjoy the silence... but i'm ready to go back in."

his face is nestled back into the crook of your neck, placing light butterfly kisses over your pulsating temple ever so often as he listens to you speak, feels the rumble of your voice through your throat with how closely he's pressed to your skin.

"we can stay out here, i don't mind. i like that it makes everyone go away, too. everyone but you. i like coming out here to find only you; the only one i want to see, anyway," he whispers back, letting his lips place a longer, more firm kiss than before on your neck, sending shivers down your skin. "wherever you want to go, baby. like you said, i'll always be right behind you. no matter how heavy the fog, i swear i’ll find you." 

. 

. 

. 

♡

. . . and muddied knees. (dazai)

“...don’t wait too long. i don’t want you to get tired of me. am i just that damn hard to love?” (golden age / ethel cain)

sleeping with dazai is always an experience.

every night, you both cuddle under the same futon and yet his hands and feet are ungodly freezing. he whines and blames it on poor blood circulation (but not because of his bandages! they aren't that tight, he made sure to add the first night you shared a blanket and fell asleep in each other's arms) leaving the responsibility to fall into your hands–or, more realistically—you’re the lucky one whose been chosen to be his personal heater, cold hands sneaking up your shirt to rest on your navel, his long legs coming to tangle with yours.

usually, he warms up after getting to hold you so closely, and that's why waking up to a cold spot beside you is all the more shocking.

a little bit of light is spilling in from the nearby curtain of his dorm and you're willing yourself to slip out from underneath the warmth of the futon, in search of something–someone more important than the heat. you shiver as you look outside, trying to assess what time it is.

the sky is a light hazy gray, there's no sun in sight, and the trees and ground are darker than usual, soaking wet with the drizzle of rain that had pattered down on the roof above the two of you last night as you fell asleep.

there had been two beating hearts underneath that futon when you closed your eyes.

but when you opened them, you could only hear the pulse of your own life in your ears. and after a little bit of tip-toeing around his small dorm, you were fairly sure it seemed that he wasn't hiding anywhere in the dorm, either.

slipping on the nearest pair of shoes you can find, wrapping one of dazai's heavier jackets tightly around you, you brace the nipping cold as you open the door of his dorm, peeking your head out.

he’s not out taking in the view of the ground below him, leaning dangerously far over that old, worn, metal railing of the dorm’s building as you sometimes find him doing, so you start your usual trail of places you're bound to find him. it's not surprising that he's wandered off alone, lost in his thoughts. in fact, it's at least a weekly occurrence and by this point maybe anyone else would have gotten used to his sudden disappearances, knowing he was bound to show up back on the doorstep at some point, but you cann't help chasing out after him. you don’t want him to be alone, you don’t want there to be a time that comes where he never returns, and maybe it’s all because you weren’t there with him when he needed you.

you’re his partner; the one he wraps his arms around when he finally, after an entire day being the strong one, relaxes and just becomes osamu again. your osamu. you're the one osamu lets undress him sometimes, let's kiss over his skin, and help him wrap his bandages if he needs. if they exist, you're fairly certain osamu's your soulmate. and if they don't exist, he's surely the closest he can be to one. and maybe he doesn’t see you the same way back, but how could you not go out looking for your soulmate, the one you love, every time he wanders off alone? is always being by your boyfriend's side not what it means to love him? how could your heart not be eating away at you, knowing how far apart your other half, crying out to you to find him?

there’s no need to justify why you’re wandering through the humid mist of the early morning. if dazai asked why you always came after him, you’re not sure you could say all of that to his face. all you could probably say is, “because i love you.” and that’s what it all really boils down to in the end, isn't it? doesn't everything you do for him stem from a place of insatiable love? one that you’re not sure he’s always ready to accept, but one you are always willing to give him more of whenever his mind allows himself to let you love him as you want to. fully.

he's not near the bridge he's often teetering off the edge of and sometimes falling into. he's not found on the boardwalks of yokohama either. the shore is especially ghostly today, absent of any people, and the heavy fog that lays over the rippling blue water doesn't help with the eerie atmosphere.

but you find him at the third spot, which on a day like this, you felt was where you would find him from the start, anyway. 

you climb up the concrete steps quietly, seeing that familiar head of tousled brown hair leaning against a headstone. the engraving of a name that's been etched into it, the grooves aged and soiled with time, faces towards you.

you bow, placing your hands together and paying your respects as always to osamu's friend. the one you’ve never met, but by this point perhaps know just as well as osamu with all the stories he's fondly spoken of, lulling you to sleep on countless nights. after a moment of silence, you pass by the gravestone to join osamu on the dewy grass.

"[y/n]," he says your name, lolling his head against the curve of the top of the gravestone to look towards you.

his eyes are bright and wide, and you almost go as far to say he seems especially energetic today, but you know that no amount of light in his eyes can promise that he's doing well.

your eyes flick down to his hands, bandages just barely peeking out of the beige coat he's wearing, and you kneel next to him, not minding the way the soil sinks against your knees when you do, slightly leaning over him as you take his hands into your own.

"are you not cold? it's freezing out here and you're not even wearing an extra jacket. i should have brought a scarf or something—" you're half speaking to yourself, half speaking to him, and he only continues to watch you as if in admiration of something, which you come to understand with his next words.

"don't you ever get tired of warming me up? do you get tired of having to come find me? are you tried of getting your hands dirty because of me?" his words are gentle, still spoken lightly as if he’s simply telling you about the exciting day he’s had, not asking you questions that have you pausing for a second. in this moment, his tone only speaks volumes to you about how much of his true feelings he's hiding, but none of that works on you anymore.

"no, osamu," you look up at him from where you've been focused on his hands, clamped between your own as you try your best to give him everything you have, willing the warmth of your hands to transfer to him. it's not exactly how science works, but you'd bare the cold for him, freeze your very hands off and give him all of your warmth down to your beating heart if it meant he was warm and well taken care of.

"i'm never tired of you, or anything you do. i'll never get tired of you. i'm happy i get to warm up your hands every night. i'm happy i'm the one that gets to do that and wander around looking for you. you make me so happy, osamu, i don't care about these clothes, or how dirty i get, as long as i get to be by your side. as long as i get to be the one to hold your hands tonight." the curved smile he greeted you with is slowly dropping by the second, but that doesn't mean your words are upsetting him. it's the opposite; his facade is slowly peeling away. "do you see, osamu? you make me so happy. i'll dress warmly and take care of myself just to make sure that i'm always able to warm your hands because i love you. all i hope is that i can make you happy, too."

one of his hands, now slightly warmer, reaches up to slide against the side of your face, brushing the upper ridges of your cheekbone with a thumb. "you do make me happy, angel. sometimes i just have to get out, like my love for you is too much. i don't deserve so much happiness, so i have to return to places that once depressed me in order to force everything to settle down. i don't want to overwhelm you with how i feel, whether that be an emotion good or bad."

"don't hold yourself back or water yourself down for me, osamu. i want to love you through the good and the bad. i want to be there for all of it. i want to warm you up every night, not just on the ones where you feel deserving of it. you're always deserving of love, in my eyes. i don't want just the good parts of you, i want all of you. and if you still have to wander out and return to old places, then i'll come along with you, if you'll let me. i'll keep you warm wherever you go. i love you."

he lets out a breath that sounds like he's been holding it in for hours before he's smiling softly. it's genuine this time when his lips turn upward while he's pulling you onto his lap, your muddied knees straddling his own. "i love you, pretty. i'll do my best to keep you warm, too. with happiness, love, and whatever else you need. i hope you never get tired of me. because i will surely never tire of you." 

.

.

. 

♡

[causenessus]

comforting you. | bungou stray dogs

inc. chuuya, dazai, ranpo, odasaku

written is second pov (no gendered pronouns used)

"you deserve this." by men i trust

word count: 4.6k words

notes/warnings: separate scenarios for each bsd man and how they comfort you when you’re feeling down, giving you both love and realistic advice. i feel like i bounced between writing generalized headcanons and hyperspecific scenarios, so i’m sorry but i hope you enjoy this <3 each of you is deserving of so much love and patience <3 you deserve to be here <3 each pairing is in an established relationship. also (relevant for odasku’s scenario), the orphans are still alive. my writing my universe. i'm actually beastzai in another au where everyone lives and is happy and everything is okay. use of pet names "sweetheart" (chuuya scenario) "angel" (dazai scenario) and "love" (oda). general hurt/comfort drabbles :) lmk if I should add anything! i would NOT consider this proofread because I read it half-asleep at midnight trying to edit it so forgive me for any mistakes 🙏

special shoutouts to @dorotheasdiary + @aouzi for hyping me up/listening to my rambles abt this work!! sorry for the tag </3

chuuya.

sometimes the urge to give up became too strong. 

was it too much to ask time to stop for just one day? it seemed all your pleas to the sky were falling on deaf ears.

still, as all things do, you eventually lost the motivation to keep pushing forward on your own.

like a runner who trips upon a small pebble and can’t get back into their pace, slowly, slowly falling behind the others.

the one difference was that you had come to a complete stop. you'd never allowed yourself a break until you were completely burnt out; unable to move even a muscle.

you haven’t even made it out of bed the whole day. 

the room was starting to feel sick and stuffy with how long you’d laid in those sheets that no longer seemed to provide any comfort. rather, you felt like you were simply dirtying the sheets by continuing to lie there, purposeless, useless.

you barely had it in you to call out of work before drifting back into a mundane sleep that you continued to wake up and fall back into for the better half of the day. you hadn’t looked at your phone after sending a quick text to your manager, unprepared for whatever kind of passive-aggressive response they'd messaged back with because of your late notice. the unknown was too much right now, you couldn't focus on anyone you couldn't read but yourself. you didn’t want to be around friends, family, or people out on the street, where your mind would run rapid laps around itself, trying to figure out what everyone thought of you.

at work, it was the same; sizing yourself up to your coworkers, figuring out how well-liked you were— how replaceable you would be if one day you suddenly up and dropped, or, more likely in your mind, you annoyed everyone enough that they let you go. 

never really knowing what others thought terrified you. obviously it wasn't the norm despite living in a world filled with those gifted with abilities to be able to read another's mind but that didn’t mean your mind could simply let the anxieties go. your head always seemed to be buzzing, preoccupied with concerns about something.

which is why you had tried to block everything out, the moment you woke up this morning and every rustle of your legs tumbled in the sheets was too loud for your ears; a playlist of music on shuffle played softly from your phone nearby, giving your brain something mindless to focus on while you had your head pressed between pillows to deafen out the rest of the world.

you didn’t feel any better or any energized despite how much you had slept today, but at the very least, sleep often took you away from constantly having to listen to whatever your mind wanted to rave and overthink next.

