#and chuuya hates broken promises

[anticidic]

...22!Dazai not only revisiting Bar Lupin and reminiscing on the past and what once was (+what he once had) but also revisiting the arcade he and Chuuya used to go to when they were 15. He sits in the same seat and plays the same fighting game against a bot.

He wins, predictably, because he also remembers how he had too much time on his hands and would goof off from his mafia responsibilities to hang out at the arcade. Getting under Chuuya's skin at that time was just a plus.

So he wins, a congratulatory message pops up on his screen and he excitedly shouts, 'I win, again!' before it sinks in and he remembers that the seat across from him is empty and no one's getting in his face arguing about how it was a fluke.

...not realizing that Chuuya also does the same thing in his downtime once in a while with the free time he gets, because Chuuya remembers Dazai rubbing it in his face about how he won, how he's indebted to Dazai, doomed to become a dog. He's spent his time getting better at the fighting game also remembering that when they were still teens that he demanded a rematch and Dazai promised one, but it never came before Dazai defected

They both go to that same arcade, they just happen to keep missing each other.

[with-my-calamitous-love]

DON’T BRING ME TO TEARS WHEN I JUST DID MY MAKEUP SO NICE !

chuuya nakahara x f! reader

after a long and draining argument, chuuya makes it up to you in between your thighs.

smut! you are responsible for what you read 🪽

inspired by please please please

it was no ones fault, really.

it was one of those arguments that are really an amalgamation of many different things. that unwashed plate, his late nights and your early mornings, the way he brushes his teeth so god damn loud when you’re trying to read. it happens to every couple- not everything is sunshine, and you have to learn to love each other despite the things that may drive you crazy.

this should have been one of those nights. but it wasn’t.

you finally give out, surrendering your yells as the tears choke down your cheeks. he’s rescheduled this anniversary dinner about 6 times now, all due to his lucrative line of work. you were a okay at first, despite the nerve he had to make you call the restaurant almost all those times to cancel and reschedule.

“i feel like i don’t matter to you, chuuya.” you sigh in frustration, wiping away a tear. his eyebrows crease in shared annoyances, mostly towards himself for letting it get to this point. he’s tired, overworked by that jackass mori, and just wants to come home to you and feel your love. but he’s broken his promises, and knows he’s wronged you- despite how cocky he may be.

“i know, i know, i know, doll.” he groans, pinching the bridge of his nose. he hates seeing you cry, and hates knowing he’s the reason why. he hates that the dress you just bought is now wrinkled due to waiting around in the apartment for him, and that your perfect eyeliner and mascara are smudged because of your arguing.

he isn’t even sure why he argued back. he knows he’s a prick that hates being wrong, but he’s also a prick thats head over heels in love with you. he shouldn’t have pushed you to the side, especially on such an important day. his explanations remained the same, but his promises remained broken.

you eventually sigh in defeat, giving up and locking yourself in the bedroom. chuuya resigns to the couch, opening up a bottle of cabernet and filling his glass full. he tosses his hat and his coat aside, loosely undoes his bolo tie and unbuttons his shirts. if you weren’t sobbing over his asshole-like behaviour, you’d get to see his unreasonably toned abs peaking out from his shirt. messy orange hair hangs low from his shoulders, tired and missing you.

a few hours go by. chuuya’s had his fair share of alcohol, but he’s not intoxicated enough to miss the subtle click of the bedroom door unlocking.

he hesitantly walks over to the door, creaking it open to see you standing there. his eyes shamelessly roam your body, seeing how you’ve removed the dress and stripped down to just your panties.

“i was just gonna go to sleep.” you sigh. its not like he hasn’t seen every inch of you, anyway.

“wait.” he says, gently taking your hand and looking into your eyes. (impressive, considering you’re literally naked in front of him.)

you don’t say anything, but your fingers do interlock with his. it gives chuuya the green light to speak.

“…i’m sorry, doll. i shouldn’t have kept rescheduling and accepting you not to care. you do matter. it meant just as much to me as it did to you.” say what you will about chuuya, but he is a stand up guy. he’ll own up to it, especially if he knows its important to you.

you sigh, your lips curling into a small smile. its hard, damn near impossible to stay mad at him. “please don’t make me call the restaurant again, babe.”

chuuya chuckles, and you can see the remnants of the wine on his lips. he knows you’re only half joking, but he kisses your forehead in reassurance. “no, i have something different in mind.”

✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚

chuuya eats pussy like he’s starved.

he drags you to the end of the bed, getting on his knees and places kisses on your innermost corners until your sobbing, begging for him to kiss you. he’ll use his thumbs to spread you open, just admiring the way he gets your fluids dripping down. he’ll spit on your pussy, seeing how it runs down your already gushing core before he finally goes in.

slowly, he’ll sink down between your trembling thighs, his tongue darting out to take that first tantalizing lick. you arch your back at just that light contact, knowing you’ll be in for a long night. his hands grab your hips, blessedly holding you in place while he lavishes your pussy.

“your pussy is so pretty, baby.” he moans against you, closing his eyes and loving how warm and soft you are. he savours this taste likes its the last he’ll ever have. as intimate as the moment is, you both know he’ll fuck his cock into you filthy and fast later- better to enjoy the soft stuff now.

“je pourrais rester ici pendant des heures.” he groans with you, the vibrations sending waves of warm pleasure through your body. it starts from your teary eyes, than to your sensitive breasts, down to your stomach and the finally reaching chuuya in between your thighs. every now and then his eyes will open, looking up to see your flushed pink face, but he doesn’t dare remove his mouth. not until your soaking wet for him.

“chuuya! oh, fuck, please!” you whine, grabbing fistfuls of silky orange hair. he chuckles almost cruely, knowing that he’s not stopping any time soon. he does this just as much for him as he does for you, if not more. he loves the way you moan his name, how your pussy tastes. it makes his cock fill out knowing that he’s the only guy that gets to taste it.

“please what doll? want me to stop?” he asks, already knowing what the answer is. he teases you by slowing down his tongue, only touching your pulsing heat with just the tip of it. you almost cry, begging him to keep going.

“bonne fille, tu as tellement bon goût.” he praises you, wrapping his wine-stained lips around your clit and sucking in a way that gets you sobbing from the pleasure. you want to wrap your thighs around his head, pushing him deeper, but he keeps your legs nice and spread for him. “just like that, doll. god, you’re so pretty like this. can’t wait to fuck you so good later.”

you can feel yourself unraveling, and chuuya knows it. his tongue, lips and teeth move in a messy pattern, making your toes curl deliciously. you’re so close, almost seeing white as you approach your high. he does everything to make it as intense as possible, ending it off with one long stroke from bottom to the tip of your clit.

you wail when you cum, chuuya’s thumb rubbing your clit in circles guiding you through the orgasm. your chest heaves as he moves up higher, placing a kiss on your neck. “don’t worry baby, i’ll make you squirt tonight. just relax.”

safe to say that if chuuya was gonna make you cry, he should do it like this instead.

[moomuzan]

— 𝖇𝖗𝖔𝖐𝖊𝖓 𝖕𝖗𝖔𝖒𝖎𝖘𝖊𝖘

requested , you break up with them , angst , chuuya , kunikida , ranpo , dazai x gn! reader , requests are open xoxo

Dim lights suffocated your shared apartment in silence. You sat by the window, staring at the buzzing city that blinked like distant, uncaring stars. Your heart ached in its cage, heavy with the weight of too many broken promises. Too many nights spent waiting, too many lies wrapped in pretty words.

You had told yourself this time would be different. This time, DAZAI would mean it.

When the door creaked open, the faint scent of alcohol drifted in with him. Dazai stood in the doorway, his coat slung carelessly over his shoulder, his hair disheveled. He had that same crooked smile, the one that used to make your heart flutter but now only made it crack a little more.

“Ah, belladonna,” he said softly, shutting the door behind him. “Still awake? You didn’t have to wait for me.”

Your lips pressed into a thin line as you turned to look at him. He noticed the empty wineglass on the table beside you, the untouched plate of food you hadn’t been able to bring yourself to eat. His smile faltered for just a moment, but he recovered quickly, as he always did.

“I got caught up,” he said lightly, shrugging off his coat and draping it over the back of a chair. “You know how it is. Things happen. Time slips away.”

“Time doesn’t slip away, Osamu,” you said, your voice quiet but sharp. “You let it.”

He stilled, his back to you, his hands tightening on the chair. For a moment, the room was silent except for the faint hum of the refrigerator, a hollow sound that filled the space between you. Slowly, he turned, his face carefully blank, though you could see the unease flickering behind his eyes.

“I told you I’d change,” he said softly, stepping toward you. “I told you I’d try—”

“You’ve been saying that for months,” you interrupted, standing up from your seat. Your voice broke on the last word, and you hated how small you sounded, how tired. “And what’s changed, Dazai? What’s actually different?”

His hands twitched at his sides, and for once, he didn’t have a clever response. “I’m trying,” he whispered, his voice almost pleading.

With hitching breath you shook your head, tears spilling over despite how hard you tried to keep them in. “Trying isn’t enough anymore,” you said, your voice trembling. “I gave you everything I had, Osamu. I waited for you, believed in you. And all you ever gave me was pieces of yourself—never enough to hold, never enough to feel whole.”

“Belladonna,” he said, his voice breaking, stepping closer as if the sound of your name could mend the fractures spreading between you. “Please. Don’t—”

“I can’t do this anymore,” you whispered, stepping back from him, your hands trembling as you reached for your bag. “I love you, but loving you feels like drowning. And I don’t want to drown anymore.”

He froze, his face crumbling in a way you had never seen before. The ever-present mask slipped away, leaving behind a raw, aching vulnerability that nearly stopped you in your tracks. “Don’t leave,” he said, his voice cracking, desperate. “I’ll do better. I’ll—”

But you shook your head, your heart shattering even as you turned away. “I’ve heard it all before,” you murmured, your voice barely audible. “And I don’t think you know how to be better, Osamu.”

The door closed behind you, and for a moment, the world outside felt just as suffocating as the apartment you had left. Inside, Dazai sank to the floor, his head in his hands, his chest heaving with the weight of everything he hadn’t said.

