#b/sd dazai

[goodlucksnez]

Basically Vic had a idea and had to record.

I had no script, or anything. I was just having violent sneezes and waterfall made a pic and I had to incorporate it into a short wav!

Summery: Ch//uuya is sick, and d//azai is sent to check in on the idiot! Too bad the tissues are on a high shelf...if only someone had gravity manipulation.

Also I used the sounds of the passing airplanes to my advantage. basically to keep his hat from falling off from violent sneezes ch//uuyas uses his power to keep it on. but what happens when he a floating and a powerful sneeze sneaks up on him.

this is bad and really rushed but enjoy lol

also the new episode has me feeling things....ahhhghtgbfurilkjghuoirlkjgfv

[kyouka-supremacy]

(╥﹏╥)

[sskk-manifesto]

Ep 6!!!

[waterfallofspace]

A Game Of Chess

When D/azai starts a game with C/huuya, he wins it. But will round two turn out differently, or will the King claim his Pawn once more?

So the wonderful @onetrickponi requested something from b/sd with ~this post~ as the inspiration.

I decided to go with S/oukoku, so here's a little two-part game of chess, two different situations where this phrase may occur.

Characters: C/huuya, D/azai and A/kutagawa (briefly over the phone) Word Count, Total: 4.8k Part One, Check: 2.3k Part Two, Mate: 2.4k

(CW: Swearing, sexual themes, character with the kink. No technical smut action happens, but it's quite heavily implied!)

~~~ Check ~~~

Ask anyone in the Port Mafia, and they’re sure to agree; Chuuya is a force to be reckoned with. One that, most will add, shouldn’t be reckoned with. And yet, he’s neither the king of the Port Mafia chess army, nor the queen. 

“Instead,” Dazai continues, taking pride in the pronounced groan from the couch next to him. Seems his talents have been wasted preparing mere witty retorts. A long drawn out monologue serves to coax an entirely new type of annoyance. “You’re more of a pawn. A mighty pawn! But, a pawn nonetheless.” 

“Watch it, you may be able to stop gravity manipulation, but you aren’t immune to other forms of violence.” Chuuya growls, hat sliding forward as he springs to his feet. He corrects it with a single hand, the other glove waving in frantic, yet meaningless, patterns. 

“Oh Chuuya, you have something planned? I knew you cared! See, I’ve been planning ways to bring you down a peg,” Dazai pauses to meet Chuuya’s rolling eyes with a wink, “for years now.” 

“What a load of-” 

“And yet, here I was thinking you didn’t care enough to do the same!” He pauses again, feigning hurt with a hand draped over his forehead in a gesture that can only be described as dramatic. A word often associated with the heart-of-gold, soul-of-grey, detective. “But it turns out I was wrong, Chuuya always car-” 

“AHK’SHHaa! Christ.”  

Chuuya cracks a grin behind his fist as the outburst nearly knocks Dazai off the counter he’d placed himself on. An onlooker would assume it was the ferocity of the sternutation, perhaps the volume. It wouldn’t be an unfounded guess. Chuuya’s not exactly one for subtlety, although he’d like to believe he can control them when needed. 

They’d be wrong. 

Being used to gunshots, like he is, the volume was practically nothing. Surprise could be another assumption, though it would once again be incorrect. While Dazai didn’t see it coming, he’s never been one to jump at unforeseen circumstances. It’s simply not his nature. 

And besides- 

“AESHH’ah!” 

-despite seeing Chuuya’s nose twitch, his brows furrow, and hearing the gasp catch in his throat, Dazai’s whole body trembles once more in time with the sneeze. 

“Oh dear, Chuuya will wake the neighbours at this rate!” 

It’s a bluff, and they both know it. A well thought out maneuver, disguised as a simple taunt. Meant to control the situation, a strategic move, like a chess piece gliding across the board.  

“AKSHH’iuh!” Chuuya straightens up, glove still pressed to his nose. There’s a beat of silence, Dazai’s annoyance monologue temporarily paused. He seems at a loss for words, breath coming a little quicker than a moment ago.

Unfortunately Chuuya doesn’t get to revel in it for long, the shift in his sinuses presenting an urgent distraction. “Pass the tissues, would ya?” 

Without a word, Dazai drops from the counter. As his footsteps fade off into the kitchen, Chuuya allows himself a single heady sniffle. As expected, it’s deeply irritating, both in noise and reaction. The itch that’s been taking its time spreading through his face suddenly hones in on his nose, increasing with every shaky breath. 

“AESHHiew! AKZSHH’aa! Oh Christ… hiH– AMFSHH!” 

Using his gloves isn’t exactly what Chuuya had intended, but hell. It’s better than aiming at the floor. Much as he may enjoy Dazai’s reaction to that display, the other detectives don’t deserve such indecencies.

“EMSFHHh!” Not to mention, the improperness of the act is more Dazai’s particular brand of infuriating. “Speaking of the asshole, when is… AEMFSH’ah! mon dieu. When is that bastard gonna get ba-” 

“Talking to yourself, one of the first signs of insanity, Chuuya.” Dazai calls, a smirk dancing across his face as Chuuya jumps.

“The first sign of insanity is- hH’AKZSH’aa!” He manages to duck to the side, wheeling back around with a glare. “Is the fact I’m wasting my breath talking to you.” 

“Oh dear, was that supposed to be a comeback? It lacks a bit of the wit a good retort should possess.” Dazai mocks, a smile dripping of bitter humour crossing his cheeks. “Seems Chuuya’s tongue isn’t quite as fierce as his glare.” And with that, Dazai leans against the wall, a tissue box still in his hand. 

In the time it had taken for him to walk to the supply closet and back, his entire demeanor had shifted. As simple as changing clothes, he’d replaced the off balance vulnerability with a controlled posture of dominance.  

Still trapped behind his hand, Chuuya finds his knees starting to weaken. It was clear what direction this interaction would be taking. While it wasn’t something he’d planned, it was certainly welcome nonetheless. 

“Well are you gonna hand them over or what?” Chuuya replies, a snarl creeping along his lip as his nose threatens to retaliate against the delay. Despite being pressed against the fabric lining his hand, it seems desperate for further relief. 

“Perhaps.” 

“Then hurry up, you bastard. I… hh– I hhhave to… hhAHh–” 

Dazai lunges forward, the movement sudden enough to trigger a fight or flight response. It takes every ounce of Chuuya’s willpower not to lash out as Dazai, in one fluid motion, grabs onto his wrist and pulls it away from his face. 

“Not yet,” Dazai hums, eyes alight. It seems the games have begun; with Chuuya at a deeply itchy disadvantage. Already down his queen by the second move. 

Dazai's been careful to avoid Chuuya’s bare skin, despite his ability working quite easily through clothing. It’s a hint to the nature of the game they’re playing. Each move will be calculated, each touch laced with intention. 

“aEHh–” Chuuya manages to starve it off with a sharp exhale, his body rapidly beginning to tremble as the power seeps from his veins into Dazai’s grip.

It’s not an entirely unpleasant feeling, some wouldn’t even notice. It’s not like the action of removing the gift has a sensation, it’s more… the lack of sensation as the power drains away. To someone like Chuuya, who almost constantly maintains a slight flow of their gift, it’s hard to miss. 

“Not as vocal,” comes the next command, Dazai’s grip loosening enough for one finger to trail down Chuuya’s arm, reaching the bare skin between his sleeve and his glove. The touch is cold, a gasp nearly escaping Chuuya’s tightened lips. 

“It’s nhehh– not gonna be easy,” Chuuya lets his eyes shut for just a second, savouring the sweet relief that the false depiction of privacy offers. The promise that when they open again, he’ll be free to release every itch. 

Dazai breaks the spell in a single move, the relief quickly replaced with overwhelming irritation. Chuuya’s eyes fall open in time with his mouth as he finds Dazai’s chocolate gaze awaiting his arrival. Nose still pressed against his, the smirk Dazai’s wearing is felt, more than seen. 

“My my, Chuuya. Your nose is so warm!” Dazai coos, leaning back to demonstrate by running a finger against his own nose, then back over to Chuuya’s. Biting his lip is the only way Chuuya keeps from moaning. Even Dazai touching his own nose seems to tickle. 

“hiEHh– D-Dazai…” 

“And,” Dazai continues, Chuuya’s breath catching in his throat. “It’s practically quivering. Chuuya must need to sneeze something awful. I wonder what could be causing this? Hmm, let’s see…” 

Trailing off, Dazai lets his eyes scan the room. It’s for dramatic effect, he already knows. There’s no doubt he’s known since the moment Chuuya walked in. It’s unlikely he planned for it, considering the earlier reaction, but there’s no question he caught on fast. 

The distraction gives Chuuya enough time to scrunch his nose, a desperate attempt to satiate the ever deepening urge. The action has quite the opposite effect however, a moan slipping past Chuuya’s tongue before he can catch it. 

“What was that, Chuuya?” Dazai hums, the action blowing a soft wind against Chuuya’s nose. It nearly tips the scales, only a frantic clench of the jaw allows him to control the burning need. His nostrils flare greedily, aching for another touch, something to give them the ability to overpower his will. 

“I’m… I’m gohhnna sneeze-” Chuuya manages to gasp out, his lips parting in a snarl, breath starting to come faster, chest beginning to tighten with his eyes–

“Did I say you could?” 

And just like that, the reaction stalls. A tear slides down his cheek, Chuuya nearly whining as Dazai’s cold touch wipes it away, a finger brushing the bridge of his nose. It feels as if his entire face is lit up, the flush on the tips of his ears beginning to match his nose. 

“I dohh… don’t think I… I caahhh– hEDT!  I can’t…” More stutters fall out, each word only delaying the inevitable. The sneeze is coming, and despite his best efforts, Chuuya knows there’s no fighting it. Not anymore. 

“No.” 

And still, somehow, despite the overwhelming desire, the unavoidable trembling, the greedy flaring, Chuuya feels his teeth clench. That command was firm, undeniable, and direct. He is not allowed to sneeze. 

Words die on his tongue, even the idea of parting his lips leaves him breathless. Once he allows a touch of air through, there will be more than words spilling out. Determined to maintain composure, he feels the world start to slip into a light fog. 

“Don’t hold your breath,” Dazai hums, giving Chuuya’s wrist a light squeeze. With a poorly contained gasp, Chuuya begins to pant. “You didn’t even notice, did you?” 

Chuuya answers in the form of a watery glare, still too itchy to risk words. Dazai’s fingers relax, dropping Chuuya’s wrist. Without a second thought, Chuuya raises it back to his nose, moaning at the relief the harsh touch offers. 

“AESH’NGKT! Merde-” 

His other hand quickly slips to his face, only managing to half-stifle the sudden burst. The allergic tears lining his eyes begin to pour over, his nose greedy for a full release. If anything, the stifle only served to make it worse. 

“I don’t believe I gave you permission for that,” Dazai starts, fingers beginning to trace up Chuuya’s neck, wrapping around his choker. Chuuya’s teeth pierce into his lip, knees weakening once more. “Though, maybe I’ll allow it. Seems it didn’t do anything to relieve that miserable tickle. I’ll even allow one more!” 

Without a second thought, Chuuya lets Dazai pull his head closer, aiming for a bandaged shoulder as the– “ANGKT!” brings him a moment of relief. From his position against Dazai’s chest, Chuuya lets a smirk flash across his features. Elevated pulse, body trembling in time with each gasp Chuuya takes. 

“I’m being awfully generous here, don’t you think Chuuya?” Dazai purrs, eyes beginning to dance once more as he pushes Chuuya back against the wall, releasing his grasp. “I think you should thank me.” 

From behind his wrist, Chuuya freezes. If he attempts to speak, he won’t be able to hold it back. The dam already broke, the stubborn power of sheer will is fending off the waves. Dazai should know that too… which means this is an indirect invitation to… 

“hieHh–!” 

…or a test. One that letting himself go would immediately fail. Studying Dazai’s expression, Chuuya attempts to navigate his response. The choice is quickly made for him, as Dazai leans forward with a wink. Shivers race down Chuuya’s spine as he feels the breath against his ear. 

“You’ve been quite obedient. Feel free to indulge your own desires now.” 

“AESHH! AK’SHHAA!” The double breaks free with a growl that leaves Dazai trembling almost as hard as Chuuya. Another follows on its heels, then a second, third, fourth, the fit continuing as Dazai’s lip begins to match Chuuya’s. 

“ASHH’aa! Cahhn’t stahh… stop– hH’AEMFSH!” 

A hint of concern passes through Dazai’s eyes as the fit doesn’t seem to let up. “Are you–” 

“AESHHiew! A bid idtchASHH! Idtchy. ADSHH’iuh!” 

“I can see that, or shall I say hear that,” Dazai replies, making a show of covering his ears with a teasing wince. “Might be the last thing I ever get to hear!” 

“Is thad a… ahh– ADTCHh! AESHH’aa! Is thad a complimedt?” Chuuya taunts, pausing to grab a handful of the tissues he’d nearly forgotten about. With a harsh blow, a moan slips out after it. The action lets air flow through his nose once more. “AECHH!” Which of course only serves to agitate it further. 

Dazai rolls his eyes with a smirk, hand finding his way to Chuuya’s thigh. “Only Chibi would think saying someone’s loud is a compliment.” 

“Only you would mean it as one. ASHH’iuh! Fucking Christ.” 

“Switching to English?” Dazai nearly growls, voice lowering with each desperate sneeze. “Is it already that intense?” 

In lieu of a response, Chuuya guides Dazai’s hand up from his thigh, letting the cool fingers brush his warm nose. The touch is excruciating, his chest heaving as he attempts to hold back long enough to get out, “Feel fehh… for yo- hAHhh– for yoursehhhlf.” 

Dazai takes the invitation, tracing each flaring nostril with his index finger, eyes beginning to gloss over nearly as much as Chuuya’s. His breath begins to fall in sync, both of them starting to pant. “Seems so,” Dazai manages to choke out, legs beginning to tremble once more. 

“hH’ASHH! AESCSHH! yeASHH’iuh! YESHH’shaa!” 

Unable to fight it any longer, Dazai leans forward and pulls Chuuya into a greedy kiss, his tongue betraying the depth of his hunger. Chuuya lets himself be swallowed into the embrace, hands finding their way up Dazai’s back to grip his jacket. Together they push back against the wall, intertwined in a beautiful tangle of limbs and tongues. 

Chuuya pulls away first, only managing a sharp gasp before he ducks into Dazai’s shoulder for another harsh– “AETCSHH!” which Dazai blesses with a light moan, pulling Chuuya closer. 

“I’m gonna kiss you again.” 

With a laugh, Chuuya pulls back again, mischief lighting up his eyes. “Did I say you could?” 

Dazai returns the gaze, hunger dripping from his narrowed eyes. “Sadistic, Chuuya.” 

“Shut up and kiss me, bastard.”

