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milky-aeons · 1 year ago

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— 'TIL DEATH DO US PART

ᯓ★ starring: dazai osamu, kunikida doppo, atsushi nakajima, chuuya nakahara and fyodor dostoevsky; what they would be like on their wedding day.

warnings: marriage, swearing, alcohol-intake, wife reader, w.c 3.5k

ᯓ★𝐃𝐀𝐙𝐀𝐈 𝐎𝐒𝐀𝐌𝐔

: ̗̀➛ Dazai, who never really acted like a conventional human being, also did not propose like one, either. After dating the enigmatic Armed Detective Agent for, by then, two years, you did not expect him to get down on one knee and produce a beautiful ring, like you had seen in the movies. But you also did not expect him to drop the question like it was a frivolous thing one random Tuesday evening while you both shared a drink at your favourite late-night bar.

Blinking, your glass frozen mid-way to your lips, you turned to him and said, "What did you... just say?" That mischievous smile you were so quick to fall for flashed across his face. "I said, why don't we get married, hmm~?"

: ̗̀➛ There was no other answer in your mind, your heart, than a resounding yes. For he was the thorn in your side as much as he was your other half. Through the whirlwind of months following, you found it hard to discern where one day ended and the next began. Time bled together until you didn't have nearly enough of it, and the day of the ceremony was here. It was a casual affair not bound too tightly by tradition. By the help of the agents, an old, abandoned manor sitting by the riverside had been fashioned into your very own cathedral.

: ̗̀➛ Yosano Akiko fussed over your dress, your hair, your makeup — to a point where you thought she was having way too much fun. And yet, she left no stones unturned, either. As you walked in through the building decorated with bouquets of flowers and rows upon rows of familiar faces, she hooked her arm into yours and walked by your side. Using Thou Shalt Not Die, the doctor instructed fluttering, iridescent butterflies to sit against your dress and your veil, the cornet of your hair, any place she could in order to make you glow.

: ̗̀➛ He stood to his towering height at the alter with his back turned to you in an immaculate suit of white. And when he spun to face you, you fell in love for a second time — with his brunet hair tucked behind his ear, the blue rose pinned to his suit lapel and his eyes; how they watched you. With a type of stunned disbelief that melted into adoration. When you came to stand by his side in front of the pastor, his hand reached down to twine with your fingers, and he whispered;

"You — are absolutely breath-taking."

: ̗̀➛ Kyouka Izumi played the role of ring-bearer, delivering a small white pillow with the two shining bands once it was time to say your vows. Dazai reached out tenderly, slowly, as if to preserve this moment for as long as he could, and lifted the veil from your face. His eyes shuttered. He reached for your hand and slid the smaller band onto your finger, his eyes downcast, his voice low and intimate.

"Through you I have found what it means to love, what it is to feel human, and while I am by your side — I endeavour to protect and earn that title. For as long as I shall live, I am yours. My soul, my name, they are all yours."

: ̗̀➛ As the ceremony reached its closure, when you had both been bound to each other in heart and in soul, Dazai could not wait another moment before he could reach for you. As soon as the words you may kiss the bride left the pastor's lips, Dazai had looped his arms around your waist and bent you back into a dramatic dip. Cheers and claps filled the riverside chapel, you smiled widely against his lips, expecting nothing less of him. Your soulmate. Your husband. Your Osamu, who's name you brandished as your own.

𝐃𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐘 . . .

"Kunikida-kun~!" Dazai's loud voice, a little accentuated with alcohol, swam over the crowd. "Play the thing we talked about!"

Curious, your head turned to the sounds of footsteps shuffling onto the dancefloor illuminated by pale spotlights. The afterparty was in full swing, you had been flanked by a group of well-wishing women when your husband's voice reached your ears. Each of you observed as Dazai, alongside Kunikida, Junichirou, Atsushi and little Kenji took centre stage. Excited murmurs fluttered through the throng.

"What on earth are they doing?" You wondered, and then the starting notes to All The Single Ladies began blaring from the party speakers. Your mouth dropped. Every single one of the Armed Detective Agents began to move in unison to the beat of the music.

And for the third time, you fell in love with him, again. Expecting that there would be many more to come.

ᯓ★𝐊𝐔𝐍𝐈𝐊𝐈𝐃𝐀 𝐃𝐎𝐏𝐏𝐎

: ̗̀➛ Kunikida Doppo, who, at first, had not planned to marry you. After all, you only met twenty out of his proposed fifty-eight requirements that made the perfect wife. That was the thing about your relationship, however — you had come into the agent's life unplanned, uninvited, and turned every one of his rigid ideals up on their heads.

: ̗̀➛ Yet it was only telling of the Idealist and his old habits, how Kunikida went about asking for your hand in marriage. It had been early on a weekday afternoon when he had called you into one of the private meeting rooms of the Agency's office. He'd pushed his glasses up the strong bridge of his nose and laid out his terms. He'd even written a business contract for you to sign. The page had gone flying in the air when you had tackled him from across the table. Smattering a thousand kisses against his blushing, flustered face and breathing the words yes, yes, you silly man, yes!

: ̗̀➛ To concur with both your family's wishes and his own, a traditional wedding was set in motion. Kunikida Doppo was always a man to abide by rules and regulations, but it had occurred to you that perhaps he was taking this affair a little too seriously. For your parents, he gifted them the very traditional shiraga thread. During the sake ceremony, the blond sat ramrod straight, moving mechanically to take sips from the three cups. One for past, one for present, and one for your future. Together.

: ̗̀➛ He was so serious, in fact, that you had become nervous on the morning of your wedding — your most beloved of friends helping you into your garments, trying to soothe your thoughts. What if he doesn't want to marry me? You would whisper as they fashioned your hair up. What if I've forced him into this, what if he's unhappy? To one of your many anxieties, your friend had met your eyes in the mirror, and smiled.

"Oh, honey," She chuckled, leaning down to kiss you on the cheek. "You should see the way that man looks at you."

: ̗̀➛ Her words played in your mind as the traditional music was strung during your procession to meet him. The black colours he donned made his long ponytail appear golden, his body strong, his face even more handsome. As he watched you come down the shrine walkway to be by his side, the blond reached up with one hand to push his glasses away and covered his eyes. It had taken you a few months after to realise that in that moment, Kunikida Doppo had shed a tear.

: ̗̀➛ It was not tradition for vows to be spoken, and yet Kunikida asked to say a few words as the ceremony drew to a close. You watched him carefully as he picked up the microphone, curious at the intentions he had. It was in that moment that your newly wed husband faced the crowd and brought the mic to his lips.

"First, I would like to thank you all for gracing our marriage with both your presence and your blessings. It is something we will see not to squander." "Second, I would like to say some thoughts of mine, if you would all be so inclined. Marriage, to me, was initially an agreement of convenience. I had the perfect woman laid out seamlessly. And in my wife that stands with me today, I say that she is not that perfect woman I so wished to find. But she is everything more. She is my best friend, she is my support, she is the person I go to sleep thinking of and wake up searching for. To me, she is my home, and I will take care of her fiercely."

: ̗̀➛ At your small reception, Kunikida was stolen away from you by some affiliates of the Armed Detective Agency and had his sake cup topped up one too many times. He found you afterwards, and proclaimed both his love and adoration for his newly-betrothed to everyone and anyone that was within a five mile radius.

𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 . . .

"Come here," You whispered to him, now in the comfort of your own apartment walls. A considerably uncoordinated Kunikida was struggling out of his Haorihimo, cursing in drunken slurs and promises of retribution to the small sliver of fabric.

Your fingers eased the cloth out from underneath his arms and you began to loosen the knot. Your husband was staring up at you from behind his crooked glasses. He swayed a little, and you stood in front of him, ready to support him if he went toppling forward off the bed.

But then, two strong, solid arms came up to the small of your back and he crushed you against him. Burying his head into your chest, he murmured;

"From the very first day I met you... I loved you. D'ya know that?"

Your heart grew tiny wings in your chest and began to sore. Smiling, you reached up, carding your fingers through his blond locks and undoing the tight ponytail.

"The first day you met me, you told me I was inefficient and lazy, my dear husband." You mused.

He grunted. "Same... thing."

ᯓ★𝐀𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈 𝐍𝐀𝐊𝐀𝐉𝐈𝐌𝐀

: ̗̀➛ Your relationship with Atsushi was one that blossomed slow and tenderly. It was a natural progression, after three years of happy dating, for the agent to ask you to marry him. Everything Atsushi Nakajima did in regards to showing his affection for you was always timid and reserved — you never expected it; the elaborate surprise he had waiting in store for you that morning you came into the Agency's offices just like you always did.

: ̗̀➛ Well, perhaps he had a little help from the other agents, for the office was barren when you entered. Your eyebrows had creased at the very uncharacteristic quiet of the usually chaotic area you worked in. You had checked the time, wondering if you had showed up a little too early on accident. But then, there was a voice — the voice of agent Dazai Osamu, shouting at you to come to the nearest window and to do so urgently—!

Each of the agents stood at the sidewalk, all holding up a sign with different characters that made up a whole sentence. A question. And Atsushi — your sweet, kind, caring Atsushi, was perched in the middle, the biggest bouquet of roses in his sheepish hands. Will you marry me?

: ̗̀➛ Both you and Atsushi decide to get married somewhere far removed from the city skyline of Yokohama. You wanted somewhere special to remember this day, and perhaps, the great outdoors and stretching greens spoke to Atsushi's beastly side a little more, too. So you chose the heart of a nearby woodland where a great, ancient willow tree served as your alter.

: ̗̀➛ Atsushi wore a suit of sky-blue. You wore a simple slip dress decorated with accents of lace and flowers, Kenji had twined some wildflowers into your hair. The fauna of the forest acted as your choir when you walked down the small trail of brambles to your soon-to-be husband who waited at the base of the winding trunk.

: ̗̀➛ The reception was held in a greenhouse funded by the Agency's private books — you and Atsushi were members, after all, so Kunikida took a little less persuading than usual to move his ledgers around. For lunch, you served chazuke, and when you took the first dance, Atsushi's eyes appeared more gold than they were violet as they looked at you so lovingly the whole time.

𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐍𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐒 . . .

"Atsushi, they'll notice that we're gone." You giggled, bunching your dress up so you could step over the little bush of thickets. When you both reached the winding roots of the willow tree you promised yourselves to each other underneath, Atsushi transformed his arms and legs into their tiger equivalents.

"Dazai-san said he'd keep everyone entertained." He whispered, and then stepped forward to wrap his soft arms around you. "Are you ready?"

"It may be a little late for second thoughts." You teased, but looped your arms around his slender neck and relaxed into his hold. The new golden band on your finger glinted in the moonlight.

And using that tiger-strength, Atsushi dug his claws into the ancient tree bark and began to climb. Higher and higher until you both broke through the canopy cover and could look to the millions of stars winking at you overhead.

"Oh, Atsushi." You breathed in awe, taking in the wonders above. "Oh, it's beautiful."

Your husband nuzzled into your hair and whispered, "Each one represents all the lifetimes I'd still find and fall in love with you in."

ᯓ★𝐂𝐇𝐔𝐔𝐘𝐀 𝐍𝐀𝐊𝐀𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀

: ̗̀➛ It had initially been you and your General lover's plan to keep your engagement quiet and have a small affair away from town. Just the two of you, because Chuuya thought some of his colleagues were insufferable pains in his ass, and all hell would break loose if they were to figure out they had a wedding plan on their hands. It was, however, unfortunate, that you two had been discussing what type of ceremony you'd like to have when Hirotsu was just about to turn one of the corners. It took exactly one hour for the entire Port Mafia to know. Two for it to reach the Armed Detective Agency.

: ̗̀➛ It was no longer a personal affair. This wedding became a spectacle within the Mafia's ranks. From the lowest levels all the way to the boss himself, everyone was abuzz with ideas and anticipation, excited that one of their top brass was getting married and they could all take advantage of the time off to have a grand party. Chuuya threatened to resign several times, you always laughed at how excited the entire criminal organisation became at the prospect of celebration.

: ̗̀➛ True to the boss' word, you and Chuuya's wedding was held in one of the grandest churches Yokohama had to offer — having mysteriously skipped the two year waiting list. The building was laved in gold and stain glass windows. Chuuya wore a fine suit of blood-red and a black tie that contrasted with his wild curls, his hard blue eyes. But when they saw you come down the aisle, they softened, and when he said his vows to you, you never thought anyone would look at you with such adoration ever again.

: ̗̀➛ The main event was held in the bowels of the Port Mafia — one of the largest show-rooms this organisation had to offer, with chandeliers hanging from the ceilings and a private band playing any songs they were requested. Chuuya, for the majority of your reception, could not seem to keep his hands off of you. If you were not by his hip, his eyes would instantly go searching for you within the throng of party-goers. When he did find you, he would place a hand to the small of your back, he'd lean in to kiss you and say;

"There you are, my wife."

: ̗̀➛ There was another reason as to why Chuuya Nakahara was originally so hellbent on taking your wedding somewhere more quiet and peaceful. And it came in the form of a brunet ex-partner waltzing into the organisation's party, a broad simper on his infuriating face. Dazai Osamu took your hand and kissed the back of it, extending his deepest sympathies and that if you ever needed to blow off steam, he could give you his number.

: ̗̀➛ The Port Mafia ballroom had originally started off with three grand chandeliers. After Dazai had purred those taunting words, there was then, only two.

: ̗̀➛ After the many shards had been swept from the floor by a cleaning crew, the private band struck an up-beat quartet. Both you and your newly-wed husband took to the floor for the first dance. Chuuya's hand splayed protectively against your back, his other gloved palm slotting into yours and guiding you to twirl, skip, spin.

𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐄 . . .

"Shit, sorry." He grumbled when your foreheads were touching, the proximity sending his breath fanning across your cheeks. His pointy canines were jutting against his bottom lip. "That motherfucker — he just makes me see red."

"Hey, it's okay." You said, catching his eyes. "Because I love you. You, Nakahara. I am all yours and no one else's."

Those words touched something deep within this man's chest. Of course, the proof that you were his sat in the form of two stacked rings on your left hand, but to hear it. To look into your beautiful eyes and see the amount of love there.

He surprised you by reaching down to your hips and lifting you up, twirling you around, around, around.

"And I'm forever yours, babydoll."

