#Chuuya needs a hug :(

[formiito]

let the light in ; chuuya nakahara

chuuya x gn! reader

author's note: i got a hang of tumblr formatting??? kinda??? i will make a master list soon. i hope this isn't too ooc. read on ao3 here!!

warnings: none, just fluff and mild angst at some points! i'msonormalaboutchuuyaiswear

“Come on, let me in.”

The soft voice at his door catches the young executive’s attention. Before Chuuya gets up from the couch and puts down his glass of vintage red on the coffee table, he’s already braced himself for hearing whatever inane reason you'd be at his door this late. He’s managed to successfully ignore all your calls and texts like he usually does, but it certainly doesn't fool you. Because you can’t sleep and neither can he. Once again, he realizes the futility of his efforts to keep you away.

Truth be told, you weren't a bad person. You didn't invoke his temper as easily or as often as other people did, and you were capable when you worked alongside him. There was an ease of being about you; something that he could eventually catch himself falling into time to time. You wear at him like a harsh current does to a rock by the side of a river. The veneer of nonchalance chips away more and more the longer he allows himself this companionship. And he's aware of this weakness; it feels so out of place when he is usually so assured. But no gravity manipulation can make this heart lighter.

Not when your face reminds Chuuya of a life he's already left behind. You were there when he spilled his first blood, you are here now, and he cannot find it in himself to push you out completely. As much as he likes to think he's above these sentimentalities, nostalgia still finds a victim in him; wrapping itself around his mind in his unsuspecting moments till he could no longer discern between himself of the past and him now. You make the poor guy feel the burden of his past failures too often.

Feel too much, too, for that matter.

You try with such enthusiasm, too. Despite the fact that over the six…or was it seven years, his life and yours have been turned upside down and inside out. There are some people who feel like they have been frozen in time somehow. With you, he feels like he can stave off the rot of his current life just for a little bit. A dangerous thought. He wants to stick a knife in your neck sometimes. Would that make him stop thinking so much? Or would his past still trail him around in the form of your memory?

It's a quarter to one now.

The door unlocks.

“What is it now?” This annoyed tone sounds forced out of his mouth. Strange, he never had any issues with it until you come into the room.

“I couldn't sleep!”

“Clearly.”

“You know what? We should go out for a drive, Chuuya, it's the perfect time!”

“Like, right now?”

“Yeah.”

“…You're serious?”

“Are you coming or not? Quick, I don't have the time!”

It's a good thing that he isn't completely buzzed from the wine he was drinking yet, because your request leaves no room for disagreement, even if it’s a question. An exasperated sigh leaves his lips, a muttered curse following soon after. “Fine! But I’m in charge of the music.” It makes no difference, most of the good songs he knows were your favorites at some point of time. You held him down and made him listen, and as much as he acted like he loathed the whole ordeal, the tunes wouldn't leave his thoughts be no mater what. He picks up the car keys off the table, not bothering to pick up anything else save for his hat.

This had become something of a routine. You would always bother him at odd hours, though you were a rare sight at daytime, doing god knows what. The redness in the whites of your eyes, and the way you would rub at them every now and then indicated that you were exhausted, yet you insisted on these outings. It was the typical condition that came with their work; he was no stranger to sleepless nights himself. But with you, he finds himself actually concerned. The exceptions he makes for you feel unreasonable. The effect you had on him was just as confusing. Chuuya wonders if you just do that to him or if everyone is subject to the mental damage you cause him just by being around him.

Consciously, he knew there was no use dwelling on these thoughts. For the better or worse, your lives were fundamentally intertwined. Not by narrative choice, but by sheer persistence. He remembers what you said to him once. When he asked you why you were coming along with him, you only said, “because I’ll go wherever you go, obviously.” You refused to elaborate when he asked you to explain why. You acted as if this was an objective truth, like it was the natural state of things. As if in every scenario possible, you would've done the same thing. He called you an idiot for it, still thinks you are. Because Chuuya cannot understand why you stick by him, or more importantly, why he allows you to.

Even then, he has to reluctantly admit to himself that he’s glad for it. You remind him of his past failures and naïveté, but you also remind him of the concept of home. The last tether to his past is you, and he wouldn't allow anyone to sever that imaginary cord. Despite how much he hates it, you still hold a part of him he would have otherwise lost touch of. The pain felt easier to get through when it was shared. Maybe this was just what friendship was. It was elusive to obtain, but once you have it; whether by accident or on purpose, you have to cope with it for the rest of time.

You walk ahead of him, and he keeps up with your pace. Unlike him, you were aware of how you felt on a level that was nearly painful; instead of fuzzy, bittersweet feelings of nostalgia, you felt the lashes of time and it’s wear with pointed certainty. You were your own witness to the degradation of your morality and soul. You felt it chip away piece by piece, and saw the wear in the mirror. An experience that broke you from inside out, creating a new person out of the debris.