'what time is it? have i even gotten up once today? i should at least walk around. clean up. i'll never be motivated to get out of bed like this—' there your head went, taking one simple question and turning it into spindles of chains to wrap around your throat.

but when you feel the mattress sink beside you, suddenly everything goes quiet. the sheets become just sheets again–not something you’re sinking into or dirtying. someone has opened the curtains, revealing an orange sunset outside, and something nice is playing from the speaker of your phone, you realize.

he is the only one who doesn’t make your head spin. he is your grounding anchor, the gravitational force keeping your feet planted on this earth, opening your eyes to the beauty of the world you couldn’t otherwise see due your own anxieties.

“you been here all day?” he must have snuck in without you even hearing him (which isn’t hard to believe, considering the cushions you’d just been pressing to both of your ears), even giving him enough time to change. chuuya’s hair is still in a loose ponytail and he wears that black choker around his neck as always, but he’s dressed in a white shirt and some sweatpants, his gloveless hands reaching out to rub circles in your back.

he’s bare with you, and that’s what you love most about him.

you’ve had you’re insecurities about not being good enough for him and anything else typical within a relationship, but he never leaves you wondering. he grabs your hand to keep you from floating away too far, getting lost in your own thoughts, often pulling you back into the moment, when you’re lying in bed with him on quiet nights, the sides of your faces only lit by a nearby warm bedside lamp. he’ll trace the side of your face, searching your eyes, asking, “where did you go?”

and you can’t always answer, but you know, every time he asks you this question, that at least you can tell him where you are now. you’re at home with him. 

and this moment is no different, with his calloused hands gliding up and down your back, and you only let out a small whine, shuffling closer to him as best as you can with how tangled you are up in his sheets.

“what’s wrong?” he asks softly, head tilting towards you slightly as you shimmy closer. “how can i help, sweetheart?”

you like how clear he is. how he always tells you what he’s thinking. he never leaves anything up to interpretation, always silencing your thoughts before they can make an assumption and run far with it.

while in the beginning of your relationship, it was hard to always voice what you needed, you came to realize with time that when chuuya asked you what he could do to help, it wasn’t him pressuring you to tell him what was wrong. it was simply how his head worked; he wanted you to be clear about what you needed. if that meant talking out your problems, he would listen. if that meant leaving you alone, he’d give you as much time as you needed (albeit probably checking in at some points just to make sure you didn’t need anything, it was just his nature to care for you). but all in all, he just needed you to talk to him. he would talk to you, you would talk to him. that's how miscommunication was prevented. your mind always felt so clear when you were around him because of how rationally he seemed to think of everything—all you had to do was follow his lead, and everything else came easily. things were never sugar-coated between the two of you, they were said plain and simple. (and with how charming he was, chuuya’s words often ended up being just as sweet as sugar anyway, not even needing to be wrapped up in some false front. when he said “i love you,” it was something clear. a fact, not something said just to appease you or mellow things out, he said it because he meant it).

and how refreshing it was, being lost in a sea of your own murky, unclear thoughts based off of assumptions upon assumptions, to be pulled from that ocean to the shoreline and be promised that the sun would rise again.

eventually, opening up to him became easier. even thought it sometimes took a few hours, you always ended up telling him what was on your mind and he waited patiently every time. he only ever listened unless you asked for more, and he never invalidated your feelings. trusting that he was just going to listen to you, it began to take even less time to prepare yourself to open up. it became as easy as taking a sip of water; something you had to do voluntarily, but was still needed, healing, and often refreshing.

the pitch of your voice slightly heightens as you hum a “yes” in response to his question, curling up closer to him, and his fingers have found their way into your hair, combing through it. “got tired of everything,” you whisper softly, resting your forehead against the side of his thigh, thankful for his contact.

“yeah? i’m sure you did, baby. you’re doing a lot. it’s good to take a break every now and then. anything in particular spur you to take the day off? there’s no shame in just deciding to take a rest day for the hell of it either, though,” he speaks as gently as his actions, shifting slightly on the bed so that you can rest more comfortably, your head now laying in his lap, and he brushes your hair out of your face as you look up at him and his pretty bangs framing his face as he leans down towards you.

you hum in thought at the question, searching your brain for the answer. was there something that had triggered you to break today? or was it just the build-up of it all? “not really anything in particular,” you shrug slightly, still admiring his golden-brown eyes, hooded and soft, gazing into your own, “just felt like everything came toppling down today. i’ve just been thinking too much about what others think of me. i don’t feel that important to the world, or my job. i’m easily replaceable–nothing special–and yet i have to keep fighting for this job. i have to fight to occupy space for myself in the world when i never even asked to be here in the first place. —and of course you make everything better but i mean–you know me. you’re good to me. you’re too good to me. and sometimes i can’t understand why you waste all of that goodness in you on me.” by the time you’re finished, he’s gently lifted your head out of his lap to lay down on his side next to you, continuing to face you the entire time. 

you finish your long-winded explanation of unreasonable worries, and he only stares into your face, and you begin to shift under his eyes uncomfortably. his head his propped up in his hands, and he wears a small smile on his face, eyes flicking every few moments to focus on a different part of your face. “...chuu?” you whisper his name quietly, and his smile only grows.

“sorry, got too caught up admiring your pretty face,” he apologizes, and there he goes again, being so honest it makes your heart squeeze sometimes. he shifts his position slightly, reaching out his free hand to intertwine his slender fingers with yours, gently pressing the pads of his fingertips against your own, playing with them. “well, first of all, don’t think of your life through the lens that you are now. you can’t control or read anyone else’s mind, and that’s okay. people make a lot of irrational decisions anyway, it’s impossible to predict what someone will do, so don’t worry about what they think. what makes how they perceive you or what they think more correct than what you feel? they could be totally wrong about something, and they are if they think you’re replaceable, or bad, or whatever. don’t make yourself smaller for anyone else. you’re so smart and thoughtful and if anyone makes you feel bad about who you are, i’ll talk shit back to them, alright?”

you nod at his words but don’t meet his attempt to lighten the mood, only shifting closer again, hiding your face in his chest, breathing in his scent. his hand is back on your head, keeping you close while combing through your hair. “i think you're perfect as you are, [y/n]. i wouldn't want you any other way. you're the only thing on my mind all the time and you’re all i think about—if you're worried about what goes through my mind. i'll always be here for you, i'll be right behind you even if the world is against you. all you need is me, i’d burn everything to the ground for you in a heartbeat."

dazai.

as a kid, you quickly learned not to fight back. 

others were allowed to be angry and lash out, but when you did the same, it was wrong wrong wrong.

when you were young, you learned that love was conditional.

there was no understanding when it came to your emotions. no matter the kind of day that you had you were still expected to always be kind and patient, and never yell back.

to be loved–or rather, to simply survive in this world, you had to be the smaller person; never expect someone to love you for who you are, but because they like that you’re agreeable, quiet, and passive. never expect anyone to care about how you feel, no matter how close of a friend they are.

and surely, you couldn’t expect any kind of empathy from a coworker.

but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt, and you could feel the way your chest contracted, suffocating with you, every time you were the brunt of kunikida’s critiques. there was no middle between letting the man belittle you to a husk of your former self or the scariest option of all: say something and risk your dynamic with him worsening even more.

setting boundaries and speaking your mind had never been things that came easy to you, as admitting that something was wrong in your relationship with someone always seemed to leave a gaping hole in the relationship that would always be prevalent, at least to you. telling someone who seemed to be unaware of how unkind their words were “you’re hurting me” seemed to always make things awkward between you and the other party. they realized they could no longer throw you around and every time they left, you couldn't help but think you should've dealt with it and kept your mouth shut. 

so you smile and nod along to whatever kunikida’s ordering you to do next, fake laughing when he says something about how important the job is and to make sure you don’t fail, as if such an option was even possible. you had never messed up anything he asked you to do, and with how long he went on about the importance of the job, you never planned to. but his ending words always reminded you of how little your efforts seemed to matter to him. he would never trust you or see you as anything better than just a little office worker to dump work on.

your face drops as soon as the man turns his back to you, and you let out a quiet sigh before returning to the laptop in front of you before hands upon your shoulders scare you.

“caught you!” a voice pops up from behind you, making you exclaim, jumping in your seat, whipping your head around to see a familiar brown-haired man. he was always causing problems for kunikida and getting scolded, and yet he seemed to be able to take everything as a light-hearted joke. he came into work every day with a smile on his face and new ways to irritate kunikida, while you couldn’t see yourself ever returning to this office if that man yelled at you the way he yelled at the boy in front of you even once.

“dazai! you scared me,” your eyes follow him as he slides into the chair next to you, slightly rolling away from you with how he’d launched himself into the seat. “what did you…catch?” you ask, watching as he scoots closer back to you again, resting his cheek on a bandaged arm atop of the oak desk you both sit at.

“now, now. let's not try and act all innocent. why are you letting him talk to you like that if it hurts you?” he asks with a smile, while your face only pales, your heart completely freezing up the moment you hear the question you fear most. you have to tear your eyes away before he sees through you anymore, and you look down into your lap, where you’re picking at your fingers. if dazai noticed it, surely others did. had kunikida been able to read your face? had you offended him because you refused to communicate your true feelings with him? maybe you seemed like a stuck-up individual in his eyes if he could tell that you were faking with him, and you weren’t sure if him believing that lie or finding out the truth would be worse.

“well i…” you trail off when his fingers come into your line of sight, intertwining them with yours, stopping you from the bad habit.