ᯓ★𝐅𝐘𝐎𝐃𝐎𝐑 𝐃𝐎𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐄𝐕𝐒𝐊𝐘

: ̗̀➛ The initial letter you received from Fyodor asking for your hand in marriage — originally, you believed it to be fake. A shallow joke from someone who knew of you and the mastermind's occasional on-and-off relationship whenever he returned to your homeland. But as you traced the delicate loops of the handwriting that looked so much like his own, in the intimate moonlight beams of late night — you'd let yourself imagine. Hope. Only for it to swell and dwindle like ashes of a flame. Because there was just no way he would ask to marry you. That he would marry, at all.

: ̗̀➛ It was fitting then; how palpable your shock was when the slender, pale man you had accidentally fallen in love with — like a fool — was standing on the other side of your door that early morning. You had blinked hard, rubbed your eyes, wondered if you were weary from too many sleepless nights. When the stars had cleared from your vision, he was still there. An amused little smile stretched against his lips.

"So? Are you ready to get married?" You stared at him. And stared. And then dropped your morning cup of coffee onto the tiles of your hallway.

: ̗̀➛ At the news of your sudden betrothal, your family were both elated with a healthy dose of scepticism. Who is this man you are intending to marry, they fluttered around you with questions when you broke the news. Fyodor? I've never heard you speak of him, why do you intend to marry this man, girl? At that, you had smiled, not bothering to hide the small heat of blush on your ears, and murmured;

"Because he's a thief, and he stole my heart a very long time ago."

: ̗̀➛ The wedding was held in an old cathedral of gothic architecture. You don't think you've ever seen Fyodor look so refined; standing there in his simple suit of stone-grey with a black shirt. He had his hair tucked behind his ears, his eyebags were a little less pronounced, his skin brighter — but perhaps that was just the early-morning light. When you stood before your husband to-be and handed your heart over to him, for him, there was a shift in his eyes. You could not explain it, but you knew it ran deep. You knew that in his own way, he was also handing himself over to you. And you would accept all of him, just like you accepted his name.

: ̗̀➛ Much to the dismay of your family, you did not hold a wedding reception after the ceremony, but that was only because Fyodor decided to walk with you through the freezing streets of Moscow. He held your hand, and even though on many nights where you lay together he was stone-cold, today, he felt warm.

𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐃 . . .

"Fyodor?"

"Hmm?" He answered, noticing the sheepish tone in your voice. You looked up at him with those big doe eyes.

"Why did you ask to marry me?"

Fyodor held your gaze for a long, pregnant second. It was at that moment that a single flake of snow fluttered down from the grey sky and landed on his immaculate suit. Then another. Each one the same colour as your dress, each one different to the rest.

Fyodor held out his hand to catch them. "Why does the snow fall? Because it is natural. It is meant to be. I married you because it is the way I wish to fall. With you, by my side."

requested by the lovely [ @cocodrilofeliz! ]

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chuuyasheaven · 10 months ago

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Lovely wife on the surface, freak under the sheets !! (Fyodor, Dazai, Chuuya)

TAGS. F. Dostoevsky, D. Osamu, C. Nakahara (separately) / Wife! Fem! Reader, p in v, oral sex, Fyodor’s might not be as spicy as the other two, masturbating (Fyodor), teasing, pet names, slight praise and degrading, slight brat taming (Fyodor, Chuuya), breeding kink (Chuuya), mentions of getting prego (Chuuya), might have grammar errors, etc.

NOTES. First two finals were good, yesterday in the english one, there was a task of writing a story and guess what I did? I wrote a cringy angsty soukoku fan fic 😭 but yeah small Drabble to feed y’all pookies!!!

F. DOSTOEVSKY

Everyone thinks you and Fyodor are a good match, because look at you! His pretty little wife who does everything she’s told, never thinking of saying ‘no’ to her husband.

But sometimes, you like being a little disobedient just to get punished by him. So that’s why you probably were fingering yourself, the cold wedding ring adding more to the pleasure. When Fyodor caught you, your legs were spread and your wet cunt was on display for him, so he obviously knew that you let yourself get caught on purpose.

“Such a naughty little wife, hm?”, Fyodor hummed as he slowly let his finger drag across your wet folds, picking up your wetness. “My, my, look at how wet you are, darling. Couldn’t even wait for me to come back, no? You know your fingers aren’t good as mine.”, he was right, his pale, long slender fingers could reach spots you never could on your own. “I know, but you took so long!!”, you whined, “Please help me out, Fedya.”, Fyodor chuckled, two fingers, going around your dripping cunt to avoid it. “I don’t know, a naughty wife who doesn’t follow her husbands orders shouldn’t get the pleasure they crave.”, wasn’t he right though? He specifically told you not to pleasure yourself when he wasn’t around, didn’t he?

“C’mon, Fedya, please!”, you begged him, moving around to get his fingers to touch your cunt at least once. “So desperate, aren’t we?”, he teased, a smirk making it on his face. “I’ll never do it again, promise. . You were gone for too long and I just missed you! Please, please, please, Fedya! Need your fingers in me.”, aw that’s cute, maybe he should give in to your pleas? “Do you think you deserve it, my dear?”, you better not lie and say something he didn’t wanna hear. “No but I’ll make it up to you! I will earn it.”, Fyodor really didn’t think of this answer, but went with it either way. “You’re gonna earn it?”, you nodded and sat up. “Promise.”, He was satisfied with that.

“Then come and earn it, love.”

D. OSAMU

Dazai wasn’t the possessive type, but when it came to you, his wife, then he might be. Especially when a man was flirting with you, even though you clearly have a ring on your finger! Luckily for you, Dazai was with you when this happened earlier. All that happened because of the dress you had on, a dress which was hugging your figure nicely, hell, if he didn’t know any better he would be flirting with you too!

Well, bless the heavens and the above for catching you before anyone else did, because you feel way too good than you should, he also had the privilege of ripping the very same dress of off you.

“You look way too sexier than you should, ‘donna.”, Dazai was working his tongue on your cunt, sending light vibrations to it by talking to you. You just nodded, being a little spent because this was going on for two rounds straight. “Oh, so you agree?”, he asks you, his hot breath moving further away from your cunt. “No, Dazai— don’t stop!”, you whined, but Dazai just chuckled deeply. “I gotta disagree with you on this one, sweetheart. . I think you’re rather divine, your taste especially.”, this teasing asshole, why was he asking you questions instead of making you cum for a third time. “My beautiful wife, thinking she isn’t sexy. . Maybe I need to convince her?”, Dazai was standing up, giving you the illusion of depriving you of your— much deserved in your opinion —orgasm. But no, he was far from done with you.

The amount of bliss you felt when he pushed his cock in you, nearly screaming of how sudden it was to you. “I think I already know how to.”, his hips started moving against yours while his hands were holding onto yours. Your moans were pulled from you again, you grabbed the sheets in the amount of pleasure he made you feel.

“Gonna make you feel so good, baby. . Just keep being such a good wife for me, ‘kay?”

C. NAKAHARA

Before your husband, Chuuya, came through the door, you were backing him a small cake. Just like a good wife should, also wearing a cute apron with the saying “Kiss the chef”. All went well so far and Chuuya walked through the door, not to greet you, that is.

You are a good wife, but sometimes you can be a little deceiving. A prime example being those photos you sent Chuuya at least a hour before his work ended, photos which included you in his favorite lace lingerie with the caption “miss you”. And what was your reason? Just to tease him a little, maybe a little motivation to work faster to get home earlier.

He was impatient, he’s been waiting for a hour to get home to you, just to not even get to the bedroom. That’s right, he was gonna take you right at the kitchen counter. Chuuya took off your shirt to see you were still wearing the set, a smirk was curving up on his lips. “You’re still wearing this, doll?”, he asked you, since you were bent over the counter he couldn’t see your smile on your face, but he could hear your giggle. “Yeah, just for you.”, you admitted in a teasing tone. “Just for me? Well then allow me. .”, he replied, pulling your lace panties to the side.

Chuuya wasn’t going slow at it, he was basically going so fast and hard that the counter legit started to shake slightly. His hips slapping against your ass, your moans filling the kitchen along side by his groans and breathy cursing. “Couldn’t wait for me to— mhm, fuck —to come home, hm? Sendin’ me photos of you looking so perfect sayin’ you miss me.”, he groaned, all you replied with was a moan. “Such a little slut, you jus’ wanted to get fucked, didn’t you? Teasin’ me at work just for a good fuck.”, Chuuya could feel his orgasm approaching, your cunt clenching around him only sped up the process.

“Ch–chuuya— ngh!”, you moaned out his name in bliss, Chuuya sped up the pace. “Want me to cum inside you, baby? Want me to fill you up so fuckin’ good?”, he asked in a low mocking tone, waiting for a response from you. “Y–yes! Ah— please!”, his cock twitched when you gave him the permission. “Yeah? Gonna fill you up so much you’ll be leakin’. . ‘till you might get pregnant.”, he didn’t really mean it, did he? It was all in the heat of the moment, right? Nonetheless, it turned you on with the way he said it. A deep chuckle was heard from him as he felt you clench down again. “You like that, doll? You wanna get pregnant with our child— oh fuck —you’re squeezin’ me so tight. . You sure you want it?”, you repeatedly moaned a yes, making him smirk. “C–cumming!”, you almost screamed, the amount of pleasure being a bit overwhelming.

“Yeah, just like that. . Take it like a good girl, baby. Hm— keep clenchin’ like that so nothin’ spills, understood?”

Hi again 😋 hope y’all are well fed now :3

#bsd smut #various characters #bungo stray dogs smut #chuuya smut #dazai smut #chuuya nakahara smut #chuuya x reader #chuuya nakahara #bsd chuuya #dazai x reader #bsd dazai #bungo stray dogs fyodor #bsd fyodor #fyodor smut #fyodor dostoevsky #fyodor dostoyevsky bsd #bungou stray dogs fyodor

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moomuzan · 3 months ago

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— 𝖘𝖙𝖔𝖗𝖞 𝖔𝖋 𝖚𝖘

they leave you waiting at the alter ? chuuya , akutagawa , dazai , angst , requested

Within a grove of birch trees, the clearing nestled deep, the soft hush of leaves moving in the wind was a solemn hymn to the life you thought you’d begin today. The late afternoon sun filtered through the canopy above, casting dappled patterns of gold and shadow onto the small wooden altar. It was simple, intimate—just you, the pastor, and the man who was supposed to meet you here.

But Dazai wasn’t coming.

Standing there, your breath came short as you glanced back toward the narrow path that led to the grove. It was empty. Too heavy on your shoulders, the lace of the dress clinged to your skin like a suffocating second layer. The bouquet trembled in your hands, but you didn’t feel its weight. All you could feel was the growing void in your chest, a silence louder than any words could ever be.

The marriage officiant, a kind man with an understanding gaze, shifted awkwardly, his hands folded before him. “Perhaps he’s just delayed,” he murmured, though his words lacked conviction. You nodded, a small, tight movement, as if any larger one might shatter the fragile mask of hope you were barely holding together.

But Dazai wasn’t delayed. He had never intended to come.

Far from the grove, he sat in a darkened room, his head bowed over his hands. His suit jacket lay discarded across the back of a chair, his tie hanging loosely around his neck. He hadn’t even made it out the door.

As he thought of you, standing there alone in that quiet, sacred space, waiting for him with that soft, unwavering faith in your eyes—the faith that had always undone him, his heart felt like bursting. You had always seen him as something more than he was. A man, instead of a ghost. A lover, instead of a weapon.

And that was why he couldn’t come.

How could he stand before you, in the quiet holiness of that grove, and make promises he knew he could never keep? How could he say the words that would bind your life to his, knowing that everything he touched withered in his hands?

God, he blamed himself for ever asking you. For letting the idea of happiness bloom, even for a moment. It was cruel of him, selfish, to let you believe he could be anything more than the man he was. You were light, and he was a black hole, endlessly consuming, endlessly hollow. He would have pulled you in, dragged you down, stripped away every piece of you until there was nothing left but regret.

And so he stayed. He stayed in that room with its suffocating walls and stagnant air, drinking whiskey he couldn’t taste and staring at his own reflection in the darkened window. The man who stared back at him was a coward, but at least he wasn’t a liar. For once.

Hours passed as the sun set over the grove, casting long, eerie shadows through the trees. When the officiant eventually left, offering you a look of deep pity and a quiet reassurance that he would wait until you were ready to go, you nodded absently, but your feet remained rooted to the spot, your eyes fixed on the path as though sheer willpower could make him appear.

It didn’t.

When the cold crept in, and the shadows swallowed the last of the light, you finally turned away, your steps heavy, the rustle of your dress against the ground a mournful echo of what should have been.

Somewhere far away, Dazai let his head fall into his hands, his shoulders shaking as the weight of his choice crushed him. You deserved better, he told himself over and over. Someone who would stand at that altar without hesitation. Someone who wouldn’t falter under the weight of love.

Yet, no matter how many times he repeated it, no matter how deeply he tried to convince himself, the truth hung in the air like a noose around his neck: he loved you. He loved you more than anything.

And he had broken you anyway.

Akutagawa had never believed in love. Not really. It was a word, a weakness wrapped in sentimentality, something people clung to when they had nothing else. And yet, against all odds, against his better judgment, he had loved you. It wasn’t a grand, sweeping love, but something raw, unspoken—a quiet tether that grounded him in a way nothing else ever had.

But love, he knew, was dangerous. Love was the crack in the armor, the flaw that could be exploited. Love could kill a man faster than any blade, and in his line of work, weakness was not an option.

So, as he stood outside the quiet hall where your wedding was supposed to take place, the weight of his decision pressing down on him, Akutagawa felt the sharp, cold edge of resolve slicing through his chest. He would not go in.

As he walked to the venue, his usual coat replaced with a dark, tailored suit, the world had been silent around him. The streets felt foreign, as if they were holding their breath, knowing what he was about to do. Even now, standing in the shadow of the doorway, he could feel the pull of you inside—your hope, your belief in him, the warmth you so freely offered despite all the walls he had built to keep you out.

For a brief second, he almost let himself indulge in the thought of it. The vows, the quiet promise of forever. The possibility of something different, something better. Swiftly, he had allowed himself to imagine it once, in the fleeting moments of silence between missions, when you would sit beside him and rest your head on his shoulder. A life where he could hold onto you, where he didn’t have to fight tooth and nail for every shred of safety and peace.

Though, that was a lie.