For once, there were no words, no excuses, no clever remarks to hide behind. Only the sharp, aching truth: you were gone, and he had only himself to blame.

,

The room smelled faintly of sugar and salt—the remnants of the snacks he had devoured earlier, his wrappers still littering the coffee table. The curtains were drawn, the world outside shut out as always, and RANPO lounged on the couch like he didn’t have a care in the world. You stood by the window, the cool glass pressed to your fingers, staring out at the city lights that stretched endlessly beyond the horizon.

This wasn’t what you had wanted. Not now. Not anymore.

“Ranpo,” you said, softly at first, and then louder when he didn’t respond. “Ranpo, we need to talk.”

He glanced up from the handheld game console in his lap, tilting his head with that casual, almost dismissive smile you had grown to dread. “What about?”

You crossed your arms, trying to steady your voice, trying to ignore the way he was already looking at you like you were overreacting. “About us. About how you keep promising you’ll take this seriously. That you’ll try. But nothing’s changed, has it?”

Sighing dramatically, Ranpo set the console aside. “Oh, come on. Not this again. I told you, didn’t I? I’ll work on it. I just need more time.”

“Time?” you repeated, the word sharp in your mouth. “How much more time, Ranpo? How much longer am I supposed to wait for you to care enough to do something, anything, for us?”

His brow furrowed, his lips curving into a slight pout as if he were offended. “You’re acting like I don’t care,” he said, shrugging. “But I do. I’m here, aren’t I? Doesn’t that count for something?”

You laughed bitterly, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. “Being here isn’t the same as showing up for me, Ranpo. You keep me at arm’s length, always distracted, always playing your games or solving your mysteries like they’re the only things that matter. You keep saying you’ll try, but you never actually do. It’s like I’m begging for scraps, and I can’t do it anymore.”

His expression wavered, his confident mask slipping for just a second before he replaced it with indifference. “You’re blowing this out of proportion. You know how I am. Relationships just… aren’t my thing. I thought you understood that.”

“That’s the problem,” you snapped, the tears spilling over now. “I do understand. I understand that I’ve been waiting for someone who’s never going to meet me halfway. I’ve been fighting for something that’s never going to change.”

Ranpo leaned forward, his voice softening. “You’re overthinking it. You always do. I’m fine with how things are—why can’t you be?”

“Because I’m not fine, Ranpo,” you said, your voice breaking. “I’m exhausted. I love you, but I feel like I’m the only one trying, the only one who wants more than this endless cycle of nothing. And I can’t keep breaking my own heart waiting for you to catch up.”

Grabbing your coat, your chest tightened as you heard him shift on the couch behind you. “Wait,” he said, his voice uncharacteristically low, uncertain. “You’re not serious. You’re not really leaving, are you?”

You hesitated, your hand trembling on the doorknob. “I don’t want to leave,” you whispered. “But you’ve left me no choice.”

The door clicked shut behind you, and the air outside felt sharp, cold, and biting. Inside, Ranpo stared at the spot where you had stood, his hands limp in his lap, his mind racing in ways it never had before.

He had solved countless puzzles, unraveled mysteries no one else could touch, but this—this loss, this empty space where you used to be—was a riddle he couldn’t solve. For once, his brilliance was useless. And for the first time in his life, he felt truly, utterly lost.

,

The faint sound of keys jangling outside the door stirred you from where you sat, curled up on the couch with your arms wrapped around yourself. The clock read 2:37 AM. You didn’t need to look to know it was him. The heavy stomp of boots, the rasp of his breathing—alive, but barely.

As the door swung open, CHUUYA stumbled inside, his coat hanging in tatters, blood splattered across his shirt. He was holding his side, though he tried to hide the wince as he stepped forward.

“Don’t,” you said, your voice low, strained. You didn’t even look at him, staring instead at the cold, untouched tea sitting on the table.

Chuuya froze mid-step, the smirk he’d been ready to give you fading into something softer, something more uncertain. “Babe—”

“You can’t keep doing this, Chuuya.” Your words were barely above a whisper, trembling with all the emotion you couldn’t hold in any longer as you stared at his side as blood spilled to the ground.

He flinched at the sound of your voice, his hand dropping from his side. “I’m fine,” he muttered, stepping closer. “It’s nothing. Just a scratch.”

“Just a scratch,” you repeated bitterly, your knuckles white as you clenched your fists. “Every time, it’s just a scratch. And one day, it won’t be. One day, someone’s going to walk through that door, but it won’t be you. It’ll be Mori or someone else from the Port Mafia, and they’ll tell me you’re gone.”

Feeling his jaw tighten, he didn’t speak. He couldn’t.

“I’ve waited up every night,” you continued, your voice breaking. “Every single night, wondering if this will be the time you don’t come back. I can’t do it anymore, Chuuya. I can’t keep loving someone who doesn’t love themselves enough to stay alive.”

The red-head moved closer, reaching for you, his gloves sticky with blood. “Don’t do this,” he said, his voice rough, desperate. “I’m here, aren’t I? I came back. I’ll always come back.”

You stood, stepping away from him. He stopped in his tracks, his hands falling to his sides. “And for how long?” you asked, tears streaming down your face. “How many more times do I have to patch you up? How many more times do I have to wonder if the next fight will be your last?”

He stared at you, his chest rising and falling as if he couldn’t catch his breath. He opened his mouth to say something, anything, but the words didn’t come. He didn’t know how to promise you something he couldn’t control.

You grabbed your bag, your heart breaking with every step toward the door. Chuuya reached out again, his fingers brushing against your wrist, but you pulled away. “I love you,” you whispered, your voice so quiet it was almost swallowed by the silence. “But I can’t keep doing this. I won’t.”

The door shut behind you, the sound reverberating through the apartment like a gunshot. Chuuya stood there, frozen, his hand still outstretched.

And then, slowly, he sank to his knees, his head bowing as he pressed his bloody hands to his face. The room felt colder without you in it, the silence deafening. He had faced death countless times, laughed in its face even, but nothing had ever hit him like this.

He sat there for hours, unmoving, his chest aching with a pain he couldn’t fight, couldn’t fix. You were gone. And this time, he couldn’t bring you back.

,

The apartment felt lifeless, weighed down by the hum of the overhead lamp. KUNIKIDA sat at his desk, rigid as always, his pen gliding over the pages of his notebook with the same precision he brought to every corner of his life. The faint scratch of ink against paper was the only sound, filling the chasm where your voice used to belong.

You lingered by the doorway, your shadow stretching into the room, unnoticed. The sight of him—the man who once looked at you as if you were the one constant in his world—cut deeper than any words could. His face was lit by the cold, clinical glow of the desk lamp, sharp lines of exhaustion etched beneath his glasses. You wondered if he even realized how distant he had become, how hollow his promises now sounded.

“Kunikida,” you said, softly at first, the word trembling on your tongue like a final plea.

He didn’t stop writing. “In a minute,” he replied, the words automatic, lifeless.

Your lips parted in a bitter smile. A minute. How many of those had passed? How many hours had you spent as a footnote in his grand designs, the love you’d once shared overshadowed by ideals scribbled in neat columns? “No,” you said, the word firmer this time, cutting through the quiet. “We need to talk.”

The pen paused mid-stroke, his brow furrowing as though your interruption was a disruption in his carefully crafted world. He turned to look at you, his sharp eyes dim with impatience. “Is this really the time for dramatics?”

His words stung more than they should have, but you bit back the tears threatening to rise. Instead, you stepped forward, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. “I’ve waited for you,” you said, each word heavy with a grief you could no longer swallow. “For months, for years. I’ve waited for you to let me in. To give me even a piece of yourself that isn’t already claimed by this—” you gestured to the notebook, the desk, the rigid structure of his life “—this endless pursuit of perfection.”

Kunikida’s jaw tightened, his hands curling into fists at his sides. “I’m building something. For us. Don’t you see that? What I’m doing matters. It’s not about—”

“It’s not about me,” you interrupted, your voice breaking. “I know. It never has been. You’ve spent so long chasing your ideals that you’ve forgotten the person standing right in front of you. I’ve begged for scraps, Kunikida. Scraps of your time, your attention, your love. And I can’t do it anymore.”

The air between you seemed to thicken, silence stretching taut like a string on the verge of snapping. His mouth opened, but for once, Kunikida Doppo—so eloquent, so composed—had no words.

“I needed you,” you said, stepping back toward the door. “Not the future you’re building. Not the man you think you’re supposed to be. Just you. And you couldn’t give me that.”

You turned before he could see the tears finally spill over, the door clicking shut behind you.

Kunikida remained frozen, staring at the empty space where you had stood. The notebook lay open before him, a half-finished list of tasks glaring up at him like an accusation. Slowly, his gaze dropped to his hands, ink smudged on his fingers, trembling slightly.

This was supposed to be temporary, he told himself. The long nights, the endless sacrifices—it was all for something greater, something noble. But what good were his ideals now? What use were his plans if they had driven you away?

He closed the notebook with a trembling hand, the echo of the shut cover resounding through the empty apartment. And for the first time, Kunikida felt as though his vision of the future had slipped irreparably from his grasp.

,

The casino lights always felt too bright, too harsh, masking the emptiness that lingered behind them. The man sat on the edge of the bed, his shoulders slumped, his head bowed as if the weight of the entire world pressed down on him. His hands twisted nervously in his lap, trembling faintly, though SIGMA tried to still them.

You stood by the window, staring out at the neon glow of the city beyond. The glass reflected your silhouette back at you—a hollow figure, worn down by the same conversation you’d tried to have too many times.

“Do you even hear me, Sigma?” you asked softly, your voice breaking the stillness.

“I do,” he replied immediately, too quickly, his voice thin and fragile. But he didn’t look at you. He never did, not when it mattered most.

You turned, your arms crossed tightly over your chest. “Then why?” The word came out sharper than you intended, slicing through the air between you. “Why do you keep pulling away? Why do I feel like I’m the only one trying?”

Sigma flinched, his head sinking lower. “I’m trying,” he muttered, though the words sounded empty even to him. “I am. I just… I don’t know how.”