“have i ever gotten upset with you for very understandably getting annoyed at my endless antics? have we ever disagreed on something we absolutely refused to resolve? no to both. but are humans creatures of imperfection by nature? have we all made mistakes? yes, and that’s why they’re able to forgive each other unless they’re insufferably stuck up. but don’t let your head turn kunikida into a monster he’s not. he’ll understand if you ask him to speak to you less directly, or with more belief in you. he’s giving you these jobs because he trusts you, you know. he just rambles on about the importance of them because that’s who he is. you know that, and you know him. you know he’ll work to treat others with the respect they deserve, you just have to tell him so first. but he’s not going to get mad at you,” your eyes flick up from where he’s running a thumb along your knuckles up to him, only to find him already looking at you with those warm hazel brown eyes of his. he’s right, and it feels nice to be seen and not bashed for your true feelings. instead, you're being understood. under his gaze, you no longer feel weak for how sensitive or emotional you may feel. he’s looking at you like you’re worth something, worth enough that you can fight for yourself, worth enough to deserve to be comfortable in your relationships, rather than used by those near you.

“thank you,” you mumble, and he’s pulled you close by the wheels of your own chair, your knees knocking as one of his hands reach up to caress the back of your neck, soothing you further as you continue to look at him.

his lips are still curved into a smile, not the trickster one he wears as he comes up with his next plot to harass kunikida, but a soft, genuine one, like he loves and cares about you, without you even asking anything of him. maybe this is what love is; being looked at and known, without even having to open your mouth.

“of course, angel,” he murmurs, fingers brushing against the back of your scalp, “bring it up while atsuhi or i are around if you want, we’ll help you explain how you feel. you’re not alone, you never were and you never have to be."

ranpo.

ranpo’s heightened abilities to observe, infer, and understand go far past anything related to his detective work. 

the first time he found you feeling down and wanted to comfort you, he defaulted to what he knows helps him feel better (i.e. sweet treats, dim lights, warm, quiet environments). the entire time, while his hand is on your back, rubbing it soothingly as you lean against him, soft cries muffled by the blanket he’s placed over you, his brain is running the entire time with what he can do best to support you; did you like what he brung you? do you prefer to isolate yourself or do you like the company when you’re feeling down? blankets or no blankets? do you want him to talk to you and try to provide a distraction or is just being there for you what you need? touch, or no touch?

ranpo is so attentive to your needs. whatever you want and is best for you, he will get you and do for you. he gives all thanks to fukuzawa, for helping him realize not everyone sees the world the way he does, all those years ago. since then, he’s learned to be more responsive, emotionally thoughtful, and soft-hearted in his responses if that’s that what you need. but if you want to hear logic and how he’s rationalizing out your situation, he can do that, too. again, he is completely willing to bend and shape himself to your needs. the only thing he will always push for is to be in a room with you when you’re feeling down, even if you don’t want company </3

he knows when you really need to be alone, but he doesn’t like to let you be on your own for too long. he’ll always be in the next room over if you need anything, quietly pacing the room, only worried and thinking of you and if he can do anything more for you. if you’re curled up in bed all night, he’ll eventually knock on the door to ask if he can sleep with you and keep you company. he wholeheartedly believes letting other people help you and be there for you helps, especially to prevent you from spiraling down any pits of despair or insecurity. he wants you to know how much he cares about you and your wellbeing, he wants to be there to hold you close, press gentle kisses to your head, and murmur promises that he’ll never ever leave you alone.

but if you say no to company, he is happy to sleep on the couch and will be up the moment you call his name if you need something or decide you do want company. he is there completely for you always and whenever, and all of it comes from a place of love. he’ll never push you to do anything or tell him anything you don’t want to, and he’ll try not to infer anything even if he knows he could use context clues to find out exactly what’s upsetting you. he knows you’ll tell him when you’re ready if you want to, and it’s never his job to be in your business. his only responsibility is to love you and make sure you know it <3

oda.

you’ve never been great at facing your own problems, and you’re even worse at facing others in your time of struggle. it feels impossible to rely upon anyone, no matter how close they are to you.

sakunosuke oda is a selfless man, always taking care of others, putting their wellbeing above his own. he took in five orphans despite knowing the increased risk to his own safety that would come with taking care of them, and he still chose to do it despite not having a place of his own to take care of them at. he gives half of his wage as one of the lowest-ranking members of the port mafia to the kids every time he receives his salary and he’s never once deviated from the habit.

you know he’d drop everything for you if you told him what was wrong, but you couldn’t do that to him. it didn’t feel that serious. and worst of all, telling him how you were feeling would only cause him to cut his job short and then he’d be standing there with you while you continued to wallow in misery; of course his presence would help you feel better, but it wouldn’t immediately solve everything.

it wasn’t worth it. was your justification as you slipped out of your shared apartment. it wasn’t worth telling someone else how you were feeling, because they couldn’t solve it. you couldn’t solve it. you couldn’t even figure out for yourself what was wrong. you had to make your existence worth it instead, then. the best way you found, to distract yourself from your feelings and make sure they remained pushed down, was by helping others. no one whose in need of help often asks how others are truly doing, and you like that about them.

you don’t tell him where you’re going. you have nothing to hide; you just don’t want to worry him. you’ll tell him if he asks, but for now, you’re on your own.

but what kind of partner would he be if he didn’t know you? if he hadn’t memorized and kissed every mole, freckle, and blemish adorning your body? he knew you better than you realized, although you could never fully accept the fact that he paid attention to you, remembered your likes and dislikes, and knew your habits and routines like the back of his hand, all just because he loves you.

and when he comes home from work to an empty house, searching for any traces of you, he’s not worried. he has an idea of where you are and he knows that all he needs to do is text you, if he's curious. and he doesn’t immediately push his assumptions onto you about why you might be out and where; he knows you can take care of yourself and that you’ll communicate your needs to him. so when he texts you, it's not that he's demanding that you come home or ot tell him your whereabouts. rather, his texts are just to let you know he cares and is waiting for you at home.

sakunosuke ♡ : i’m home, just wanted to let you know

sakunosuke ♡ : text me if you need anything. and be safe

if he sees that you haven’t at least read his message within an hour or if he just can't wait to see you when you get home, whenever that may be, he already knows where to find you nine times out of 10. he’ll text the owner of his favorite curry shop, asking him if he’s seen you while already on his way down to the restaurant.

it's usually where he can find you there when you’re feeling down; braiding sakura’s hair, folding their laundry, coloring with one of the boys, helping out downstairs in the kitchen, or wherever else you can find a place to keep yourself busy. he knows that you’re always like this when you’re upset, and if you won’t take the day off to take care of yourself, then he will do it for you happily and well. he won’t even try to pull you away from what you’re doing–he’ll simply sit down with you, grabbing his own colored pencil while making small talk with the kids, giving you a small smile when you realize he's come into the room. or suddenly he’s next to you, helping you carry and hang up laundry, or drying off the dishes you’re washing.

and then before you know it, you’re walking home with him, hand in hand, a plastic bag rustling in his free one. you’ve both stopped to get food on the way home, and once you make it there, he’s immediately sitting you down, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “let me do everything, love.” he’ll help you out of your clothes into something more comfortable, holding your hair back while you wash your face and clean up, he’ll pull your chair out for you as you sit back down, and run a hand through your hair, keeping any stray strands out of your face as you eat. 

outside of the house, you can bury your feelings as much as you want to and work to please others, but at home with him, you’re the focus. you’re the one who’s honored and worshipped in the house. sakunosuke’s not letting you lift a finger if he can help it, and you can’t get away with continuing to ignore your feelings when his only desire is to help you.

and you’ll tell him what’s bothering you when you’re ready. he knows that after how long you both have been together. and so in the meantime, he’ll wait patiently, showering you with all the love in the world. ♡

[causenessus]

september vs. february btw

[causenessus]

also if it wasn't obvious if I ever die my blog is going to mango anon btw

[causenessus]

comforting you. | bungou stray dogs

inc. chuuya, dazai, ranpo, odasaku

written is second pov (no gendered pronouns used)

"you deserve this." by men i trust

word count: 4.6k words

notes/warnings: separate scenarios for each bsd man and how they comfort you when you’re feeling down, giving you both love and realistic advice. i feel like i bounced between writing generalized headcanons and hyperspecific scenarios, so i’m sorry but i hope you enjoy this <3 each of you is deserving of so much love and patience <3 you deserve to be here <3 each pairing is in an established relationship. also (relevant for odasku’s scenario), the orphans are still alive. my writing my universe. i'm actually beastzai in another au where everyone lives and is happy and everything is okay. use of pet names "sweetheart" (chuuya scenario) "angel" (dazai scenario) and "love" (oda). general hurt/comfort drabbles :) lmk if I should add anything! i would NOT consider this proofread because I read it half-asleep at midnight trying to edit it so forgive me for any mistakes 🙏

special shoutouts to @dorotheasdiary + @aouzi for hyping me up/listening to my rambles abt this work!! sorry for the tag </3

chuuya.

sometimes the urge to give up became too strong. 

was it too much to ask time to stop for just one day? it seemed all your pleas to the sky were falling on deaf ears.

still, as all things do, you eventually lost the motivation to keep pushing forward on your own.

like a runner who trips upon a small pebble and can’t get back into their pace, slowly, slowly falling behind the others.

the one difference was that you had come to a complete stop. you'd never allowed yourself a break until you were completely burnt out; unable to move even a muscle.

you haven’t even made it out of bed the whole day. 

the room was starting to feel sick and stuffy with how long you’d laid in those sheets that no longer seemed to provide any comfort. rather, you felt like you were simply dirtying the sheets by continuing to lie there, purposeless, useless.

you barely had it in you to call out of work before drifting back into a mundane sleep that you continued to wake up and fall back into for the better half of the day. you hadn’t looked at your phone after sending a quick text to your manager, unprepared for whatever kind of passive-aggressive response they'd messaged back with because of your late notice. the unknown was too much right now, you couldn't focus on anyone you couldn't read but yourself. you didn’t want to be around friends, family, or people out on the street, where your mind would run rapid laps around itself, trying to figure out what everyone thought of you.

at work, it was the same; sizing yourself up to your coworkers, figuring out how well-liked you were— how replaceable you would be if one day you suddenly up and dropped, or, more likely in your mind, you annoyed everyone enough that they let you go. 

never really knowing what others thought terrified you. obviously it wasn't the norm despite living in a world filled with those gifted with abilities to be able to read another's mind but that didn’t mean your mind could simply let the anxieties go. your head always seemed to be buzzing, preoccupied with concerns about something.

which is why you had tried to block everything out, the moment you woke up this morning and every rustle of your legs tumbled in the sheets was too loud for your ears; a playlist of music on shuffle played softly from your phone nearby, giving your brain something mindless to focus on while you had your head pressed between pillows to deafen out the rest of the world.

you didn’t feel any better or any energized despite how much you had slept today, but at the very least, sleep often took you away from constantly having to listen to whatever your mind wanted to rave and overthink next.