No matter how strong you tried to be, you weren’t like him. You didn’t belong in the shadows, in the violence and you certainly deserved a life free of blood and death and enemies lurking around every corner. And Akutagawa, for all his love, could never give you that.

It wasn’t doubt that made him hesitate; it was the overwhelming certainty that this—you—were the greatest weakness he had ever known. And for that, he couldn’t forgive himself.

Turning away from the door, Akutagawa’s steps were deliberate, the weight of his decision heavy but unwavering. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to marry you. He wanted nothing more. Ironically, this was his way of protecting you, of ending the part of himself that dared to hope, to love.

As the streets stretched out before him, gray and empty, he walked further and further from the venue. The invitation you had sent, carefully placed in his coat pocket, felt like a brand against his chest. Even as his mind conjured the image of you waiting, your dress immaculate, your eyes searching for him with the kind of trust that had always cut him to the bone, he didn’t look back,

Thinking of the promises he would never make, the life he would never share with you, he told himself it was better this way, though the words rang hollow in his mind. You would hate him, yes, but you would live. And that was all that mattered.

By the time you realized he wasn’t coming, he hoped you would be angry, furious even. He hoped you would hate him enough to let him go, to move on, to forget the man who had left you standing there with nothing but silence and shadows.

The black haired didn’t deserve you. He never had.

As he disappeared into the fog of Yokohama, Akutagawa let himself feel it—just once. The ache of leaving you behind, the unbearable weight of the love he had tried so hard to deny. He clenched his fists, nails biting into his palms as if pain could ground him, remind him why this was necessary.

This was his final act of love, twisted and cruel as it was. To walk away, to sever the bond that had made him weak, to save you from himself and the life that followed him like a curse.

Back at the venue, the clock struck the hour, the silence deafening as the officiant shifted awkwardly. The room was empty except for you, standing alone, your bouquet trembling in your hands. —And somewhere, miles away, Akutagawa kept walking, his heart a hollow shell of what it once was. This was the end. Not just of you and him, but of the part of himself that had dared to dream of something more.

He had loved you, yes. But love was weakness. And he couldn’t afford to be weak.

Being a a reflection of Chuuya himself the venue was loud, vibrant, and brimming with intensity. Fairy lights hung in tangled swirls across the ceiling, their soft glow flickering like fireflies against the polished walls. Bottles of the finest champagne chilled in ornate buckets, waiting to be uncorked in celebration. Tables overflowed with flowers, their deep red petals scattered like drops of blood across the white tablecloths. It was the kind of wedding Chuuya had always imagined—a celebration that burned bright, bold, and unforgettable.

And yet, the groom was nowhere to be found.

You waited in the dressing room, smoothing down the delicate folds of your gown with trembling hands, trying to steady your heartbeat as the minutes bled into hours. Guests whispered amongst themselves beyond the door, their voices a distant hum. But Chuuya—your Chuuya—had yet to come.

However, In a dimly lit corner of a bar, far, far from the celebration, Chuuya was drowning.

Having left the penthouse early, he was dressed sharp in his tailored suit, his fiery hair tied back with care. For weeks, he had been excited, eager, ready to make you his in every possible way. With fervor he had thrown himself into the plans—choosing the venue, the wine, the music. It had all been for you, to give you the world, to make you feel adored and cherished.

But now, sitting alone in a booth surrounded by the sharp sting of alcohol and the suffocating haze of his own doubt, he realized the truth he had been too afraid to face: he couldn’t go through with it. Not like this. Not in this life.

Chuuya wasn’t a man who second-guessed himself often. He was decisive, confident, a force of nature. But the thought of standing at that altar, of binding you to him with words he wasn’t sure he deserved to say, paralyzed him.

What kind of life could he give you? A life filled with shadows, with danger, with the blood he spilled just to survive? You deserved something clean, something bright—a life untouched by the darkness that followed him like a curse.

The red head slammed back another shot of whiskey, the burn in his throat a poor distraction from the guilt that gnawed at his insides. He thought the alcohol might dull the ache, might make it easier to forget the look in your eyes as you stood waiting for him. But it didn’t.

Instead, it sharpened everything. He could see you so clearly in his mind, your face lit with the hope he had spent months building. He thought about your laugh, the way it made him feel human in a world that so often turned him into a weapon. You were everything good, everything he had never thought he could have.

Which was exactly the problem.

Draining another glass, the liquid sloshed over the rim as his hands started shaking. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew he should stop, knew he was teetering on the edge of losing himself entirely. But he didn’t care. He welcomed the numbness, the oblivion, anything to drown out the voice in his head screaming at him to get up, to go to you, to stop running from the one thing that made him feel alive.

Though, he didn’t move.

Back at the venue, the silence was deafening. The band had stopped playing, the champagne left untouched, the guests slowly filtering out one by one. Sitting alone at the head table, the flowers wilted under the weight of the night’s abandonment. Suffocating, you stared at the empty seat beside you.

By the time the last guest left, and the lights dimmed to a muted glow, you finally let the tears fall. The weight of it all—the love, the loss, the unanswered questions—pressed down on you like a tidal wave.

And somewhere, Chuuya sat slumped in the corner of that bar, his head in his hands, the world spinning around him as the reality of what he had done set in. He had broken the only good thing in his life, and he didn’t even have the courage to face it.

“Idiot,” he muttered to himself, his voice hoarse. “You’re such a goddamn idiot.”

But the words meant nothing. They couldn’t bring him to you. They couldn’t undo the wreckage he had caused. And as the hours bled into dawn, and the whiskey ran dry, Chuuya realized he had made the biggest mistake of his life.

But by then, it was too late.

…. i couldn’t stop listening to this when i wrote this (i hide my love for taylor like a drug addiction.)

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osachiyo · 1 year ago

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sugar daddy!chuuya who absolutely adores you. you're so so sweet to him, such a good girl; never disobeying him, being so nice to him, not being a brat, never testing his patience— you're just so perfect. Always giving him a hug and a kiss on the cheek before he leaves for work. That's why he loves to spoil you; buying you all kinds of luxurious items to keep you happy. Taking you on sweet little dates every weekend, brushing you off when you ask if it's too expensive— telling you he's got the money for it, why not spend it on his most prized possession, you?

He loves to spoil you in the bedroom as well; you're his pretty little pillow princess, taking everything he gives you and more. Your legs would be hiked up on his strong shoulders, his face buried in your plush cunt as he moans from your sweet taste on his tongue. Gloved thumbs spreading your pussy apart as he spits on it and it's downright nasty how he licks everything back up, the lower portion of his handsome face dripping with your essence and he loved it.

sugar daddy!chuuya who would buy you so many sets of the prettiest lingere, only to rip them off your body later, promising he'd buy you new ones later. He'd give you his black card, telling you to buy anything you have your eyes on, no matter the price. The only price you have to pay is that pretty body of yours, that he loves kissing, licking and touching.

sugar daddy!chuuya who'd take you shopping whenever he's free, offering to buy entire stores for you, all for you. He'd find you so cute, so eager to try on new clothing and showing it off to him, only to get your brains fucked out in one of the changing rooms, all while wearing the brand new dress you wanted to show off. His hands pulling down the straps of the overly expensive dress, exposing your neck and chest to him. Making you look at your debauched self in the mirror; your pretty lipgloss smudged from the rough kiss you shared earlier, pretty love bites covering your smooth skin, hair pulled back in a makeshift ponytail as he drills himself into you nice 'n good.

sugar daddy!chuuya who has you suck him off underneath the desk of his office. Holding your head down,making you swallow him fully as he tries to have a conversation with his boss on the phone, whispering how good you're for him. His shoe would be grinding against your clothed cunt, ruining the pretty pair of panties you wore for him.

sugar daddy!chuuya who has you in a full nelson infront of the huge window in his office, cooing at you for being so cute,so pliant 'n soft for him to ruin. Promising that he'd buy you a car after this, voice slurred and sultry as he became drunk off the feeling of your pussy sucking him in. You'd eventually be pushed up against the window, nipples hard from your tits pressed up against the cool glass as he splays a large hand on your back, arching it so nicely for him as he plows into you from behind.

sugar daddy!chuuya who suddenly feels his heart speeding up whenever you talk to him, even look at him with those pretty doe eyes of yours. He follows you around like a puppy now, eager to have your attention on him. You suddenly have one of, if not the strongest and most dangerous man in the mafia wrapped around your pinky.

©ambrosiaa— do not copy, plagiarize and repost my works to any platform, reblogs are very appreciated ♡

TAGS »»————> @hopefulpain @inkmooon @constant-existential-terror @nda-approval @mellieellie @lxverss @lynxxyyy @nanamibeloved

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#bsd smut #bsd x reader #bsd x reader imagines #bsd x reader smut #bungou stray dogs #bungo stray dogs smut #bsd fluff #bsd x reader fluff #bungo stray dogs x reader fluff #bungo stray dogs x reader smut #bungou stray dogs x reader #chuuya smut #chuuya x reader #chuuya nakahara #chuuya x reader smut #chuuya fluff #chuuya x reader fluff #౨ৎ — archive・#chuuya.nakahara

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heyheydidjaknow · 4 months ago

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After a very long week of diving headfirst into this fandom I think it’s only right that the champagne bottle we smash into this here ship is a four thousand word Chuuya x reader. Here’s to what I’m sure will be another few years of this, everyone; hope everyone is down.

Candies

He was glaring at you.

You had no idea when he got on the train. You did not care enough to wonder. What you knew was that he— the man in the hat on the opposite side of the train car— had been looking at you for the past three stops, and while you were fairly certain that you had no idea who he was, you were almost as certain that whoever he thought you were had another thing coming from how intensely he was watching you. Sure, he had the decency to look embarrassed by his staring, but that in no way stopped him from looking at you like you had something to apologize for. It was disconcerting. It was borderline creepy. But neither of you moved, because it was a train, and the two of you would not see each other again anyway.

The train slowed to a stop. Most people filed off. You did not. Neither did the man. You checked your watch, head falling back as you considered the pros and cons of waiting for the next train. You would have to eat dinner late, but you would not have to wonder why exactly he seemed to hate you this much for nothing.

You heard the rustling of clothing next to you. “Excuse me.”

You opened your eyes to the man. You took him in, identified any features that might be helpful for a police report: cold eyes, reddish hair, too many layers. Pretty, but not reassuring. You pulled your headphones off, fearing the worst. “May I help you?”

A pause.

You smiled tentatively. “Is something wrong?”

“I’ll give you five hundred thousand yen if you’ll go out with me.”

You blinked. “Excuse me?”

Reality seemed to catch up with him. “Shit. Uh.” He pulled his hat off, fiddling with the brim as he lowered his eyes. “Is that too little? I can go higher.”

“Do you think I’m a hooker?”

“Huh?”

You leaned away from him a bit. “What kind of thing is that to ask someone? ‘What’s your price?’ Seriously?”

The realization seemed to strike him like a baseball bat to the head. He immediately backpedaled. “That’s not— shit, I mean, that’s not what I meant to—“ he stammered. “I— no, I didn’t mean anything like that!”

“Yeah?” You raised your eyebrows. “That work for most people, asking them what they charge for a night? For fuck’s sake, man.”

“Hey!” He sat up, defensive. “I never said I wanted to take you home!”

You crossed your arms. “Then what exactly are you trying to do?”

“Ask you on a date!”

“You sure have a funny way of doing it.”

He huffed, face red. “Look,” he grumbled, “I don’t ask many people on dates; I’m trying my best here.”

“You could just ask me,” you pointed out. “You could ask me in a way that doesn’t involve offering me money.”

He rolled his eyes, seemingly— and audaciously— annoyed. “I can’t just walk up to a stranger and ask them on a date. Why would you go? You don’t know me; what if I’m a creep? How do you know if I’m worth the time?”

An incredulous smile crept onto your lips. “And you thought that offering me money would make you seem less creepy?”

“At least then you have a reason to show up! At least then I have a financial interest in showing you a good time!” He buried his face in his hands. “It took me a while to get this far and my stop is next and I do not have the time nor ability to actually woo you.”

The absurdity of this whole situation— the sight of an extravagantly dressed pretty boy bemoaning his romantic failings— was starting to get to you. “This all seems like a lot for someone you just met.”

He sat up quickly, steam practically pouring from his ears. “Well,” he explained seemingly in an attempt to regain some composure, “I may not know you yet, but I know that I’ve never seen anyone who looks as good as you do, and we’re on a train; I may never get the chance to see you again if I don’t do something right this second.”

You grinned. “Really?”

“Really. I am fucking this up.”

“A bit,” you agreed. “But you’re bringing it back around, calling me hot.”

He brightened. “I am?”

You shrugged. “More or less, yeah.”

His hands were shaking. You wondered how long they had been doing that. “Well,” he mumbled, “does that mean your answer isn’t a hard no?”

You leaned back in your seat. “I can be convinced,” you said. “Try again.”

He cleared his throat. “Hello.” He made eye contact with you again, the sharpness you had assumed was being weaponized against you seemingly inherent in his gaze. You tried, for a moment, to make out what color his eyes were, but the answer seemed to elude you. “My name is Nakahara Chuuya.”

“Hello, Nakahara Chuuya.” You crossed your legs. “See, this is better. Keep going.”

He gave you a confused look. You liked him, you decided. “Well,” he continued, disgruntled, “I couldn’t help but notice you. You’re easy to see.”

“Interesting word choice, but alright.”

He shot you a look. “You’re nice to look at. Is that better?”

Your smile softened. “Much. Keep going.”

He looked down at his hat. “I was wondering,” he continued, “if you were already spoken for.”

You snorted. “Spoken for?”

“Single,” he amended, irritated. “Do you have a boyfriend?”

You stretched out your legs in front of you, thoroughly enjoying this. “I am both single and without boyfriend,” you assured him.

He nodded sternly. “Then, can I take you out? On a date?”

You considered it for a moment. “Yeah, sure.”

He blinked. “Really?”

“Really.” You leaned back in your seat. “You’re cute, and I don’t think you’ll murder me, and those are my two big requirements, so.”

He chuckled. “High bars. No wonder you’re single.”

“What can I say? I’m hard to please.” You dug around in your coat for a pen, holding your palm up towards you. “What’s your number?”

The redhead paused. “I don’t have a number right now,” he said. “I’m having trouble with my provider. I can give you a time and place, though.” He held out a gloved hand. “May I?”