~~~ Mate ~~~

Ask anyone in the Armed Detective Agency, and they’ll tell you that Dazai is one of their more valuable assets–

“Yeah, I’m gonna stop you right there,” Chuuya calls from his position resting against the doorway. “The only one who’d call you that is yourself, you smug bastard. The rest of ‘em have enough sense to see you for what you really are.” 

Dazai sighs, letting the paperwork he’d been pretending to fill out for an hour lay abandoned on a desk. A desk that’s certainly not his. Along with a carefully forged note asking Atsushi to fill it out, on behalf of one Kunikida. 

Turning back to the interruption, Dazai gestures vaguely at the empty office. “Then why would they leave me all alone to watch the business? They know I can handle such a task!” He trails off with another performative sigh, sprawling out over his desk. “It’s tiresome, being so crucial and trusted.” 

In response, Chuuya merely huffs a growl, rolling his eyes for what feels like the fifth time in the past ten minutes. 

“Chuuya wouldn’t understand,” Dazai continues with a wink, earning the sixth eye roll. “He’s merely a pawn, while I am a king!” 

“Isn’t the king practically useless?” Chuuya asks, raising an eyebrow incredulously. “The queen does all the work after all.” 

“Ah, a pawn such as yourself would think like that, wouldn’t they?” Spinning in his chair, Dazai catches Chuuya’s eyes with that shit-eating grin that practically screams ‘I’m better than you so I’ll try to dumb this down’. It’s infuriating, and Chuuya finds himself fighting the urge to roll his eyes yet again. 

“While the king may not be on the front lines, his influence is what guides the entire kingdom. Without him, the battle would rage with no cause or order, each piece fighting for themselves. A mere pawn cannot take out a knight with pure strength, he needs a strategy. That’s where the king comes in.” 

“That’s the player, moron,” Chuuya retorts, a new confidence leaving his eyes shining. For once, the high-and-mighty attitude Dazai’s sporting might be all bluster. He mistook the king for the player, a foolish mistake. 

For a minute, just a minute, there’s silence. No witty retort, no smug explanation, just a pause. One hanging thick with deeper meanings, and… something Chuuya would almost call sadness. The look Dazai gives him holds no sense of authority. There’s no superiority in his expression, just a haunting wash of melancholy behind his whiskey soaked eyes. 

Chuuya opens his mouth, just to close it again. No words seem appropriate, not while that look remains on Dazai’s face. A look that suggests something deeper to his meaning that he desperately wished Chuuya would’ve understood. 

The ringing that sounds out knocks Chuuya from his thoughts. His fist connects with the doorframe before he can catch a breath, blood pumping through his ears. “Fucking-!” 

“Chuuya!” Dazai laughs, a cheshire smile smothering the expression that had just occupied that space. Or maybe it was never there at all… “What a foul tongue! And go easy on the offices, would ya? We don’t exactly have the unlimited budget of the Port Mafia. Kunikida will finally have that aneurysm if he finds a hole in the wall.” 

Clutching his phone as it continues to demand attention, Chuuya aims a glare at no one in particular. Not giving Dazai the satisfaction of a direct reply, he snaps open the phone and turns his back to the room. “This is Chuuya.”

The voice starts rambling on about meetings, conferences, deadlines, and something to do with ‘assignment reports missing key details involving jinko’. Digging his fingers into his temple, Chuuya considers hanging up on the kid. 

While there’s no denying his talent in battle, his mannerisms always seem to hit a nerve. A similar nerve to the one Dazai hits, or maybe closer to the sleepless nights where thoughts refuse to give up control.

A combination of everything he hates about himself and Dazai, wrapped up in one human being. Still, it’s hardly like he’s to blame for that. Not like you can hold it against the kid for learning from the role models he was given. 

“Look, Akutagawa, I’m a bit busy at the momen–” Chuuya nearly growls as a noise sounds off behind him, an all too familiar one. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he considers leaping from the window. The only thing stopping him is the prickling starting to invade his sinuses. Too late now, no point in suffering for nothing. 

Spinning on his heel, Chuuya casts the darkest glare he can muster at the ‘all too innocent’ whistling detective still holding the weapon in his bandaged hands. Hard to believe a bottle so small can cause such huge fallout, and yet Chuuya can’t deny the powerful itch beginning to spread. 

“I’m gonna hahh– have to call you back. No, I understand the meaning of urgent, do you understand the meaning of busy?” Flipping Dazai off as the snickering gets louder, Chuuya pulls the phone away from his face. “hH’ANGZT!” 

“What’s the matter, Chuuya? You seem a bit irritated?” Dazai calls, increasing his volume to ensure his voice carries through the phone. “Is it talking to Akutagawa? That always sets me in a foul mood.” 

The noise from the phone seems almost hurt, coated in a thin veil of disgust. Chuuya brings a glove to his nose, pinching it shut long enough to get out, “You talk to him then.” Thrusting the phone in Dazai’s general direction, he leans into his opposite shoulder to muffle another “AMFSHH’uh!” 