'what time is it? have i even gotten up once today? i should at least walk around. clean up. i'll never be motivated to get out of bed like this—' there your head went, taking one simple question and turning it into spindles of chains to wrap around your throat.

but when you feel the mattress sink beside you, suddenly everything goes quiet. the sheets become just sheets again–not something you’re sinking into or dirtying. someone has opened the curtains, revealing an orange sunset outside, and something nice is playing from the speaker of your phone, you realize.

he is the only one who doesn’t make your head spin. he is your grounding anchor, the gravitational force keeping your feet planted on this earth, opening your eyes to the beauty of the world you couldn’t otherwise see due your own anxieties.

“you been here all day?” he must have snuck in without you even hearing him (which isn’t hard to believe, considering the cushions you’d just been pressing to both of your ears), even giving him enough time to change. chuuya’s hair is still in a loose ponytail and he wears that black choker around his neck as always, but he’s dressed in a white shirt and some sweatpants, his gloveless hands reaching out to rub circles in your back.

he’s bare with you, and that’s what you love most about him.

you’ve had you’re insecurities about not being good enough for him and anything else typical within a relationship, but he never leaves you wondering. he grabs your hand to keep you from floating away too far, getting lost in your own thoughts, often pulling you back into the moment, when you’re lying in bed with him on quiet nights, the sides of your faces only lit by a nearby warm bedside lamp. he’ll trace the side of your face, searching your eyes, asking, “where did you go?”

and you can’t always answer, but you know, every time he asks you this question, that at least you can tell him where you are now. you’re at home with him. 

and this moment is no different, with his calloused hands gliding up and down your back, and you only let out a small whine, shuffling closer to him as best as you can with how tangled you are up in his sheets.

“what’s wrong?” he asks softly, head tilting towards you slightly as you shimmy closer. “how can i help, sweetheart?”

you like how clear he is. how he always tells you what he’s thinking. he never leaves anything up to interpretation, always silencing your thoughts before they can make an assumption and run far with it.

while in the beginning of your relationship, it was hard to always voice what you needed, you came to realize with time that when chuuya asked you what he could do to help, it wasn’t him pressuring you to tell him what was wrong. it was simply how his head worked; he wanted you to be clear about what you needed. if that meant talking out your problems, he would listen. if that meant leaving you alone, he’d give you as much time as you needed (albeit probably checking in at some points just to make sure you didn’t need anything, it was just his nature to care for you). but all in all, he just needed you to talk to him. he would talk to you, you would talk to him. that's how miscommunication was prevented. your mind always felt so clear when you were around him because of how rationally he seemed to think of everything—all you had to do was follow his lead, and everything else came easily. things were never sugar-coated between the two of you, they were said plain and simple. (and with how charming he was, chuuya’s words often ended up being just as sweet as sugar anyway, not even needing to be wrapped up in some false front. when he said “i love you,” it was something clear. a fact, not something said just to appease you or mellow things out, he said it because he meant it).

and how refreshing it was, being lost in a sea of your own murky, unclear thoughts based off of assumptions upon assumptions, to be pulled from that ocean to the shoreline and be promised that the sun would rise again.

eventually, opening up to him became easier. even thought it sometimes took a few hours, you always ended up telling him what was on your mind and he waited patiently every time. he only ever listened unless you asked for more, and he never invalidated your feelings. trusting that he was just going to listen to you, it began to take even less time to prepare yourself to open up. it became as easy as taking a sip of water; something you had to do voluntarily, but was still needed, healing, and often refreshing.

the pitch of your voice slightly heightens as you hum a “yes” in response to his question, curling up closer to him, and his fingers have found their way into your hair, combing through it. “got tired of everything,” you whisper softly, resting your forehead against the side of his thigh, thankful for his contact.

“yeah? i’m sure you did, baby. you’re doing a lot. it’s good to take a break every now and then. anything in particular spur you to take the day off? there’s no shame in just deciding to take a rest day for the hell of it either, though,” he speaks as gently as his actions, shifting slightly on the bed so that you can rest more comfortably, your head now laying in his lap, and he brushes your hair out of your face as you look up at him and his pretty bangs framing his face as he leans down towards you.

you hum in thought at the question, searching your brain for the answer. was there something that had triggered you to break today? or was it just the build-up of it all? “not really anything in particular,” you shrug slightly, still admiring his golden-brown eyes, hooded and soft, gazing into your own, “just felt like everything came toppling down today. i’ve just been thinking too much about what others think of me. i don’t feel that important to the world, or my job. i’m easily replaceable–nothing special–and yet i have to keep fighting for this job. i have to fight to occupy space for myself in the world when i never even asked to be here in the first place. —and of course you make everything better but i mean–you know me. you’re good to me. you’re too good to me. and sometimes i can’t understand why you waste all of that goodness in you on me.” by the time you’re finished, he’s gently lifted your head out of his lap to lay down on his side next to you, continuing to face you the entire time. 

you finish your long-winded explanation of unreasonable worries, and he only stares into your face, and you begin to shift under his eyes uncomfortably. his head his propped up in his hands, and he wears a small smile on his face, eyes flicking every few moments to focus on a different part of your face. “...chuu?” you whisper his name quietly, and his smile only grows.

“sorry, got too caught up admiring your pretty face,” he apologizes, and there he goes again, being so honest it makes your heart squeeze sometimes. he shifts his position slightly, reaching out his free hand to intertwine his slender fingers with yours, gently pressing the pads of his fingertips against your own, playing with them. “well, first of all, don’t think of your life through the lens that you are now. you can’t control or read anyone else’s mind, and that’s okay. people make a lot of irrational decisions anyway, it’s impossible to predict what someone will do, so don’t worry about what they think. what makes how they perceive you or what they think more correct than what you feel? they could be totally wrong about something, and they are if they think you’re replaceable, or bad, or whatever. don’t make yourself smaller for anyone else. you’re so smart and thoughtful and if anyone makes you feel bad about who you are, i’ll talk shit back to them, alright?”

you nod at his words but don’t meet his attempt to lighten the mood, only shifting closer again, hiding your face in his chest, breathing in his scent. his hand is back on your head, keeping you close while combing through your hair. “i think you're perfect as you are, [y/n]. i wouldn't want you any other way. you're the only thing on my mind all the time and you’re all i think about—if you're worried about what goes through my mind. i'll always be here for you, i'll be right behind you even if the world is against you. all you need is me, i’d burn everything to the ground for you in a heartbeat."

dazai.

as a kid, you quickly learned not to fight back. 

others were allowed to be angry and lash out, but when you did the same, it was wrong wrong wrong.

when you were young, you learned that love was conditional.

there was no understanding when it came to your emotions. no matter the kind of day that you had you were still expected to always be kind and patient, and never yell back.

to be loved–or rather, to simply survive in this world, you had to be the smaller person; never expect someone to love you for who you are, but because they like that you’re agreeable, quiet, and passive. never expect anyone to care about how you feel, no matter how close of a friend they are.

and surely, you couldn’t expect any kind of empathy from a coworker.

but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt, and you could feel the way your chest contracted, suffocating with you, every time you were the brunt of kunikida’s critiques. there was no middle between letting the man belittle you to a husk of your former self or the scariest option of all: say something and risk your dynamic with him worsening even more.

setting boundaries and speaking your mind had never been things that came easy to you, as admitting that something was wrong in your relationship with someone always seemed to leave a gaping hole in the relationship that would always be prevalent, at least to you. telling someone who seemed to be unaware of how unkind their words were “you’re hurting me” seemed to always make things awkward between you and the other party. they realized they could no longer throw you around and every time they left, you couldn't help but think you should've dealt with it and kept your mouth shut. 

so you smile and nod along to whatever kunikida’s ordering you to do next, fake laughing when he says something about how important the job is and to make sure you don’t fail, as if such an option was even possible. you had never messed up anything he asked you to do, and with how long he went on about the importance of the job, you never planned to. but his ending words always reminded you of how little your efforts seemed to matter to him. he would never trust you or see you as anything better than just a little office worker to dump work on.

your face drops as soon as the man turns his back to you, and you let out a quiet sigh before returning to the laptop in front of you before hands upon your shoulders scare you.

“caught you!” a voice pops up from behind you, making you exclaim, jumping in your seat, whipping your head around to see a familiar brown-haired man. he was always causing problems for kunikida and getting scolded, and yet he seemed to be able to take everything as a light-hearted joke. he came into work every day with a smile on his face and new ways to irritate kunikida, while you couldn’t see yourself ever returning to this office if that man yelled at you the way he yelled at the boy in front of you even once.

“dazai! you scared me,” your eyes follow him as he slides into the chair next to you, slightly rolling away from you with how he’d launched himself into the seat. “what did you…catch?” you ask, watching as he scoots closer back to you again, resting his cheek on a bandaged arm atop of the oak desk you both sit at.

“now, now. let's not try and act all innocent. why are you letting him talk to you like that if it hurts you?” he asks with a smile, while your face only pales, your heart completely freezing up the moment you hear the question you fear most. you have to tear your eyes away before he sees through you anymore, and you look down into your lap, where you’re picking at your fingers. if dazai noticed it, surely others did. had kunikida been able to read your face? had you offended him because you refused to communicate your true feelings with him? maybe you seemed like a stuck-up individual in his eyes if he could tell that you were faking with him, and you weren’t sure if him believing that lie or finding out the truth would be worse.