You gave him the pen and your bare hand. Quickly, he scribbled down an address (someplace in Yokohama), a date (the next Saturday) and a time (six o’clock). As he finished, the train came to a halt at the platform, doors opening with a quiet hiss.

Nakahara Chuuya stood up, fixing his pork pie hat securely atop his head before straightening out his clothes and giving you a stiff nod. “I will see you then,” he promised. “If you’re late by more than fifteen minutes, I’ll assume you stood me up.”

You gave the strange man a smile. “I’ll come early, then.”

He averted his eyes. “Thank you.” And with that, he left you on the train with a date, a time, and a great deal of confusion.

Foolishly, you showed up. You lived neither in nor near Yokohama. Getting to the address the man had given you— which he wrote with poor penmanship— took you some time too. You went through the trouble of dressing as well as he had been the day you met him— which was more formal than you would typically be for a first date with a stranger you met on a train— and went so far as to plan to be there fifteen minutes early. You had no idea why you were so interested in the man. You had no inclination as to what possessed you to show up to meet a stranger in the first place; after all, his assumption that you might think of him as some sort of predator would have been a reasonable one to make. But you had an inarticulable feeling that told you that this meeting would be worth your time.

Or you just thought he was pretty. You weren’t sure which it was.

The address he had given you brought you to a small restaurant close to the Tsurumi river which, if its sign was to be believed, primarily dealt in soba. Despite your planning, you arrived a mere five minutes early instead of fifteen which, in your defense, was still early, but apparently not so early that your date did not beat you there. As you approached him, a look of bewilderment briefly crossed his face.

“Damn,” you joked. “I thought I’d get here first.”

He looked over your shoulder. “You came,” he said, sounding surprised.

“I did,” you confirmed.

“Alone.”

“I was unaware I was meant to bring a plus one on a date.”

“No, I just mean—“ He stopped himself. “Whatever. I’m glad you came.”

You held your hands behind your back. “So am I, though I’m feeling a bit self conscious now.” You looked down at your clothes, then back to his. He had dressed much more casually than you in a loose, short sleeve button up, loose pants and a large dark jacket. He had kept the hat and the choker— which you had not until that moment realized you remembered— but you looked too formal next to him. “I thought you would dress the way you did on the train.”

He gave you a once over. “You look fine,” he said. “You look great, actually. Don’t worry about it.”

A smile spread across your face. “You've gotten more confident since then, too. I just wanted to make sure I didn’t look totally plain next to you is all; you look so stylish.”

He paused, eyes cast down towards his feet. “Thank you. I drank before I came.” He opened the door to the restaurant for you.

You walked past him. “Thank you. Did you drive?”

“Nah.” He shut the door behind the two of you. “This place is out of the way enough to make it not worth the trouble to park. I walked.” He nodded to the hostess, who sat the two of you in a corner away from the door.

The restaurant was a hole-in-the-wall: exposed crossbeams, warmly lit, nearly empty despite it being a Saturday. You took your seat across from him as the woman set a cup of water in front of each of you, leaving you to your conversation. She made no eye contact with either of you before she left. You picked up your cup, taking a sip as he draped his coat over the back of the seat and set his hat beneath his chair. The gloves, however, stayed on. “How long was the walk?” you asked.

“Not far. A couple minutes.” His elbows came to rest on the table. “I can walk you back to your car if you drove, or to the train station if you need. Just let me know.”

“Thank you.” You took a menu from the center of the table, scanning it absently. “To be honest, I’m glad you asked me to do something earlier in the evening; I’m not super interested in being on my own in the dark.”

He hummed in agreement. “Nobody does. I have work to take care of later, but I can’t imagine wanting to stay out past twelve alone otherwise.”

You groaned sympathetically. “Terrible. What do you do?”

He paused. “I… it’s complicated.” He laced his fingers together. “I operate a shipping company under a parent organization operating out of Yokohama. I technically and practically own the shipping company, but I can’t legally operate it unless it’s under the parent organization, so I have all the stress of a business owner with none of the freedom.”

Your lips twitched nervously. “Are you on a list or something? Why can’t you operate a business?”

“What do you– oh.” The brief look of confusion left his face. “I’m a skill user.”

“A what?”

“You know,” he repeated, “a skill user?”

You stared at him blankly.

“I have a gift?”

“Isn’t that a dog whistle?”

“What? No!” He crossed his arms. “I have supernatural abilities.”

You considered it. “You know,” you mused, “I’ve never been on a date with a guy who came out as being possessed to me.”

He opened his mouth to protest, blinked. “Well,” he conceded, “I guess that’s what I’m saying, but that would be a bad assumption most of the time; most gifted users aren’t possessed.”

“Wait, seriously?” Skepticism and deep curiosity battled for supremacy in your mind. “By what?”

He shrugged. “A god, I guess?”

“You guess?”

“It’s complicated.” To your– and his– surprise, he laughed. “It’s funny; I can’t think of the last time I had to actually explain what my deal was.”

You cocked your head to the side. “Do most people just know?”

“More or less.” He shrugged again, looking towards the door. “It’s practical. I use it a lot.”

“I see.” You sat up, taking your cup and turning it over in your hands. “What does it do?”

He did not say anything for a second, brow furrowing. He looked back in your direction, holding out his hand. “Give me your cup.”

You did.

He set the cup down on the table. Slowly, as though it had been set in a pool of water, the cup began to float upwards. “My ability,” he explained simply, clearly taking pride in the way your eyes lit up in excitement and awe, “allows me to manipulate gravity for any object I touch.”

You reached out towards the cup, moving your hand above and below it. If there was a trick to what he was doing, you had no idea what it was. “That is so freakin’ cool,” you gushed softly. “How can you keep it from flying away?”

He was practically glowing. “Basically, I’m counteracting the force of Earth’s gravity for just this object by creating a second center of gravity that only affects the cup.” He pointed to a spot near the center of cup. “It’s around here. So long as the force of the gravitational field I'm creating is greater than Earth’s, the cup will naturally try and be as close to the center as possible. If the gravitational pull were too strong, the cup would go through that point–” he pointed towards the ceiling, “-- and through the roof before coming back down. But if the force is weak, it’ll stay right around the center.”

You took the cup, moving it towards you before letting go. As if attached to a string, the cup moved back to its place, the water inside is sloshing.

The pure, childlike joy on your face was enough for the man across from you to forget, for a moment, the price of his gift.

The date continued on. The two of you went back and forth on a variety of simple, surface level topics. You learned that Chuuya was a dog person and that he enjoyed fashion. He said he had been in Yokohama practically all his life. He told you about his coworkers– no details, but enough to get a sense for the type of Motley Crew they were– and how that day was an anniversary for something, though he never got around to telling you what it was an anniversary of. At one point, before your food had gotten to the table, you asked about his gloves, which he had apparently not realized he was still wearing. He explained that he wore them all the time– he said it made work easier– but that he did have the good sense to take them off.

“I’m not a monster,” he had insisted. “I don’t want to get food on them.”

The conversation was surprisingly easy. He was nervous at first and clearly inexperienced– an observation that you chose to keep to yourself– but funny and over dramatic in a way that made the discussions flow jovially between the two of you. He was a sailor-mouthed, irreverent, sensitive man, you found, and he seemed to take great pleasure in your company and a surprising interest in the more tedious parts of your life: your occupation, your friends, your earlier life, all of which he found strangely fascinating. Though you knew little of substance about him by the end of the meal you shared, you could not shake the feeling that the sort of things you learned– the simple, stupid things most people gave out as icebreakers– held more weight than you could understand.

But you were grateful, nonetheless. You enjoyed talking to him.

Despite your protests, he paid for the both of you, and the two of you left the restaurant cracking up over some embarrassing story about school.

“Three days straight?”

You waved him off, laughter still bubbling from your throat. “I know; it was stupid!” you cried. “I swear I was possessed; by the end of it I thought there was a chance– assuming I didn’t have heart attack first– that I was immortal.” You sighed, trying to regain composure; you were gigglier than normal. “But I passed the class, so fuck that guy.”

He set his hat back on his head, pushing it down to rest snugly. “Fuck that guy,” he agreed, having about as much success as you did in wiping the stupid smile off his face. “God– being a teenager fucking sucked.”

“Dude, amen to that.” You looked in his direction, tears from the cold and from excessive laughter in your eyes. “Chuuya,” you sighed happily, “I am having an excellent time.”

“What a coincidence,” he grinned. “So am I.”

You looked up at the sky, which was significantly darker than you thought it would be; you supposed that you had spent more time in the restaurant than you thought. “I shouldn’t walk back to the station any later on my own, though.” You slipped your hands into your own pockets. “So–”

“Can you stand to be out later if I can get you back to the train?” He cleared his throat, apparently hearing the eagerness in his voice as clearly as you did. It was the same eagerness he had when he first asked you here. “What time is it?”

You took your phone from your coat, flipping it open. “Nine-ish.”

“Nine?” He pursed his lips. “Shit, I— no, I can make that work.” He leaned his weight onto one side. “I have to get somewhere at eleven, but it’s not a formal thing.” He looked away, swallowing. “If you want to, I mean.”

You held out your hand to him. “Nothing in this moment would make me happier than spending more of my time with you, Chuuya.” You wiggled your fingers in invitation. “Where should we go?”

He was staring at you, at your body bathed in the warm light streaming from the restaurant’s windows, at your face which betrayed nothing but pure intentions, to your hand which you offered him freely. He wondered if you knew how easy it would be to kill you if he touched you. He wondered if that was something someone like you considered at all.

“Chuuya?”

He blinked, clearing his throat. It did not matter. He took your hand. “Sorry.” He was breathless. “Lost in thought.”

You let him pull you closer, nudging him playfully with your side. “You’ll end up swallowing a fly if you keep your mouth open like that,” you teased. “Do you really like looking at me that much?”

He straightened up, heat flushing his cheeks. “So what if I do?”

“Well, I don’t imagine it’d taste very good.”

He snorted. “Shut up.” He nudged you back, looking forward. “We can sit by the river for a while if you’d like; the streets will be sketchy here pretty soon but nobody goes by the part of the river we’re by.”

“Really? How come?”

He shrugged. “It’s impractical. Nobody important goes to the river, anyway.”

“Nobody important?”

“Huh? Oh, right; you’re not from around here.” He looked back in the direction of the river, starting to lead the two of you there. “The Port Mafia doesn’t dump bodies into the rivers; they throw them out by the dock.”

“The mafia?” You started. “What, like La Cosa Nostra?”

“What you do and don’t know is really confusing.” He rolled his eyes. “The Port Mafia is a smuggling ring operating primarily out of the city; it has nothing to do with the Italian mob.”

“Oh.” You squeezed his hand, following close behind. “That’s terrifying.”

“It is?”

“To know that people are just chucking bodies frequently enough that you know about it? And that there’s more than one group doing it?” You tittered nervously. “I mean, I’d heard a little about Yokohama, but I didn’t know it was that bad.”

He squeezed your hand back, looking over his shoulder in your direction. A wry smile crossed his face. “Huh. That’s funny.”

You walked a bit faster to stay beside him. “What’s funny?”

“That you think it’s weird. I guess it never occurred to me that it was strange.” He tugged you to his side. “You don’t need to be scared, though; I’ll protect you.”

“Oh, will you?”

He shot you a look. “What,” he challenged, “you don’t think I can?”

“I never said that,” you protested. “It was just a very old-fashioned thing to say.” You lowered your voice to a growl. “‘Don’t worry, dollface; I’ll protect you.’ It sounds like something you’d hear in a noir.”

He opened his mouth to argue, considered it. “I guess if you found that weird, that would be an odd thing to say, wouldn’t it?”

“A little, yeah.”

“Because what would you need protecting from?”

“Exactly.”

A funny look came onto his face. “That’s funny,” he repeated. “That’s…” He trailed off, slowing to a stop on the road.

You looked back at him. “Is something wrong?”

“Nothing,” he mumbled. “Just that…” Startling eyes– they seemed to shine under the streetlamps– met yours. “You said you stayed up for three days straight,” he said. “Do you sleep well now?”

You looked away. “I don’t know if I sleep well, exactly; I don’t sleep as much as I should, at least.”

“But it feels normal, doesn’t it? To not sleep much?”

“I suppose.” You turned to face him properly.

His gaze shifted from you to the sky. “You know, I just remembered something.” He started to walk again, pulling you behind. “When I was little, none of us– none of the people I hung out with– had much pocket money, so we made a game out of stealing from the convenience stores in town. The competition was to see who could pay for as little as possible without getting banned from the store. I was never really good at it because I was an easy to read kid, but I remember always going for those… what do you call them? Bonbons?” He made a circle with his thumb and forefinger. “The little wrapped chocolates. I’d always shove one into my pocket because they were always left out and who’s going to give a kid shit for taking a piece of candy?”

You followed beside him quietly, watching him.

He continued. “The other day,” he said, “I went into a convenience store for the ATM, and I must have withdrawn twenty thousand yen or something like that– a good amount. I bought a pack of gum before I left because I didn’t want to be the asshole that just uses an ATM and leaves, and I realized– I think I’d walked a block away when I did– that I had one of those candies in my pocket.” He led you off the path. “I guess I must’ve picked it up while I was paying for the gum. They weren’t even the good chocolates; they were the hundred yen ones, and I knew why I’d grabbed that piece– because nobody’s going to lose their mind over a hundred whatever yen– but I couldn’t for the life of me remember why I’d grabbed it.”

The two of you came to a stop by the riverbed. It was quiet for a Saturday. The water shone under the moonlight, and the man beside you– whose gaze was now transfixed by the reflection– stood next to you, seemingly lost in thought.

You never let go of his hand. “Being a kid kinda sucks,” you said, running your thumb over his clothed knuckles. “You usually don’t have many responsibilities, but you don’t know enough to know what you should and shouldn’t get involved with.”

He looked to you.

“And you get so jealous of the Huck Finn kids– you know the type: no responsibilities, nobody to tell them no– until you get older and realize– too late– that the habits you picked up when you were left to your own devices probably weren’t the healthiest, but by the time you put that together they’re so deeply encoded in your being that they’re a part of who you are and part of how you got this far, so even if they’re unhealthy it’s not like you can give them up now.” You shivered. “It’s frustrating, looking back and thinking about what you could’ve been.”

The two of you stood there, staring at the water. Chuuya wrapped an arm around your shoulders, trying, in vain, to keep you from the cold.