You hold onto the remains of a past you can't remember, and in this folly you have ruined yourself chasing something that had never existed. But perhaps that was the reason why you didn't let go of Chuuya in particular. He was tangible, within your grasp; not necessarily a constant, but by your own design you've made him one. You've made out of him a friend you trusted with your life, and that trust shows in every action, every laughter, everytime you show up at his door at some weird hour of the night. You know it annoys him, but he lets you. In a strange way, you test him again and again just for the sheer satisfaction of being assured that yes, he wouldn't turn you away.

The walk to the car was fairly short. He got in the driver’s seat, waiting for you to follow suit and started up the ignition. The port town was especially beautiful at midnight, the late night lights of the wharf reflecting in the distant ocean. The sky is dark with no sign of light, all veiled by the smoke that lingers in city skies. All the stars that were meant to exist in the sky were here on the ground, in the lights of offices working late or streetlights flickering for the convenience of nightwalkers.

“Are you really gonna play that? Eh…”

“Hey! It's a good song, okay?!?”

“Debatable.”

“You’re literally the one who made me listen to it!”

“Did I really, though?”

“You-”

“Shut up! I think I just saw an ice cream place a little further up.”

After an excruciatingly long wait of watching you pick an ice cream out of the array of colors, you both were finally out in the open air again. The cold air pricks like needles. It wasn't even the weather for ice cream, but your habits were incorrigible as always. When you inevitably start sniffling, he could only manage a pointed comment about how you never learn. He would've given his hat to you if you asked. It's frustrating that you never do. Things never go the way they play in his head, and it infuriates him. The ride to home feels infinitely long. Taking the highway was an unnecessarily long route, and yet it was the one he took everytime whenever he was driving with you.

When you both get back home, he's hit by that strange spell again. A lack of thoughts and a tongue restless for words, checked by his dry throat. For whenever the air isn't filled with senseless chatter, gunshots or music, that is when he feels truly weak in front of you. The comfort of being around you shifts to something uncertain and bitter in the early morning hours. When you ask to stay the night like the usual, he can no longer find the strength to refuse. It was clear that no matter what the both of you did, at the end of the day, what waits for him is a helplessness so foreign to him even with his frequent encounters with it.

The weariness is built into their bones, and by the end of the day when they both are tired of this endless charade, you both end up in the same place as always, hopelessly entangled in each other’s lives. Perhaps on another night when you cannot sleep and come to seek him, he will let himself get willingly caught and put an end to this chase. Pushing away the curtain, letting the light in, and look to find you there where he left you.

[ohhcinnybuns]

Today's lunch thoughts: Corruption Chuuya...

[amber-sekio]

And if you can forgive, love will truly live -PART 2

Fandom: BSD -Bungo Stray Dogs

Ship: Dazai x Reader

Prompt: “'Sorry for showing up like this.’ You sighed, your shoulders relaxing in silent defeat. ‘Come in.’”

!Gender of reader is not specified!

A/N: I don't believe there are any major triggers in this part, correct me if I'm wrong though. Also, I feel like Dazai was very ooc which is partially why this took so long, of course, the main problem was writer's block

Word count is about 2.7k

Part 1 of And if you can forgive, love will truly live

Tag: @foulwaterss

Warmth. 

You pulled the person in your arms further into your chest. 

... 

Person? 

You opened your eyes, blinking rapidly as the morning sun pierced your eyes through the open curtain. 

As your vision adjusted you could make out a head of soft, fluffy brown curls tucked against your chest. 

The memories of the previous day, or rather night, seeing as you slept through most of the day, came flooding through your brain. 

Right. 

Dazai knocked on your door last night. 

Soaked to the bone from having likely walked to your place with no umbrella despite the fact it had been raining the entire day. 

And then... you let him in. 

A dangerous decision both for him with his new job and for you with the Mafia. 

But he listened to you, took a shower, ate most of his food, and he even let himself be vulnerable with you, choosing to forgo his bandages because he trusts you. 

You looked down at him as you brought your hand up to card your fingers through his hair, a smile pulling at your lips as he nuzzled into your chest. 

He reminded you of a cat. 

Cute. 

More like a black cat with all the bad things people thought of him. 

Either way, he was cute. 

Your smile turned bitter as the thought crossed your mind. 

Even after four years, you still had feelings for him. 

You sighed softly, letting your face relax, enjoying the soft moment before Dazai awakes and you have to talk about everything. 

You had almost soothed yourself back to sleep with the methodic movement of your fingers through Dazai's hair when Dazai finally began to stir awake. 

You watched as Dazai's eyes fluttered open slightly before he whined as the light hit his eyes, shoving his face half into your chest and half into the sheets. 

"Evil... leaving the curtains open just to blind me..." His voice was pitched with a whine yet rough from having just woken up. 

You chuckled softly. 

"Eh, the sun blinded me too when I woke up." You spoke up, your voice soft in the morning. "I would've gotten up but someone was busy nuzzling into me." You teased softly as you began running your finger through his hair once more. 