“well i…” you trail off when his fingers come into your line of sight, intertwining them with yours, stopping you from the bad habit.

“have i ever gotten upset with you for very understandably getting annoyed at my endless antics? have we ever disagreed on something we absolutely refused to resolve? no to both. but are humans creatures of imperfection by nature? have we all made mistakes? yes, and that’s why they’re able to forgive each other unless they’re insufferably stuck up. but don’t let your head turn kunikida into a monster he’s not. he’ll understand if you ask him to speak to you less directly, or with more belief in you. he’s giving you these jobs because he trusts you, you know. he just rambles on about the importance of them because that’s who he is. you know that, and you know him. you know he’ll work to treat others with the respect they deserve, you just have to tell him so first. but he’s not going to get mad at you,” your eyes flick up from where he’s running a thumb along your knuckles up to him, only to find him already looking at you with those warm hazel brown eyes of his. he’s right, and it feels nice to be seen and not bashed for your true feelings. instead, you're being understood. under his gaze, you no longer feel weak for how sensitive or emotional you may feel. he’s looking at you like you’re worth something, worth enough that you can fight for yourself, worth enough to deserve to be comfortable in your relationships, rather than used by those near you.

“thank you,” you mumble, and he’s pulled you close by the wheels of your own chair, your knees knocking as one of his hands reach up to caress the back of your neck, soothing you further as you continue to look at him.

his lips are still curved into a smile, not the trickster one he wears as he comes up with his next plot to harass kunikida, but a soft, genuine one, like he loves and cares about you, without you even asking anything of him. maybe this is what love is; being looked at and known, without even having to open your mouth.

“of course, angel,” he murmurs, fingers brushing against the back of your scalp, “bring it up while atsuhi or i are around if you want, we’ll help you explain how you feel. you’re not alone, you never were and you never have to be."

ranpo.

ranpo’s heightened abilities to observe, infer, and understand go far past anything related to his detective work. 

the first time he found you feeling down and wanted to comfort you, he defaulted to what he knows helps him feel better (i.e. sweet treats, dim lights, warm, quiet environments). the entire time, while his hand is on your back, rubbing it soothingly as you lean against him, soft cries muffled by the blanket he’s placed over you, his brain is running the entire time with what he can do best to support you; did you like what he brung you? do you prefer to isolate yourself or do you like the company when you’re feeling down? blankets or no blankets? do you want him to talk to you and try to provide a distraction or is just being there for you what you need? touch, or no touch?

ranpo is so attentive to your needs. whatever you want and is best for you, he will get you and do for you. he gives all thanks to fukuzawa, for helping him realize not everyone sees the world the way he does, all those years ago. since then, he’s learned to be more responsive, emotionally thoughtful, and soft-hearted in his responses if that’s that what you need. but if you want to hear logic and how he’s rationalizing out your situation, he can do that, too. again, he is completely willing to bend and shape himself to your needs. the only thing he will always push for is to be in a room with you when you’re feeling down, even if you don’t want company </3

he knows when you really need to be alone, but he doesn’t like to let you be on your own for too long. he’ll always be in the next room over if you need anything, quietly pacing the room, only worried and thinking of you and if he can do anything more for you. if you’re curled up in bed all night, he’ll eventually knock on the door to ask if he can sleep with you and keep you company. he wholeheartedly believes letting other people help you and be there for you helps, especially to prevent you from spiraling down any pits of despair or insecurity. he wants you to know how much he cares about you and your wellbeing, he wants to be there to hold you close, press gentle kisses to your head, and murmur promises that he’ll never ever leave you alone.

but if you say no to company, he is happy to sleep on the couch and will be up the moment you call his name if you need something or decide you do want company. he is there completely for you always and whenever, and all of it comes from a place of love. he’ll never push you to do anything or tell him anything you don’t want to, and he’ll try not to infer anything even if he knows he could use context clues to find out exactly what’s upsetting you. he knows you’ll tell him when you’re ready if you want to, and it’s never his job to be in your business. his only responsibility is to love you and make sure you know it <3

oda.

you’ve never been great at facing your own problems, and you’re even worse at facing others in your time of struggle. it feels impossible to rely upon anyone, no matter how close they are to you.

sakunosuke oda is a selfless man, always taking care of others, putting their wellbeing above his own. he took in five orphans despite knowing the increased risk to his own safety that would come with taking care of them, and he still chose to do it despite not having a place of his own to take care of them at. he gives half of his wage as one of the lowest-ranking members of the port mafia to the kids every time he receives his salary and he’s never once deviated from the habit.

you know he’d drop everything for you if you told him what was wrong, but you couldn’t do that to him. it didn’t feel that serious. and worst of all, telling him how you were feeling would only cause him to cut his job short and then he’d be standing there with you while you continued to wallow in misery; of course his presence would help you feel better, but it wouldn’t immediately solve everything.

it wasn’t worth it. was your justification as you slipped out of your shared apartment. it wasn’t worth telling someone else how you were feeling, because they couldn’t solve it. you couldn’t solve it. you couldn’t even figure out for yourself what was wrong. you had to make your existence worth it instead, then. the best way you found, to distract yourself from your feelings and make sure they remained pushed down, was by helping others. no one whose in need of help often asks how others are truly doing, and you like that about them.

you don’t tell him where you’re going. you have nothing to hide; you just don’t want to worry him. you’ll tell him if he asks, but for now, you’re on your own.

but what kind of partner would he be if he didn’t know you? if he hadn’t memorized and kissed every mole, freckle, and blemish adorning your body? he knew you better than you realized, although you could never fully accept the fact that he paid attention to you, remembered your likes and dislikes, and knew your habits and routines like the back of his hand, all just because he loves you.

and when he comes home from work to an empty house, searching for any traces of you, he’s not worried. he has an idea of where you are and he knows that all he needs to do is text you, if he's curious. and he doesn’t immediately push his assumptions onto you about why you might be out and where; he knows you can take care of yourself and that you’ll communicate your needs to him. so when he texts you, it's not that he's demanding that you come home or ot tell him your whereabouts. rather, his texts are just to let you know he cares and is waiting for you at home.

sakunosuke ♡ : i’m home, just wanted to let you know

sakunosuke ♡ : text me if you need anything. and be safe

if he sees that you haven’t at least read his message within an hour or if he just can't wait to see you when you get home, whenever that may be, he already knows where to find you nine times out of 10. he’ll text the owner of his favorite curry shop, asking him if he’s seen you while already on his way down to the restaurant.

it's usually where he can find you there when you’re feeling down; braiding sakura’s hair, folding their laundry, coloring with one of the boys, helping out downstairs in the kitchen, or wherever else you can find a place to keep yourself busy. he knows that you’re always like this when you’re upset, and if you won’t take the day off to take care of yourself, then he will do it for you happily and well. he won’t even try to pull you away from what you’re doing–he’ll simply sit down with you, grabbing his own colored pencil while making small talk with the kids, giving you a small smile when you realize he's come into the room. or suddenly he’s next to you, helping you carry and hang up laundry, or drying off the dishes you’re washing.

and then before you know it, you’re walking home with him, hand in hand, a plastic bag rustling in his free one. you’ve both stopped to get food on the way home, and once you make it there, he’s immediately sitting you down, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “let me do everything, love.” he’ll help you out of your clothes into something more comfortable, holding your hair back while you wash your face and clean up, he’ll pull your chair out for you as you sit back down, and run a hand through your hair, keeping any stray strands out of your face as you eat. 

outside of the house, you can bury your feelings as much as you want to and work to please others, but at home with him, you’re the focus. you’re the one who’s honored and worshipped in the house. sakunosuke’s not letting you lift a finger if he can help it, and you can’t get away with continuing to ignore your feelings when his only desire is to help you.

and you’ll tell him what’s bothering you when you’re ready. he knows that after how long you both have been together. and so in the meantime, he’ll wait patiently, showering you with all the love in the world. ♡

[causenessus]

i wish the world was kinder

[causenessus]

mmm I love chuuya sm

[causenessus]

idk if anyone else feels like january is the most gutting god awful month of the whole year but i feel like every diva i know is going through shit rn and if ur a diva going through shit reading this i want u to know i’m proud of you for making it through january

[causenessus]

i want him to do unspeakable things to me

tags?? no pressure?? :3 @kameyyy @wyrcan @aozui @bakery-anon @lexnetwork @shadowdragonrogue

stupid gay men

make!

no presh tags @chuuminn @thewickedjazzy @flametrashira @rossithepixie @ranpazz @dorotheasdiary @aishi-toru @berryzai @causenessus @teddybeartoji @kaeyx @cuntphoric @dicksoutforakutagawa @madaqueue

[causenessus]

most likely disappearing off the face of the earth for like a month/next few weeks i'm so sorry I'll be around if i can 😭 someone needs to stop me from continuing to get myself in these situations

[causenessus]

Today hasn't been very good. Reblog to cover prev in blankets and tell them everything is going to be okay and they're loved.