The confession hung in the air, brittle and raw.

You sighed, the anger slipping into exhaustion, your voice softening. “I don’t need you to be perfect, Sigma. I never did. I just needed you to try. To meet me halfway. But every time I reach for you, it’s like you’re not even there.”

His hands stilled, his fingers curling tightly against his palms. “I want to,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “But I… I don’t know how to be the person you need. I don’t know how to be anything but this.” He gestured vaguely at himself, his expression filled with a quiet despair.

You stepped closer, your chest aching at the sight of him so small, so utterly lost. But it wasn’t enough. Your love wasn’t enough. “I’ve waited, Sigma,” you said, your voice trembling. “I’ve waited so long for you to meet me in this, to choose me the way I’ve chosen you. But I can’t keep waiting for someone who doesn’t even know if they can try.”

The tears pooling in his eyes didn’t fall, but you saw them, glinting faintly in the dim light. He finally looked up at you, his face pale, his lips parted as though he wanted to speak. But nothing came.

“I love you,” you whispered, the words shattering as they left your lips. “But love can’t fix what you won’t even fight for.”

You grabbed your bag, the silence between you suffocating. Sigma didn’t move, didn’t stop you. He only sat there, his hands gripping the edge of the bed, his breath shallow and uneven as the door clicked shut behind you.

And then the stillness consumed him.

Sigma let out a shuddering exhale, burying his face in his hands as the weight of it all crashed down on him. He wanted to chase after you, to say the words he could never seem to find, to promise he could be better. But deep down, he knew the truth.

He had always been too small for this world, and now, he was too small for your love too.

a/n: HERE ML!! it’s not as angst-y as my other works but i added more characters so maybe you’d feel good!! lmk if i did it wrong <3 lowkey in love with kunika’s part

[luneariann]

idk if art requests are still open or if you've already drawn this but the ideas gettin silly so here's a few if ya wanna draw whatever you feel motivated to

1. Atsushi making dead eye contact with Kunikida and then slapping something off the desk like a cat (then apologizing while he cleans it up and Dazai laughs his ass off)

2. 16!skk; Dazai broken his jaw, Chuuya's post corruption or bullet wounds (basically just bedridden w/IVs) and Dazai's hooked up to a heart monitor insulting Chuuya in Wabun/Morse code (just- D: "Beep beep beep" C: *rips out IV* "TF YOU CALL ME YA LITTLE SHIT?!")

3. Dazai and Chuuya being compatible blood types and despite him hating pain he would gladly give up every ounce of blood and both kidneys if it meant that it saved (post corruption) Chuuya's life

Anyways, I LOVE YOUR ART SM ITS SO TASTY AND BEAUTIFUL AND THE CHARATAZATIONSHDHAHJXHA YOUR MY FAV ARTIST ON THIS APP/GEN Remember to love and care for yourself, drink water/eat if you haven't today and take breaks :]

1.

2.

AAAA IM SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG HELWPIDJ

TY SM FOR THE KIND WORDS OMG 😭💕💕💕im so happy im your favorite artist on tumblr???? That’s huge dude I’m?? 💕💕💕Tyty I promise to take care of myself

Ive lowkey lost Interest in bsd so that’s why these took so long to make <///3 but they were too good NOT to make them, idk if you’ve ever considered it but you should defo become a comic artist! The hardest part of comic making is getting the ideas at all so considering you’ve got that down you should definitely give it a shot! These are rly good

I didn’t do the third one cuz I wasn’t sure how to represent it </3

Again tysm for the kind words you’re so sweet Anon🫶🫶 take care of yourself too!!

[chuuyaswifeandhoe]

If only

Pairing: Chuuya x femreader Warnings: swearing, mention of suicide attempts, language, hated, gunshots, death, mentions of killing, violence This is the second part of Not today. Enjoy!

Wake up, survive, kill, sleep, repeat. Wake up, exist, betray, sleep, repeat. Wake up, get yourself almost killed, sleep, repeat. Wake up, die. 

One year and a half has passed since Chuuya decided that you didn't have any value for him. You decided to celebrate it at the old apartment, exactly where it happened, so you would not forget why you're still alive. Revenge. No, you laughed at the flickers of the candles around the living room. Revenge was too kind for him. You wanted to make him hate himself. To feel useless, used, an incapable body having to survive with the consequences of his own actions. That's what you had been doing for the last year so he had to go through it for the rest of his life. Seemed only fair, an eye for an eye, a broken soul for another one. Even better, a broken soul to crush another. You blame yourself for the break up. If only you wouldn't have opened the discussion about marriage and kids. If only you would have been happy with the situation you were in, not craving for more, not wanting more from life, maybe he wouldn't have said those words to you. If only you would have acted differently. If only you would have changed to suit him better. If only…

You sipped another gulp from the expensive bottle of wine, his courtesy when he left you the apartment. No need to cry over spilled milk. Still, tears fell down your cheeks without warning. It stung, it is not like you could get rid of the feelings of betrayal and disappointment. In the dim lights of the candles you let yourself feel human again. It was a long year for you, one where you made permanent changes in your life. No more good girl behavior. Only a cruel bitch without a heart. One of the most interesting evolutions within the Mafia. That's what they called you. You had your underground name as well, Shadow. The one who kills her victims in their sleep, walking right behind you, living in the dark, never knowing when is going to hit. People don't fear their own shadows, so you took advantage of that. Befriending the target, using your innocence to make them trust you then slashing their heart in the sheets. Literally. 

You sighed, he should be back in two days. You found out after joining that the executive was sent on a suicide mission, having no communication with the outside world. A mission that has been extended longer than anyone anticipated. But everyone trusted him to accomplish the impossible and come back alive and successful, destroying some gangs, scoring some diamond deals, and bringing back the prize of the rarest diamond in the world. Easy, for the most powerful ability user in the Mafia. Not so easy to understand why he acted like that more than a year ago. You saw the reasoning behind it, but still, there were other options if he wanted to protect you. You shake your head, no, he did not want to protect you, he wanted to get rid of you. 

In retrospect, he tried to protect you after his departure, after the breakup.  You were desperate, you wanted to turn off your feelings so bad, everything hurt. In a desperate attempt, a message was sent to Dazai if his offer for the double suicide was still up. But he expected the message when he met you on the roof of the building his scope was to get you down, to hold you, and to make sure you didn't do it. What an ass, Chuuya informed him and knew already you'd try to kill yourself. “Bella, is not worthy, I promise you I'd take your offer under other circumstances, but now I know for sure that is going to get better.”

After that night you laid out your options on a piece of paper. The first was to get over with this life. Not an option anymore, Dazai did not help you and suddenly members of the agency bumped randomly into you at the grocery store. Atsushi wanted to accompany you and Yosano wanted to go shopping. Nice of them but it was making you feel worse. You wanted to root under a rock. Fragile. You felt fragile, ready to break if someone looked at you the wrong way. You wanted to move out of the apartment, but couldn't, you were between jobs and you were in no shape to start looking for one. To put on a fake smiling face… no. And ironically after three weeks, a position was available at the agency, for a secretary. What a lovely coincidence. And for a bit you even considered it, to have them around wasn't a bad idea after all and would also comply with Chuuya's demand to never get in his face again. But then, after the “interview”, while at the caffè, Atsushi -bless his innocent heart- left out a secret in his blabbering “Chuuya must really love you Y/N-san, kneeling to ask the president for the Agency to protect you”. He received a smack over his head from Kyoka and you acted like you did not hear him, but it was the moment you decided you weren't going to take the job at the agency. 

Bastard. Thinking he can control your life after breaking you like that. To make sure you were having a good life, that you would be under Dazai’s careful eye. The second option was to move back to your village, back with your not-so-close family. Not really an option, but more a desperate attempt to get the attention off the agony present in your life. And you tried it, with a short visit, wanting to understand if it would do you any good. But at the news that you and Chuuya broke up, your family started blaming you and accused you of being such a stuck-up bitch. Everything good about you was your relationship with Chuuya and you screwed everything up and your life did not have any value anymore. And maybe, to a certain extent, you started to believe it.  So after that weekend, you got back, having to deal with life again.

The next option was to just get on with your life. Going out, dating, meeting new people, living again. Well, you got yourself somehow functioning in those six weeks before deciding that there was a fourth option that was more suitable. You tried looking for other jobs, and you got yourself on two random blind dates which were absolutely horrible, but a friend of yours decided it was a good idea to get you out of your slumber so you accepted. You decided you were going to be single forever because there was no way you were going to deal with all that. And you also wanted revenge and when the opportunity arose, you went straight for it.

The fourth option you never envisioned or dreamed of. Joining the Mafia. A friend, of a friend, of another friend found out from some underground source about a recruitment process going on so you decided to join. You started preparing for it, hitting the gym and having shooting training on Chuuya’s money, because if he left you the card you might as well use it. One of your biggest qualities was the attention to detail and to anyone’s surprise shooting a gun. You remember the ‘basic training’ Chuuya gave you after telling you about his job so you could shoot a gun if you ever needed to protect yourself and he was amazed by your skills to not miss any of the targets he put in place. So, until the recruitment stage came around you trained. It was not like you had any better to do, apart from moping around in your sadness.

You started as a weakling, a mere nobody. No particular skill, apart from a good aim. The rest was hard work, broken bones, lots of cuts and bruises, not getting in your own way, being in constant fear for your life, and learning to kill. The first time was the hardest. Then you went on autopilot. No regrets, no remorse, no feelings. Exactly what you were looking for, a way to numb out your heart. No more worrying about a lover, a relationship, a breakup, or a future. Then, it was a question of being in the right place at the right time and saving Mori’s life in an altercation. The boss rarely participated in those things, but there were times he wanted to feel the thrill of fear and descend into the dirty underground. Obviously, some Black Lizard mission you were involved in by accident, but they did not fully clear the perimeter and a sniper got away.