"What time is it?" He spoke softly into your chest. 

"I don't know..." You yawned softly. "I was about to fall asleep again before you woke up." 

Even without seeing his face, you could tell a smirk pulled at his lips. Seems like you still knew him pretty well. 

"Were you watching me sleep? How perverted~." He teased softly. 

"Oh shut it. I wasn't thinking anything like that. Of course, you know that though." 

Dazai hummed softly pretending to be unaware. 

"Oh~? Then what were you thinking, hm?"  

You stopped carding your fingers through his hair to reach down and lift his chin up, forcing him to look at you in the eyes. 

"Thinking about how much like a cat you were and how that made you cute." You spoke honestly and directly, not breaking eye contact. 

You watched in amusement as his still-not-fully-awake brain processed your words. A soft blush bloomed on his cheeks that steadily grew darker in color before he shoved his face back into your chest, whining softly. 

"Evil. Your evil." 

You laughed softly as you let him hide his face. 

"Like I said, cute." 

"Shut up." 

The conversation lulled after that, as the both of you took in the comfort of waking up in another person's arms, warm. 

"Do you want some coffee?" 

He hummed softly as he processed the unspoken words. 

'We need to talk about it.' 

"Sure" He spoke yet didn't move from the warmth of your body. 

You sighed as you ran your hand down his back before forcing yourself out of the warmth of your bed. 

"I'll call to you when the pot is done." You remarked as you walked out of your room toward the kitchen. 

You hummed softly as you waited for the pot to brew, your mind drifting. 

You knew roughly the reason behind Dazai's leaving but you still wanted to hear him explain his thought process. 

And, more than anything, you wanted to hear a damn apology. Not just for leaving you, but for leaving Chuuya, and for blowing up his car, because that was a low blow. Yet you also still understood his reason behind that action as well. A silent message to not follow, to not look for him. 

It would be nice if you could get Dazai to apologize directly to Chuuya, but you knew that it would be like trying to pull teeth. 

You were jolted from your thoughts as the coffee pot beeped at you. 

You methodically pulled out a mug and began filling it, leaving enough space for creamer. 

You blinked. 

Right. 

You reached for another cup, placing it on the island counter as you called out for Dazai through the silence. 

You began to fill his cup when you heard a thump from your room followed by what sounded like cloth against the floor. 

You looked up as you were about to start pouring creamer into Dazai's mug, you paused at the sight of Dazai being practically swallowed by the fitted blankets he had pulled from your bed. 

You chuckled softly. 

"It's cold. Stop laughing." He pouted, his lips pulled down in a way that only made you chuckle more. 

Cute. 

"How are you planning to drink your coffee with all the blankets on?" 

He didn’t respond as he walked, or rather waddled, over to a stool at the island counter. You finished pouring the creamer into his coffee as he maneuvered himself onto the stool with the blankets still practically swallowing him. You push the mug towards him as you take your own mug in hand. 

You watch as he brings up his hands, wrapped up under the edges of the blankets, to wrap around the mug. The blankets keep him from moving his arms much, so he has to hunch forward to take a sip of his coffee. 

“You know it’d be easier if you just took the blankets off?” 

“It’s cold.” A pout pulled at his lips again and a petulant whine left him. 

“I have jackets that should fit you.” 

“The blankets were right there though.” 

“More like you're just lazy…” You mumbled under your breath, sipping at your coffee. 

You cleared your throat. 

“So…” 

He didn’t speak up, but he glanced up at you from where he was hunched over his mug. 

“I… already know mostly everything with Oda…, but could you tell me what solidified your decision?” You asked, tone hesitant and unsure. 

You watched as he stared into his mug, worried he would try and avoid talking. He never did like talking about his problems. Not that you could talk, you were the same, preferring to simply enjoy each other’s company without ever talking about your problems. Of course, that was before he left, now you spent your time having a glass of fine wine with Chuuya. On those nights, typically, only Chuuya would talk, with you speaking up mostly to keep the conversation going. 

“There were… many reasons… behind my decision.” He paused; the silence awkward but he clearly was going to say more. “Odasaku’s… um…” He didn’t look up at you, but you could hear as he tried to hide the cracking of his voice. 

“Take your time, there’s no rush.” You hummed softly as he struggled to find his words. 

“Right.” 

You sipped from your mug as you waited for him to continue. 

“Odasaku’s last words to me… he asked me to…” 

“I understand.” You didn’t want to force him to answer when you could put the pieces together yourself. “And the… other reasons?” 

He idly sipped at his coffee. 

“Well… before I continue, can I ask a question?” 

You looked up from your mug. 

“Um… sure, what is it?” 

He let out a sigh, it sounded tired. It seemed like he was forcing himself to ask you his question. 

Almost like he was scared of what your answer would be. 

He huffed out. “What is your opinion of me?” 

He didn’t look at you, gaze fixated on his own reflection from where he stared down at his coffee. 