“Speak to Akutagawa? Yeah, I’ll pass.” Dazai taunts, aiming his speech at the phone, clearly putting on a performance. “That would just ruin my day, and it’s been going pretty well up till now. I spend my days actively hoping I won’t run into that guy.” 

“You-” Akutagawa starts, before the lines goes silent as Chuuya’s body jerks with another “AHGNTiew! AKNGDT’hah! Merde.” 

“Are you alright?” Akutagawa offers, the genuine nature of the question getting overpowered by joyous laughter bubbling up from Dazai. Chuuya barely has time to glare before he’s aiming for his shoulder again as another harsh sneeze nearly doubles him over.  

“Oh Chuuya here’s just fine, I think he’s just allergic to your presence! Even through the phone, you seem to leave him in… quite a state.” Dazai wipes a tear from his eye as Akutagawa lets a few faint curses slip through the phone. “Maybe you should consider hanging up, let the man have a bit of time to breathe.” 

Finally able to get a word in, Chuuya brings the phone back to his ear with a cautious fist pressed against his nose, fingers holding it shut. “I’b fide. Just repord to Bori idstead. I’b a bid… ah’GNt!” He breaks off into a cough, the tight stifle leaving his head pounding. “A bid preoccupied.”

After a few muffled objections, a comment Dazai vaguely catches about ‘why are you even there’, and a final request for backup on the next mission he’s being sent on, Akutagawa hangs up. 

Dazai offers an innocent smile as Chuuya turns back to him, a red hue beginning to flitter over his skin, fists balled at his sides. “What the hell was that, you bastard! Are you seriously trying to– AESHH! trying to get a fucking– YEASHH’iuh! fucking pounding?” 

“Why Chuuya,” Dazai coos. “What a generous offer! I’d simply adore it if you pounded me all–” 

“Shut the fuck up, you know that’s not what I meant.” Chuuya growls, pawing at his nose as another sneeze doubles him over. “Mon dieu. Did you really hhhah– have to spray that in here? If I don’t… ihihh– if I don’t leave I’m gonna be itchy for hours. ARSHH’iuh!” 

“Oh my- I really didn’t think that through, did I? How reckless of me,” Dazai hums, sliding up from his chair. Chuuya feels himself step backwards before he can process the change, involuntarily retreating from the source of the tickle. 

Sliding a hand in front of his face, Chuuya glares over the makeshift mask. “You’re still covered in the stuff. Keep your distance mackerel or I swear I’ll breAKSHH’aa!” 

“Sorry,” Dazai replies, taking another step closer. “I didn’t quite catch that. Or you’ll what?” 

“I’m serious, you bastard. I’m… hASHH! EMFFSHH! AHMFSH’aa! Fucking Christ.” Chuuya coughs out, his nose twitching dangerously with each step Dazai advances. As if just the knowledge of a closer proximity to his allergen is making the reaction worse. 

“You’re having sex with the lord?!” Dazai gaps, a playfully smug expression resting across his eyes. “I mean, I know I’m good in bed, but to call me your saviour.” 

Not bothering to dignify that with a response, Chuuya takes another step back, missing his shoulder completely when the next “yeASHH’iuh!” catches him off guard. Dazai seems to tremble a little at this display, crossing the distance between them in a single stride. 

Chuuya takes a step forward, taking note of the way Dazai allows the intrusion, sinking back to allow Chuuya space to stand. His posture is open, inviting, nothing like the commanding stance of last time. This is a new game, and he’s inviting Chuuya to take the lead. 

“Well fuck,” Chuuya growls, lowering his glove just long enough to let the sickly floral scent intrude past his defenses. He nearly whimpers as the itch increases tenfold, each breath bringing a new round of desperate hitching. “IhheHh– I’m gonna sneeze-” 

“Did I say you could?” Dazai purrs, the sound catching in his throat as Chuuya spins him around, knocking him into the wall hard enough to expel his breath. 

“I don’t remehhmber asking.” Chuuya smirks as Dazai’s eyes flash, his tongue poking through his teeth in a hiss of pleasure. Leaning closer to his shoulder, Chuuya allows his breath to catch once, twice–

“AESHH’ou!” 

The action jerks his body closer to Dazai’s, a moan slipping from the detective's lips. Barely a moment to catch his breath, Chuuya lets the second, third, and fourth slip out in rapid succession, each aimed a little closer to Dazai’s neck. 

By the fifth Dazai’s panting, shivers running through him as Chuuya’s nose rests against the bare skin. Gathering his composure long enough, he brings Chuuya’s hips towards his own. Dazai leans his head back, eyes fluttering shut in time with Chuuya’s. 

“I’m not… not done…” Chuuya stutters out, a single tear running its way down his cheek. The slow trickle brushes against the side of his nose, leaving him breathless, only enough time to inhale for the– “hEYESHH! EASHHMF! MMFFSHH’aa!” 

“You know,” Dazai whispers, voice stolen as Chuuya begins to rub his nose across the sensitive skin below his ear. “You don’t have a lot of warning for your…” 

Chuuya smirks, pulling Dazai down to his level, breath caressing Dazai’s ear. “For my what, bastard? Say it.” 

Dazai moans in response, a mixture of pleasure and submission as Chuuya lets his teeth mark Dazai’s skin for his own. Gentle enough not to leave any marks that will last too long, but not so gentle that he’s not reminded who’s winning this game. 

“Your sneezes,” Dazai manages to pant, the aforementioned action drawing his breath once more. 

“AESHH’aa! Fuck. Yeah, I guess they don't,” Chuuya replies, releasing Dazai’s shirt quick enough to slam him into the wall with a grunt. “I guess I don’t pay as much attention as some people.” 

There’s a faint whimper in response, Chuuya taking the cue to let his hand wander down Dazai’s chest, resting right above his thigh. “However, I can definitely still feel it. There’s a near constahh… constant buzz. It’s just that I’m never sure when it’s gonna turn into a full sneeASHHH’iuh! Fucking hell.” 

As his body jerks, Chuuya lets his hand slip lower, Dazai responding in kind with a moan. Pausing, Chuuya waits for the next move. It comes sooner than expected, Dazai barely able to contain himself as his hand grips Chuuya’s back, head tilting down to expose the hunger in his eyes. 

At this, Chuuya pulls back, smirking at the whimper breaking their contact coaxes from the other. “Being this close to you is making the itch so much worse,” He muses, rubbing a finger under his nose. An invitation. “I think I’m gonna sneeze again–” 

Not one to turn down the chance for a script flip, Dazai grabs his wrist, pulling it down to his waist. “I think you’ve had more than enough of those.” 

With a barely concealed smirk, Chuuya lets his head tilt back, meeting Dazai’s eyes. “And if I caASHH’iuh! Can’t stop?” 

“Well then,” Dazai taunts, letting his fingers slide up under Chuuya’s nose. “I guess I’ll just have to help you.” 

“EHNGT!” Chuuya gasps in the aftermath of the forced stifle, his breath catching once more as Dazai’s fingers do nothing but irritate his nose further. 

“I do believe I said that was enough, didn’t I?” Dazai hums, fingers rubbing back and forth over Chuuya’s rapidly twitching nose. The tortured appendage wriggles, Chuuya’s eyes fluttering shut as his whole body trembles. 

“AHDTSHH’aa! Fuck, it won’t stahh… AENGT’shiew! Won’t stop if you keep… keeASPTCHH! Keep doing that.” Chuuya growls, leaning forward to rub his nose against Dazai’s shoulder again. He’s stopped by a single movement, Dazai maneuvering himself out of the way with a flourish. Too distracted to attempt to follow, Chuuya raises a fist back to his nose as the tickle hits its peak once more. 

“A Port Mafia executive can’t even stop his own nose?” The taunt stops him in his tracks, Chuuya’s eyes snapping open to glare at Dazai as he finishes the statement. “The standards have really dropped it seems.” 

“Or maybe,” Chuuya begins in a near purr, reveling in the slight crack that spreads through Dazai’s smirk at the abrupt tone change. “I never intended to stop it at all.” 

It’s not easy to catch Dazai off guard, especially when he’s spent nearly 8 years studying your every move. Not easy, but not impossible. As Chuuya releases the grasp on his nose, pressing Dazai back against the wall, he takes pride in the light gasp that escapes the bastard. 

“ASHHH’ou! yeASHh’iuh! hehH– ASHH’iuh!” 

Mask fully shattered, Dazai can do nothing but moan as each sneeze jerks their bodies closer together. Chuuya drops all decorum as he rubs his nose against Dazai’s neck again. He lets a few groans slip from his tongue, flaring his nostrils as the skin contact leaves Dazai quivering. 

Dazai’s response is a simple phrase, barely audible as his voice catches in his throat. 

“Chuuya was never a mere pawn; a checkmate well earned.” 

[rykno-j]

Stay? (B/SD)

Summary: basically c/huuya gets sick and d/azai takes care of him, very cliche

Ship: s/kk

Notes: my first b/sd fic. honestly i never intended to write one, but here we are. This fic was drafted Sept 21 2023 and wow that's been awhile huh.

They might be a little ooc here since i'm trying my hand at their characterisation for the first time. Apologies in advance for any mistakes!

also i figured ild add this in here but this fic is sickfic>snzfic so there isnt much of that kinda stuff here

Word count: 4.5k

------------------------------------------------

"Chuuya, rest."

The red markings on Chuuya's arm slowly disappeared as he fell to the floor in a soft grunt. Letting go of his arm down in an action of indifference, Dazai stepped over his sprawled out body.

"Took you long enough, honestly. It was almost like you were taking your own sweet time, don't want me to touch you that badly?"

When he was met with no response, Dazai sighed dramatically.

"Chibi? Oi, are you dead? You're not allowed to go before me, you know that. Oi!"

He turns back, this time with an eyebrow raised at the unmoving Chuuya-lump on the floor. Seriously? He would've expected the slug to reply with a "I'll kill you first" or a punch of sorts.

Chuuya was never quite as energetic after using Corruption, but this silence was new.