You were feeling very suspicious about the whole deal, it was intuition, and you just knew something was wrong. Luckily, you saw the red dot on Mori’s chest, had enough balls to push him aside, and got yourself two beautiful bullets in your chest. You survived and got the permission to have one wish granted. You could ask whatever you want. You thanked your new direct Boss and asked him to keep this for the future when you would find a wish worthy of the occasion. You got yourself noticed, what weakling would dare touch the Boss in such a manner? So you started to be involved in more high-profiling missions. You received special training from the Black Lizards, transforming you into one of the finest assassins the Mafia had at its disposal. A killing machine, who did not ask twice about the victim, just got the job done. ‘’No hard feelings’’ was the last phrase every one of your victims heard. And your way of doing your job was very interesting to Mori. Approaching the targets in plain sight, gaining their trust in so little time, then breaking it when killing them. Every one of your missions seemed like a personal revenge you took. And Mori was definitely pleased, his mind coming up with different plans on how he could use his new pawn.

How ironic everything seemed to you. To be in front of the man Chuuya was trying to protect you from. Saving said man with your own life and getting your hands dirty just like him. Definitely, he did not expect his plan to backfire like that. You were dying to see his reaction when he would find out. Well, you will not be there, probably, as you were set to have some solo missions, which started exactly the day he was going to return. You were grateful, it would give you a bit more time. For what? You didn’t know. But you did not feel ready to see him again. Well, it was something you’ll worry about another day, now, you let yourself cry, be desperate again, and hope for the release of death. Tomorrow, you’ll get your knives and guns attached to you again.

The days rolled around and you departed to your new series of missions first thing in the morning. Little did you know that at the same time, in Mori’s office, a meeting regarding your future was happening.

‘’Chuuya-kun, as always your results are impeccable. You’ll get days off until your new partner will return from her missions’’.

Chuuya raised an eyebrow. He was tired and done with it all. But he definitely did not expect to have a new partner upon his return. He liked his solo missions and did not want to have to carry someone’s slack around. But he had little to no energy to fight. He just wanted to get in contact with Dazai right now and ask about her. His mind was only about her and how to make things right again, in case she did not move on.

‘’Thank you and who is her?’’

‘’ Her name is Shadow’’. 

[dont-f-with-moogles]

Fake fic tags

(I spent an unhealthy amount of time on this lmao)

*mwah 😘*

Twilight Goodbye

Rating: Teen and Up Fandom: Bungou Stray Dogs Characters: Osamu Dazai / Chuuya Nakahara; Fyodor Additional tags: #meursault  #just soukoku soukokuing #fake dating AU with assassins #does it count if they are trying to assassinate each other? #idiots to idiots #romantic partners in life and crime #angst and humour #they’re sharing a brain cell  #fruckin dorks  #is it flirting? Is it banter?  #fyodor has second hand embarrassment  

Summary: Meursault; that relentless, unforgiving maze of cold, steel walls. What a miserable place to die in.

Slumped on the floor, Dazai groaned as he gingerly moved his broken leg. Harsh, white lights were broken with intermittent flickers. The ground was smeared with his blood. In a situation this dire, Dazai knew he held an uncertain set of cards at best. If he was going to emerge from this alive, then he only had one move left to play. And that meant one final appeal to the man with a gun pointed to his head.

“Come on, Chuuya. It’s time to wake up now.” Dazai’s voice was husky as he tried to summon his last reserves of strength. “Our story is not going to come to an end today in this damn place.”

“Yes, yes, this is all very ‘doomed by our narrative,” Fyodor sighed over the speakers, “just shoot him already!”

“We are destined to… die together, remember?” Dazai urged his former foe. “We decided this years ago. Me in an epic explosion, and you killing yourself out of grief.”

Chuuya’s arm remained level, his expression utterly devoid of emotion. Heavy with resignation, Dazai’s tone plummeted into lead. As his final card was tossed down, he knew he could do nothing now other than accept his fate. 

“Fine.” 

As his lids lowered in exhaustion, the artificial glare shimmered again, framing dark lashes against his blood-streaked cheeks.

“Seven years and all we did was make each other miserable…” Dazai admitted, “but surely somewhere, in all that history, there were some good times…”

Inside the Control Room, Fyodor was too occupied in staring at the computer monitor to notice the softened footstep behind him.

“...so, let’s end this better than the way we started it. We owe each other that much. I’m… gonna ask two last things of you, Chuuya.”

Chuuya remained still, leaning imperiously over him. Dazai shifted forward, wincing, and pressed his forehead against the barrel of the gun, its cylinder flattening his dark hair.

“Firstly… make it quick, okay? You know I hate pain.”

Slowly, Dazai gazed up at Chuuya one last time.

“Secondly, I… forgive you.”

The other man’s eyes were narrowed in contempt.

“... just promise me that, one day, you’ll forgive yourself.”

“That does it! I am not playing gay chicken with you in this hallway!” Chuuya snarled, dropping his arm. At his side, the gun trembled in his tightened fist.  

“I don’t care if this is part of your dumbass plan! This level of cringe is off the scale, even for you, Dazai!”

With time rapidly running out, there’s only one way for Osamu Dazai and Chuuya Nakahara to escape the infamous confines of Meursault prison. But will a combination of deceit, fake-out deaths and homoerotic speeches be enough to ensure their freedom?

👉 Fake Fic Game!  🐝

[shadyteacup]

I swear the best story ideas come to me when I’m in class-

[Chuuya x reader]

Chuuya gulped down the rest of his wine, desperate to blend all his thoughts into a meaningless mush. He hated that no matter how much he drank, all he could think of was your voice, and your piercing gaze. The way you discarded him so easily, and all he could do was fall to his knees and beg you to stay, it all haunted him. He loved you, that’s a known fact to both of you. But he had always thought that you reciprocated. Maybe Chuuya didn’t deserve people in his life. Everybody he meets, walks away from him.

Was he cursed? Or is it because he isn’t human?

Chuuya always questioned his humanity, and often beat himself up over it. But when the intrusive thoughts got to his head, you’d be there to rubbish them. You would always stay by his side, for hours, calming his racing heart and wiping his tears, softly kissing his face and repeatedly reassuring him that he was, in fact, human.

“Chuuya, look at me.”

Your soft voice pushed through his dark thoughts, and Chuuya hesitantly looked up to meet your worried gaze.

“Do you love me?”

Your question made him blink, confused. Yes, he did love you. But you knew that. He loved you enough to show you this vulnerable side of his. He knitted his eyebrows and looked away, too vulnerable and scared to maintain eye contact.

“Chu. Look at me and tell me, do you love me?”

The Ginger nodded, and whispered a meek yes.

“Then you’re human.”

Chuuya shook his head, denying his own humanity.

“To feel emotions is to be human. To love, is human. You love me, Chuuya, and that proves that you have a heart, a heart that beats for you, for me, and works tirelessly to keep you alive. I can bet all my possessions on this, on the fact that if anybody is human, it’s you. Because,”, you tilted his chin to look him in his gorgeous ocean eyes.

“Because you, Chuuya Nakahara, are the most humane person I have ever met.”

Chuuyas heart twisted at the soft memory, one that he held so close to his heart.

He couldn’t believe that the same person that held him so carefully on his down days, is the one who left him.

He couldn’t tolerate the pain any longer. All he wanted to do was not feel. He finally understood that idiot Dazai’s wish to die.

But every time he thought of killing himself, he remembered the version of you that would look so shattered and broken every time he came home with new injuries. He remembered the tiny sniffles you would try to hide as you bandaged him up, not wanting to show that you’re crying for him.

He promised himself that he’d stay alive because that version of you would be devastated if he died.

How ironic, he thought, that the person who once cared the most about him, is the one who is making him want to die.

You always knew this was going to happen. It was your fault for falling in love with the mafia executive. You job required you to spy on one of the executive members of the Port Mafia, and to make him fall in love with you to make your job easier. But you didn’t truly understand the concept of love, having never experienced it yourself before meeting Chuuya. And now, as you watched him drink his salary away in the club, you wished you could hold his hand and guide him home. But alas, you couldn’t leave the table you were occupying, as your job didn’t allow you to have any contact with the man you now loved. So you shrank back into the shadows of the corner table, and felt your heart break as Chuuya shouted a slurred, “Another!”, at the bartender.

Tag list:

@anarchy-black-cat @707xn @evalynanne @b-i-t-t-i-e-s @kuraxmasha @syynnaaah @roserosie05 @mikasa-stan-account @alittlesimp @greenshirtimagines @paradise-creator @kiyokoxd @ranposlover @the-foreigner @sakikoshi@h3xa413a @sukunas-cult-leader @ilOvedaydreaming @del1111 @craftypeachmoneyhound @notquitehereorthere @mikasa-stan-account @kenmasbbygrl @alphaofdarkness @duhsies @cees-sims @the-foreigner @uglapuglamuglafugla @sugarandsoft @jadegreenimmortality @flanelsantito @shiny84244 @one-hell-of-otaku-is-here@missrown @requiem626k @sukunas-cult-leader @ilovedaydreaming @roserosie05 @mikasa-stan @ukiyoo0430 @boineko @missrown @munakara @dazaiaiko @ravenina14 @nekokinax

[osarina]

CARINA CARINA CARINA its like nearly midnight right now and i jsut finished reading uu4 and omg 😭 i love it so so much. i alr knew i would love it but i just loved it even more just reading it. i love how we are slowly piecing together dazai and what he does or something among the lines and dazais nervousness. i just fall more and more in love with beastzai and how much he just cares for us, his concern his anxiety about everything relating to us.