You hesitated, not having expected his question. 

“My opinion of you?” 

You asked more to fill the silence, to allow yourself time to think about it. 

You knew that he could be cruel. 

You knew that he could be kind. 

You knew you felt an amalgamation of feelings towards him. 

You felt sadness, that he didn’t tell you anything. 

You also felt angry that he left, that he didn’t tell you cause you would’ve- 

You would’ve… 

You would’ve joined him. 

You would’ve left with him. 

Because you loved him. 

More than anything, you loved him. 

Despite everything, you still loved him. 

You let out a soft breath. 

Looking down at the half-empty mug in your hands. 

“Well… I know that you can be cruel, but I also know that you're capable of being kind, of caring for others. And I feel sad and betrayed that you didn’t tell me or leave anything for me to know what you were doing. Angry that you left me because…” You could feel a lump in your throat as you tried to force the words out. “Because despite that… if you had come to me that night… I would’ve joined you.” 

You looked up to find him staring at you with a shocked expression, and somewhere in the back of your mind, you found it cute. 

“After everything we’ve been through… I’ve seen your highs and lows, I’ve seen you mercilessly kill and torture, but I’ve also seen you with Oda and Ango, with Chuuya. And I… have never hated you. I’ve never thought you to be inhuman.” 

You paused. A gentle smile pulled at your lips. 

“I still don’t, Dazai.” 

“I-…” He looked almost on the verge of tears, and you felt compelled to rush to his side on the other side of the kitchen island and comfort him. 

“Well… the main reason I didn’t tell you, or Chuuya was because I was absorbed by my own view of myself… that I didn’t think anyone could possibly see me differently. Especially you… we were similar and so I figured your opinion of me was no different than mine. I believed that with how similar we thought that you must have hated me because-… because I hated myself.” 

He looked down at his mug, unable to meet your gaze. 

Your heart ached at his words. 

“Dazai…” You spoke hesitantly. “Dazai… what is your opinion of me?” 

He looked up at you. “My opinion of you?” He repeated your words back at you. 

His gaze shifted to the side as a soft pink tinted his cheeks. 

“I always thought of you as something of an angel. You were smart but quiet, stern as a mafioso should be, but you were also kind. You formed a connection with me similar to the one I have with Chuuya but different. You understand me in a different way. Like a guardian angel, you’ve stopped me from many of my suicide attempts, maybe even more than Chuuya has. When I watched you fight it was like I was watching an angel of death, bloody, but still pure in a way only you could ever achieve.” 

He stopped himself, looking up at you. 

You could feel your cheeks burning as he spoke, looking into your eyes. 

“I have always loved you. As undeserving as I am, I have always loved my guardian angel.” 

“I- you… love me?” You found yourself short of words as your brain tried to process that Dazai, who you have loved for longer than you would like to admit, loves you as well. 

As your brain finally caught up, the vibrant blush on your cheeks softened, and the smile that pulled at your lips was just as soft. 

Placing your mug down, you reached your hands across the island counter to grab his hands, pulling them from where the blankets were still wrapped around them. 

“I love you too, Dazai.” 

You watched as the blush on his cheeks grew a few shades darker. 

Cute. 

You dropped his hands as you walked around the island to stand next to him. He turns towards you, cheeks still vibrantly flushed. 

You reach out, your hand hovering over his lower cheek, prompting him to tilt his head up at you. 

“May I?” 

You could see as he swallowed, calming himself. 

“Only if we remain exclusive.” 

“And this remains secret.” You added, smiling at him. 

You let your hand rest on his cheek, bringing the other one up to rest on the back of his neck, still bare of bandages. You leaned down the rest of the way, connecting your lips with his. 

His lips were soft against yours, and the kiss was sweet. 

A soft sound akin to a whine left him as you pulled away slowly. You chuckled as he flushed, embarrassed by his own neediness. He pulled you into a hug, wrapping his arms around your waist as the blankets fell off his shoulders hanging off his waist. 

“Shut up.” His voice was slightly muffled from where he pressed his face against your chest. 

You laughed. “But I didn’t say anything~.” 

“I said shut up.” 

“You're even cuter when you're flustered, you know?” 

He whined into your chest, refusing to let you see his face. 

You stopped teasing him, letting the soft moment consume you in warmth. 

“I’m glad you're safe. He’d be proud of how far you’ve come.” 

The arms around you tightened and you could barely make out a sharp intake of air. You brought a hand up to his hair, running your fingers through it comfortingly. 

“I know he would.” 

“I-… thank you.” 

A comfortable silence settled on the two of you for a few minutes as you held each other until Dazai spoke up, mumbling softly. 

“I’m sorry for hurting you and Chuuya…” 

“I forgave you a while ago, and while Chuuya would never say it out loud, he has as well, even if he’s still angry about it.” 

“I missed sitting on the dock with you.” 

“Those moments of serenity in between the chaos were nice.” 

“You have the day off, right?” 