And so Dazai does the next most logical thing, which was to kick him with the edge of his shoe, once, twice, thrice- Alright, something was wrong.

Doing a quick check of his surroundings for any passersby (god forbid anyone from the Port Mafia or the ADA see what he was about to do next), Dazai knelt down next to Chuuya's body, flipping him onto his back.

"Oi Chibi!"

When he was met with no response, Dazai seriously considered leaving Chuuya in the middle of what used to be the battlefield. Surely someone would find him eventually, right?

It was how it always was, how it always has been.

Though.. there was no one in their vicinity at the moment, and it won't hurt to check Chuuya's vitals, to make sure the idiot didn't actually die on him.

Two fingers were swiftly placed under Chuuya's chin, and- Fever. Dazai was fairly sure that he felt fever under his fingers.

There was a steady heartbeat too, so that was good at least.

But a fever? Surely he was imagining it. Yes, Chuuya tended to run a little hot, both in his temperature and in his temper (although most of the time it was directed at Dazai himself), but there was no mistaking the heat that he was radiating.

This time, the pair of bandaged hands reached for Chuuya's shoulders, giving him a couple shakes, which proved successful as he heard the other below him let out a soft groan.

"..D'zai?"

"Why didn't you say anything?"

Immediately knowing what Dazai was referring to, Chuuya furrowed his eyebrows into a frown. "Idiot, it's none of your concern. Just take me back home."

Dazai opened his mouth to complain, but stopped when he saw Chuuya's eyes slide back shut. Seriously? Seriously. It was not the first time Chuuya had made a similar request, and it would also not be the first time if Dazai just walked off into the distance, leaving him there alone.

Despite that, Dazai always made sure that Chuuya was okay before he abandoned the other. Did this count as 'okay'?

And so,

"You owe me one.." Dazai caved, reaching out to lift Chuuya onto his back. He considered for a second just grabbing Chuuya by his ankles, dragging him home that way. Admittedly, Dazai did almost do that, if not for the time limit they had before someone would eventually arrive at the scene.

So draped over his back it was. Chuuya's apartment wasn't far, he could make it.

Gathering the fallen coat and hat (regrettably, Dazai did indeed resign and picked it up), he disappeared behind the trees.

====================================

The journey back was eerily silent. Given the relationship between the two, it was a surprise. No bickering, no fighting, just the steady but heavy sound of footsteps coming from Dazai.

He could hear, could feel Chuuya breathing behind him, but worry still found its way into his head. Not that that was important or anything.

Dazai whined. "You're really heavy you know.."

(Talk to me, say something snarky back.)

Dazai attempted a weak insult. "Never been this high off the floor before huh? It's a whole new view from way up here."

(Open your eyes, please.)

He felt stupid talking to himself.

==================================

Chuuya's front door. He hasn't been here in a long while, and it definitely was not the first time he came uninvited. But this didn't count, did it? Chuuya had asked him to bring him home.

Key. Just focus on getting the door open.

Lowering himself to the ground, Dazai propped Chuuya's body up against the door. Now, where would Chibi put his key..

When both coat pockets came up empty, Dazai eyed Chuuya's unconscious body. Should he try searching for the keys on him?

Then, he remembered a moment they shared together, one where they had headed to Chuuya's place after a mission years ago, when Dazai was still in the Port Mafia.

They had gotten thrown around quite a bit that day, and as fun as it was, Chuuya's key seemed to have been shaken right out of his pocket. Exhausted, they had fallen asleep right by the steps leading up to the door, seemingly forgetting that Chuuya could have blasted through the window if he really wanted to.

Dazai dropped the coat on Chuuya's lap, turning to the pots of plants outside the house. Seriously? He was surprised the plants were even still alive.

As obvious at that spot would have been, Dazai found the key he was looking for under a pot of cacti. He unlocked the door, hauling Chuuya's body in with him.

The living room was a familiar sight. The couch was in the same position, and so was the dining table. It was as if all those years had never passed.

Dazai looked at the body sprawled across the floor.

So what now? Should he leave? Chuuya hadn't asked him to do anything else, not that he would have complied anyway.

..He would probably be much more comfortable lying on the couch. Yeah, he could do that.

Dazai looked at the body sprawled across the couch.

So what now? Why wasn't he moving to leave? Chuuya probably didn't want to open his eyes only for Dazai to be the first thing he sees.

..That thought alone almost made him sit down and wait for Chuuya to wake up.

However, a small whine dragged Dazai out of his scheming. When he looked down, there was a pained expression on Chuuya's face. Even in the dimmed lights, Dazai could partially make out the feverish flush on the other's cheeks.

..He could wet a towel for Chuuya. Yeah, he could do that.

And so Dazai stands up, making his way to bathroom. Just being in the room brought back a few memories. All the times that he would sit, propped up against the sink as they tended to each other's wounds after a mission.

Dazai pulls open one of the cupboards below the sink in search for a towel, and that's when he freezes.

All the way to the back of the compartment, there was a small stack of bandages, the same ones that Dazai liked to use. But why? Chuuya rarely got injured, and if he did, like heck he was using those bandages. Knowing him, Chuuya would probably just walk it off.

Maybe he just didn't want to throw away the leftovers. Yeah, that was it.

He found a towel after that. Wetting and wringing it, Dazai stepped back into the living room. From the corner of his eye, he noticed Chuuya's open bedroom door.

A peek inside would never hurt, right?

Making a slight detour, Dazai popped his head into the doorway. Surprisingly (or maybe not), everything looked pretty much the same. The bed was still haphazardly made in a sort of neat, Chuuya way.

A stray hat sat in the center of his desk. Dazai couldn't contain his eye roll.

He approached the table, his eye catching onto a dull shine of metal. It was a tablet tray of pills. He flipped it over. Paracetamol. And it was half empty.

So the fever wasn't a recent thing.

===================================

He hoped the wet towel would help.

Chuuya never fell sick often, and when he did, he was rather augmentative and closed off. To Dazai, that was Chuuya just being Chuuya, so he never treated the other differently in those moments, not that they happened often enough for him to act any other way.

So this was new. It wasn't an unpleasant type of new, just a little awkward. It was never quiet when Chuuya was around, unless they were sleeping, and Dazai was wide awake.

Maybe he should busy himself with cooking something. Cook. For Chuuya.

..What where they? Married? Dazai felt his tongue stick out at the thought. But still, he got up and headed for the kitchen.

Maybe he should try poisoning Chuuya's portion. That would be fun to watch. Unfortunately, he didn't have any vials on him at the moment.

Even better, he could pretend that he did something to the food.

That thought alone gave Dazai the motivation to look through the fridge. In the main compartment, all he found was alcohol. The second eye roll of the day ghosted his face. Chuuya was a lightweight after all.

Moving to the vegetables drawer, he was pleasantly surprised to see it filled. He never took Chuuya as someone who knew how to cook. Dazai himself normally ate at the cafe downstairs with the rest of the agency.

Though.. on the off-chance that someone would cook for the whole office, those meals always felt a little more homey.

Picking a variety of vegetables, Dazai turned towards the kitchen, sliding the door shut behind him.

========================================

It was at that moment that Chuuya decided to wake up. He knew he was at home, on his couch? What happened?

Fuck. His head hurt. His limbs hurt. There was something pressing his head down. Lifting a heavy arm, Chuuya reached for the item on his forehead.

A damp cloth?

That idiot Dazai probably put it there. Sleeping gas? It made sense, since he was knocked out for so long..

Or at least it felt long; with how sore his neck was feeling from lying flat on his back. Couldn't the bandaged disaster at least be considerate enough to put a pillow under his head?

..Come to think of it, Dazai did carry him home, which was a far cry from what he normally did to begin with. Whatever, he'd let it slide.

"..snff-"

"..hH'!! hAH'gGnshH-w!! G'nNEsHH!!"

So that's what he would have to deal with for a few days, huh. He had really thought it had been nothing more than a slight fever.

Maybe using Corruption had made it worse.

"..hiH'!! hH- hhH'!! h'ERrshH!"

When he sniffled into the back of his palm, Chuuya found that he could hardly get any air through. This sucked.

A shower might help.

=====================================

In the closed kitchen, Dazai barely heard Chuuya's movements as he reached for a knife. Staring at it, he pondered for a moment if he should just-

No. Chuuya would kill him if the white counter was stained with his blood. It would give the shorty a good scare, but his fun could wait.

While it wasn't his first time chopping vegetables, it certainly had been awhile. Still, the carrrots, potatoes and corn were all sliced up in minutes. He didn't brag about his dexterous fingers for nothing.

And if the knife came too close to his fingers too many times, no it didn't.

Throwing all the ingredients into the simmering pot, Dazai poured in some chicken stock. He didn't know how much was the recommended amount, so half the carton would have to do.

Besides, there was no way he'd even look at the instructions behind. He was already cooking for the chibi, he didn't want to have to read for him too.

Dazai stared at the stove.

..What now?

---

The moment Chuuya stripped off his clothes, he had to grab the edge of the sink as he was hit by a dizzy spell. Fair, he did get up from the couch rather abruptly. He hadn't eaten since the morning either.

He was shivering, despite the buckets of sweat he produced in the recent battle.

Chuuya hated falling sick, hated the weakness and vulnerability that came with it. He was supposed to be the one who people depended on. How could he protect anyone when he could barely even stand straight?

Without his strength there was little use for him.

"..hH'!! H'gKsHHew! heH'DzzchH!!"

And there was that too.. but at least this part of his forming cold proved that he was human. The inability of controlling his sneezes.

In any case, he should get into the shower quickly before his thoughts got the better of him.

Scalding hot water.

==================================

Surely the pot should not be boiling that heavily. Dazai stared at it, wondering how the surface would feel under his fingers should he touch it. The fleeting thought brought a smile to his face.

A rather rough bunch of bubbles almost caused the lid to fly off entirely. He should probably turn the fire down.

A gentle, warm aroma slowly filled the kitchen. Dazai estimated that it would be ready in a couple tens of minutes.