THE ANKLE KISS IM WEAK FOR THAT 😭

THE CLIFFHANGER TOO I CANT I CANT. GO SWAY FYDOOR YOURE RUINING THE HAPPINESS 💔💔 he’s making me scared for what’s going to come or what’s going to happen because HE is a big threat especially with the way you worded it. dazai come back pls 🙏🏻 chuuya come back 🙏🏻 tachihara hurry up your ass and get down there

im just waiting for you to break our hearts with angst for UU 😔 i’m trying to prepare myself but i don’t think i can prepare for carina writing dazai angst because you KILL me with angst <//33 i am looking forward to UU6 but also not because the dazai series will be over :(( and this has been one of my favourite series ever (ATU by mai is one of mine too 🤭🤭) IDJDJSJ im just going to be delusional and say that dazai and reader are happy married with kids and grow old and die like they did in the notebook NO SADNESS NO BROKEN HEARTS

the way you write has me so so entrapped and i love love your writing so so much. if you were to write your own story i would read it i love your writing that much. i know that you would make a great author if you ever were to become one. or if you ever make your own story and publish it here 👀👀

ALSO WJFJSJS IM SORRY IF I WROTE TOO MUCH

LARRRRR MY LOVE U COULD NEVER WRITE TOO MUCH IM SORRY THAT IT TOOK ME EONS TO ANSWER YOUR ASK I FEEL SO BAD (╥﹏╥)

AHFUSFHUDIUSHDDSHU no joke the scene in uu4 where he was helping us get dressed & telling him all the reasons why he wants us was my FAVVVV to write between uu AND badlands. like i literally could not write it in one sitting cuz i was yearning so hard for him LOLLLL i kept having to stop and sigh and pout because what have i done in life to not deserve dazai osamu </333 truly unfair

no because fyodor is truly a pain in the ass in the waterloo universe this man has it OUT for dazai and reader in EVERY universe like why r u so bitter my man do u truly hate love so much </3333 JKKKK LOLLLL but honestly no man haunts beastzai more than fyodor LOLL like yes fyodor is not the ONLY cause of our death but like 80% of the time it's him, the other 20% being christie

the angst is coming i promise ;) HAHHAHHH no but for real it is. HAHHA i'm rlly excited for uu6 but it's going to be a tough one to write, i'm hoping to have it done within two weeks now that finals are over but it depends on how easily the scenes come to me because there's gonna be at LEAST three really tough scenes to put into words and im already getting a bit antsy over them and im not even at them yet </3

NO STOP THIS IS THE BIGGEST COMPLIMENT EVER ACTUALLY IM WEEPING honestly i've always wanted to write something of my own but i never have the time for it </3 plus i always get in my head about it too LOLLL but lar i adore u thank you for making my day im sorry this took me forever to reply to

[cousticks]

Do you think the Sheep stayed under PMs watch and protection in Beast after Dazai rose to power

I think having Chuuya in his pocket regardless of the whole hating him thing was crucial to Beastzai's plans (i'm thinking about a particular scene in the movie that altered my brain chemistry).

I also believe that Chuuya would have fucked right off if Beastzai harmed the Sheep. That was a contingency of him joining the mafia. That is also the reason in the normal universe he stayed, before he truly found "family" in the mafia.

The Sheep's protection is integral to keeping Chuuya in the mafia. Dazai simply wouldn't be able to keep Chuuya in his plans if the promise of the Sheep's safety was broken. Its foundational.

Beastzai is a lot of things, but... he has his own kind of code he operates on. Unless for some reason doing so would change the world's outcome in his favor, he isn't exactly the swear-breaking type, in my eyes. I just don't see any reason for the Sheep's death to be useful to him, and keeping them alive and protected makes it easier to work Chuuya into his plans.

So... yeah, I'd say the Sheep are still protected in Beast. There's not a good enough reason for them not to be.

Ask Game(?)

[winewinebloodwine]

[Meanwhile, at the Port mafia, Chuuya stares.

((Tw: torture, dissaciociation, implied forced drug use, mori being an absolute asshole, muzzle, shock collar, electrocution, chained up, needles))

Hes chained to a wall right now, in one of the few torture rooms that aren't technically Mafia property, so much as they are the Boss's property.

Hes strung up by his arms, legs and throat, thick shackles smeared with Dazais blood on the inside to keep him more complacent. They leave him dangling just a bit above the ground, something Chuuya hates but it's better than when he's forced to kneel. He can faintly feel his hands right now, which I'd not the usual, as normally the many injections and too tight cuffs stop that. However Chuuya can't bring himself to think about anything right now, yhe dread curdling his stomach without any fight or denial.

There's a static sound in his head, so loud it feels like his ears are being pierced by knives, and sharp foam. His head feels like it's full of molasses and honey, sticky and slow. The red heads tounge is heavy like lead in his mouth, his jaw kept clamped tight by a muzzle. Chuuya can barely think right now, his whole body feeling like a mesh of pain, heaviness and far too slow. He can feel some medical needles still in his skin, the Boss not bothering to take them all out. Some have fallen already.

The usual buzz of Arahabaki, a simultaneous fear and comfort, for all that it's been with him as long as he can remember, and yet reminds him- taunts him of power he can't use- Of broken promises- is gone from him. Another perk of the blood on the shackles, though Chuuya truly doesn't understand why it's being wasted on him right now.

He does he does he does and he hates

His skin feels like it's being crawled on by hundreds of ants ans wasps right now. Chuuya truly and honestly wouldn't be suprised- it wouldn't be the first time the boss had done such things to him. His eyes were heavy and blurred, from tears that'd already long run out. He keeps them on the corners though, and the shadows shifting and twisting. He doesn't feel safe right now, and he can't remember where the boss had gone yet. He could be anywhere. So chuuya doesn't look down.

His mind feels foggy, and the red head hates it.

There's a steady stream of blood falling from his ribs, where long, superficial, cuts had been made again and again and again with the fuckijg scalpel. He can feel the blood dripping around, and if he bothered to try he could probably hear it hitting the floor. He doesn't try.

The cuffs dig into his skin, matching the muzzle cutting into his skin. Chuuya almost wants to laugh. He really, really wants to cry.

He hates it when boss tries to use the muzzle, and the matching shock collar.

The man had once said something about showing Chuuya why being a "Dog" was such a bad thing, and Chuuya hated it

He didn't want to lose more of Dazai, that nickname was practically tattooed on his heart

His eyes dart ro another corner, feeling puffy and dry too.

As soon as Chuuya registers that feeling- there's an almost burning sensation in his chest. Chuuyas confused for a few moments. He doesnt- remember the Boss doing any burning. Not that it's that unusual, but normally the burned flesh smell would also remind him. Then Chuuya realizes.

'Right. Breathing'

He takes a breathe, a gasp more correctly, feeling himself rattle the chains a bit as he tries to get his breath back. As soon as he does, a shock comes from the collar, arching down his spine and burning at his skin all around his neck. He continues breathing for now, ignoring it other than his slight lean forward.

Now that he's remembered to breath, his throat hurts too, from lack of water and the stale air.

As he tries to regain his bearings, he hears a click. Instantly, he stiffens. His body can't decide between trying to curl up or staying as still as physically possible.

The boss walks in, and Chuuya watches him carefully. He's in his white coat, which is bad for Chuuya. In one hand he's got a thing full of nails.

Chuuya feels his head shake slightly, the muzzle adding weight to make the chains shake and the shock becomes worse.

He doesn't cry and doesn't even try to make a noise.

The boss smiles.

Chuuya wants to cry. He wants to go home.]

[Chuuya hums a bit, still mostly focused on trying to breath. He nods though, absently agreeing. He tilted his head a bit, seeming to be silently wondering if dazai had gotten it all or not, before sighing a bit. His grip around Dazais wrist is iron strong, if a bit loose.]

[@long-death-dazai contining the other one here!]

[universallychaoticpan]

Hello! I’ve requested before but I love your writing so much! Could I request some bsd angst? One where the reader and Chuuya have a mentor/mentee relationship as the reader is his subordinate (he took them in and trained them because of their potential). They’re both on a mission when the reader gets badly injured protecting Chuuya when he got hurt. Maybe they live… or maybe they die, I’ll leave that happy decision up to you! Thank you and have a lovely day! I WAS PLAYING AROUND WITH THE FONT AND NOW I CANT CHANGE IT BACK NOO😭

Hi!!! Welcome back! This request is absolutely stunning - the potential is delicious oh my god - also parent/mentor relationships are so fun. Enjoy, have a wonderful day, and come again soon :))

It was quiet; it was all too quiet.

For longer than he could remember, Chuuya had spent his days in the hum, the rush of sound all around him: the chatter of people, the city's chorus.

The rattle of screams and the cold crack of a gunshot as the bullet shattered bone.

And now, with your limp body in his arms, it was finally, horribly, silent.

Every time he looked down at your face, your closed eyes and the blood that dipped into your hair no matter how much he wiped it away, he could feel the stuff soaking into his clothes. He could feel you slipping away and he moved faster, towards a hospital or someone, anyone, who could save you. He couldn't loose you. Not when you were dying because you had dared to save his life.

And he hated you; he hated that he could feel hot tears stinging his eyes until the world became a web or darkness and colored lights, his arms aching and his body screaming as he tried to save you. He had promised himself that he wouldn't do this; that he wouldn't get attached because somehow, he knew this would always happen.

When he'd met you, he'd vowed he would not dare love you. He'd made that promise the second he'd met you, all sharp angles and deadly eyes. You had been fifteen; he had been 20. Standing among Mori's new chosen with his fellow executives, examining each child for proteges and prodigies. Kouyo had taken her pick, a scrawny boy with a crafty gleam to his large eyes; the picture of a smiling devil. They watched him as he stalked the ranks, the lines, trying to disguise his disgust at Mori's twisted traditions. And then you'd broken your stare, turned your head to him after watching the air in front of you so intently. You didn't move another muscle; you simply turned your eyes to him and watched. And he froze; he froze and stared back, studying every inch of your face, like he was trying to memorize you, acknowledging you.

It had been quiet then, too.

When he'd taken your hand and led you from those ranks, led you into a better hell and promised he wouldn't love you, it had been quiet.

But he'd broken his promise time and time again as you both learned to trust. You were distant, then curious, and finally, you were more than ships in the night. You were anchors; you shared your stories of broken mothers and absent fathers, of the lives you'd led before the dark glamour of the Mafia. He had laughed then, seeing a street kitten whenever he looked at you; all tiny claws and hot fury, using su h things to hide your fear. So he found your trust by teaching you how not to be afraid. He taught you to fight and showed you the best ways to care for wounds and bruises. You traded secrets whenever you couldn't sleep, laughing as lowly as you could late into the night before closing your eyes to the sound of the other's breathing. You felt safe when you were with him; he was a sort of father, a sort of friend, a comrade and a confidant. He was the type of person you had once convinced yourself you'd never have. And to him, you were a second chance. You were everything he had been, and he wanted only good for you. He had promised himself he would not dare love you; he had been honest with you about that from the first day.