“I don’t have work until tomorrow morning. Though, speaking of work, shouldn’t you be at work right now?” 

“Unimportant. Anyways we should cuddle and watch something.” 

You laughed joyously, your arms tightening around him. “Even after four years, you're still you, huh? I’m glad you’re more open though. Honest. I like being vulnerable with you.” You smiled down at him, moving the hair from in front of his face to behind his ear. “The light suits you, Dazai.” 

Dazai hid his face against your chest again, though you could tell he was flushed with how red his ears were. 

“I thought I told you to shut up. I demand you carry me to the couch now.” 

You scoff playfully. “What are you, a princess?” 

“Yes, and you must serve me.” He replied matter-of-factly. 

“Right.” You reached down with one hand to grab the blankets that had fallen around his waist, pulling them up around his shoulders and then wrapping them tightly around him. You pick him up effortlessly, chuckling as he lets out an involuntary squeak. 

You carried him over to the couch, laying him across your lap as you reached to grab the remote off the coffee table. 

“What shall we watch, Your Highness?” 

You watch as he thinks over your question before you notice a drop in his mood. 

“Is something wrong?” 

“I don’t like how good you’ve gotten at reading me.” 

You chuckle as he pouts. “I’ve always been good at reading you, I’m just choosing to mention what I see now. So, what’s up?” 

“Do you still have that watchlist we made when we were 17?” 

You smiled at his question. 

“Yeah, I never deleted it. And I don’t think I’ve watched anything from it.” You hummed thoughtfully. “Not that I’ve really had the time to anyway.” 

“Good. Pick something off of that then.” 

“No specific genre?” 

“Not really.” 

With a soft smile, you click into the playlist of unwatched shows and movies. You pick a random one and start it, more focused on the unguarded and genuine smile on Dazai’s face. 

It was nice. 

He was alive and doing better than before. 

Everything would be fine. 

And hopefully, you get him to actually apologize to Chuuya.

[bunnys-tales]

Tainted by Sorrow

Chuuya is dreaming.

One year is arguably not a long time to know a person, let alone five. Five strangers turned friends. Chuuya sees them, all five — all boys, really, not long turned men; their footsteps toeing the thin boundary of noise and quiet, bending closer to the latter. As intended. Their voices too, remain silent, unspoken instructions pressing into the pulse on their necks, thudding heavier amongst the far thicker hum of machinery, careful not to echo. Careful too in the scope of their movements, careful not to lose sight of each other, threads of shared glances anchoring an ever evolving pentagon through the blue-green glow. Centred but, not.

Without a map, and without means of open communication, they tread softly on what is no doubt squeaky-clean linoleum. They tune their senses into that they can see, that they can feel beyond the feeling, until eventually a frail arm lifts high enough to signal to the rest, to point somewhere between north and east, as the crow flies — past columns of thick fluid encased in glass, obscuring the path like tall alders, stoic and arrogant.

Man-made emblems of “progress” at any cost, ironically empty.

A faint glow, unlike the others, reaches out to pull the remaining four’s attention, a slither of the familiar blue-green mixed with something paler, warmer. A light screeching sound follows as five pairs of shoes waste no time pivoting to follow this new siren, merging into single file and navigating an untrodden path through the thicket of floor to ceiling tubes. One by one they emerge into a clearing with a lone column at the other side. The one they’d been searching for.

Pale faces, illuminated by strange colours settling on their skin, not at all dissimilar to the way the molecule-thin glass ceiling of the ocean patterns various fish and crabs, glanced silently from person to person. From friend to friend and back again. Solemn but determined. One of them swallows once, then nods.

Two surge forward. They each grace the perimeter to meet at the back, following the loop of a butterfly’s wing before crouching down to fiddle with a black box on the floor. Wires are traced and chosen with care, one man hissing instructions to the other, who complies with a slight tremble in their fingers. Meanwhile the three that remain behind, technically forward, frown — fists and jaws clench in the name of patience, gaze unwavering from the tube before them or the small figure tainting the blue with beige, suspended by Archimedean laws. A living, sleeping, portrait of injustice.

One of the three breaks ranks to run a palm across the surface, finding cold when he expected warmth. His forehead kisses the glass, whilst the fingers of his other hand, already wrapped around a pair of sunglasses, squeeze tighter. Fingernails breaking skin until his palm shines wet and warm. Colour lost to shadow.

With a resounding click the boy vanishes behind a curtain of dark. Light shines instead from behind, it almost feels second hand, so that three plus two silhouettes converge towards the cylindrical void in the center. Through the gloom the fluid drains and a child’s knees buckle, caught against the glass wall by the viscid remains of the liquid that had guaranteed his survival. The very same that had guaranteed he never lived.

With the draining of the fluid came a high pitched whirring, their ears flinching against the new sound. They listen, reaching out to feel the movement of the glass as it slides downwards, doing its best to burn their fingers with its touch, a possessive wrath as it opens its mouth wide against its will.