Perfect, he could use that time to-

The kitchen door slides open.

..To check on-

"Chuuya?"

The couch was empty. Did someone break into the house to steal him? Dazai didn't remember locking the door. Chuuya was really compact and pocket-sized too, but who would want to kidnap that feisty thing?

So of course, he deduced that Chuuya probably moved himself somewhere else.

"Chibi?"

Dazai stepped into the hallway, his gaze casting down upon the trail of water leading from the bathroom to is bedroom.

Seriously, did Chuuya not know that towels exist? Someone could slip and fall and die here! Someone like Dazai himself!

Playing with the possibility of such a humorous death, Dazai followed the trail to the room, poking his head into the doorway for the second time that day.

With the ends of his feet barely touching the edge of the bed, Chuuya laid in the center, neck tilted back on the pillow, snoring softly.

It was a familiar sight, Dazai noticed himself staring. The bed was once big enough for the two of them.

Not now, of course, Dazai muses. Even if Chuuya hadn't grown an inch, he sure did. There was no way they'd fit on the mattress together now.

..Not that he wanted to or anything. No, definitely not.

Chuuya's hair was still damp, and there was a strained expression on his sleeping face. Moving by himself, Dazai reached for the neatly folded blanket by the foot of the bed.

=====================================

1hr later:

Chuuya woke with the edge of his blanket pressed under his nose. He didn't remember pulling it up. After he took a shower, his body was too exhausted to do anything but collapse facedown into the pillows

Or.. maybe he had done that. Chuuya lived alone, there was no way someone else had done it instead.

"..hIH'NgtxchhH!! haH'gtcHH-w!" That being said, it was still way too cold even with the blanket covering him.

He rubbed the back of his fist against his nose roughly before tossing around in bed, annoyed.

Everything felt too stuffy, too hot. He was hungry too. Maybe some takeout would be good for today.

Chuuya stretched out a tired hand, groping around for his phone. Finding nothing, he sighed, faintly remembering that his coat was still outside on the floor somewhere.

"..hih'hA-Ngxt!!"

Guess he won't be getting any food today, then. Chuuya prided himself as a strong, capable man, but when it came down to times like these, he was willing to be weak.

As long as he was alone.

=======================================

Dazai looks up towards the bedroom, eyes flickering between the television screen and the hallway.

Despite himself, he was still at Chuuya's apartment, nevermind that an entire hour has passed.

Instead of wandering around, Dazai chooses to set up the gaming station below the television. He and Chuuya used to go on at it for hours against each other.

"Take this!"

"Not so fast, Chuuya. You think you can beat me that easily??"

There was a layer of dust sitting on top of console, showing obvious signs of disuse. His old controller was laid against it next to Chuuya's, the plastic worn down and peeling.

Lost in his daydream, Dazai barely manages to catch the smell of ready-soup coming from the kitchen. Now to get a couple bowls.

Transferring the soup into them should have been an easy task, if Dazai had remembered that heat existed. Well, excuse him for trying to pick up the pot with his bare hands and pouring it into the bowl, it's not like he cooked on a regular basis, or knew that there was a special spoon for such occasions known as the ladle.

Whatever the case, it took all but a few minutes to find a tray, put the bowls on it, and walk out of the kitchen.

==================================

Maybe he should have sucked it up and went to get his phone, Chuuya thinks and he stares at the ceiling. His stomach was screaming at him to fill it up with something, anything.

He stares at the stain next to the lightbulb and scowls. Years ago, the bulb and blown a fuse and needed repairing. But like hell Chuuya was going to put the stepladder on his bed, even if he was too short to reach it otherwise.

Thankfully, Dazai had shown up like a Saint at the time and fixed it for him, not without leaving his mark, of course. Like a damn animal he marked the ceiling with a dusty handprint that Chuuya could never clean off.

His fever must be off the charts if its enough to make him recall anything that had to do with his ex-partner. If Chuuya had had the strength at that moment, he would've slapped himself silly. That being said, he could probably wrap a damp cloth around the end of a long pole and bring it up to the stain to-

"ChUuYA!!"

"oH FUCK!"

Jumping out of his skin high enough that maybe he didn't need that pole after all, Chuuya sits up in his bed. His pillow, the blanket, the chair, his hat, everything glowed red and was ready to be used as a weapon.

"DAZAI, WHAT THE FUCK?!"

"Aw Chuuyaa~ That's the kind of greeting I get even when I'm trying to do something nice? You're lucky I'm touching this tray, or it might've went up with all the other things and split all my hard work!!"

"Never mind the fucking tray! What are you doing here?"

Dazai opens his mouth, a tone of mockery already ready at the tip of his tongue, yet nothing came out. Chuuya was right, what was he doing here? How would he explain why he was carrying soup to Chuuya in bed without the other thinking he had lost his mind?

Come to think of it, he didn't even know himself why he was doing this.

Chuuya stares at the Dazai in his room. Seriously, what was he thinking? Coming over uninvited like that, especially knowing the state he was in right now. There was no way this was a planned move to take him out at his weakest. As shitty as Dazai was, Chuuya knew at the back of his mind that the other would never harm him intentionally without the confidence that he won't die from it.

So that only left one explanation, one that Chuuya refused to even entertain - that Dazai was actually trying to take care of him. He almost laughs at the thought.

And he might've, if this was another day in which he wasn't hazed in fever. Plus the silence was getting awkward, so Chuuya forced himself to say something.

"..I'm not interested in your answer anyway. So are you coming in or not? You're being an eyesore just standing in the middle of my room."

"A tall eyesore?" Dazai chirped back, his behavior instantly returning to normal once he was in his element, (that being in a state in which he endlessly makes fun of Chuuya).

"Yeah yeah, a tall eyesore that he trying to poison me. Is this the Agency's masterplan after all? Poison?"

"Me?!" Dazai dramatically puts his hand on his forehead. "Poisoning you?? Before I use the poison on myself to end my own miserable life? Oh ChuUya, you should know me better than that!"

"Whatever. Just give it to me." Chuuya rolls his eyes, snatching a bowl over and eyeing it suspiciously. "You went through all the trouble of buying takeout?"

"Of course not! Why would I ever do so much for a slug like you?"

"So then you cooked for me." It was phrased more like a statement than a question, and for the second time that night, Dazai didn't know what to say.

"The uh- the knife. It looked tempting."

"Uh-huh. Bet it sure was difficult to keep all 10 of your fingers intact."

"You know me so well!"

"..Right." With the conversation not going any further, Chuuya picks up the spoon, stirring the liquid gently. It smelt good, and the steam coming from the bowl really helped to loosen up the congestion in his nose.

Which was good, but also bad timing, as Chuuya was suddenly overwhelmed by the need to sneeze. Hitching ever so slightly, he turns to face the wall, using his skill to control the gravity of the mucus such that it wouldn't irritate his nose even more as it threatened to drip out.

The last thing he wanted was to give Dazai something else to make fun of him for.

It was silent for a moment as Chuuya lifts the spoon to his lips.

"..."

"What?"

"..."

"I swear I did not poison the soup."

"No- it's not that. The soup.. it tastes.. good."

Dazai stares at Chuuya as if he'd grown an extra head. "..Chibi's lying!"

"I'm not, you idiot. Sigh, why do I even try?"

Before Chuuya could even shake his head in exasperation, a flash of brown jumps his soup.

"What are you doi-!?"

Dazai grabs onto Chuuya's arm, somehow managing to miraculously not spill a drop as he grabs onto the spoon to try a sip.

This is bad. Bells rang in Chuuya's head as he felt his skill get nullified by Dazai's.

"M-hH!!" Move! He wanted to scream, would have, if the tickle in his nose wasn't this extreme.

Well, the suicide maniac asked for it anyway.

"Hh'! HNNgxt! ..hA'DzzchH!!" Chuuya gasps, pressing a wrist tightly against his nose. "hIH' gZZtchH!!"

"Chuuya is so rough with himself!"

"Don't talk like you're not the one who c'hh!-caused this!"

"Really," Dazai started, brushing a bit of his arm that had been in the crossfire of the spray upon his pants. "If anything Chibi's the one who caused this onto himself."

"Hah? The fuck did you say?"

"Now now-" Dazai places his index finger directly between Chuuya's furrowed eyebrows. "I'm not the one who decided to use corruption through a fever and then pass out in front of everyone."

Chuuya clenches his teeth, swatting the other's arm away. "Don't talk like you don't make shitty decisions all the time, suicide-obsessed mackerel."

"Slug."

"Why do you even care anyway?!" the porcelain bowl cracks under his grip. "You never had before so don't act like you do now."

Dazai opened his mouth to answer with a witty remark, but nothing came out. This outburst was different from the rest that Chuuya normally gave him. Insults, he could handle, but this? What was he supposed to say to that?

'Yeah I don't care about you?' 'No I do care about you?' One was a lie and one made him sound like a bottom.

Chuuya just stared at the bowl in his hand, watching as the soup drip, drip, dripped down his forearm. He knows what he said wasn't true, the fact that Dazai stayed was evidence enough.

Fucking fever, always making him say the wrong sh-

"I'm sorry."

The fuck? Chuuya snaps his head upwards, looking at Dazai from between the strands of hair that had fallen over his face. He scanned the other's expression, expecting something akin to a smirk. But there was none.

"I mean- Well! I'll leave Chibi to his tacky hats then." Dazai suddenly says, his voice lively yet strained. He reaches for the stray hat on the table, putting upon Chuuya's head and pulling the brim over his eyes.

Annoyed, Chuuya whips the damn thing off his head, prepared to shove it into Dazai's chest. But by the time he looks back at the other, all that could be seen was the tips of Dazai's coat-tails rounding out of his bedroom door.

"Hey wai-" Tears shot to Chuuya's eyes as he choked on air. With one leg on the floor and the other still nestled under the covers, he bent over coughing violently as his lungs struggled to comprehend what the fuck just happened.