Finally, he spoke. “I don’t think I’ve ever had this kind of conversation with anyone before.”

You closed your eyes, leaning against him. “It’s funny,” you said. “I don’t think I have either.”

His voice was soft. “I want to see you again.”

“So do I.”

“Then we should.”

“We should.”

You did.

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jackiepackiee · 11 months ago

Note

After seeing your recent post I'mSending in my request Love!!

How would the bad men take care of their wife who get amnesia due to blood loss which resulted by being shot by a pistol or gets into an accident during a mission.

You have the free dom to make it like a one shot or head canon for these men

Dazai, Kunikida, aktugawa, fyodor, Nikolai, and Chuuya

Other than that take care love!! Make sure to stay hydrated! 💞💞

𝐵𝒮𝒟 𝓍 𝒜𝓂𝓃𝑒𝓈𝒾𝒶! 𝑅𝑒𝒶𝒹𝑒𝓇

𝒲/ 𝒟𝒶𝓏𝒶𝒾, 𝒦𝓊𝓃𝒾𝓀𝒾𝒹𝒶, 𝒞𝒽𝓊𝓊𝓎𝒶

𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈 - 𝓋𝒾𝑜𝓁𝑒𝓃𝒸𝑒

𝒯𝓎𝓅𝑒 - 𝒽𝑒𝒶𝒹𝒸𝒶𝓃𝑜𝓃𝓈

CHUUYA NAKAHARA

Absolutely mortified

He has memory loss to (from the lab and Araharbaki) and knows how much it can mess with a person

He wants the best for you, and this clearly isn’t that

He fears in his heart and soul that you might question your humanity like he did so he will kill before that happens to you

Back to the mission itself

He hates for you to do solo missions, but Mori’s call is Mori’s call at the end of the day

Even if you weren’t alone, he only trusts a handful of people with your protection

Black lizard, all the executives, and the ADA if it’s during an alliance

But no, you weren’t with a safe group

So when you got hurt (which was not expected, Mori wouldn’t send you on something just to hurt you duh) he was PISSED

Wiped out the enemy in seconds

Yelled at Mori as to why he didn’t just send Chuuya instead

When you’re in the hospital, he waits outside

He would hate to scare you

I mean, he’s pissed and he knows you hate when he raises his voice to any level

But… all hell breaks loose when he finds out you have amnesia

Pushes right past the doctors and doors

If you forget him… he’s flipping tables and going to find whoever hurt you and actually kill them this time

He’s inconsolable

You’re his love, and to forget that is a pain of death

He may not visit you much at first, but he’ll come around

If you do remember him, he’ll take the biggest sigh of relief ever

Hugs you

And believe me, he will buy whatever therapy, drug, or surgery that will help you

Helps you relearn everything important

For your wedding, he had to put on your wedding dress and pretend to walk down the isle to maybe make you remember

Cried at how beautiful you looked

Labels images in the house by event, person in the photo, and date

So you can know what special moments you’ve had

A sliver lining is that he can take you on a tour of the city, showing you all the sights for what for you is the first time

And you forget all the gore and pain you’ve seen in the port mafia

Over all, he’s coping, but he’ll come around and help

DAZAI OSAMU

He is a changed man from the port mafia past, but he almost forgets his resolve

Never has he doubted your skill, it’s the absolute terror and pain he knows other people wouldn’t hesitate to inflict on you that he fears

He’s seen it first hand

So when you’re completely alone on a mission he sorta freaks out

Less jokes, no suicide attempts till you’re back

But… you aren’t back soon?

And when you’re finally back, it’s with Kenji crying and using his super strength to carry you to Yosano

The poor boy was so scared, he had found you while looking at the local park

Safe to say, Dazai was frozen in place at the blood that has trailed from the door to Yosano’s office

He was mad. But not yelling

No, he was calculated and cold

He walked to Fukuzawa’s office, and asked for the enemy name

No one knows what happened in the 30 minutes he was gone…

Back to you, he knocks and talked with Yosano for a while

When he heard you had amnesia, it was the first time she saw him so vulnerable

“Does she remember me?” “I don’t know, Dazai.”

Walked in slowly

If you remember him, he’ll immediately give you a hug

Knowing that is enough for him

But if you forget?

I hate to say this, but he may try to distance himself

“You got your chance with in, and look at what ended up happening” is this thought process

But, he’ll visit Oda’s grave and think it over

He knows then that you need him

You need your husband, your Osamu

So the next few days is him having you help with cases he knows the criminal, but wants your mind to have a workout

Doesn’t try for any affection because he knows you may be to weak

When you finally kiss again, he has never put more passion into anything

During his time of caring for you he doesn’t make a single comment about suicide

After losing your beautiful memories and mind, he can’t imagine losing you

Your life is like a glass, held by his slim hands

And he’ll kill before anyone does this to you again

KUNIKIDA DOPPO

Kunikida is often “serious”, but Dazai can attest he’s never seen him so truly and utterly serious before

Not in his scolding, fatherly way

But in a cold, quiet way

He doesn’t even touch his book for at least a week

Thinks ideals make so sense now that his wife is hurt

And he didn’t stop it

When he first found out, he dropped his book

He clutched his ring to his chest

Walks into the room you’re saying in slowly

“Love? Do you… remember me?” “Sorry, love? Please don’t call me that, sir.”

Tears fall, but he wipes them before you can get concerned

Even if you don’t know him anymore, he knows with your kind heart you’ll comfort a crying stranger

And he wants to be the one comforting you

He tries his best to explain everything

Showing his ring, the photo of the two of you he keeps in his wallet, and even has Yosano confirm it

He doesn’t cope well…

“Love? Do you… remember me?” “Kuni… hi.”

Hides his face in his hands

He has never been more happy in his life

Rushes to you and kisses your hand

Now, he still has to teach you life again

And who better than an ex teacher?

He’s so patient

Uses cute little techniques

He is… okay

I mean, he wants you to be okay

You will definitely heal the fastest with him

He spares all his free time into helping you

Makes little drawings in his notebook for you to learn objects again

And, he readjusts his schedule! All for you

Only for you

#bsd x reader #chuuya nakahara x reader #chuuya x reader #bsd chuuya #bsd fanfic #chuuya nakahara #chuuya x fem!reader #chuuya x you #dazai osamu x reader #bsd kunikida #kunikida x reader #kunikida doppo x reader #dazai x reader #dazai x fem reader #dazai x y/n #dazai x you

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baby-tini · 5 months ago

Text

Day 1. 𝗣𝗠!𝗗𝗮𝘇𝗮𝗶 (𝗛𝘂𝗺𝗶𝗹𝗶𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻)- Dazai thrives off control, meaning your smart-mouth is a big no-no. Unluckily for you, he knows just how too break you down.

Day 2. 𝗕𝗮𝗷𝗶 (𝗙𝗮𝗰𝗲-𝘀𝗶𝘁𝘁𝗶��𝗴)- Having you laid out all pretty for him isn't enough anymore.

Day 3. 𝗖𝗵𝘂𝘂𝘆𝗮 (𝗖𝗵𝗼𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗴)- Chuuya doesn't think the previous necklaces he's bought for you really show off who you belong too... so he gave you a better one.

Day 4. 𝗔𝗗𝗔!𝗗𝗮𝘇𝗮𝗶 (𝗗𝗮𝗰𝗿𝘆𝗽𝗵𝗶𝗹𝗶𝗮)- Dazai knows he has some fucked up desires, but it's not his fault you look so pretty when you cry.

Day 5. 𝗗𝗮𝗯𝗶 (𝗣𝘆𝗿𝗼𝗽𝗵𝗶𝗹𝗶𝗮)- Following an eruption of blue flames leads you into the hands of something worse then any fire.

Day 6. 𝗣𝗠!𝗗𝗮𝘇𝗮𝗶 (𝗘𝗿𝗼𝘁𝗶𝗰𝗶𝘇𝗲𝗱 𝗥𝗮𝗴𝗲)- You know it's stupid too make a Mafia Executive angry- especially when it's Dazai.. but you just can't help it.

Day 7. 𝗖𝗵𝘂𝘂𝘆𝗮 (𝗩𝗶𝗿𝗴𝗶𝗻𝗶𝘁𝘆)- He didn't understand why some men went after virgins specifically... until he found you that is.

Day 8. 𝗔𝗗𝗔!𝗗𝗮𝘇𝗮𝗶 (𝗣𝗼𝘄𝗲𝗿-𝗣𝗹𝗮𝘆)- He keeps you locked away, he tells you it's because he loves you.. but you know it's due to his own selfish desires, but.. would anyone believe you when you tell them a respected detective took you off the streets and kept you as his own?

Day 9. 𝗗𝗮𝗯𝗶 (𝗛𝘆𝗯𝗿𝗶𝘀𝘁𝗼𝗽𝗵𝗶𝗹𝗶𝗮)- You don't know what it is about dangerous men that leaves your brain in a foggy stupor, but you've stopped caring a long time ago, especially given your new fascination.

Day 10. 𝗣𝗠!𝗗𝗮𝘇𝗮𝗶 (𝗚𝘂𝗻𝗽𝗹𝗮𝘆)- He's found a new use for his beloved Desert Eagle.

Day 11. 𝗜𝘇𝗮𝗻𝗮 (𝗛𝗮𝘁𝗲 𝗦𝗲𝘅)- You've always gotten the attention of Shinichiro... and he's sick of it.

Day 12. 𝗠𝗮𝗻𝗶𝗹𝗮!𝗠𝗶𝗸𝗲𝘆 (𝗖𝗼𝗿𝗿𝘂𝗽𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻)- You were just the sweetest little thing when he found you on the streets of Manila... not anymore though.

Day 13. 𝗗𝗮𝘇𝗮𝗶/𝗦𝗵𝗶𝗯𝘂𝘀𝗮𝘄𝗮/𝗙𝘆𝗼𝗱𝗼𝗿 (𝗙𝗿𝗲𝗲 𝗨𝘀𝗲)- Dressed like an angel on the foggy streets of Yokohama has landed you in the hands of three demons.

Day 14. 𝗕𝗲𝗮𝘀𝘁!𝗗𝗮𝘇𝗮𝗶 (𝗩𝗶𝗿𝘁𝘂𝗮𝗹 𝗦𝗲𝘅)-Away on a business trip with no physical access to you, his cock sits uncomfortably hard in his boxers while he thinks about you... but then he remembers, he let you have a phone for a reason.

Day 15. 𝗕𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻!𝗠𝗶𝗸𝗲𝘆 (𝗣𝘂𝗯𝗹𝗶𝗰 𝗦𝗲𝘅) He's the boss, he runs shit in Bonten, he doesn't have a problem fucking his fingers into you as you make a mess on his hand, nobody else should have a problem with it either.

Day 16. 𝗣𝗠!𝗗𝗮𝘇𝗮𝗶/𝗖𝗵𝘂𝘂𝘆𝗮 (𝗦𝗼𝗺𝗻𝗼𝗽𝗵𝗶𝗹𝗶𝗮)- It's a shame they both work so late... but you've always been so helpful, even when you're sleeping.

Day 17. 𝗞𝗼𝗸𝗼 (𝗛𝗮𝗶𝗿-𝗣𝘂𝗹𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗴)- You hate when Koko takes you too get your hair done, because you know it'll be messed up later on that night.

Day 18. 𝗗𝗮𝗯𝗶 (𝗙𝗶𝗹𝗺𝗶𝗻𝗴)- You've always been just the prettiest little thing in his eyes... he's positive it'll be the same-way on camera.

Day 19. 𝗛𝗮𝗻𝗺𝗮 (𝗠𝗮𝘀𝗸 𝗞𝗶𝗻𝗸)- Men in masks drive you crazy... the appeal of not knowing who it is.

Day 20. 𝗠𝗶𝗸𝗲𝘆/𝗗𝗿𝗮𝗸𝗲𝗻 (𝗕𝗼𝗻𝗱𝗮𝗴𝗲)- You were always such a squirmy little thing, but Ken has found a new way too keep you still and Manjiro is all for it.

Day 21. 𝗣𝗠!𝗗𝗮𝘇𝗮𝗶 (𝗘𝗱𝗴𝗶𝗻𝗴)- He's always been a believer in the, "carrot and stick" philosophy but more so that the punishment should go hand-in-hand with the mistake.

Day 22. 𝗗𝗮𝘇𝗮𝗶/𝗙𝘆𝗼𝗱𝗼𝗿 (𝗖𝗼𝗹𝗹𝗮𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴)- Dazai has stated that they were two sides of the same coin, so it's not a huge surprise when they develop an interest in the same pet.

Day 23. 𝗕𝗮𝗷𝗶 (𝗠𝗮𝗿𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗴)- The eyes of other men undressing you leaves him in feral jealousy.

Day 24. 𝗕𝗲𝗮𝘀𝘁!𝗗𝗮𝘇𝗮𝗶 (𝗣𝗲𝘁-𝗣𝗹𝗮𝘆)- He got you a custom made collar... the least you could do is play the part for him.

Day 25. 𝗖𝗵𝘂𝘂𝘆𝗮 (𝗦𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗻𝗴𝗲𝗿)- You didn't know who he was, but those pretty sapphire eyes led you into his bed... never too be seen again.

Day 26. 𝗗𝗮𝘇𝗮𝗶/𝗖𝗵𝘂𝘂𝘆𝗮 (𝗗𝗣)- Blended days and blurry faces leaves you panting under the two men you've always admired.

Day 27. 𝗞𝗮𝗻𝘁𝗼!𝗠𝗶𝗸𝗲𝘆 (𝗣𝗿𝗮𝗶𝘀𝗲 𝗞𝗶𝗻𝗸)- He's always so mean and cold, taking a different route when you've been so good for him couldn't hurt.

Day 28. 𝗗𝗮𝗯𝗶 (𝗔𝗻𝗮𝗹)- Sure he loves your personality... but your ass is definitely a plus.

Day 29. 𝗔𝗗𝗔!𝗗𝗮𝘇𝗮𝗶/𝗕𝗲𝗮𝘀𝘁!𝗗𝗮𝘇𝗮𝗶 (𝗖𝗹𝗼𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴)- The man in your home felt... off. He looked like Dazai, sounded like Dazai and even acted like him... but he kissed you differently, fucked you differently and even tasted different. Maybe it was just the red blinking light in the corner that was messing with you.