The lower panel of the tube consumes the glass inch by inch, the shine from behind the five men broken into fragments like church windows in the night. Once the glass reaches halfway the men shift, ready for the boy as his head tilts forward to meet their outstretched arms. Within seconds they have delivered the child from the only life he’d known until now.

Head first he comes to them, red hair plastered flat to his scalp, dragged down by the direction the fluid had taken; shoulders, thin and brittle, difficult to find purchase without bruising, pointy like the wings of a small bird; arms and torso, as weightless as they seemed; legs, hanging limp, toes pointing unnaturally downward.

The five lower him to the ground, one strips himself of his jacket so that the poor creature need not be laid bare upon the cold flooring. Another massages the boys’ chest, clearing airways and checking vitals, while another mumbles something about keeping lookout before he sniffs into his sleeve and doesn’t look back. He leaves behind the smell of expensive cigarettes.

When the boy is able to use his lungs independently, his chest rises and falls deeply, stuttering and stumbling in the delights of dream, so far oblivious to the magnitude of the work now being undertaken by his tiny body.

And so they retreat, taking the same route back as they came. Exchanging glances once, only to grin triumphantly. The tallest — his beauty lighting their way forward — holds the boy, parcelled up in several layers of donated jackets, close to his chest. He bows his head closer to the boy’s and slowly warms him with his breath.

They don’t meet a single person on their way back to the surface. Their steps come quick and easy. As the rest approach, the volunteer lookout turns back to see them at the entrance, silhouette haloed by the first cracks of sunrise. The man with the sunglasses hastily hooks the black frames onto the bridge of the child’s nose before they step out into the gentle colours of morning.

As the sun’s arms stretch towards them, eager to witness the first strides into new beginnings, rays of sunlight fall upon the exposed skin of the sleeping boy, curled up and nuzzling into the tall man’s chest. He breathes a sigh of contentment, happy to have taken his first breaths in what may as well have been a lifetime.

One breath. Two breaths. A sleepy smile.

The boy crumbles into the fabric, no longer there. No longer human. Just as foam dissolves into the sea, ash peels away into nothing and is stolen by the wind, never to be as it once was. Piles of fabric, curved around an empty space where a boy had once been, fall to the floor — and five friends mourn.

Chuuya clutches the linen sheet beneath his cheek, like the frustrating final pages of a tragedy, and whimpers into the pillow.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/63858187

[karmicpunishment]

Atsushi & Dazai Reunion (REAL) (colorized)

[dailynakaharachuuya]

I need a hug

Hug!

[shitogori]

Post dark era skk (is just vhuuya being sad and delulu)

[chuuyascumsock]

I’m Here // Minors DNI

Summary: Chuuya doesn’t remember his dreams, but he feels it. [Based off the canon fact that Chuuya doesn’t dream/doesn’t remember his dreams.]

Tags: Nakahara Chuuya/ GN Reader (referred to as Doll once but gender isn’t specific), SFW, Hurt/Comfort, Not Much Warning, But Chuuya Cries, Also Mentions Chuuya’s Thoughts Of Not Feeling Human So Dehumanizing Feelings Of Oneself.

Nakahara Chuuya/Reader Drabble

Chuuya doesn’t dream, or at least he doesn’t remember them.

And yet there’s an overwhelming feeling of grief stirring inside of him when he awakes abruptly, a sheen of sweat drenching his face and around his neck. Soft pants fall from his lips as he sits upright, one of his calloused hands flying up to smooth over the left side of his chest where a dull ache throbs within. He doesn’t know why this happens, but it does. He knows that even if he doesn’t remember his dreams, he subconsciously knows what they’re about. Feels what they’re about. His past— the people he’s lost— the things he’s had to do to survive.

Chuuya doesn’t cry.

But he does tonight, melancholy overtaking everything else in him. His tears are silent and scarce, the feeling unusual and almost surreal to him. When did he become so weak?

“Chuuya?” Your voice is groggy and slurred from sleep as you shift beneath the covers to slowly move to sit up.

Chuuya’s breathing hitches, thankful that the room is pitch black. He can barely make out your figure next to him, but see that you’re moving to lean closer to him. Chuuya clears his throat and responds quietly, “Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you, Doll… Go back to sleep.”

Your hand moves to feel out next to you to find him until it lands splayed out on his back, “Why are you up? What’s wrong?” You ask, worry lacing your tone.

“Nothing, m’fine…” He sighs out, making a move to wipe his damp face with his hands. His hands stop though when he feels your warm hands cup his face and wipe away his tears with your thumbs.

“It doesn’t sound like nothing,” You murmur, shuffling to switch positions, though slightly difficult due to your limited vision. You face Chuuya now, hands moving from his face to smooth down his wild bed hair from tossing and turning. “Why are you upset?” You’re just the slightest bit confused having known about Chuuya’s inability to dream— or that he doesn’t remember them, so it couldn’t be that. Could it?