But he had also promised that, loved or not, he would always protect you.

And had had broken that promise, too.

Because now here you were, and there was so much blood he couldn't tell who's it was, where it came from- he couldn't tell if you were still breathing unless he stopped, wasting precious seconds.

He saw you, when he closed his eyes, the way your body had been so whole and strong as you'd fought beside him, an ambush raining smoke and bullets all around you. He saw how you moved, no longer a stray kitten but the angel of war, and he remembered how proud he was. Despite himself, he recounted that split second of pride that had filled him as he watched you in your element.

And then the look of terror that had taken your gaze as you looked just past his shoulder.

The power in your movement as you'd rushed towards him, knocking him to the ground

And the sickening, horrifying sound of two guns firing, two bodies hitting the ground, and the cry of pain had had escaped your lips as the blood began to spill from your stomach.

You had saved his life.

You had saved him and now he was helpless to save you, begging whatever cruel or merciful god that you would be ok. He couldn't loose you, not like this. You weren't supposed to die like this; this wasn't how it was supposed to happen. He should have been faster, smarter, shouldn't have let his guard down. He should have killed the bastard who had shot you the instant he had seen him and-

and he should've kept you safe.

He was no idiot, he knew the world you lived in. He knew the lives you led. But you didn't deserve this; you were good despite all that you'd been through and the fact that you were now bleeding out in his arms because you had dared to save him was proof of that.

So he kept going. He walked through the streets and the through the flickering lamplight above him, murmuring to you all the while. He asked you, begged you to stay; he asked you to please be ok, to not leave him alone. He stumbled into the door of a building and pleaded, yelled until the lights flipped on the window upstairs and the door swung open.

And one Osamu Dazai was met with blue eyes set in a tear stained face, black cloth made darker by the blood spilling from the unconscious body in Chuuya's arms.

He was met with a silent plea; and when he stepped aside, Chuuya felt relief flood him stronger than the seas of the bay; he felt it when a very irritated woman had been shaken from her sleep, then snapped awake at the sight of you before brushing both men away to begin her work.

Finally, the world was moving again. He could hear each rustle as she moved, her shadow healing every wound behind a curtain while he stood, a frozen guard to keep watch over you. He sat beside you when she had finished, in the home of his enemy and relished the sound of your now steady breathing, your skin warm and taking color against the white of the sheets. Finally, the quiet was no longer a threat. It wrapped itself around him, winding it's comfort and it's sweetness into his mind as he sat beside you in the bed, his own arms wrapping around you as he tucked your head into the crook of his shoulder. You were everything in that moment; you were every promise he had broken and every memory, every night spent like this with your bodies fitted together in a way that was now so natural it felt like a sin to move away. Finally, he wept, the night passing outside the windows, his own chest heaving gently while he thought of just how close he had come to loosing the person he loved. Because he did; he did love you, and he cared for you and it didn't matter sides or allegiances when you were with him.

So that night, you saved him again. You saved him like he had you when he had taken your hand that day; the simple touch forging a bond stronger than iron and shining like gold amidst ebony darkness. You saved each other then, and now buried your long dead vows, leaving only loyalty.

Leaving only love.

[nkhrchuwuya]

best kept secret

bungou stray dogs | G | 745 words nakahara chuuya x reader / oc

your friends like to make assumptions on what being loved by a port mafia executive is like, but it could never come close to the real thing. 

“so what’s it like?” your friend asks, a hand wrapped mischievously around the plastic cup of her take-away coffee. “it must be crazy, being in a relationship with a port mafia higher-up?”

chuuya, your best kept secret. privy only to your closest friends, your relationship being one wrapped in both mystery and danger always makes for a heated topic when you meet up. the port mafia continues to have a bad reputation in yokohama, after all. this means there’s no end to their desire to eavesdrop, to try and peer into what it’s like.

but you worry every time, because no matter how well you put it in words, will they really understand what it’s like?

to be loved by chuuya, that is.

you know what they’re looking for: the juicy stuff. they want to hear about the stuff from the movies. being saved mere seconds before a possibly life-ending situation, the dramatics of “i don’t want to lose you!” and “stay with me, please!” they want the guns, the blood, they want the big money. they want to see the roundtrip flight tickets to paradise destinations; they want to see the giant diamonds in your rings. they want the supplementary black credit card with no credit limit. they want to see the shiny things.

and sure, maybe, sometimes, you have the shiny things.

but that’s not what being loved by chuuya is.

it is to never miss the good morning, good bye, goodnight kiss. to have doors opened for you every time. to always have your favorite snacks in the cupboard because he never forgets to order for you. to be listened to for your every need—and, should the opportunity come, to have your needs be fulfilled. to skip out on the chores you hate in exchange for the chores he hates. to have every anniversary remembered, every memory documented. to be loved by chuuya is always to be sitting pretty somewhere in his mind.

it is to be accompanied and supported on your hobbies, be it arts and crafts or sports or whatever catches your eye. being loved by chuuya is the way he carefully puts on your helmet so you can go out on night bike rides across yokohama, enjoying the night view. the way he reminds you to take care of yourself, and that he is always only one call away. the way he promises he will stand between you and whoever, whatever it is that is getting in the way to your happiness. to be loved by chuuya is to always have an ally by your side.

it is to miss him for certain milestones in favor of his work, but to have him for the rest of the little steps all the way. to be the one he comes home to, bloodied and hardly patched up, all broken parts to put together. to be the ear to listen to his heart, to be the cup to catch what he pours out. to be loved by chuuya is to get to see even his most vulnerable parts.

it is to surrender to his kisses, always passionate and tender and tenderly meaningful. it is to always make eye contact, to never break his gaze so you can see how much you mean to him through his eyes alone. it is to be rewarded tenfold for your embarrassed honesty. it is the space to be given the reins or to let him guide you. to be loved by chuuya is to be allowed, even—and especially—the hungriest parts of you.

it is the weight of gravity on your shoulders, the warmth of his body against yours. it is soft, whispered assurances in your ear from someone who has an inkling of what it’s like to be where you are, face-first on the ground. it is to hold hands whenever possible. to have his finger under your chin. to feel his lips against your forehead. to pace your shaky breathing with his. it is to smile because he’s smiling. to be loved by chuuya is to be brought back to the ground.

you’ve learned—through chuuya, no less—that to be loved by chuuya is like wine, getting better with time, a deep, passionate, crimson-colored piece of heaven.

but for the rest of the world, that might be too much to understand, so instead—

“well,” you say, an equally playful expression on your face, thinking of your love, your best kept secret, “he’s amazing.”

[kaurwreck]

the singularity that rimbaud gifted verlaine is explicitly limited— it's not the endless reserve that guivre was. but chuuya's physical body expressly limits his capacity to channel his own singularity's otherwise limitless well of energy. if chuuya was still able to subdue guivre, then that means even weakened, verlaine may still be able to subdue chuuya should chuuya ever be subsumed into arahabaki again, like he was when suribachi city formed.

but because verlaine's singularity has a cap that guivre didn't ("Perhaps the singularity Rimbaud created couldn't output power indefinitely, unlike the limitless energy of Verlaine's past self-contradicting singularity.... He had lost most of his gravity-manipulation skill..."), he has a narrow opportunity to do for chuuya what he did before, and what chuuya did for him. he can't expend his ability frivolously; he will lose what's left. that doesn't only mean dying, he'd already come to terms with dying before: it means that should dazai ever be unable to nullify chuuya before arahabaki subsumes him (at which point dazai wont be able to reach him without getting killed before he can), there would be nothing and no one left in this world to save him. as dazai notes, "Only the singularity life-form Arahabaki could devour and destroy [Guivre]." verlaine is the only other singularity life form known to exist.

that was rimbaud's gift to verlaine. not only the chance that he might live where he'd otherwise have died with guivre, but that he might stay to protect the only person capable of compelling him to betray even rimbaud. rimbaud's last words to chuuya were that rimbaud wanted him to live. rimbaud and verlaine have ensconced their love for each other in their mutual promise to ensure that chuuya is safe for so long as they're able. in chuuya, they see the other's capacity for compassion, humanity, hope, and love; chuuya is their promise made rather than their promise broken.

rimbaud waited for a year to save verlaine. when verlaine became tired of reading and writing poetry underground, the narration says that he began doing the same thing rimbaud did: he trained others. but in the very next paragraph, the narration also says that verlaine is waiting, but that he never told anyone for what he was waiting. rimbaud also waited; perhaps, verlaine is doing as rimbaud did beyond training others. perhaps he's waiting to save the only person he's uniquely capable of saving. (and in doing so, saving the humanity that he can't admit he doesn't hate.)

and then, to further confirm that verlaine is reserving his and rimbaud's singularity for the moment chuuya needs them, verlaine says he's waiting for a storm.

when chuuya fights guivre, verlaine's light twinkles "like a star in the depths of the dark storm" that was guivre. singularities are, as chuuya himself explains in Fifteen, natural disasters, they're storms.

verlaine will never intervene, not until there is a storm. because he is the only one who can, and he only has just enough of himself and rimbaud left to, quell chuuya's storm.

it takes a singularity to reign in a singularity; there are only two stable singularities in the world. ie; verlaine isn't going to leave the basement until chuuya needs him to leave the basement. (except for executive meetings, which he does canoncially attend.) hence the storm he says he's waiting for.

[chazukekani]

Previous // Next

Recap: Adam met Chuuya and the flags for the first time in the billiards bar. Despite misunderstanding each other, they resolved the misconception and played billiards cohesively.

Albatross was impressed by how skillful Adam was in playing billiards. 'It was all physics and calculations,' answered by Adam. The android once again introduced himself to the crowd, and revealed his favourite things were acorn and grass seed, and things he hated were metal detectors in the airport. His dream is to create an investigation organisation that was solely run by machines because he saw humans irrational hence incapable in carrying detective missions.