His throat was burning. There was no way he could catch up to Dazai now.

-

After what seemed like forever, Chuuya's lungs finally decided to restart, allowing him to breathe in his first huge breath of air. Through blurry eyes, he barely managed to focus on the mess of beige in front of him.

"Chibi's so small he choked on air molecules?"

"Ah fuck you," Chuuya mumbled. He grabbed the glass of water Dazai held out for him, purposely avoiding eye-contact to prevent the other from noticing his shock and gratitude.

"You're welcome~ aand, you should probably put that down," referring to the bowl of soup that was barely holding itself together.

'Right." Chuuya placed it upon the tray. "Well," this was awkward. Just 2 minutes ago they were at each other's throats, and now they were.. staring at the ground in silence. "..I should, wash these. Plus you probably wrecked the kitchen, so I'll- yeah."

"Chuuya- are you sure you should-" Dazai started, then stopped.

Curse being partners for years, Chuuya knew what he meant even before he started. "It's just a cold, idiot. I'll be fine washing dishes. Stop cari- ahem. You look like shit, go shower or something."

When he got no reply, Chuuya continued. "There's bandages below the sink you can use, and- well. There's a set of clothes your size somewhere in my cupboard."

And this, snaps Dazai out of his silent trance. "So ChuuUya was planning a sleepover behind my back?"

"It was for emergencies, dammit! If you ever needed somewhere safe to stay, or something." Leaving it as that, Chuuya briskly walks out of the room, leaving Dazai to his own thoughts.

-

The bandages, Dazai later notices, were manufactured a mere 2 years ago, right when he had joined the Detective Agency, back when Chuuya had no way of knowing if he was alive or not.

But he still thought about me. Still bought them with a chance that I would use them someday.

"You even got my favourite brand, Chibi."

Staring at the "ON SALE!!" sticker on the back of the box, Dazai breaks into a soft smile.

Maybe, if Chuuya would allow him, he'd stay the night.

-end-

---------------

ugh that ending felt so rushed but honestly i feel like it fits them, since i think that initally, caretaking would be really awkward for them.

Notes: thank you so much for reading, and i hope its alright that i branch out of j/jk since, well, everyones fucking dead (/j) but moreso because i fell in love with characters from other fandoms too <3

[theircurse-archive4]

Genuinely AWFUL that we are most likely never getting Yumeno content ever again ( save for any mayoi crumbs and even those are rare ). We were lucky to even get that one singular CRUMB in season 3. Literally we have

˗ˏˋ One of the most powerful and most dangerous ability users that took down a LARGE PORTION of the mafia as a CHILD.

˗ˏˋ Someone who has chronologically been around the B/SD lore just as long as Dazai and Chuuya have been. LIKE WE'RE JUST GOING TO IGNORE THAT ?

˗ˏˋ Someone whose arc essentially ended in this dramatic reveal that they're not JUST this ' crazy kid that likes hurting everyone ' but a NORMAL CHILD with fears and sorrows and regrets just like anyone else and they just LEFT IT THERE.

˗ˏˋ Don't even get me started on how they would have been such a good candidate to play a role in the vampire arc because of the striking similarities to Bram / his character and ability but NOPE.

LIKE ASAGIRI I JUST WANNA TALK.

[what-on-earth-is-love]

people comparing vanitas to dazai and yato moodboard

[ofsavior]

.

[kushami-hime]

Who's your favorite B/SD character so far and why?

Im still trying to catch up but I FUCKING love Kunikida, he gives me such Iida vibes and he's so easy on the eyes.

Dazai and Atsushi are a close second, I must snuggle the weretiger bro 👀👀👀

[goodlucksnez]

Happy birthday d/azai! Literally did not know it was his birthday until noon today so I quickly made this wav with no script so sorry I know it is short but also dumb I had no ideas!

Please go check out others birthday snz content from poni and may! they are way better then me!!!!

Happy birthday to the trash man! lol

[kyouka-supremacy]

i was reading your post about kunikida and dazai and literally nodding my head irl

I'm very happy to hear that because I distinctively remember me scheduling that post thinking “This is going to get me two notes at best and anon hate at worst. Oh well ╮(. ❛ ᴗ ❛.)╭ ”. I'm happy you can find the post agreeable, thank you for sending this in!!!

There's also more about Dazai and Kenji I struggle to put in words... Like on one hand, it's canon that anyone feels comfortable with and in good terms with Kenji; on the other, Dazai isn't just anyone ajhsvcakshvcjs. I feel like Kenji represents this kind of sheer, absolute pureness that results scorching to Dazai? Maybe he feels like he's so inherently black, he'll end up having a bad influence on Kenji. Maybe he just feels Kenji too distant from what he is, like they belonged to different words. Idk.

I think Dazai would find some common ground with Kyouka though. I mean‚ they did have a sorta heartfelt conversation in canon already, in chapters 34-35. They both have experienced the pm firsthand. And Kyouka joined after Atsushi, so I think overall it's consistent with my picture of “the ada slowly warms up to Dazai after Atsushi has joined”.

[dapper-shipping-forever]

Similarly to what I said about my b sd s/is earlier, I have a special interest for chuuya with my ADA ! s/i

When they first meet they're opposing each other, him being a member of the port mafia and her a member of the armed detective agency, but they choose to partner together after realizing their current jobs align. It's unspoken, but they know they made a good team, and after completing the job there's a newly grown level of respect between them. She annoys him at first, being too cheerful and friendly for his tastes. But he can't help but hold her in a different regard. Whenever they see each other, there's an unexpected friendship between the two of them. Despite the ADA and the port mafia fighting, they never fight each other. Then when after the current manga arc, for reasons in the current arc I won't spoil for yall people, she is forced to join the port mafia. It hurts her because the ADA is basically her family, ranpo and fukuzawa literally are her family, and she has to turn away and leave for the port mafia. Mori tells chuuya that he's in charge of keeping an eye on her, and she moves into a spare room of his home. She acts alright with it, but the second she's in his house and they're alone, and he knows she's been feeling hurt the entire time, he tells her it's alright to lower the mask and he hugs her as she cries. They become much closer while she's staying with them. He's her companion making her feel better, and they both see new sides to each other. They have long talks, they sit in comfortable silences, they become great friends who trust each other a ton. And chuuya realizes he loves her, and he knows she can't stay. He swallows a lot of his pride and goes to Dazai, saying he knows that Dazai has a plan to get her back and to let him help. He knows mori would be angry if he knew chuuya disobeyed his orders, but he now cares a lot more about helping her. Because he knows this is hurting her. He refuses to let this bright girl be swallowed by the darkness the port mafia dwells in. After she's free from the deal she made and is back home, she knows he helped and thanks him with all the sincerity she can, and they hug. It's warm and tight and full of affection. They see each other more often than before she joined the port mafia, mostly in secret. He recognizes his feelings, but she hasn't quite yet. They keep getting closer quicker now, because they've bonded in a deeper way than before. After their feelings are out in the open to the other, it becomes a question of how to make things progress while being in opposing groups. It's cheesy, but like since B.SD is based around authors, I like to imagine there's a line about Romeo and juliet and rewriting that story. They're enemies, but they're going to do anything to stay together. Their feelings are too deep to turn back at that point, they're incredibly close comfortably.

[waterfallofspace]

Curiosities & Consequences

Happy birthday to @onetrickponi !!! I hope you have an amazing day today, andddd here's a lil gift for you!~

Tried to combine two things from your wishlist, "Anything where one character hears the other sneeze for the first time and they talk about it...extensively" as well as "#74 and #75 for A.ngo" Hopefully it turned out okay!~

Word Count: 4k Characters: A/ngo and O/da Set In the Dark Era, miiild b/sd spoilers, so proceed with caution!

“ihH’YTCHhew!” 

The noise cuts through the quiet bar, seeming to echo off every empty glass, being passed around like a ping pong ball of unfortunate timing. Oda’s glass stops swirling in his hand, the only outward indication he heard it. But god, how could he have missed it. 

Ango slowly removes the hand from his face, tilting his glasses down to clear the fog before Oda can notice how deep the heat soaks into his cheeks. It’s too late, of course. He’s trained to notice, and it’s not like anything about that was subtle. 

They stay frozen in that moment, Ango’s eyes hidden as they scan Oda for any indication of reaction. Maybe they’re just going to pretend it didn’t happen..? He’d always been so careful, especially around Dazai, if that man caught even an ounce of weakness, well… cat’s aren’t the only thing that play with their food before devouring it. But Oda never seemed the type for that sort of playful torture, at least not when Dazai wasn’t around. 

“Bless you, Ango.” 

It’s simple enough, not an indication there’s a conversation to be had, or a trap being set. Cautiously, Ango lifts a hand in reply, letting a light sniffle break free before speaking, attempting to conclude the interaction. 

“Thank you.” 

There’s silence again for a bit, broken only by the ice clinking against the filled glass as Oda resumes his careful swirls. Ango finds himself strangely mesmerized as the liquor catches the edge, gaining speed with each swirl. Surely they will spill out. Yet, Oda’s fingers twitch, bringing the glass to a new angle, keeping every drop in their place. 

“Never heard that before,” Oda says, the volume indicating it was meant to be heard, though his eyes never leave the glass. 

Ango takes a sip of his own drink, wishing it was something a lot stronger, more alcoholic. After a few painstaking minutes of silence, it becomes more apparent that he’s waiting for a reply. 

“Never heard what?” Ango offers, prompting the beginning of a discussion. One he’s almost certain he doesn’t want to have. 

“I mean, it’s common enough with Dazai. He’s quite sensitive in general, but more than that, he goes and makes a production of each one,” Oda trails off, the ghost of a smile lighting up the corners of his mouth. 

“Is that so,” Ango replies, careful to steady his hand as he takes another sip. This conversation is going exactly where he thought it might, but hoped it wouldn’t. Perhaps he can steer it more towards Dazai. He’s off on a mission, and while there’s no doubt he’ll return, unharmed, bored as ever, and with a few new gruesome stories, Oda’s worried for him. 