“I…” Chuuya sniffles, but it’s barely discernible. “I had a bad dream,” He pauses before letting out a shaky exhale, “I feel it.”

You almost frown, but it curls into a gentle smile, though you know Chuuya can’t see it in the dark. “You feel it?” It’s an innocent question, much like your touch as you tuck some of his damp bangs behind his ear. You feel him nod, leaning into your touch for comfort— seeking you out in a moment of vulnerability. You don’t elaborate on your thoughts about the three simple words he spoke— that you think he’s more human than any other being you’ve met— that you wish he’d look at himself through your eyes and see how living he was beneath his flesh and bones. But you push it to the back of your mind for a later conversation.

“It aches,” Chuuya’s voice strains, wishing the throbbing would disappear from his chest.

“I know,” You whisper. Your hands find themselves slipping around his waist to hold him from your position next to him, “But I’m here.” You reassure, head resting into the crook of his neck.

He turns his head to place a gentle kiss to your head, arm looping around your back to caress along your spine soothingly, “You are.”

Chuuya survived all his life, but with you, he felt like he was living.

[thetinyzaiofbuffoonery]

The boys are taking a break from squabbling to give Catsushi some much needed hugs in this trying time

[ohhcinnybuns]

Someone else showed up in the mail today and catzai is pretty excited!!!

Poof!

They sit on my desk to judge me for not writing (I am)

[ssaraexposs]

Yet the Sheep didn't hesitate to attack you and betray you, because they didn't trust you after all

[bunnys-tales]

[renabunss]

Chuuya can't go too long without an older sister figure/drinking buddy. Meanwhile, Akutagawa is in emotional turmoil.

I had to do something for this. It was a given.

( @muaviinu 's swap au)

[silverbladexyz]

Blue Skies, Tainted Sorrow

TW: Mentions of death. Stormbringer spoilers below!

The Yokohama sky was an exceptionally sorrowful blue.

Normally, the colour blue was associated with stability and harmony, granting a sense of tranquil peace wherever it descended. Favoured in the eyes of many, outshining numerous other shades- with such positive attributes, it was almost laughable, really, how it was also the epitome of sorrow.

But on this particular day, sorrow was the perfect reflection of the sky.

Chuuya sat, unmoving, on a particular protrusion of the building; his vacant eyes staring at the endless expansion of blue stretched out above him.

Calls that were sent to him were left unanswered on his phone, whether it was from you or from the supercomputer Adam that was assisting Chuuya in this case.

You understood your friend all too well to know what he was thinking.

"The hell is he doing?"

Shirase's impatient voice cut through the silence, and you turned your gaze towards him, glaring slightly. Despite all his proclamations about being the future 'King' of the disbanded organisation called the Sheep, he couldn't read the room to save his life, and was a coward in times of true danger. Talk about being a king of foolishness instead.

"I imagine he doesn't want to talk to anybody right now," Adam replied, as he looked up at the motionless teenager. You frowned slightly, glancing back towards the figure sitting on the building. Even though the latter could put on such a convincing act that could fool Dazai himself, anybody could tell that Chuuya was suffering in remorse and self-blame.

You didn't want him to suffer anymore.

"... Please excuse me."

Activating your ability, you teleported right to the same ledge that your friend was situated on, trying not to slip off the uneven surface.

If Chuuya heard you, he gave no sign of acknowledging your presence.

Taking a small breath, you tried to relax yourself as you slowly approached the teenager, speaking in a soft voice.

"... Hey. I just wanted to check up on you. You've been up here for a few hours, and I was starting to get worried."

There was no reply, but you waited patiently, not wanting to overstep his boundaries.

"... I'm fine. There's no need for you to concern yourself over me."

It was an usual curt answer that you'd expected to hear from him. You knew that he was like this because he wanted to solely shoulder the guilt of their deaths on his shoulders.

But you weren't going to let him go this easily.

"... This is about the detective, isn't it? And the Flags, as well-"

Before you could finish your sentence, Chuuya had already shot up and faced you, gritting his teeth as he glared silently. You only stared back at him calmly.

"I'm right, aren't I?"

"..." He stared off in another direction for a while, before his gaze returned to you again. But instead of anger, there was only a vacant emptiness in his eyes.

"The Flags and Detective-san all died because of me. I'm the one responsible for their deaths. And I have to be the one to stop Verlaine so that there won't be anyone else who end up with the same fate as them."

You stared at him silently, before opening your mouth to speak.

"'You're the one responsible for their deaths'... is that truly all you believe in?"

Chuuya stiffened, and you continued before he could get a chance to rebut.

"You were not the one who murdered them. Verlaine did, in order to 'set you free'. But he doesn't want to force you to come with him, because it'd be going against your own freedom of choice. Instead... he wants you to blame yourself for their deaths. To feel guilty about those lives that he cut away. And make you approach him of your own accord, so that-"

"But Verlaine killed them because he knew I wouldn't leave the Mafia. Even if I wasn't the one who performed the physical act, I'm still the sole reason why they're dead! Can't you see? None of this would have happened if I had just gone with him that time."