[causenessus]

present

part 0.5. CIGARETTES OUT THE WINDOW

“my girl used to always smoke / cigarettes when she couldn't sleep i wonder what she did when she got done? / i guess she'd just flick them out in the street the light from the billboard always shines / but it changed twelve times since you went away … “you’ll find moonlit nights strangely empty; because when you call my name through them, there will be no answer.”

cw: smoking, violence, blood, death, slight(?)/one allusion to suicidal ideation?

don’t let her emotions take control of her.

that’s what she kept trying to tell herself.

that’s what she had told earnest. that was the last thing mori had to said to her when they'd talked. he’d said it as a piece of cautionary advice, knowing earnest's death was a possible outcome. mori was always multiple steps ahead, foreseeing every possible ending in the future ahead, and he knew what would happen next if she let her feelings take over just as well as she did.

his warning lay heavy in the back of her head, but ironically, trying to tell herself to suppress her emotions only made them stronger. she could feel their influence spreading through the rest of her mind, bringing up reminders of the past–of the last time she'd been in this situation–to flash before her eyes. her shadows played tricks on her, taking on the form of an old acquaintance, or one was even cruel enough to disguise itself as earnest. everyone knew she was weak right now, and everyone was waiting for her to crumble. mori expected her to be able to take back control of herself, and she hoped to god for the same, but the shadows weren't making it easy—especially because they knew exactly what to do to trigger her and get what they wanted. she needed to pull herself together before they found a hole through her already crumbling defense.

there wasn’t much keeping her from going back to her apartment and isolating herself in a dark room where she could be left to suffer on her own, but she couldn't shut down in this time of peril when the mafia needed her the most. it would be selfish of her to let the death of one boy make a port mafia executive shut down. it was a given that people died in this line of work. she wasn't special for experiencing loss, and earnest wasn't special for being lost.

she’d had people close to her never make it back home–people she’d been closer to than earnest. she really hadn’t even known earnest that well. it didn’t matter to her that she’d failed to stop him from making an irrational decision she knew would end in death, it didn’t matter that he paralleled another segment of her history quite well—none of it mattered. he didn’t matter.

it was too soon to say something like that when the wound hadn’t even closed over yet. even the buzzing in her head stopped after she'd said the words to herself, forcing her to sit in the discomfort of her own heartlessness. she had to take a shaky breath to bring herself back to the moment in front of her instead, placing a hand on the pillar next to her to steady herself.

she was crouched on the outside ledge of a brick wall a few stories above ground, eyes focused on the structure that stood before her, across an empty street. while the building in question should have been closed up and clear of any life itself, and perhaps any other mafia lackey would have had to double-check their sources to make sure they were at the right place, she knew exactly what she was doing. no one had come in or out of the building in the past hour, and every light on the front side of the building was off, but that didn't concern her. she knew she was at the right location, there was no doubt about it.

break-ins were one of her specialties, made easier in the shadows of the nighttime. although, she was here not just to steal but to kill. how could she be so sure that her target was inside what seemed to be a deadbeat building? because in the big world of businesses and crime, company office buildings—as opposed to any of their associates' homes—were oftentimes still alive at night with vulnerable office workers working overtime out of the goodness in their hearts. they'd only meant well, trying to get a headstart on the next day, but they didn't always make it there when she was lurking on the streets. when they holed themselves up in their offices, alone in a dark building, they were practically asking her to come by and kill them. and tonight was no different; after she'd disposed of her target, she would rummage through his drawers for what mori had asked her to find.

she considered breaking through the front door and walking right up to the man she was here for before deciding against it. she began to plan out an alternate route to the front door but the end result of her plan remained the same; she'd make sure her target saw the face of death before her blade met his throat.

more than just see; she wanted him to recognize her and regret ever even thinking of crossing paths with her. she was going to be the last face he saw and she wanted to hear him plead for forgiveness and mercy on his knees before she gave him neither. because she was no god, she was just a wretched soul, not always capable of forgiveness, but surely always capable of violence.

she had no doubt that he would recognize her because they had traded a briefcase and he’d attempted to kill her only nights ago. his name had long since left her memory; all she needed to know about him was that he had triggered earnest’s paranoia and been his ultimate cause of death. 

she'd decided to make her way into the building through a deteriorating window at the back of the office building, wedging a blade under its worn frame until she heard a crack and could slide the glass open.

the guild’s main base seemed to be a flying mechanical whale called the moby dick–one of the other member's abilities–but most of the group had spread out across the city to plan their next moves. after angering both the mafia and the detective agency, it was a smart idea not to have everyone reside in the same place, no matter how safe it was. her target was staying alone by himself with a copy, mori predicted, of the guild's next moves. what mori was most interested in at the moment, he'd said, was where the rest of the members were hiding out and if she could find out what each of them planned to do next.

this entire job was simple and easy, and she almost wished she could avenge earnest in a better way. but in reality, the simplicity of this job once again proved something: if he had just waited for mori's orders like she'd told him to, he’d probably still be alive.

her face was grim, and she could feel a shadow curl across the side of her cheek. perhaps killing this man would help put these shadows back in their places and prove to them that she was in control.

the only time she used her ability was when she approached the door her target stood behind. she sunk into the shadows, slipping under the door and moving alongside the edge of the wall of the office to eventually make it behind the man.

when she reverted back out of the shadows, she had her knife in hand. “hey, nice to see you again,” she started, and the man jumped in his chair twisting to look at her quickly and she saw his hand fly under the desk to grab for something, but she wouldn’t let him. she’d frozen him in place, restrained to his chair with shadows that had risen from the ground.

"w-wait—" his face irked her more than she had expected it to, but he was, no doubt, the man she and earnest had met under the moonlight several nights ago.

“there's nothing to wait for," she cut him off, staring into his face blankly. were those tears welling in his eyes? he truly was pathetic, barely even worthy of her time, "and it’s not really that nice to see you, actually. but at least it’ll be the last time. the last time i ever see you, and you ever get to see anyone else.” he'd let out a shriek which she cut off halfway with a flick of her wrist, slicing through the pale skin of his neck and sending blood spurting. when she released him from the hold of her shadows, he gagged, choking on his own blood filling his throat as he fell forward out of his chair.

in an ironic parallel of events, similar to how she’d found earnest in that dreadful alleyway, in a nice, here earnest’s murderer lay at her feet, face down, in a pool of his own blood. the only difference was that she wasn’t done with the body in front of her.

he hadn’t even finished bleeding out when she kneeled next to him, a hand on his back as the shadows beneath her started to rise. “although i suppose this won’t be the last time others see you. you’re about to make a nice welcoming gift for your friends,” she whispered, watching the way the dark wisps slowly enveloped the corpse beside her, slowly pulling it through the floor into the domain she knew best. 

while normally it was difficult for her to bring someone else with her through the shadows (many complained that it felt like they'd been buried alive in concrete and were slowly suffocating, although she thought it was easy as gliding), she didn’t have to worry much about what a dead body felt. she had one last place to deliver him, and she let the body wait in the shadows as she rummaged through his desk for the papers she was looking for. “here we go,” she murmured to herself, pulling out a thick binding of papers. she flipped through it, skimming the text to make sure it was the right papers. it seemed to be written as if it was a full length novel, strangely enough, but this was surely what she was looking for. she read the names of a pair of guild members who were hiding out on a ship at dock before the setting changed to another pair of characters hundreds of miles away, in a more rural area just outside the city. she almost pitied mori who would have to read through the whole thing but the sooner she got it to him, then, the better.

she first appeared in an underground workshop, cold and lifeless. the walls and floor were concrete, deprived of any decorations or personality. the blue light of computer screens and a nearby water tank reflected off the stone walls, giving the place an eerie glow, not to mention the rancid stench of chemicals filling the room.

a sudden shriek filled the room, and she turned around, blinking her eyes in surprise at the noise. “[y/n]-chan! you scared me!” the reason for the noise was a tall, lanky man with short cropped brown hair and purple goggles. kaiji was his name; an eccentric, (only slightly) crazed explosives scientist, and mafia member.

“why? i told you i was coming, didn’t i?” she tilted her head, and feeling the weight of his stare, used a hand to wipe at the side of her cheek where he was looking. when she looked down at her hand, it was smudged red. a stray bit of blood must have gotten onto her when she'd first killed her target. while normally she didn’t mind the mess some kills made, this man’s blood was disgusting and defiling. she made her way over to the sink, beginning to wash her hands up to her forearms along with her cheek under the stream of water with soap.

kaiji continued to watch her, seemingly in a bit of shock as she dried her hands off. “er– well– yes, you did. but i didn’t hear the door open.”

“that’s because i didn’t use the door,” she answered quickly and bluntly back.

“...right,” he replied, “i assume you brought the body?” she raised a hand in response, causing a lumpy shape covered in voidless black to rise from the ground before the shadows slowly started to pull away, revealing a familiar corpse.

“fascinating,” the scientist crouched down to observe the body, flipping it over to his back, where the dead man’s eyes were still wide open. kaiji didn’t close his eyes, and neither did she. there was no respect for the man, nor his friends who were their next targets. “thank you for bringing him, this is going to be a…blast,” he looked up at her with an expectant grin, as if she was supposed to humor him.

she only sighed, leaning her back against a nearby metal table, standing a few feet away from the crouched man and dead body. “thank you. not for the horrible joke, but for doing this. this is going to be a sight the guild members will never forget. do you need anything else from me?”

kaiji shook his head, “no, my lemon bombs are made, all that’s left is to get this big guy on a table and remove his insides!”

her eyes glinted at that and she already had a knife in hand, “i can split his face open right down the middle?”

the man in goggles shrieked again at her words, falling back onto his behind, revealing his horrible taste in shoes, “you’re crazy! no, this is a specific, scientific process! with...with scalpels– and gloves– and you don’t start with the face! you scare me sometimes, [y/n]-chan.”

her face dropped in disappointment as she sighed, putting her blade back in its sheath. “alright then. do what you need to. have fun.”

“i can call you when the process is done and he’s stuffed? or maybe you’d like to see right before he blows up?” kaiji stood up, beginning to clear off a table and open various cabinets, pulling out surgical materials and containers.

“just let me know how it goes, i don’t care. as long as the guild realizes they’ve fucked up, that’s all i care about. mori-san should have the details for the drop-off soon, although from what i know, it looks like you'll be going to a boat.” she watched as kaiji slung the limp arm of the body over his shoulder, shakily standing back on his legs before throwing the body onto a nearby examination table. "speaking of which, i need to get these plans to the boss. i’ll see you around?”

his only reply was a hysterical cackle as she slipped through the doors, leaving him to finish the body of the man she had killed.

when she finally made it to mori’s office, she was no longer thinking about anything. she no longer felt anything— only barely feeling her feet hit the ground beneath her as she walked. perhaps talking to mori and receiving a new job from him would fix her feeling of numbness, but for now, it seemed that she had pushed down her feelings well. too well, in fact, that she knew this went past her own capabilities to numb herself. rather, this was ikiryō's doing. it sought to slowly dehumanize her over time, eating away at her own soul until eventually leaving her an empty husk to be filled with shadows instead.