Oda nods slowly, taking another long sip. “I know you’ve noticed too.” 

“Hard not to,” Ango agrees, memories playing on a screen behind his eyes. “He really does like attention, doesn’t he?” 

“Only the right kinds. Not alone in that, is he?” 

Ango pauses, taking note of how Oda’s eyes still haven’t left his drink. There’s no indication in his tone that anything has changed. No move has been made, no chess piece shifted, and yet… the air gets thinner as Ango attempts to suck in a breath.

Silence seems the safest bet, any response will simply be taken as a continuation, and Oda’s more likely to drop it without interaction. Counterpart to the young executive who will continue pestering until he gets what he wants. 

“Always figured you’d be more subdued. Pent up, I guess.” 

Perhaps he’s been taking lessons. Dazai seems the type to teach his annoyances, eager to show Oda something new. For that matter, eager to show anyone something new. Silence is off the table, it would only make this worse, Oda doesn’t seem ready to drop it. 

Resigning himself with a sigh, Ango offers a light hum in reply. There wasn’t a question to answer, though one is sure to follow. 

“Are your sneezes always so desperate?” 

Despite the preparation, this catches him off guard. Ango raises his eyes, glass hitting the table with more force than he intended as he finds another set waiting to meet him. Oda gives him a look. Calculating, yet… amused? 

“I- What..?” Ango stutters out, not one to be lost for words, he attempts to find the string that will pull him back into the conversation with ease. For once, it seems to lead nowhere, continuing to sputter out beginnings to a sentence, never catching a grasp of the middle. 

Mercifully, Oda pulls him from the spiral, eyes still resting in Ango’s. “I always figured it would be more like the boss. Something subdued, polite even. With him, you can tell it’s holding back more, but it’s still quiet enough that you don’t pay it any mind.” 

“You’ve given this quite some thought,” Ango manages, composure hanging on by a thread as Oda repositions himself, hand against his chin, glass long abandoned on the table. 

“I guess it’s something about patterns, predicting things, understanding how people work. Keeps you safe in this line of work,” comes Oda’s reply, eyes still holding Ango’s. Searching for something? 

“Analyzing people’s sternutations provides you a sense of safety?” Ango says, humour masking the barely hidden embarrassment starting to take its place within his cheeks. 

“Not quite.” 

“What’s the point then, if I may ask?” 

Oda stops, blinks, and regards Ango with a newfound sense of confusion. As if the answer is something obvious, something they both knew, and Ango was playing the fool. It’s not as if Ango is new to the part, but in this drama, he’s simply playing himself. 

Amusement takes over where the confusion drifts off, Oda letting out a chuckle. Ango can’t help the smile that jumps into his eyes at this, laughter from Oda was always contagious. 

“I suppose,” Oda begins, finally letting his gaze drop back to his glass, “curiosity. You’re something of a mystery to me, though I guess in this line of work everyone is in one way or another.” 

“Well, then I suppose…” Ango takes in a breath, unsure why he’s about to offer this, and even less so why it feels so easy when it’s Oda. “I’ll indulge your curiosity for the night. I have no better plans, I don’t have another meeting till after Dazai returns.” 

Oda takes another calculated sip before turning back to Ango, a smile across his face. It’s plain, not overly joyful, no flashing teeth or beaming eyes, and yet… it’s the purest form of happiness Ango has ever seen. 

“I’ll repeat my question from before, are they always so desperate?” 

“No, they are not.” 

Oda doesn’t reply, simply watching Ango with that look that almost feels predatory, in a way that doesn’t set off a single alarm. It’s a comfortable sort of being watched, as if he’s already seen through you, and is just waiting for what comes next. 

After enough time it becomes clear an explanation is required, not simply an answer. 

“I suppose they always have that… power?” Ango begins, eyes flicking back to his drink as he once more longs for a stronger kick. “No, power’s not the right word.” 

“Desperation,” Oda offers. 

“Irritation,” Ango continues, feeling the ghost of a flutter begin to spread. Damn this all. “Though, you weren’t incorrect with the assumption they’d normally be more controlled.” 

“Like the boss. Dazai called it stifling, I was just going with suppression.” 

“He’s not incorrect,” Ango takes a pause to sip his drink and mentally curse the executive for his wide ranging knowledge. “I do normally… stifle. I find it draws less attention, makes it easier to maintain composure-”

“-And the upper hand,” Oda cuts in with, eyes once more flickering up to meet Ango’s. 

“Correct. Though, there are a few downsides, or situations where it’s not ideal to suppress them so dramatically.” 

Oda pauses, eyes tracing Ango’s face, analyzing. Finding weakness- no. Not looking for weaknesses… just, looking. For what? He always seems to be doing that, looking for something not quite there. 

Sure, he looks for the trap too, tries to see the danger, but… it’s more than that. It’s as if there’s another world, just outside ours, and he’s always watching it. It always did feel like that with those two. There was a world Dazai lived in, one Oda was watching, but Ango could never quite see. 

“And those would be?” Oda breaks through Ango’s thoughts, voice even as ever. 

“Well, there’s a couple answers to that. When it comes to downsides of stifling, it varies person to person. I find that I often get a headache if I continue for too long, though people like the boss don’t seem to share that struggle.” 

Oda chuckles, quietly offering, “I wouldn’t be so sure of that.” 

Electing to ignore the interruption, Ango continues. “Some people, like Dazai, seem to be unable to stop until they let it out fully. Though, I’m not exactly an expert on that, I’ve only seen it twice with him.” 

It’s easier when talking about someone else, when it’s just observing patterns. Maybe that’s why Oda was able to pursue this conversation without hesitation. Oda, for his part, seems to be soaking it all in. Perhaps taking mental notes, or just considering everything said. Either way, Ango can’t help but feel he’s a bit too interested for a conversation such as this. 

Lost in thought, Ango doesn’t feel it coming until, once again, it’s too late to prevent it. 

“hh’ieHTNG– shiew!” 

The stifle is barely contained, the breathy end of the sneeze still slipping out between Ango’s tented hands. It was desperate too, loud, and there’s no longer a chance the conversation doesn’t move back to him. 

“Bless you again,” Oda says, voice decidedly even. 

“Tha-k you,” Ango replies, voice decidedly not. 

“So, that was you stifling?” Oda asks, not waiting a second to let Ango compose himself once more. “I figured with how much you say you do it, you’d be better at it.” 

“Normally I am,” Ango retorts, a touch of offense plaguing his words. “It just… caught me off guard.” 

“Twice?” 

It’s phrased as a question, but no answer is required. This version of taunting he may not have learned from Dazai, but it’s most certainly a skill Dazai was happy to nurture.

“I was not… expecting the irritation today. It’s natural for the human body to release a sternutation from time to time without a catalyst to set it off, and I am much more prepared when it’s one of those-” 

Oda holds up a finger, Ango pausing his sentence. After a sip, Oda asks, “Shouldn’t those be what you’re not prepared for? There’s no indication they’re coming, unlike when you’re sick or run into somethin’ that sets you off.” 

“I suppose it’s more complicated than simple ‘expectations’. It’s more… desperation, as you put it. When it’s a natural one, I find it more tolerable. I can usually hold it off, or if not, stifling is an easy way to contain it.” 

Oda nods, gesturing for him to continue. 

“If it’s from an illness, or allergen, those are a lot more… desperate. They’re your immune system reacting to something as a threat, and taking precautions to avoid further assault.” 

“So,” Oda adds, locking eyes once more. “You’re saying that you find it harder to stifle the sneezing when you’re allergic to something?” 

“I- I suppose so, yes.” Ango says, feeling the heat flood his cheeks again as the hypothetical becomes direct. 

“And so you’re having an allergic response tonight?” Oda asks, eyes beginning to scan the bar, obviously for something new that could be setting this off. 

“Yes, I assume they’ve changed the cleaning products for the bar recently.” 

Debating a lie, Ango decides to go for the truth, hoping it’ll satisfy the curiosity before this gets even more unbearable. The more they talk about it, the deeper he can feel the itch beginning to crawl. 

“I didn’t smell anything different, though I guess I wasn’t exactly looking for it either,” Oda offers, obviously testing the air. Ango finds himself doing the same out of instinct, before realizing the error. 

“hH’INCh! nGT’ch!” 

“Didn’t you just say that hurt?” 

Ango manages a watery gaze, seeing something in Oda’s expression… concern? He doesn’t have time to think about it for long before the tickle seizes him again, ducking into his wrist with one, two, three, four tight expulsions, stifled damn near silently. 

The headache threatening to form begins to pulse against his temples, sigh escaping through gritted teeth. When he’s sure enough the fit has ended, Ango leans back, waiting for the next comment from his drinking partner. 

It doesn’t come. 

Instead, Ango finds himself in a long silence, once more only the clinking of ice against glass breaking up his thoughts. It’s not like he wanted a blessing, or a conversation, or god forbid a taunt, but… the silence is somehow worse. 

“Sorry”, Ango finds the apology slipping out, despite… not quite knowing what he’s sorry for. 

There’s another long pause, before Oda finally breaks through the tension. “It hurts, doesn’t it?” 

“Yes.” 

“Then why do it?” 

Nearly choking on his drink, Ango coughs out a shaky “Wh-what?” before meeting Oda’s unwavering gaze. There’s a determination in it, and… that same concern. 

“Why do it? If it hurts, and it’s just us here, why stifle them?” 

“Matter of habit, I guess,” Ango offers, the embarrassment starting to spill over into his ears. 

The answer seems to satisfy Oda, a more peaceful quiet falling over the bar. At least for a minute, until Oda breaks it again, voice softer this time. 

“You don’t have to do that with me.” 

Ango gives him a look, trying to catch the trap before he falls into it. Still, despite being unreadable as ever, Oda’s expression is… soft. Almost, gentle? 

“I don’t have to…?” 