The sorrow was evident within him, even as he resorted to his usual angry façade.

"... It is agony. I feel it too. But," you tentatively placed a hand on Chuuya's shoulder, feeling his muscles tense up underneath your touch.

"Just as Mori-san had said, the dead feel no emotion. Things such as revenge and guilt are for the living. However, blaming yourself for their deaths is going to get you nowhere. It hurts, but it is only through this hurt that you can remember who you are fighting for. And please remember that you are not alone. I'll be here for you, and you can rely on me whenever you need me."

"..." Chuuya looked down towards the ground, his body starting to turn away, but you weren't finished yet.

His eyes widened as he felt your arms encircling around him.

Chuuya's instant reflex was to flinch and back away, but you merely tightened your hold on him. His hands lay by his side, but your warmth encouraged him to relax into the hug. It was slightly awkward, as the two of you weren't too well-versed in platonic affections, but that didn't matter in this moment.

"I know that it's been hard for you. I know that it isn't easy to keep on fighting when you have struggles of your own. But I just wanted to tell you... that you'll always be a human in my eyes. And that will never change."

The silence that followed was deafening- and with that, you felt a twinge of panic in you.

Did you happen to say something that upset him? You always knew how Chuuya felt about his humanity, but you never knew how he would react if someone believed that he was human. Your grip around him started to loosen slightly.

Only for two strong arms to hug you back, alongside a face being buried into your shoulder.

It was the first time you ever felt him smile.

Hopefully this did justice to Stormbringer!Chuuya ❣

@circinuus @riiwrites @sariel626 @ruanais @kolyakisses @chocsra @oldworldpoolhall @chunshiya @yuugen-benni

[amber-sekio]

Together Forever

Fandom: BSD -Bungo Stray Dogs

Ship: Chuuya x Dazai (Soukoku)

TW: Major Character Death, Angst, Major Angst, No happy ending, I love making characters go through hell, except Chuuya, which is why this isn’t in his pov, I felt evil today

Since the first time Dazai had witnessed the storm that was Arahabaki, Chuuya, he was enthralled. 

Chuuya was human. So painfully human. So beautifully human. 

After all, there was nothing more human than chaos and discord. The human need to find the most perfect, the most orderly form of chaos. 

Chuuya was chaotic and he was perfect. The perfect form of chaos. 

Human. 

Chuuya was human. 

Human. 

_______

For the first time since Dazai witnessed the storm that was Arahabaki, Chuuya, he wasn’t enthralled. 

Chuuya was human. So painfully human. So horrendously human. 

After all, there was nothing more human than life and death. The conclusion to a human life, the inevitable cessation. 

Chuuya was deadly and he was corrupt. 

Human. 

Chuuya was human. 

Blood. 

So much blood. 

There was a burning in his chest from having run here.  

He fell to his knees with no regard for the rubble beneath him. He pulled Chuuya into his arms. 

Red. So much red. 

Yet the body he was clinging to like a child to a stuffed animal was cold. 

He could feel the lingering warmth leaving the body and seeping into his own in a cruel twist of fate. 

He could feel as the warmth entered his own freezing body. 

There was an annoying chattering sound somewhere in the rubble. 

It was cold. It was cold and the body in his arms was becoming freezing to the touch but he couldn’t let go even as he shivered. 

Chuuya was covered in red, further staining his abdomen in sticky red. 

Cold. 

It was so cold. 

He curled himself over Chuuya as if to shield him from the cold, cruel world. 

He was tired and cold. 

He shivered, closing his eyes, pretending Chuuya wasn’t so freezing in his arms. 

… 

So cold…

________

It had been raining nearly all day. He couldn’t help but think it was painfully fitting. 

The gravestone was large and elegant. It was surrounded by droves of people clad in black. Only those closest were allowed to be up near the grave. 

When he finally made it up to the grave with the others, his melancholy grew. 

In the middle of the gravestone, in large, fancy font was the word Soukoku. Below that on the left was Chuuya Nakahara and on the right was Osamu Dazai. 

Apparently, when they were found together, it first looked as if only Dazai was clinging to Chuuya, but Chuuya had his hand clenched around Dazai’s coat as well. Out of respect, they weren’t separated. 

He was startled out of his thoughts when he felt someone grab his arm. He looked up only to realize most people had left after the rain had gotten worse. He looked to his side before relaxing at the sight of Kyouka. 

“Thank you.”

A/N: Requests are OPEN, read the rules, please

[s1llyl1ly]

if at some point i don’t see soukoku hug in the canon bsd universe, i will literally start throwing fists. i know it’s too early to talk about the end - but if we actually make it till THE END of bsd!!..i better see those emotionally unavailable ex-partners hug till their little wrinkly hurt hearts can’t take the warmth of the other anymore.