Piano Man replied that he still could not trust Adam because he was afraid Adam would leak the information of the Mafia to his own organisation. However, Adam promised that his mission was only about arresting Verlaine, and he would not interfere with anything further. Chuuya disagreed because he thought Adam was lying.

'It is impossible that Verlaine is searching for me,' said Chuuya

'Why?' asked Adam

'Because Paul Verlaine is dead.'

Chuuya recalled the Arahabaki incident one year ago. It was all about Arahabaki, the artificial ability created by the military. In order to get this top secret, Two European spies took on a mission to steal Arahabaki, and they were Arthur Rimbaud and Paul Verlaine. They accomplished their mission perfectly. However, Paul Verlaine suddenly betrayed his partner. He attacked Rimbaud, and took away Arahabaki by himself. The battle between the spies, who were also super ability users, were intense, which they created a scene of battle with mass destruction.

As a result, Rimbaud won and lived, but he lost his partner. As being a super ability user, this battle caught the attention from the military. Rimbaud was chased after by the authority and he had no way out. As Rimbaud was already very weak after the battle with Verlaine, he had no choice but to absorb the ability that he just stole, which was Arahabaki itself. As a result, it became Verlaine's ability - to abilitify humans - he broke the seal of Arahabaki. It was a form of ability that was beyond human capacity, and was as if it were the beast of god. The military tried their best to seal the Arahabaki. Afterwards, a huge black flame burnt everything, regardless of the military, laboratories and all the surroundings. Rimbaud was the only one who survived under the protection of the ability, but he lost his memory in return. Rimbaud then joined the mafia and used 8 years to recover his memory. In order to fully recover, Rimbaud baited Chuuya - the true Arahabaki - to appear, so that Rimbaud could absorb his ability. That's the course behind the Arahabaki incident one year ago.

Rimbaud was then dead, because he lost to Chuuya.

'No, Verlaine was alive,' said Adam. Piano asked for the proof but Adam said he did not want to leak the top secret to anyone apart from Chuuya. Chuuya said that it was fine to brief the information with them all because Chuuya considers the Flags as related personnel. The flags were touched because they were surprised by how Chuuya considered them as his companions. Chuuya wanted to take back his word because he was embarrassed.

'I will follow your order,' Adam took the opportunity and he grabbed Chuuya under his arm as if a piece of parcel, and hopped away from the bar instantly. Adam was holding Chuuya and hopping, flying in between the residence area. 'I also want to be holded like that...' Doc was watching Chuuya leaving with Adam and whispered.

-

-

'Why are you holding me that way!?' Chuuya said furiously. 'You can put me on your back or just take my hand, there are many ways!'

'I am terribly sorry,' Adam said. 'This is the best way to transport you according to your size.'

'Imma beat you ass up! I am still growing!' shouted by Chuuya.

Chuuya used his ability and they were landed in an abandoned Church that was formerly destroyed in the war, and he had a call from Piano Man.

'Are you alright Mr Parcel? Have you got your stuff delivered yet?' Piano Man sounded very happy.

'I am fine,' Chuuya replied.

Piano Man told Chuuya to finish his business ASAP because the boss was asking them to come for a meeting. Chuuya replied and the conversation was over.

Adam proceeded briefing Chuuya what had happened. He showed Chuuya a photo which was taken during the coronation in the St. Paul's Cathedral in London three years ago.

The photograph displayed three collapsed soldiers in the Cathedral whom were murdered. The men brought no sword with them, no blood, no gunshot were found either. Those men were laying on the floor as if fell asleep, but it wasn't, they were all dead.

Adam said that these three soldiers were the close bodyguards of the Queen, and belonged to the Order of the Clock Tower. One of the soldiers once destroyed an organisation in one night, so they were meant to be very powerful and difficult to kill, yet they were all killed by Verlaine. There were no external injuries found, but their bones were broken down to 1228 pieces at the same time. Chuuya was shook because  Adam said it was practically impossible to do so.

The crime scene occurred during the coronation, and it was suspected that the Queen was also the target. Fortunately, the Queen was safe, but the reputation of the Clock Tower was severely damaged.

The Order of the Clock Tower was meant to protect the Royal Family, and their guard is unbreakable because their ability users were on the level of the Transcendents as they could create a subspace, and this was where the Royal Family were. Hence an assassin would be killed back right away if he attempted to assassinate the members of the Royal Family. Therefore, Paul Verlaine almost became the most dangerous man that would threaten world security. That's why Dr. Wollstonecraft sent Adam to take a new approach to investigate this incident, and that new approach is Chuuya. Adam knew Verlaine was searching for Chuuya, so Adam thought it would be efficient to come to Chuuya before Verlaine arrived, and then he could arrest him.

'So basically I am a bait?' asked Chuuya, and Adam admitted.

Chuuya refused to assist because he thought even if Verlaine was going to kill him, he would be able to handle it. He then left Adam because the 'Mail Man' from the Mafia was already waiting for him. Adam didn't let go of Chuuya and kept following him. Mail Man, in general terms, were responsible for sending messages between the Port Mafia, as well as acquiring intelligence for the organisation. The Mail Man was wearing a black hat and sunglasses, which had his face covered. Adam was still chasing after Chuuya.

'Please don't go, Chuuya-san!' shouted Adam.

'Hurry up!' Chuuya went inside the car and told the Mail Man.

'He is Verlaine!' shouted Adam. The Mail Man then accelerated the car and got away from Adam.

-

-

Chuuya tried to punch the man but it was unsuccessful.

'You are lighter than I thought. You should eat more or else brother will be worried,' said Verlaine. A battle broke out inside the car. Under Verlaine's gravity control, Chuuya could not breathe as his lungs almost collapsed, and he was gradually losing his consciousness as blood was deprived from his brain.

'I don't recall having a European brother...' said Chuuya

'You are wrong,' Verlaine replied, 'I am neither an European nor a human. I am just like you.'

'No!' Chuuya struggled with his ability.

Chuuya insisted that he was a human who grew up in a farm by the sea because that's what his friends showed him, but Verlaine rebutted that it was just fake information fabricated by the military. Suddenly, Adam hacked the handle and turned the car left. The car was then crashed with a truck that filled with fuel nearby and created a mass explosion.

'Humans are mistaken for the word 'lonely',' Verlaine said, 'they know nothing about the true form of loneliness. They thought not having a family or a person to chat with means loneliness.'

'The real definition of loneliness,' Verlaine proceeded with his soft and gentle voice as if singing, 'is wandering in the universe and watching the shooting stars alone inside the vacuum under absolute zero. There is zero possibility that you will be founded by anything or approached by anyone. Thousands years passed and you will still hear nothing. Can you comprehend this feeling? No one can, except you, Chuuya.'

'Please come with me, Chuuya,' Verlaine offered his hand to Chuuya. Adam urged Chuuya not to go.

'Indeed, I understand what you mean,' said Chuuya. 'Before I answer you, I wanna ask you something,' Chuuya proceeded.

'I just had a call with Piano Man, and they said that they were told to have a job. Answer me. Where did those five people go?'

Verlaine laughed, 'I assume you don't need your old friends anymore?' Verlaine opened the trunk in his car, and there's something inside with a sloppy sound. Chuuya's eyes zoomed out.

It was Lippmann's corpse.

Chuuya screamed. He lost his control. He kept punching the broken pieces in the surroundings and moaned and shouted. Verlaine grabbed Chuuya's neck, and found a photograph in his pocket and threw it away.

'There's no way I will like you. Absolutely,' Chuuya's voice was shaking.

'That's fine, because you will choose to follow me at last, and now I will now show you the evidence.' Verlaine used his other hand to cover Chuuya's forehead mildly.

Space was shaking, and there was a mass explosion. There were black and red flames appearing in front of Chuuya.

'Let's open 'the door' by a little bit,' said Verlaine.

'High energy with Hawking Radiation detected,' Adam splitted out the words by default. Adam targeted his bullets on Verlaine's eyebrows, eyeball, throat and arm, but Verlaine stopped the bullets and targeted Adam back. Adam was in pain utterly.

At the same time, Chuuya screamed violently as if losing his soul. A hell occured, it's the black flame. It was exactly the same flame that appeared in the Suribachi City. The high energy melted the surroundings, including all the buildings nearby. There was a black sphere, and Chuuya was in the center of it. He was in pain as you can observe his rupture on his skin, the almost-breaking eyeball and the collapsing organs. Such high energy even distorted the time and space in that area.

Yet, there was a person, standing next to Chuuya. A person with black coat and covered his face with bandages.

'Can you please die more neatly?' said Dazai.

Dazai grabbed Chuuya's wrist, and Chuuya had the ability nullified. He gradually lost his consciousness and closed his eyes.

-

-

Chuuya roughly remembered that Dazai carried him on his back and brought him to the billiards bar. When he woke up at the bar, Chuuya sensed something smelly, it's the smell of blood.

He went inside to the bar, and found Piano Man, Ice Man, Albatross and Doc were all dead. The bar was in a mess as if stormed by hurricanes. He saw Doc's body was separated, and couldn't even find his lower part of the body.

Chuuya then found Albatross with a final breath left. He was relieved when Chuuya found him. 'I will be dead soon,' said Albatross, 'Chuuya, take my bike in my garage, it's all yours,' and that's the final word of him.

'I am going to help you,' Chuuya told Adam with determination, 'I am going to find him, but don't arrest. Kill him.'

'Mafia will not forgive anyone who kills my family.' - - Code:01 Ended

[shadyteacup]

Could you write something where reader has a nightmare about port mafia Dazai going after her, when Dazai wakes up to her freaking out in her sleep he tries waking her up and when she does she still thinks she’s dreaming? Eventually she calms down but feels really bad picturing Dazai like that :(( angst to comfort

I'm back from the dead! I didn't use fem pronouns because I didn't have to, but since u requested it, the reader is fem .. I feel that this is more of a comfort fic if the reader is Dazai himself, lol.. Sorry it took so long..

Osamu Dazai x Fem! Reader||Warnings: violence, nightmare.|| Angst to comfort|| Word count: 1482.