Day 30. 𝗦𝗮𝗻𝘇𝘂 (𝗕𝗹𝗼𝗼𝗱 𝗣𝗹𝗮𝘆)- He has always liked red on you, it's flattering, but that lipstick isn't enough for him, he has a better idea.

Day 31. 𝗙𝘆𝗼𝗱𝗼𝗿 (𝗠𝗶𝗻𝗱-𝗙𝘂𝗰𝗸)- You've gotten a little too... mouthy for his taste, and lucky for you, he's found a way too quickly snuff out your newfound confidence.

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luvfy0dor · 10 months ago

Text

“And My Daddy Tells Me I Light Up His World ♡” Dad!Bsd Drabbles ੈ✩‧₊˚

╰┈➤ Chuuya Nakahara, Osamu Dazai, Fyodor Dostoevsky

Warnings; Line breaks between indented paragraphs mean new scenarios, girl dads, d/n- daughters name, s/n-sons name, p/t-parental title for reader

Description; a couple different scenarios, 2 for Fyodor, 1 for Dazai, 1 for Chuuya

A/n; just so u guys do know I giggle every single time I type out d/n, also also I've got a req still about dad Fyodor in my inbox but I don't know why it's so hard for me to write it 3: I'll get it out ong, im so sorry dad fyodor anon </3 consider this tribute to you 3: also next post's gonna be for the event! Had to rewrite it.

Fyodor Dostoevsky ★

Fyodor stood in the kitchen, accompanied by his young daughter sitting at the dining table. In his hand was a letter to Nikolai, written a week ago that he had finally decided to mail. He grabs an envelope before rummaging through drawers while his daughter colors idly across the room. She peers up at him from her spot and hops out of her chair, coloring paper in hand. "what're you looking for, papa?" She asks, looking up at him with her e/c eyes, the ones that matched yours perfectly. He smiled at her and closed the drawer he was looking through. "Just a pen, malyshka. Do you know where I could find one?" He asks her, looking down at her. She nods and fetches one of the pens from her big bag of coloring supplies, digging through it for a quick second before returning to him with her arm outstretched and a glittery pink gel pen in her small hands. "This is okay, right, papa? Who's the letter going to?" He takes it appreciatively and writes out Nikolais name and address. "Uncle Kolya, and any pen you give me will do, sweetheart." He gives the pen back to her and ruffles her hair. "Oh, uncle Kolya will just love it, then! I'm pretty sure his favorite color is pink. I'm gonna color this for him so that the next time he comes over he'll have a present from me!" She says with excitement, skipping back over to her seat at the table to resume her coloring. "Oh, ofcourse, d/n." After Fyodor mailed the letter, he soon got a response from Nikolai expressing his disappointment over the letter not being fully written in pink gel pen, which was backed up by his daughter as well.

You stood in yours and your husbands bedroom, buttoning his shirt for him while he watched the numbers flicker and change on the alarm clock on your nightstand. Your daughters school was hosting a daddy-daughter dance and your daughter insisted on Fyodor taking her. He agreed obviously, but he felt unfamiliar with such things, after all, he'd never experienced a daddy-daughter dance in his childhood. You gave him a smile once you buttoned his shirt and grabbed the only tie he owned off the dresser. "You look so good, Fedya. Like a prince." You said with a smile, leaning in to kiss the corner of his lips. He hummed and guided your chin with his fingers to kiss his lips completely. "Just a prince? Not a king?" His eyes were half lidded as always and you could make out a small smile on his face. "Alright, fine, a king." You finished tying his tie for him and left it slightly loose around his neck, knowing he was never really fond of how tight they could be. "Perfect, that would make d/n our little princess." Almost as if summoned, her footsteps are heard pattering down the hallway in her cute little flats that you got for her. The dress that she wore was adorned with puffy, mesh layers on the skirt and some gemstones on the top. "Papa, are you ready to go yet? " she asks, walking over to his side and examining his outfit thoroughly and gasping excitedly. "Papa, your tie matches my dress!" She says, pointing out the same colored material. "It does." He picks her up with a smile. "Do I look pretty?" She asks, a big, toothy grin on her face. He laughs and nods.

"Absolutely, now go say goodbye to p/t." He says, putting her down onto the ground so she could hug you and bid you a goodbye. "Bye, p/t!!" She says, squeezing you quite tightly. You hug her back and kiss her head, looking down at her. "Bye, sweetheart, I love you. Oh- wait! Before you go I want a picture of you and papa." You fish your phone from your back pocket and open the camera app as she backs up and hugs her papa just as tightly as she held you. Fyodor places his hand on her back while they both smile for the photo, but wince all of a sudden as your phones flash goes off. "Oh- whoops, I forgot to turn the flash off- for real this time." They both pose again, d/n giggling at your small mistake. You snapped it and then examined it on the phone before your daughter started pleading to see it. Fyodors smile was as charming as always, both in person and in the photo, and your daughter looked absolutely adorable in her poofy dress. Once you had shown her and she was satisfied, she quickly made her way out of the room, holding the skirt of her dress by the handfuls. Fyodor laughed at her under his breath before he leaned in to kiss you once more before he left, letting his hand linger on your hip like his taste did on your lips. "Bye, Fedya, I love you, have fun." You grin, to which he lets out a sigh. "I will, I love you too, Moya Lyubov." He pulls away and follows the young girl out of the bedroom. You smiled to yourself as you heard him call from down the hallway, "Wait, malyshka, don't go out the door so fast", followed by the prompt creeking and closing of the door.

Osamu Dazai ★

No one got the memo that it was apparently 'bring your kid to work's day', but everyone had to adjust rather quickly when Dazai pulled up to the Ada with a young child on his hip, oogling at any shiny object in its sight. Kunikida was the first to ask about it. "Is this another orphan that you've decided to pick up off the streets? It's too young for a job here." Dazai rolled his eyes. "For your information, this is my son. His babysitter has come down with the flu." He clarifies, walking past everyone to his desk and sitting the one year old on his lap. The baby leans towards him and reaches for the tassels of his bolo tie, grabbing and pulling on them to his mouth. Dazai laughs and gently pulls them out of the little boys grasp. "No, s/n, you can't chew on those." His son pouts and coos out some baby nonsense, starting to look around for some other entertainment, only to find nothing that interests him. He looks up at his dad with his big brown eyes and pouts, huffing and gripping his long jacket in his chubby fists. "Papa, 'ome." He babbles, missing the comfort of yours and Dazais house and preferring to be there over the agency. "I know, s/n, believe me. I'd rather be at home than sitting here with these people." He says, sighing and shaking his head. "Just keep him from crying." Kunikida says exasperatedly while writing a report from the last case he worked on for Fukuzawa. Dazai hums in acknowledgement and turns the baby to face away from him, keeping him sat on his lap. "My boy doesn't cry, he's nothin' like those other babies." He says with a grin, grabbing a pen and wrapping his son's hand around it and helping him drag it acrossed the closest paper on Dazais desk. "Yeah, just get a feel for holding the pen and as soon as you can write on your own, daddy's never doin' his own reports again." He grins. "Your son isn't doing any paperwork for the agency until he joins. And that still doesn't mean he'll be doing yours." Kunikida says from his desk. Dazai shakes his head and lets go of his sons arm. "Ugh, whatever... Kunikida doesn't gotta know if I bring it home though." He whispers to the boy, evoking an unaware giggle. Kunikida let out a knowing huff and gave up on trying.

Chuuya Nakahara ★

After his little girl had asked him on numerous occasions for a trip to the fair, he was finally able to get some time off and go with you and her. He weaved through the crowds with her on his shoulders and his hand in yours while trying to decide on one final game for your daughter to play before you left.. "Papa, look! They have fish!" D/n exclaimed, pointing at the booth that ran the famous goldfish game that parents never want their kids to see. Not Chuuya though. He's nothin' like y'all. Chuuya didn't mind the idea of having a fish for his daughter, even if it was him who had to feed it every day and clean it's tank regularly. He smiled and looked over at you with eyes that asked you if you were in mutual agreement of letting her try to win a goldfish. You smiled back at him and nodded, noticing your daughter watching the two of you exchange your glances. "Alright sweetheart, let's go get ya one of them fish." He walks over to the stand with you, lifting her off of his shoulders while you handed the carnie a $5 bill for a basket of ten ping pong balls. Chuuya watched d/n try to toss the first five into one of the colorful mini-fishbowls and miss every single one, so he grabbed a ball and tossed it, getting it into one of them. The man running the game cheers and heads to get d/n her fish, but she ends up getting two of the last four balls in on her own, nearly shrieking in excitement. "Daddy, that means I get three fishes, right?" She excitedly asks, her hair bouncing in the pigtail style it was pulled into. "Yup, that's right." He smiles at the carnie when he hands the fish to him and mutters an appreciative thank you, patting his daughters back and telling her to do the same. "Thank you! P/t, can we get them a tank at home?" She asks, still super hyper from her triple win. You laugh and nod, holding two of the fish so Chuuya doesn't have to hold all three and your daughter if she chooses she's too tired to walk to the car. "Yeah, we'll stop at the pet store to get you a nice tank for them." You tell her, nodding for her to follow you and Chuuya grabbing her hand so she doesn't get lost. "What do you say to daddy? He got you one of those." You say with a small laugh and she looks up at her dad with big, adoring eyes. "Thank you, daddy! Ahh, I'm so excited for my fishes!" Her misunderstanding of the plural version of fish also makes you giggle a little. "You're welcome, princess. Y'gonna take real good care of them? Remind me to feed 'em every day?" He says, guiding you guys through the parked cars towards your own. "Yup! Every single morning! But what're we gonna do when I'm at school and you and p/t are working? What about their lunch?" She frowns. "Fish don't need lunch, don't worry." He reassures her and hands you the third bagged fish for a moment while buckling d/n into her seat. "Good, I don't want them to starve!" She says. Chuuya laughs under his breath and closes the backseat door, pulling out a cigarette to smoke before taking the sorta-long drive to the pet store and home. Now he had three more responsibilities, but it made his baby happy, so he really didn't mind having to take care of three more animals in addition to his original one.

A/n; yawns speed ran these, wrote Chuuyas in like,, 12 minutes, it's not proofread (js Chuuyas) but hopefully it works (⁠｡⁠•̀⁠ᴗ⁠-⁠)⁠✧ also I'd like to come out and say ion proofread my own stuff, I have my friends do it (I love you guys MWAH)

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hellaarknight · 8 months ago

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Friends to lovers trope with Chuuya

Friend Chuuya who remembers exactly how you two met at a coffee shop when he accidentally spilled his coffee cup on your flowery dress. Friend Chuuya who calls you a crybaby every time you reminisce about your first encounter because you just burst out in tears. In your defense, it was a tough day and that was the drop that made everything spill out. Friend Chuuya who listens to you talk about your crushes but doesn't really understand why it bothers him so much.

Friend Chuuya who always gets you your favourite chocolate when the two of you meet. Something about that precious smile of yours, makes his chest feel fuzzy. Friend Chuuya who doesn't tell you that he's in the Mafia, because he is afraid that you might not wanna keep in touch anymore. Perfectly normal response, he thinks, but for the first time in a while, he chooses to be selfish and just promises to himself that he'll find a way to protect you no matter what. Friend Chuuya who gets anxious every time you don't answer your phone or when you take too much to respond to a text. Not because he's controlling, but because he's afraid you might have been taken as a target. Friend Chuuya who offers to beat up every guy who makes you cry. No questions asked. Friend Chuuya who always notices small details about you, like your favorite flowers, your favorite outfit, your likes and dislikes when it comes to food. Friend Chuuya who loves to tease you and see your fluster state. Friend Chuuya whose heart skips a beat every time your hand touches his. Friend Chuuya who cooks you dinner after not seeing you for so long and wondering how it would be if the two of you could do it more often. Friend Chuuya who after a so long and dangerous mission sprints directly to your apartment because he has to see you, to hug you, to make sure you're safe and sound. Friend Chuuya who appears in front of your apartment being a mess, covered with blood, tired, and with cuts but whose eyes light up when you open the door. Friend Chuuya who hugs you unexpectedly, thanking the gods that you're not in any danger. Friend Chuuya who kisses you right then and there, because he needed to feel you. You, who are still confused, respond just as eagerly because you also have feelings for him. Chuuya who promises to tell you everything after he gets a shower and calms down, but first he asks you for one more kiss. Chuuya who deep down is afraid that after hearing everything you'll decide to go no contact. But a promise is a promise and he spills everything, from his position in the mafia, his last mission, and his feelings for you. Chuuya who anxiously awaits your reaction, for you to say something, but too afraid to meet your eyes. Chuuya who lights up when you shrug and say ”That's all? I thought you were going to say that you don't have feelings for me or something. And your job sounds more dreadful than mine, we can figure out the details about all of the implications later.” Chuuya who asks you to be his girlfriend and promises you to do his best to protect you from his life, but he would totally understand if you'd say no. He slowly fell in love with you, without even realizing and to be honest, he couldn't picture his life without having you in it, friend or girlfriend. But he had to leave the decision in your hands. Boyfriend Chuuya whose heart is full when you accept and move to kiss his pretty face „It was time you finally asked me out, Chu. Took you a while, hmm?”. Boyfriend Chuuya who can't stop grinning and keeps you in his arms all night long while talking about the two of you and how you both are the blind idiots when it comes to feelings.

#chuuya x reader #bsd chuuya #chuuya nakahara #bungou stray dogs #chuuya x you #bsd x reader #chuuya bsd #boyfriend chuuya #chuuya fluff #friend chuuya #chuya x reader #hellawrites

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yuugen-benni · 2 years ago

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''Can I borrow your shirt ?..and your coat...and...''

Summary: BSD Characters with a reader who likes to borrow their clothes

Note: Fem!reader for Gin only

Atsushi Nakajima

He's totally fine with it, and obviously he's not going to refuse. The first time you borrowed a T-shirt from him, He was taken aback and couldn't stop giving you that sweet look… Because of that he got into a lot of trouble…*cough* Kunikida...But the poor guy doesn't take his eyes off you.

Atsushi doesn't understand how you can look so good in his clothes than he does!

Akutagawa Ryuunosuke

As you can imagine, Akutagawa doesn't understand ''couple things'' like that and don't try to make him understand he'll call them trivial… and since they're trivial he doesn't care! Or at least he pretends his face doesn't turn red when he sees you pick up some clothes

Kunikida Doppo

He has so many questions. ''Why…? Why my clothes? You- wait don't- give me back!''