“here are the guild’s plans, sir. it seems some of the agency members are hiding out in shirakawa. two guild members are also near there, planning to take the clerks from the agency as hostages. that was as far as i read,” she placed the large bundle of papers on his desk once the doors closed behind her and he hummed in thought, examining the stack.

“thank you, [y/n]-chan. i’ll read through it. and the man you stole these from is taken care of?” his red eyes flicked up to meet hers.

“yes, sir. his body has been left with kaiji, who as previously planned, will fill his body with bombs and use it to attack the guild at your command,” she shifted uncomfortably under his gaze, unsure of what to do with herself while he seemed to be examining her face for something.

“and how are you holding up, [y/n]-chan?” he asked, and she hesitated. she wasn’t even sure of what the honest reply to that question would be, and how accepting he would be if she admitted she felt like she was losing control of herself. perhaps she’d find the courage to bring it up tomorrow, but for now, maybe she would go home, sleep on it, and see if she felt anything in the morning.

“i’m well, sir. everything is fine,” she answered. and perhaps because she was unsure of the honest answer herself, mori didn’t seem to take it as a lie straight to his face. “will that be all, sir?” she asked, remaining in her same place in case he had another task for her.

“yes, that is all, [y/n]-chan. go rest. i’ll have someone contact you tomorrow once kaiji has been sent out,” he nodded with a smile at her, and she bowed.

“thank you, boss,” she nodded her head as well before taking her leave.

she was in no hurry to get home, or rather, she didn’t have it in her to move any faster than she currently was. her legs felt heavy, and she was sure she was dragging her feet along the sidewalk. the energy of those who bustled by her each in their own world did nothing to help her own levels and before she knew it, she found herself standing outside a neon-lit convenience store. there was no harm in going in, maybe she could browse the selves and see if there was anything she thought she could stomach at the moment.

in the end, she ended up settling for a cup of instant ramen and a pack of cigarettes, a combination she was sure would make her body hate her more. she didn’t often smoke, rarely, even, but this entire night had been something out of the norm, and smoking through a pack could be the cherry on top of it all.

when she reached her apartment, she kicked off her shoes, letting the cup of noodles soften with hot water as she changed into a shirt and shorts. she blew mindlessly on the noodles, only getting halfway through it before she ended up leaving the container on the table, unable to eat anymore. she moved onto the second item she’d bought this night, grabbing the cigarette pack off her kitchen island, a lighter, and her keys. there was no need for a jacket or even shoes; she padded down the hall to a community balcony near the elevator of her floor. when she stepped out into the night, a breeze blew past her, and it took a few clicks of her lighter to finally get a spark. she cupped a hand around the cigarette placed delicately between her lips, protecting the flame from the wind until she finally saw the end of the roll light. 

she slipped the lighter back into her pocket before leaning over the side of the balcony railing, observing the city below between drags of the cheap, pointless little wad of paper. the wind blew harshly, and she knew if she’d just stayed inside, she wouldn’t feel a distant shiver in the body her own ability was actively trying to kick her out from. if she'd stayed inside, there wouldn’t be smoke flying back into her face, but she couldn't really find it in her to care; her skin was being enveloped by shadows, her body taken over by them, what was a little smoke in her lungs and mind?

it's instinctual when she looks over her shoulder at the sound of the door clicking closed behind her and sees someone who hadn’t even crossed her mind all day. but immediately, at the sight of him, she feels a little more grounded in her body again. it was as if he had found her on the ledge of a building, or in this case, her mind, and just when she’d given up and jumped off the ledge, he’d grabbed her hand.

“chuuya,” she continued staring at him, almost wide-eyed. her body felt frozen, unsure of what to do with itself. turn towards him? wrap her arms around him? or turn back to the city and leave everything behind?

he takes a look at the cigarette in her hand, the look in her eyes, and the dark tendrils curling up her neck. she looks horrible, which is to be expected; he hasn’t seen her since he'd pulled her into a hug in that alleyway where everything became a shade darker. despite his best efforts, she'd seemed to be evading him, whether it was on purpose or not. but he'd finally seen her step back into her apartment earlier tonight, and he wouldn't let her disappear again.

“what are you doing out here?” he asks.

prev. | m.list | next

a/n: forgive me for actually posting the chapter that was supposed to come out last Sunday this Sunday I got a bit sidetracked with other projects I fear. also,,, have I already gotten on my soapbox about loving chuuya in every form but manga strawberry blond brown-eyed chuuya is my favorite? if not there you go, apologies if you get confused about whose got brown eyes but now you know: it's chuuya! <3 which this did not come up a single time in this chapter but it will at some point I swear. also forgive me i am way too tired to read through this for a third time so i apologize for any mistakes 🙏

taglist: @kameyyy @miiyas @saoirseyun @phoenix-eclipses @writingandmusing @strawberryuri @viovya (form to be added to taglist! <3)

[causenessus]

in every universe. | nakahara chuuya

chuuya x gn!reader

written in 2nd person :3

"i'd give the world to her, as long as my heart's still beating, as long as she's next to me, because I like her." -> 20191009 i like her by (mac demarco)

2.7k words

notes: use of pet names sweetheart/doll (for reader) and love/darling (for chuuya), established relationship, a lot of flirting and teasing on both ends because they love each other and can handle it, chuuya cursing, chuuya being head over heels for reader, gifting giving as a love language taken to the MAX, just two people being bookworms :3 i hope you enjoy! the bookstore they go to (spoiler alert) is very much based off of a bookstore i went to while visiting my mango anon, so i dedicate this work to her <3

nakahara chuuya who never had time to read or stop to take a breath until he met you. in the sheep, even when he was first taken in, he soon began to help on food runs. once they found out about his ability, there was never a day he got to catch a true break. then joining the mafia kept him busy, and what he few things he did read were half-assed reports or those typed by someone who obviously should have been a novelist rather than a mafia lackey.

for him, there was no middle between never reading and reading something that made him want to set the paper in his hands on fire. but that didn't mean he outright hated the idea of it. he liked the idea of books and the stores and libraries that were filled with shelves of thread-bound tens or hundreds of sheets of paper from every decade of the world; some having recently found their way onto a shelf while others had been printed, placed on shelves, and traded hands for centuries. he liked the idea of the worlds each of the books contained, the different stories they all told, and the inferences and messages people would take with them after finishing a book.

once, he’d been trailing a target who'd entered a nearby bookstore to browse their selection. he'd done his own bit of wandering, mainly to fit in with the atmosphere until it became less of an act and something more genuine—a few covers would catch his eye and he’d felt tempted to pull them off the shelf and buy them right then and there before he remembered what he was here for. but that interaction had been his first experience with the allure of books; it wasn't really something he'd learned in that moment, but, more precisely, from you.

you, who would get too caught up in a book until he'd called your name for the umpteenth time, not angry, but worried about why you weren't responding to him. he'd feared you were purposely ignoring him and was unsure of what he’d done until you’d silenced his concerns with a laugh. when he'd settled onto the couch next to you after finally getting your attention, you'd climbed on top of him, pressing a kiss to his lips, "i'm not mad. i was just reading a good book, i promise."

a book had the ability to distract you that much?

"i just get lost in books sometimes—too focused on what’s happening in the world within them. that's what a good book does," you explained further, his hands trailing down to settle on your sides, pulling you close and flush against him.

he hummed, processing your words. it sounded like an interesting experience and anything you liked he was bound to like, right? the only kind of book he didn't want to read was a mystery. he had enough of that kind of shit in his everyday life when he had to figure out where the hell his rookies went off to every day–not to mention that cursed book he'd been trapped into by that detective boy from the agency several months ago.

a few days after your explanation, he was taking you out on his day off when you both passed the bookstore he'd previously found himself in on that last mission. recognizing the sign that hung on the wall above the store, his feet almost stopped as if he was feeling a pull to return back to the store before he ignored the feeling. noticing his interest in the bookstore, you’d squeezed his hand. "hey, I wanna go in there. can we?" you asked, tilting your head while pointing to the store.

he'd never been able to resist that sweet smile of yours and this is–of course–his day to spoil you, but he still can’t help but tease you a little bit first, "huh? you don't have enough books already?"

you pout, already settled on your decision as you begin tugging him towards the entrance of the store, "how rude! never say that to a bookworm. there's no such thing as having too many books."

"yeah, yeah, sorry." he rolls his eyes half heartedly, but he doesn’t put the effort to tease you above making it to the door before you do, holding it open before walking in after you.

the bookstore is worn, the small bell at the edge of the door more of a dusty bronze than a gold, showing its age. the floorboards have started to bow with how many seasons of cold and warm temperatures they’ve been through and they creak loudly, flattening back into their original flush position whenever he steps on them. there's a large dark walnut wooden ladder reaching the shelves of the store's abnormally high ceiling, looking as cliché as it gets, yet it was the first thing he noticed upon entering the store weeks ago and it’s one of his favorite touches to the store even now.

he almost protests when your fingers slip out of his as you run off to admire in awe a row of books that adorn the top of a piano, but he smiles at the look of wonder in your eyes that only grows when you turn to the left to see a staircase descending down.

"chuuya! look! they have a lower floor!" you say, straightening back up to point at the stairs, looking at him.

he's shoved his hands in his pockets, finally making it back to you after you’d run off and now he's staring you down with a look in his eyes that makes you melt and drop your arm shyly under his adoring gaze, "yeah, you just noticed, sweetheart?"

"well– not a lot of bookstores have something like this," you purse your lips, looking down at the floor, "you're acting like you've been here before."

"i have," he replies, arm coming around your shoulder to guide you to the staircase, where he knows you want to go. you look up at him in surprise as you begin descending the broad wooden planks and he shrugs, "was following someone last week and they came in here. spent like an hour walking around...they must've been a bookworm like you."

you giggle at his words, leaning closer into his touch, pressing a chaste kiss to the underside of his jaw, nuzzling your nose into the side of his neck before pulling away. "well, now you're going to have to watch me wander around this bookstore. don't go too far, alright?"