Nightmare

You had known Dazai since his mafia days. You were a friend of Nakahara Chuuya, and had bumped into Dazai when the you and Chuuya were meeting up after your school. You knew that Chuuya was involved in gangs and probably violence, but he was your friend, and you trusted him.

"So, how was school?"

He asked you, hands in his pockets. It had been a few weeks since he had contacted you. He looked different, almost as if these past few weeks have scarred him. His clothes were more expensive. You could tell by their fancy look and glimmer. His jacket was probably genuine leather. He adorned a strange but cute hat too.

"It was okay. Where have you been?"

He glanced at you, raising a bow.

"You must have robbed a bank or something to afford that jacket. It looks really dope, by the way."

He shrugged, avoiding your gaze.

Sighing, he began talking as you two made your way to the park.

...

Sitting down on the swing, you gave the ground a light kick, enough to rock you slightly.

Chuuya sat on the swing adjacent to yours.

"So you joined the mafia. Interesting. "

He was confused as to why you weren't alarmed about his revelation.

"And you're okay with that?"

You shrugged.

"As long as you don't get me killed, or anyone I care about is hurt, I'm cool. Besides, you always find a way to fall into trouble. This isn't new."

"Don't worry, I won't let anything happen to you."

"Great."

You heard shuffling behind you. Without turning back, you said,

"You can join us, you know. You don't have to keep hiding. You're doing a really bad job anyways."

"Who're you talking to?"

"The spy in the bushes."

Chuuya swiftly turns around, ready to attack, when Dazai peeps out of the green mesh.

"Dazai, what the hell are you doing here?!"

And that's how you had met your boyfriend. You had seen him in action a couple of times too. It scared you, but you were able to appreciate the human in him.

...

It was pitch black. You couldn't see a thing. Your hands were probably tied behind your back. You could feel the rough threads of the rope dig into your wrists. It hurt. You tried maneuvering your way out of the knots, only for them to grow tighter. Wincing at the pain, you tried to sit up. You were lying on the cold, hard floor of some abandoned building. Your captor was yet to reveal himself.

Pushing yourself up, you quickly got a hold over yourself. Trying to maintain balance, you tried your best to peer through the dark. Soon enough, your eyes adjusted, and you could see that you were in a small room. You could spot the door. Nothing sharp resided near you. You couldn't cut off the rope. Well, you just have to run out of here then. As you were about to reach the door, it flew open.

You gasped, taking a few steps back.

"Thought you could escape? How cute."

Dazai stood at the door. You felt relieved. Maybe he was here to help you! But the look on his face and the sneer at his lips said otherwise.

"Dazai! Thank God you're here. Help me out of these ropes-"

You were cut short as you were suddenly slammed into a wall. The impact and the sudden movement made you gasp.

Dazai stood in front of you, his hands gripping your shoulders tightly, and his knuckles had turned white from the pressure he was applying.

You were sure his fingers would break through the cloth of your shirt and draw blood from your shoulders.

One of his eyes was covered in bandages, while the other was glaring down at you. His entire aura was different.

No. Rather, it was something you hadn't sensed in a long time.

His long black trench coat hung loosely over his shoulders as he towered over your shaking form.

"In case I haven't made it clear; You're not getting out of here. Not alive, that is."

He threw you forcefully to the side. You banged into a wooden desk. The edge hit the right side of your torso. You winced in pain before dropping to the ground. You felt a kick on your stomach. Your entire body lurched forward at the impact.

"Hah! Stop! Please..."

Your words were futile. He kept carelessly plunging his hard boot into your torso. You were sure that you'd broken a few ribs. They had probably pierced your lungs. You could feel blood rise up your throat.

"I'm sorry.. I'm sorry.. what.. did I do..?"

You kept repeating these words, trying to get him to stop. Somewhere along the process your ropes had loosened, but didn't have the energy to free yourself. It would be in vain anyways, since he won't let you step foot outside the door.

After a few more kicks, he finally stopped, crouching down to your eye level.

"You're so pathetic. Goodbye, Y/N."

He pulled out a gun and shot you in the face.

...

You jerked awake, sweat glistening on your forehead and your breaths were shaky and uneven. Dazai woke up from the sudden movement, trying to guage the situation.

"What's wrong?"

His voice sent shivers down your spine, and you scurried off the bed. You placed a hand over your torso, trying to find the bruises that he had probably left.

"Y/N?"

Dazai asks as he slowly makes his way over to you. When you notice him coming tour way, you panic.

"No! Don't come closer! Please! I'm sorry!"

Dazai froze in his place. He knew you were having a nightmare, he just didn't know he was the one making it scary.

"Okay, I won't. Tell me what's wrong."

You stood shaking, back to the wall as you tried making sense of your surroundings. You were able to make out the bed and the bedroom. The room that the two of you shared. It was dark. Probably nighttime. You were just having a bad dream. That wasn't real. This is. Dazai won't hurt you. He isn't in the mafia anymore.

"Y-you won't..  hurt me?"

Your frightened stare and broken whispers broke Dazai's heart. What did you dream? Did you see him as a monster? Is he being a monster to you? Dreams are only reflections of our subconscious minds. So do you fear him?

"No, I won't hurt you."

He says, trying to calm you down.

"Promise?"

You whispered.

"I promise. I won't ever hurt you. Ever."

You gulped down your fear and slowly inched over to him, wrapping your arms around his waist. He stool completely still, fearing that if he moved even a little, he might scare you. You placed your cheek on his chest, inhaling his scent. It really was him. It was your Dazai.

When you realized what had just happened, tears began flowing down your cheeks.

"I'm so sorry.."

You managed to say between sobs.

Dazai hesitantly placed his arms over you, gently rocking you.

"Shh.. Don't cry. It's okay now."

"I'm so sorry.."

"Why are you sorry, sweetheart? It was just a dream, right."

You nodded against his chest.

"But I made you the villain. You're not a bad guy. You're amazing. I don't know why... I can't think of a reason why I saw you..  like that.."

Dazai's heart broke a little more.

"Maybe I am a monster. I'm just too good at hiding it."

His ominous tone wasn't meant to warn you. It was a result of his own self hate. He hated that he used to be a monster. If he hadn't known you, then maybe a couple of years ago, he wouldn’t have thought twice before hurting you.

"No, you're not. You're a child hiding under a strong façade. "

Dazai's eyes widened at that.

"What?"

You pulled back, wiping your tears off your face.

"I saw it the first time we met. You were just a child who was asked to grow up too fast. You hadn't lived your childhood. Under all the threats, jests, murders and plans, you're but a scared child."

He just stared at you.

"That's part of the reason why I trust you. I know you didn't mean to harm. You were just told to. Now that you have a chance to do what you truly want to do, you choose to not harm. I really admire that about you."

You caressed his cheek in your palm.

"I don't know why I dreamt what I just did, but if there's one thing I know for sure, it's that you would never hurt me. I trust you."

Those three words.

'I trust you'.

They were enough for Dazai. They meant so much to him.

With a shaky whisper, he muttered.

"Thank you."

You smiled, pulling him in an embrace.

[tender-rosiey]

once lovable, now execrable | drabble

ᴀ/ɴ: I apologize but this is the only thing I had the motivation to write; have fun and ily <3

It hurts.

To know that your everything that you do was once like the blessing upon his eyes when he saw them. Things that lit up his heart and lifted his spirits in the matter of seconds.

Now are things that cause irritation to always be on his face, a scowl always evident as he spent time with you, a feeling radiating that screams that he isn’t enjoying the time spent with you.

So when you tell him about your day like you normally do and he looks at you with such clear annoyance in his eyes as the words he speaks are just as venomous “could you quiet down? You talk too much.”

“You know, you can talk freely with me; your rambling is really cute.”

Was it a lie?

And when you attempt to wrap your arms around his figure to greet him and he pushes you away, “Why are you so clingy?” he complains before his eyes and attention return to what he left you countless days for.

“I love how you are so affectionate, it makes me feel so loved; thank you.”

Did the ache of your heart mean nothing now?

Then when you try to care for his being and ask what happened, because of his obviously bruised body, but when your fingers, that he once craved, touch him, and slaps them away “You are being too nosy, just leave me alone.” It’s a blow to all you felt.

“You are so caring and attentive, it’s a nice feeling to know you are there for me.”

Now your screams were louder than they had ever been, words spilling like a never ending cycle of hurt and anger; tears threatening to spill and broken dishes on the floor perfectly and imperfectly symbolizing what’s between you two. You are tired, it’s always like this; where is the promise of “I would never hurt you.” go to?

It’s draining and your heart can’t take anymore, it’s shredding you, the pain, the agony, the neglect, and the unhidden hate.

“I can’t just stay with someone who thinks everything I do is a nuisance!” the words you say are true, a chain that’s pulling you back to where your heart could be at ease and peace.

But was the truth worth what you heard in return?

“And I can’t stay with someone who everything they do is a nuisance and a distraction!”

You knew it, you felt it, he made it obvious, but him saying it hurt more than words could describe. If you had to tell them “how was it like?”, it was like a bullet to the heart, one ever so agonizingly slow and sharp, hitting every corner of your heart making it break and fall to a hurtful and pitiful pile of memories, fallen love and forgotten feelings.

And so the string of trust and hope snaps with a few words like it was nothing, a crashing building that took years to build but seconds to demolish.

But why did time repeat itself?

Why did both Dazai and Chuuya stab you in the back when they swore not to?

Why were your insecurities thrown at your face and used against you when you trusted them with it?

Why did the most straight forward person resort to hurting you in secret and betraying how he once was with you?

And Why did the most loyal person choose to break his promise and leave you to rot overthinking when he said he would kick all those thoughts away?

Their words and glares harsher than each other, they cut through you like a knife that left a scar to be remembered.

Perhaps love just wasn’t your thing.

taglist: @magentacatdrawingss @pompompurin1028 @scul-pted @dazaisdeathwish @requiem626k @nameless-shrimp @shinys-bsd-world-1

copyright © 2020 tender-rosiey

do not copy or plagiarize or you will be reported