He knows he won't find a ''plausible'' reason, but Kunikida isn't mad, he's actually a little happy so he just sighs and gives you a small smile after writing it down in his notebook so he doesn't forget if one of his clothes is missing.

Chuuya Nakahara

Not only will he lend you his clothes but he will also stylishly match clothes with you. He has a good eye for fashion and nobody can disagree. When you asked if you could borrow any of his clothes his eyes widened and he quickly opened the wardrobe door

Sigma

Much like Chuuya. Sigma also has a good taste in fashion (Did you see his heels?! It's magnificent) and he will never think of this idea as a bad thing. When he sees you wearing one of his clothes at the Casino, he makes a point of taking your hand and making you spin slowly

Gin Akutagawa

*Blush and more blush* She can't answer you right away but know that she is so happy! She feels like those simple things connect the two of you…Gin might even secretly buy you a dress that looks just like hers so that on those rare days off, she can match clothes with her girlfriend on the date she arranged :)

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altaiiriss · 1 month ago

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Repost from Trans Chuuya week 2024

Day 7 – Free Day

At fifteen, Chuuya is inevitably forced to spend way too much time around Dazai, courtesy of a gleeful Mori who thought it would be a good idea to pair them together.

They're in one of the mafia's safehouses when Chuuya finds out Dazai doesn't only cover his arms, but wears bandages all over his torso as well. He's helping the brunet with a bullet wound right below his chest and seeing how the bandages hug his skin tightly, Chuuya has an idea.

He steals one roll of bandages while Dazai is asleep, careful not to wake him up, then promptly enters the bathroom once he gets back to his apartment.

He stands in front of the mirror and reluctantly removes both his shirt and his bra, freeing his skin from the irritating fabric. He averts his gaze from the naked reflection in front of him, and with trembling hands he starts to wrap white strings of gauze around his chest.

He puts his shirt back on and heaves a sigh of relief as soon as his eyes finally settle on the mirror. His chest looks almost flat, as if it just disappeared, and a faint blush enlightens Chuuya's freckled cheeks.

The newfound "chest destruction technique"—that's what Chuuya calls it—boosts his confidence, though in the back of his mind he wondere how Dazai manages to keep all those bandages together.

Chuuya's always feel on the verge of falling off especially during combat, but he's too unsure to ask him. Dazai wouldn't understand the discomfort of looking at your own chest and wanting to rip it off; he would probably tell Chuuya he's an idiot, wouldn't he?

He's just a girl to Dazai—and anyone else really—therefore he wouldn't get it. On the contrary, people would most likely pity him for his small size, which is supposed to be a loss for a girl.

So, Chuuya simply goes on with his life, burying that 'I wish I were a boy' feeling in the back of his mind and ignoring all the times Dazai calls him a whiny girl or Kouyou asks if he's interested in make-up lessons.

It doesn't make any sense. It seems that mind and body go hand in hand for everyone but him.

He feels like a goddamn flaw in the system.

He tries to shove those feelings aside until one day he's changing outfits for an undercover mission–he's going as Dazai's girlfriend, of course–and Kouyou accidentally steps into the room.

Chuuya's arms instinctively fly to his chest while he tries to come up with some excuses to justify the bandages compressing his chest to the point it hurts. Kouyou doesn't fall for it and eventually gets Chuuya to admit he's been doing it for months.

Kouyou's jaw drops, disappointment painted all over her face, and Chuuya waits for a reprimand, an admonishment, anything.

Instead, Kouyou pats his head and asks for permission to help him with the bandages.

"This isn't safe, honey. Let's keep the bandages loose for now, okay? We can try sports bras if that's okay with you."

That day Chuuya learns about the word 'trans' and his feelings start to make a bit more sense.

Kouyou asks him whether he'd like to be referred to with different terms and pronouns and Chuuya gladly accepts, and there's a new light shining in his eyes.

The next day the young girl takes him on a shopping spree so that he can look for sports bras that are tight enough to flatten his chest without hurting his body. They also visit the men's section and for the first time Chuuya isn't too scared to step into the fitting room and stare at himself in the mirror.

Even though Chuuya never dressed in what is considered a stereotypical feminine way, people start to notice the shift in his style and even in his demeanor.

He isn't exactly in the closet, but hasn't explicitly come out yet because he finds the whole ordeal quite embarrassing.

What is he supposed to do? Grab a mic and tell the whole Port Mafia he's a trans boy? He'd rather die; plus it's no one's business really. They'll realise eventually.

That's why one day he's taken by surprise while he's arguing with Dazai.

"Sorry?"

"Has Chuuya become deaf?" Dazai remarks, annoyed, "I said he should buy a supply of milk or else he's going to be a small boy for the rest of his life."

The shift in pronouns was natural and none of them questioned it, but Dazai never called him a boy before.

Chuuya ignores the usual insult, basking in the warmth growing in his chest.

Some time later, Chuuya finds a package waiting for him outside the door. There's a small card that reads 'For all the bandages slug stole from me'.

Ah, of course the fucker knew.

He opens the box, expecting some kind of unfunny prank; instead, his brow furrows as he realises he's holding trans tape in his hand.

He's glad he's alone right now and no one is there to mock him, so he allows himself to let the tears run down his cheeks.

Quietly, Dazai escapes from the bathroom window.

On his 17th birthday, Kouyou gifts him a binder.

Chuuya isn't excited at first as he assumes it isn't much different from a sports bra. He changes his mind immediately as he tries it on and looks at himself in the mirror.

"This can't be real." he mutters to himself and he promptly grabs one of his tightest shirts.

"Ane-san!" he turns to Kouyou, enthusiasm getting the best of him, "They're gone—what? W-Why are you crying!?"

That day Chuuya learns that you don't have to fully understand people's happiness to the core to be able to experience it together.

One night he and Dazai are lying in the redhead's king-size bed, the moon being the only source of light and the only witness of their encounters.

It's a habit they developed at some point, and neither of them dare question it. By the time the sun is up, Dazai will be gone and will act like nothing happened anyway.

Dazai's bandages are gone and so is Chuuya's binder—they never hide themselves from each other. There's some sort of intimacy that allows them to tear down the walls they built up against the world.

Chuuya is tracing random patterns on Dazai's arm with his finger when the brunet suddenly speaks.

"You know, some people get their top surgery scars tattooed."

Chuuya hums. "Do you want me to get them tattooed too?"

"It's Chuuya's choice. Besides, he needs to get top surgery first."

"Right." Chuuya mumbles, unsure. "Do you think I should get them covered?"

"Chuuya doesn't have to hide himself." he replies, sensing the direction of the redhead's thoughts. "That isn't why I suggested it."

In the end, Chuuya has Dazai admit he brought up the idea just because he thinks Chuuya would look good with tattoos.

"You can get your scars tattooed too, you know." Chuuya tentatively suggests.

"I have a bit too many, slug."

"Who cares? You can pick the one that hurt the most."

"I can't cover my soul in tattoos, Chuuya."

When Chuuya wakes up from anesthesia, his first thought is to ask for Dazai. He promised he would be there, and that's why when Chuuya doesn't see sitting by the bed he thinks that he must have gone to the bathroom or something. Right?

His mind isn't clear enough yet to remember that the bastard defected two years ago without a word. Drugs truly do some fun things to your brain.

Kouyou offers him a sad smile and reassures him that Dazai is waiting for him at home.

When he finally steps into his apartment, peeking with curiosity at the couple of scars on his chest, he doesn't even remember he asked for that idiot in the first place.

And when several months later Chuuya comes back from a mission abroad, a small card awaits him on his bed. There's an address written over it.

Now, Chuuya isn't stupid. All it takes is a quick trip to google to realise that said address matches his favourite tattoo artist.

When he gets there, hands slightly trembling, a familiar figure is waiting for him. Obnoxiously tall, messy brown curls, amber eyes and a tan coat—the last one is new, but it definitely suits him better.

"I hope she's still your favourite artist." the other man speaks quietly, voice filled with nervousness.

Chuuya finally relaxes.

"And I hope you have finally picked your favourite scar, mackerel." the redhead replies, a warm smile adorning his face.

Dazai doesn't know he has already been forgiven years ago.

"Come on, let's go in."

#bungou stray dogs #bsd #dazai bsd #chuuya bsd #dazai osamu #chuuya nakahara #soukoku #skk #dazai x chuuya #transmasc chuuya #trans chuuya #transchuuweek2024 #altaiirissays

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kowwpow · 11 months ago

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~playing in the snow headcanons~

A/N: so I asked five of my friends if I should have snow or instruments be the main focus on what I was gonna write, and four of em said snow :3 so we got some playing in the snow headcanons with some my fav bsd characters.

Characters: Akutagawa, Atsushi, Chuuya, Sigma, Nikolai, Ranpo, Kyouka, Lucy, and Tanizaki

TWs ⚠️: Uhh- I don’t think there are any, but it is important to note that Kyouka’s is the only one that is written to be strictly platonic. You can choose romantic or platonic for the others :D GN!Reader

I think there are slight spoilers in Sigma’s?

Akutagawa Ryūnosuke

It would take a lot of convincing to get that man within five feet of the door. And I mean a lot.

Why would you want to go outside in the freezing cold when you can stay inside where it’s nice and cozy?!

Once you explain to him that you want to play in the snow, he gets even more confused.

Why-?

He’d be sitting in a chair, his feet propped up on something with a book in one hand and a cup of tea in the other while staring up at you like you just grew two heads.

After you told him it was fun and something you really wanted to do, he stare for a second or two longer before spitting out a response.

“Okay….? Then go play in the snow..? What, do you need my permission??”

“No, I want you do come with me, Ryū!”

He would let silence envelope you so for a moment or so before saying a quick and simple “No.” and going back to reading.

After some puppy dog eyes and the best begging you could muster(along with a deal that you’d leave him alone for at least six hours afterwards) he’d finally go with you.

And when he was dressed up and finally ready to go outside with you, he’d watch you excitedly start making a snowman with a fond look on his face.(he will deny enjoying this for the rest of time.)

Atsushi Nakajima

He is hopping out of his seat and putting five coats on at the mere mention of snow.

Heck yes he wants to go out and play in the snow with you!

Did you even have to ask?

You could tell him to put some warm clothes on and be ready to go outside and he’d do it in a heartbeat and with absolutely zero hesitation.

The first thing he wants to do when yall get outside is make snow angels. And he wants your snow angel to “hold hands” with his (they’re just next to each other)

He’ll let you choose what to do next, deeming it “only fair” since he got to choose first.

“No- [Name]-San-! You get to chose!”

“But I don’t know what I want to do, Atsu, you should pick!”

It would be just a bunch of giggly “no you”s back and forth until you finally relent and ask to make a snowman.

And you best believe that he is going to make that the most cozy looking snowman you’ve ever seen.

It is going to be even more fashionable than Chuuya Nakahara. (No it’s not.)

Chuuya Nakahara

Once again, a lot of convincing will be needed.

What did you expect? The man is extremely busy like 24/7, he doesn’t have time to play in the snow?

But he can’t just deny you when you come up to him to ask him so sweetly if he can please come play with you in the snow.

He wants nothing more than to accept and make you happy, but he really needs to finish his work.

So he sighs and comes up with an alternative.

“How about this, [Name]. I’ll work for about another thirty minutes, then we can go outside, okay?”

“That works! Thanks Chuuya!”

“You’re welco-“

He gets cut off when you roughly wrap your arms around him in a quick hug before running off to do who knows what.

He stares off after you for a few seconds before turning back to his work with a shake of his head and smile.

(Extra bc we can’t end Chuuya’s w/o him actually getting outside 🤭)

When he actually finishes his work, he exited his office to see you already playing outside.

He decided that it would be most fun to quickly get ready and sneak up on you, who was busily forming the base of a snow fort.

There was a yelp as cold snow fell on top of you, and you turned to glare at the ginger who was smirking smugly.

But don’t worry, you got him back by pushing him over into the snow and dropping some snow down his shirt.

Sigma

Poor boy-

Being three years old, the poor guy has never played with snow once in his entire life.

So when you ask him to go with you, you’ll have to explain to him what the heck snowmen and snowball fights were.

He’s mildly interested when you do explain, but he doesn’t quite understand the point.

Doesn't being outside in the cold for a long time give you the risk to get sick?

Overall, he’s rather confused about the purpose of playing with cold, wet snow, but he’d agree.

Once he was free, that is.

And that turned out to be a lot quicker than he thought it would, perhaps it’s because your “silly” wants have peaked his interest.

He would quickly finish his duties his duties within the sky casino, and go to find you and get ready.

When you guys step outside, Sigma immediately felt chilly. The high altitude of the casino only making it colder.

“[Name]… Are you sure this is a good idea-“

He grunted as a snowball landed square in his face.

You giggled as you saw him frozen as he processed what you just did.

Before you could ask if he was okay, he quickly picked up some snow and threw it back at you.

He had a small smirk on his face, oh it was game on.

Nikolai Gogol

Oh boy.

He was the one who initially proposed the idea of playing in the snow, because why wouldn’t he.

He doesn’t care if he’s supposed to be busy, he’s dragging you outside with him whether you like it or not.

You could be busy, you could be relaxing, and he’s suddenly ambushing you and struggling to get a coat over your head.

He will make sure you’re nicely dressed for being in the snow.

After all, you’re no fun if you’re sick.

As he’s yanking you to your feet and dressing you in so many layers, you may as well become a fur ball at this point, he’ll be running his mouth, explaining in grave detail what he wanted to do.

“Okay, so first, we’re gonna make little forts, then we’re gonna hide behind them and throw snowballs at each other. Now- I promise not to throw them too hard, okay?”(that’s a lie, he’ll throw them as hard as he pleases)

You could only watch and nod as he led you outside to begin building.

I sure hope you wrote out your will.

Ranpo Edogawa

He’s busy eating snacks working at his desk, when you came in.

He took one look at your face and flushed cheeks from already having been outside for a while, and knew exactly what you wanted.

He debated whether or not abandoning his precious sna— I uh- I mean work just to make you happy.

He thought it over for a second and decided he could go a little bit without his food, and could grace you with his wonderful presence.

He stood up from his seat with his usual smirk and pointed his unfinished lollipop in your direction.

You didn’t even get to ask him before he started bargaining with you.