"says you," he sighs, shaking his head as you run off the moment you reach the bottom of the stairs to the nearest bookshelf. while you spend a few minutes observing every spine lined up in front of you, he begins to wander around on his own, trying to find the books he'd looked at last week. there was no harm in it, right? it looked weirder if he just stood around in the middle of the store waiting for his sweet partner to be done. although, another unique touch to the bookstore was a small projector that hung from the ceiling of the basement of the bookstore. it was casting an old black and white film onto a side of a wall, where a few rows of seats had been placed for anyone wanting to sit for a moment.

but he didn't need to pretend he was here for a reason, he’d wanted to come in here just as much as you did even if he wouldn’t admit it. he soon found himself searching the shelves too, gloves trailing along the edges of several book's spines, ever so often stopping to pull one that stood out to him.

a blow against the shell of his ear makes him jump and he spins around to face you, his cheeks a little pink, "shit, you scared me, doll."

you only give him a teasing smile and laugh, your eyes flickering down to the book in his hand, "did you find something you liked?"

he turns the object around in his eyes, looking at its back as if the answer to your question was supposed to be there. the entire cover was made out of blue thread, and the gold text that had been etched into it had grabbed his attention. "i don't know, i think i just liked how it looked. what about you?"

he can see you holding your hands behind your back and at his prompt, you flash him a grin before revealing a pile of books balanced nicely on top of each other.

the large stack isn't what makes his eyes widen and lips part slightly–it's how familiar all the covers of the books look to him. "did you–?"

"you fell right into my trap, chuu," you keep teasing him and it pieces together.

you had plenty of books, and yeah you could always have more but you hadn’t wanted to come here for you. you'd noticed his slight trip up at the sight of the store, and brought him in here for him. so that he could look at books. you'd been secretly paying attention to what books he'd picked up out of the corner of your eyes. and once he'd finished talking himself out of buying a book and placed it back where he found it, you trailed behind him to pull the book right back off the shelves.

you'd snuck up on him at the end of an aisle, where there were bookshelves on all three sides of you both besides the way you'd come from. he used that to his advantage, suddenly pulling you in by the hip to press you against the bookshelf facing the opposite end of the aisle. to anyone else, he probably only looked like he was browsing the selection this shelf (unless they were unfortunate enough to look just a little bit closer, to the pair of shoes trapped between his own).

you'd exclaimed at the sudden pull, tightening your grip on the books, shuddering when you felt his breath on your neck.

"you're sly, you know that? when'd you start behaving like this?" the words went straight to your stomach where you felt a flutter, and you reached out a hand to grip the sleeve of one of his arms.

"well, i learned from you, of course," you fired back, your mouth immediately going dry at the trail of kisses he left down your neck.

"you're too cute for your own good, you know," he murmured, pulling away, leaving you a blushing mess. "are you done? should we keep going?" he asked, looking at you like nothing had happened.

"i– um– just want to buy these books and then we can leave," you fixed your clothing, trying to cool down.

he quirked a brow, "were you actually interested in those books too? in that case, let me pay–" he reached for the books in your hands but you dodged his attempt, shifting your arms to hold them out to the right.

"no, i'm buying them for you, silly!" you teased, already walking past him before he could process your words and catch you.

"[y/n]—"

"i know what you’re thinking. you didn’t want to buy them in the first place because ‘i’ll never have time to read them... what if I don't like them... blah blah blah…’ but that all changes today. starting now, i'll be taking you on reading dates at least once a month. got it?" you turned to face him on the stairs you were climbing back up and he stopped behind you, a look of surprise on his face. "you'll never know if you like them until you try, chuu."

"i–"

"good, it's settled," you winked before turning back towards the top of the stairs, walking over to the counter.

once you got there? chuuya fought with you to pay, the both of you whipping out your cards while the cashier in front of you continued to stare forward with a smile on their face as if the couple in front of them wasn't shoving at each other, cursing one another out as their arms got tangled up, grabbing at each other's wrists.

your card won in the end, and you laughed triumphantly before placing the books in his hands while he muttered something you couldn't quite catch. when you made it out the door, he'd pulled you by the waist to bring your back flush against his chest again, face pressed into your shoulder, his new books still held at his side. "thank you, doll," he whispered, face slightly muffled by your shoulder.

but you heard it still, turning to place a gentle kiss to the side of his head. "of course, love," you smiled, reaching your arm back to find his free hand, intertwining it with yours. "now, where were we going again? before we got sidetracked by the books?"

"i was going to treat you to coffee," he came back to your side as you both began to walk again.

you bobbed your head at the reminder, "ah, right! although i think you're mistaken. i was going to treat you."

he looked at you from the side, brows furrowed, "hell no. especially not after you paid for these books. you're not gonna win this time, i'll pin your feet to the ground with gravity if i have to."

"you wouldn't dare," you stuck your tongue out at him before looking forward and refusing to say anything else. and he didn't argue back, because you were right. he'd much rather wire his entire savings into your account or pay you back a hundred times over before ever even thinking about using his ability on you in such a way. "hey," you suddenly perked up again and he hummed in response, waiting for you to continue, "do you wanna read at the cafe? or just go home? don't tell me it's up to me, tell me what you want."

he sighed at how quick you were to shut down his default answer, taking a second to think through his answer. "i think i just wanna go home. don't wanna hear anyone's voice but yours."

the way he smirked at you afterward, seeing your face warm at his comment told you that he was flirting on purpose to get a rise out of you. but you also knew by this point that his compliments came from an honest place, it was just for his entertainment that he’d word them in such a way to leave you a blushing mess.

"alright then," you mumbles back, cheeks flushed, "we'll grab something and go home."

and that day off had started a routine. "reading dates" as you had called them.

you.

you.

he loved you.

he loved coming home, no matter the time, and seeing you on his couch, knees pulled to your chest where a book was nestled. he loved the way you beckoned him with a hand and a soft call of his name, carded your fingers through his hair as you changed your position, just to accommodate him, so that he could rest his head in your lap.

sometimes you seemed to read his mind and had the current book he was reading on the other side of you and would hand it to him so that he could read as well. sometimes, you simply rubbed his scalp, telling him, “just rest, darling. how was your day?”

maybe it was because he was always so busy, always on the move, always out of the house and returning home late, but he much preferred staying inside with you on his days off to going out if you didn’t want to. he liked it when you both lay against opposite sides of the couch, legs intertwined where they met in the middle, or when he was nestled between your legs, head resting on your middle as you both read in a peaceful silence. 

he liked best when neither of you even made it the couch, but woke up in each others arms, and stayed in bed the whole day. or when he woke up, an arm still slung around your front, keeping you close, but you were sat up, resting against the headboard of his bed, book in hand.

he loved you, it was that simple. it was the root of his life, his purpose for living, the feeling in which everything else could stem from.

perhaps you were a kind of book yourself, always able to take him to another world, where he could be separated from his problems and just focus on the beauty of creation and humankind. and he could do that all just by tracing the side of your face every morning.

[causenessus]

Have you too noticed how frequent fisheye lens shots are in bsd? Have you ever wondered how frequent they are? Then look no further than this

Bungou Stray Dogs s1-5 Fisheye Shot™ compilation!

Here, we will consider Fisheye Shots™ to be those shots that frame a character's face in a curved way for a few sustained seconds. We will not count shots where only the background was distorted, nor shots of rooms, objects, animals, or simply mid-action weirdness. If we included those, the counter would go way high (and whoever is stronger than me can deal with that)

Here are the totals!!!!

Season 1: 14!

Season 2: 10!

Dead Apple: 3!

Season 3: 14!

Season 4: 10!

Season 5: 6!

Total: 57

18 Atsushi // 3 Lucy // 2 Higuchi // 2 Dazai // 2 Akutagawa // 2 Yosano // 2 Old Boss // 2 Mushitarou // Kyouka // Q’s doll // Lovecraft // Orphanage director // Fitzgerald // Katsura // Rimbaud // Chuuya // Ace // Karma // Eckleburg // Buchanan // Tanizaki // Mori // Ivan Goncharov // Fyodor // evil secretary // unsuspecting theatre attendee // Ranpo // Kunikida // corrupted politician // Fukuchi // Tetchou

Over 61 episodes of ~23 minutes and one 90 minutes movie, or a runtime of just under 1500 minutes, that makes for one Fisheye Shot™ every 26 minutes of watching! The average amount of Fisheye Shot™ per episode is 0.93, but they only show in about half of the episodes (not counting the s4 opening and Dead Apple). Season 1 and season 3 carry the most (14), while season 5 is the weakest (6).

Here's to season 6 and more! 🥂

>Season 1 compilation< >Season 2 compilation< >Dead Apple< >Season 3 compilation< >Season 4 compilation< >Season 5 compilation< Fisheye Compilation tag

[causenessus]

Ness I love you so much <33 you’re amazing and I hope you’re taking care of yourself <333 if you’re not then I am rapidly approaching your location with a care package and hugs and kisses <33 I love you and hope you’re doing well despite how busy you are darling <333

Here to send you some Mac n Cheese <3

-love bug <3 🍪

BUG <3333 MAC N CHEESE AOOWIREGBFJKJFJ!!!!!!!!!! you know me so well thank u <3 u are the sweetest!!!! i happily accept your mac n cheese thank you it looks amazing <3 I fear you are better at making mac n cheese than the gordon ramsay chef atsumu miya himself!!! have no worries I just slept for 14 hours but!!! if not taking care of myself means I get to see you then maybe I should purposely not so you can come here yk 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️ I love you I love you!! i know you are so busy as well please take care of yourself! have a good day at work and I hope you enjoyed with playing with your friends last night mwah <33

[causenessus]

It's suna's bday!!

FORGIVE ME FOR ANSWERING THIS A LITTLE LATE MAI I HAD TO WAIT UNTIL IT WAS THE 25TH FOR ME!!! <3333 AHH fav gif every happy happiest of bday to our boy I love him <3

[causenessus]

NESSSS THIS IS SO GORGEOUS OMFJDJDJ

AHHHH LINA THANK YOU SM!! <3333 FORGIVE ME AGAIN FOR NOT REALIZING YOU WERE REDOING YOUR BLOG YESTERDAY BUT AHHH I'M IN LOVE WITH YOUR NEW THEME RN TOO!! <33 the midnight blues have me feeling all cozy which is just like how I feel with u mwah ily 🩷