“I’ll go outside with you on one condition, you gotta buy me lunch.”

You paused, that actually didn’t sound that bad, so you agreed.

You two quickly got dressed (after Ranpo put his snacks away) and headed out of the office to play in the snow, leaving a extremely frustrated Kunikida at the door yelling at you.

It wasn’t very long before all the grass/ground surrounding the agency was covered in snow angels.

Kyouka Izumi

To be honest, I see Kyouka getting rather excited.

Sure she hadn’t done it in a long time, but Kyouka used to love to play in the snow when she was younger.

It was kinda a bittersweet thing to her.

So when you asked, she was more than willing to go with you. She gently grabbed your hand and led you all the way to her and Atsushi’s dorm to get some warm clothes.

Seeing that she didn’t have enough to comfortably be outside, you took your scarf that was hanging loosely on your shoulders off and wrapped it around her neck to help her keep warm.

Kyouka smiled at you when you did so then with increased energy, she took your hand again and made her way outside.

She immediately opened her mouth and tried to catch a falling snowflake on her tongue, being successful in doing so.

She turned to you with wide eyes and pointed at where the now-melted snowflake had been.

“[Name], did you see that?”

“Mhm!”

“[Name], let’s go make snowmen..!”

Before you could even respond, Kyouka grabbed your hand and jogged to the nearest open space to make a snowman.

You guys ended up making two, a bigger one complete with its younger sister.

Lucy Maud Montgomery

Lucy, much like Akutagawa, would decline immediately at first.

She’s in the middle of a shift, she can’t just abandon her job as a waitress.

Or so she thought.

Until her boss gave her the go-ahead that she could take a break and go play in the snow.

Her next argument would be that she was “too mature” to go play in snow.

But then you turned that right back around at her and asked if that meant you were immature.

She stuttered and blushed from embarrassment as she denied what you said.

“N-No-! I didn’t mean you were immature! I just-“

“Then let’s go!”

Cue you grabbing her arm and running towards the building door and shoving her coat that you stole earlier into her arms.

Lucy sighed and reluctantly pulled her coat over her arms and stepped outside with you.

In the end, you guys had a lot of fun running around and pushing each other into the snow.

Tanizaki Jun’ichirō

Actually, Tanizaki was the one who suggested the idea.

He said it would be a fun way to get a break from all their work(totally not because he wanted to show off his snowball fight skills, nooo-)

He would offer to fetch your coat for you when you agreed, doing so anyway when you declined his offer.

He held your coat out for you as he put on his own on, happily suggesting the snowball fight he was planning.

You agreed, not thinking about how he could use his ability to his advantage.

And that’s exactly what he did.

He hid behind a tree and made his illusion self dash to hide somewhere else, effectively turning your attention away from where he actually was.

He hit you in the back of the head a little harder than he meant to, and immediately stood up to rush over and see if you were hurt.

“[Name]! I’m sorry, I didn’t me— AGH-“

Karma came so sweetly as he slipped and landed on his back.

There were no hard feelings though, you guys called a truce and laughed about it for the rest of the day

A/N: these were so fun to write, omg-

I hope you liked it! Please consider liking/reblogging if you did :3

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akutasoda · 1 year ago

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Could I request a PM! Dazai/Chuuya/Akutagawa x F! Reader who’s sort of like a parental figure but more of a wine aunt-type figure, I guess. She’s someone who’s blunt and rude, almost condescendingly, like she doesn’t care if she hurts someone’s feelings, but in a more “lady-like” manner. She’s someone with immaculate taste and wisdom beyond her years, so she serves as like a guardian angel of sorts just with a glass of wine and cigarette in her hands, plus she has that sort of sophistication with her mixed with a 1950’s style.

wine and wisdom

synopsis - how are they with a wine-aunt type of figure

includes - 15!dazai, chuuya, akutagawa

warnings - fem!reader, mentions of cigarettes and alcohol, fluff, wc - 700

taglist - @vi-chan07

osamu dazai ★↷

↪back when he first joined the mafia, he net you within a couple of days after mori would drop him off in your presence if he had to leave. he wasn't exactly surprised that you were slightly condescending and spoke your mind with little regard.

↪in honesty, he actually preferred it when mori left him under your supervision. you're blunt nature was more than tolerable and he enjoyed watching you offend people and not care how much you're words hurt them - yet still acting very 'lady-like'

↪he absolutely admired how wise and intelligent you were across a variety of things. you always answered his questions and would sometimes give him advice which he would willingly listen to. his favourite part was when you'd openly criticise mori himself.

↪he was never a fashion person but could admit you had a very stunning taste in clothes. if you ever tried to offer him a change in clothes he'd politely decline. he also never minded that you always seemed to have a glass of wine with you.

↪when he left the port mafia, you'd probably be someone that he'd think of. however, in some reality he wouldn't leave the port mafia - then he would still look to you for advice. but in both scenarios, you would be someone he admired through his childhood.

chuuya nakahara ★↷

↪when he first saw you it was in a passing in a hallway and he immediately mistook you for kouyou. he would do a doubletake ablnd realise you were a completely different person. ironically, kouyou introduced him properly to you the following week.

↪he would still be in the first couple of weeks of being in the port mafia when he properly met you, so he was quite taken back by how blunt you were when you addressed him. not hesitating to find something about him to criticise.

↪as kouyou promised him, he got used to it - although to this day he could still be surprised by how straightforward you could be. in some way he actually admired how little you cared for how your words affected people because most of the time you were only telling the truth.

↪another thing he could admire about you was wise you were. he could come to you with any question or query and you would give him a solution or answer. your intelligence was something he strived to gain.

↪as he grew up with you around, he kind of derived his taste from you - or you atleast influenced his style. he would note that you always had immaculate sense of style, an older style but you always pulled off all your outfits.

↪when he thought back to it, he couldn't actually recall a time where he didn't see you with a glass of wine or a cigarette... even if you engaged in a battle...

ryūnosuke akutagawa ★↷

↪akutagawa mainly only got very few interactions with you when he first joined the mafia, each and every one was because dazai would seek you out and he'd follow. to him it seemed like dazai liked you and so naturally he wanted to know you.

↪it never went unnoticed to him that you always carried around a glass of wine or such but he didn't care. he aslo didn't really care for how you dressed, your sophisticated style seemed extra to him but that didn't mean he wouldn't admit it worked.

↪he could see why dazai looked up to you. your wisdom truly held no bounds and akutagawa would start copying dazai in asking you questions that you always had answers to.

↪additionally when he first met you, he felt quite insulted when you noticed him and started really letting your thoughts run wild. he quickly came to get used to how blunt and rude you could be. your condescending tone eventually becoming normal to hear.

↪even know a part of him held admiration toward you - not as much as held for dazai but it was close. to this day you still held a rude word toward anyone and had that same olden style that worked flawlessly accompanied by your glass of wine.

#x reader #x fem reader #x female reader #x fem!reader #bsd x reader #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs x you #bsd x you #bsd x female reader #bsd dazai osamu #dazai x fem reader #dazai x reader #bsd chuuya #chuuya x fem!reader #chuuya x reader #bsd akutagawa #akutagawa x reader

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justwinginglife · 6 months ago

Text

This Time, It's Different

Dedicated to the only person who will read this, my bestie @minasfwoopyponytail, yall I know I be doin Soshiro all the time, but I got on the Ranpo track cuz we were talking about Ranpo being in our top favs for BSD so I gotta show him some love today (I am so sorry that I bought Chuuya, Dazai, and Akutugawa merch and forgot about you Ranpo my love, this is my apology fic for you).

You were never good at lying.

It was inconvenient in almost all aspects of your life, but you never thought your ineptitude would be the reason someone finally fell in love with you.

After many failed attempts at bending the truth, after attempting to tell your aunt you liked the socks she got for your birthday and instead unknowingly wrinkling your nose at them and breaking her heart, after attempting to tell your boss that you were busy and couldn’t come to work on a Saturday and when she asked follow up questions about your supposed plans you found yourself flushed and floundering, after attempting to tell your ex that you enjoyed meeting his family but then immediately declining any further interaction with them, after multiple awkward interactions and even more disastrous encounters, you decided to give up on lying. It wasn’t for you.

So you resigned yourself to the fact that you would have to tell nothing but the whole, honest truth for the rest of your life. Your lackluster lies may cause catastrophe otherwise.

So when you joined up with the Armed Detective Agency, when you rejected Dazai’s advances by saying, “No offense Dazai, but I’m sure you say that to all the ladies, and while I’m flattered, I’m not into womanizers,” when you offered methods of stress relief to Kunikida because he “always looked like the world was ending,” when you asked when Furukawa would be retiring because you were concerned about him “overworking himself in his old age,” when half the detective agency was against you from your first day, Ranpo Edogawa found himself half in love with you already.

He’d never met a person who didn’t -or just couldn’t- lie, even among his fellow coworkers, and he was at least intrigued by you if nothing else. He found himself eager to see just how far you were willing to go to continue telling the truth.

Going forward, you often found him tagging along on missions with you, peeking over your shoulder while you worked, listening to everything intently, even despite your other coworkers telling you that Ranpo almost never went out of his way to be this personally invested in anything, just because he wanted to hear you talk, to see if you really told everyone everything you thought all the time. And to ask you questions. Lots of questions.

Most of them were controversial because he wanted to see if you’d stick to your opinions even if you were in the minority, some of them were philosophical because he wanted to know the way your mind worked, and a few of them were just downright absurd because he was Ranpo.

“Okay. So. You want to know if I would divert the trolley to save the lives of five by killing one?”

“Yes, and when you’re done with that, do you think that dress makes that girl’s butt look fat?”

“Mr. Edogawa, sir, I really don’t see how this is relevant to the case.”

“Oh it’s relevant, alright. Answer the question, I’m your superior and I wanna know.”

“Um. Alright. Well clearly it makes more logical sense to sacrifice the life of the one for the good of the many, just mathematically speaking, and yes, that dress is very unappealing on her, I don’t know why she went with white.”

“Agreed, the white is hideous, you pass my tests. For now.”

And so this bizarre relationship of yours continued.

Ranpo would wait for you to finish up cases, would wait for you to finish in the bathroom, would wait for you to finish up dinner, just so he could pick your brain, just so he could amuse himself with your answers. But the more time he spent with you, the more his reason changed for spending the time. He was always attentive, had always had a keen eye, but when you were around, it seemed every last bit of his attention had devoted itself to you. He knew how long it took for you to finish going to the bathroom, so -much to your embarrassment- he always knew what you were doing in the bathroom depending on the length of time. He knew how long it took for you to eat and which foods took you longer amounts of time to eat them. He knew when it was your time of the month, he knew what you craved during said time, he knew the way you’d react when he brought you said craving. He knew almost everything about you and it still wasn’t enough.

One day, he diverted from his usual barrage of insane questions and he started asking about you: what was your favorite food, where were you born, did you have any pets growing up, what did you like to do outside of work? By now, you had gathered from all his previous questions that he was just having fun interrogating you, but you enjoyed talking with him, so you answered all his questions regardless, personal or otherwise. You were unsure how telling him your favorite color was supposed to entertain him the way his usual ridiculous questions did, but you told him it was green anyway. He brought you a bundle of kiwis the next day because he couldn’t figure out what else was green to give you. You were unaware of the fruit’s connection to his question about your favorite color but to him, he’d pretty much just asked you out.

When you didn’t reciprocate his feelings, because you were unaware he had feelings for you, and unaware he had just presented them to you through said kiwis, he pouted for the remainder of the day.

You couldn’t figure out why the man who had spent every waking second of your career with the ADA by your side had suddenly started avoiding you. You couldn’t figure it out, and it was killing you. Little did he know, you had also started memorizing details about him, and the way his laugh sounded, the way his lips curved into a smile, the way his fingers pushed up his glasses, the way he did anything and everything, the way he said anything and everything had you craving your next interaction before the previous one had even ended. And you couldn’t take the silence he had now forced you into. So you went on a hunt for him.

You found him sulking on the rooftop.

You plopped down beside him without saying a word and when you could tell he might be preparing to run again, preparing to plunge your relationship into further silence, you handed him a Ramune. He froze. And then he snatched the drink out of your hand like it was just another Tuesday for the two of you.

“You remembered my favorite flavor, huh? Not too shabby for a second rate detective.” He chugged down the drink.

You laughed and nudged his shoulder with yours. “If I’m such a second rate detective, how did I know you’d be on the roof?”

He shrugged. “Got lucky, I guess.”

You bit your lip and for the first time in years, considered lying. But you couldn’t do it. “Actually, I didn’t just ‘get lucky.’ I knew you’d be on the roof. You always come to the roof when you’re upset. I notice more than you think. So tell me- why are you upset?”

He sighed. “You’re not into me. No one’s ever into me.”

You blinked. “I’m sorry, what?”

He sighed again, this time more exasperated. “I gave you a gift, but you didn’t accept my feelings.”

You blinked again. “The… kiwis?? Ranpo. You always give me gifts. You gave me strawberries during my last period even though Yosano told you to get me chocolate because you know I like fruits better than chocolate. You gave me limited edition tickets to a play that was already sold out because you’d preordered it when you heard me vaguely mention that I liked it. You are always giving me things, and they’re perfect, and I love it, and I appreciate it, but how was I supposed to know this time was something different?”

He tapped a finger on his chin. “Yeah okay fine. I see that now.”

You inched up closer to him. “So… this time is different though?”

He suddenly blushed. “Yeah… this time it’s different. This time I wanted… well I wanted…”

“Me?”

He’s suddenly quiet and it’s the first time you’ve ever seen him like this. You’ve rendered him speechless and it’s impossible not to find it adorable.

You kiss him.

If he was speechless before, now he’s speechless and breathless.

“I just… you just…so we’re?”

You nod, smiling at him. “Yeah. We are.”

“We’re… together?” He squeaks out.

“I’d like us to be.”

He nods vigorously. “I-I’d like us to be too!” He blurts out.

You kiss him again and this time he savors the feeling of your lips melding with his. This time he kisses you back with fervor, with passion he never knew he could feel. This time, he’s all yours.

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Author's Note: I am too lazy to write a longer fic that delves into their relationship after this, but I did want to write a lil drabble about it, so I will be posting it here.

#ranpo edogawa #bsd #bsd ranpo #ranpo x reader #anime fanfic #oneshot #fluff #han's library

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