“Stifle, I mean. I’ve already heard you sneeze, fully I mean, and well… I already know you’re allergic, what’s the point in hiding it?” Oda offers, glancing back at Ango with that same softness. It’s a look usually reserved for Dazai, and Ango can’t help but feel… strangely honoured that he received the same one. 

“Oh. I… suppose you’re correct,” Ango replies, raising an eyebrow as Oda begins to chuckle. “What’s so funny?” 

“Just, always thought you and Dazai were the smart ones, and yet I always find myself explaining the most basic concepts to you two. I guess even geniuses have gaps in their knowledge.” 

Oda’s still laughing, a sound so foreign to his normal composure, and within seconds Ango feels himself joining in. Every ounce of careful caution begins to flood from him with the laughter, till the bar is filled with sounds of joy. You’d never guess they were two members of one of the most dangerous operations in the country, in that moment, they were just two friends sharing a laugh over drinks. 

~~~~~

It’s a few days later when the two find themselves alone in Lupin once again. This time Dazai simply skipped the meeting, citing ‘annoyances of a higher degree to attend to’. They hadn’t asked what he meant, and he hadn’t offered. At first Ango was planning to skip as well, it was Dazai who had insisted they meet so soon anyways, but he felt bad leaving Oda all alone. 

Within minutes of sitting down, Ango had felt the itch begin to spread again, faster this time than the last. With a touch of desperation, his eyes had scanned the bar and, to his horror, found the cleaning supplies still sitting out. Thankfully Oda hadn’t arrived yet, so the first few fits were had in relative peace. The bartender had excused himself to another room after the first burst, most likely out of pity. 

It didn’t take long for the itch to begin spreading over his entire face, eyes watering as the tickle grew with each passing moment. He was just getting ready to text Oda that he couldn’t make it tonight when low and behold, the man showed up. 

If Oda noticed the state Ango was in, he didn’t mention it, simply sat down and began to sip the drink already waiting for him. Already preparing his excuses, Ango began to stand, before freezing. 

The tickle began its slow crawl, dancing up his nose, fluttering around his nostrils, that slow, painstaking itch, the one that meant this next fit was going to be desperate, itchy, and intense. 

“So what are we celebrating tonight?” With either the worst, or perhaps best, timing, Oda chose this moment to speak up, turning towards Ango. 

Words far beyond his reach at this stage, Ango can only cast a watery gaze towards Oda, nose twitching of its own volition. Oda meets his gaze with a calculated look, before offering him some kindness and turning away. 

“ngTChh!”  

The first is carefully stifled, jolting his whole body with the force of it. As the second begins to form, Oda is on his feet, moving with a speed and grace Ango rarely sees. When he stops, he’s standing before Ango, fingers gripping his arm. 

“You remember what we said about stifling?” 

The question isn’t expected, and Ango finds the sneeze backing away for a minute from sheer surprise. It doesn’t last long, the pinprick tickles spreading across the bridge, and with a desperate nod, he turns away from Oda, folding into his arm. 

“ihh’tyEYShhew! heHh– yEHTSHh’iew! ihTSHhh’iEW!” 

They’re pitchy, desperate, and leave him doubled over. Still, despite that, for the first time since he entered the bar, Ango breathes a sigh of relief as the tickle seems satisfied. 

“That must be one hell of an itch,” Oda chuckles, taking his seat once more and gesturing for Ango to be seated as well. 

“It’s one hell of an allergy,” Ango finds himself replying, seating himself back in the stool, acutely aware he’s leaning against the allergen itself. 

“Seems so. And you waited here anyways?” 

“We had plans,” Ango says, letting a sniff break free. He regrets it instantly as the fire lights in his sinuses once more. 

“iTCHhew! tSChhh– iew!” 

“Bless. Those don’t sound as desperate, maybe letting them out helps after all?” Oda says, eyes meeting Ango’s with a flicker of amusement. 

“It’s highly probable,” Ango replies, letting a finger scrub under his nose. His nostrils flare at the touch, breath starting to waver again. 

“Tickles when you do that?”

The question is sudden, and Ango feels heat flood his cheeks instantly. “Wh- what?” 

“Rub your nose like that. It usually stops the itch for me, but given how your nose is trembling, I’m guessin’ it just makes it itch more?” 

It’s still phrased as a question, seeking an answer, waiting for Ango to answer. He finds his words lost, finger still pressed under his nose as the tickle, ignorant to his embarrassment, continues to grow. 

“W-well… I don’t… I think-” Ango stutters, at a loss for words as Oda studies him. 

Finally the itch decides for him, tired of being held back, and he finds himself ducking away with another quick burst. The first is subdued, muffled against his sleeve, but by the third the desperation is back, pitchy, with almost a whine to them. 

This doesn’t go unnoticed by Oda, who wipes the smirk from his face when Ango glares at him through steamed glasses.

“Sorry, sorry. Bless again. I guess that answers my question.” 

“I suppose so,” Ango manages to choke out, a harsh sniff managing to stem the tide for now. But given he’s practically bathing in a chamber of allergen, it won’t be subdued for long. 

“So,” Oda starts, leaning closer with that same graceful speed. “What if I do this?” 

His finger brushes Ango’s nose, the soft contact eliciting a whine before Ango can even process the interaction. Ango feels the blush spread to his ears, eyes wide as he fumbles for words. 

“Wh- why are you… what are- hieHhh–” 

“Does it tickle when I do this?” Oda asks, voice even and measured, despite the position he’s placed himself in. 

Ango can barely think through the maddening itch, thoughts bouncing around with no real train to speak of. Oda’s finger begins to move gently, back and forth, tears springing to Ango’s eyes. 

Why would he do this? This is something Dazai would do. I’m gonna sneeze.  Is he testing a theory? Is it because I didn’t answer his question?  I’m gonna sneeze. 

Soon one thought becomes overwhelming, ‘have to sneeze’. With the last sense of decorum he has left, Ango manages to push himself away from Oda, only having time to duck into his wrist as the sneezes begin to break free. 

“iTChh– nnCHhh– ihHTChheEW! ahyESHHh’iew!” 

“Bless you,” Oda offers, voice still contained, as if he wasn’t solely to blame for this outburst. 

“tiEShhh’iew! hH– AHTSHh’ew!” 

“Bless again.”

“ngtchh! ah’dngtch! ngtt! nGT! eh’dGnt!” 

The fit trails off into desperate stifles, each one barely audible, no real power behind them, but overwhelmingly itchy. As Ango takes a breath, finally getting a break long enough to open his eyes, he soaks in the concern etched on Oda’s face. 

Despite this being entirely his fault, Ango still feels the urge to reassure him. 

“I’b- eh’tcHHhew! Id’s- hH’YETchh’ew! Sorry, I’b okay- eH’TSSHh– shiew!” 

With a final breath, the itch swells, and Ango turns into his arm for a final, desperate sneeze, scraping the edges of his throat. As he lets a few light coughs spill out, he turns back to Oda, who has apparently been speaking. 

“-test a theory. Guess I’ve picked up too much from Dazai, I just… didn’t expect that type of reaction. Are you alright, Ango?” 

“I-” Ango begins, voice breaking immediately. After another cough, and sip of the water Oda holds out to him, Ango tries again, waving off the concerned look Oda’s throwing his way. “I’m alright, really. It’s okay, you had no way of knowing it would cause… that.” 

Oda chuckles a bit, though his eyes still hold the concern. “I suppose not, but still. I’ve seen Dazai when he’s stuck in a room with dust for too long…” 

They both shudder at the memory, Ango mentally cursing the executive again for that book situation. 

“I should have put the pieces together. Besides, it’s not as if you’re exactly looking…” Oda trails off, gesturing vaguely to Ango’s face. 

“A bit rude, given this was your fault,” Ango scoffs, letting the smile show in his eyes when a light blush dusts Oda’s cheeks. 

“Sorry about that again.” 

“It’s alright, really. A fit like that was bound to happen, regardless of your interference. Besides,” Ango offers, taking his turn to blush. “It wasn’t exactly the first one I’ve had while in here.” 

“Is that why we’re alone here? I thought it was a bit weird there was no one to tend the bar,” Oda chuckles, smile spreading further as Ango groans lightly. 

“I think he pitied me, wanted to give me a hint of false privacy.” 

“You do look pretty rough,” Oda observes, rising from the bar once more. “Why don’t we get out of here? Dazai’s the one who wanted to meet anyways, and he didn’t even bother to show up. No use tormenting you.” 

Ango stands too, but pauses for a second, glancing down at the ice slowly melting in Oda’s drink. Despite the itch, despite the embarrassment, despite everything… 

“At least finish your drink first, I’m not one to waste liquor.” 

Oda seems surprised, but follows Ango’s lead and sits down again.

“You sure about this? I’d think you want to go home and sleep the reaction off.” 

With a smile, Ango meets Oda’s gaze. “I guess there are still some basic concepts you need explained too.” 

Despite the explanation never following, the message is well understood. Silence falls over the bar once more, broken only by the clinking of ice against glass, and a handful of desperate sneezes. 

Ango wouldn’t have it any other way. 

[edettethegreat]

Everything you said on the b*sd post, yes!!!!!! Feel free to ignore this it you'd rather not get into it any further (understandable lmao) but I couldn't agree more, thank you for putting it into words. The fact that everything downright cruel D*azai does is played off as joke is exactly the point, and honestly it's so disturbing (like seriously, how am I supposed to laugh at that?). Also if I may add, all the ruthless stuff he does during dark era - Akutagawa abuse on top - ends up coming off as way less impactful than it should: that's because at that point the audience is already sympathetic of him for having known him so long as "the good guy", and has already gotten used to gloss over all the brutal stuff he does because “ahah he's just like that™ ”. I don't want to get into this any longer (because man there'd be so much to say) but again thank you for being brave enough to voice your thoughts on him!! I hope Dazai stans won't kill you ahah.

I hope you have a wonderful day / night!! (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*.✧

YES EXACTLY

Dazai is the sort of person who literally derives pleasure and enjoyment from causing hardship (anything ranging from mild annoyance to outright extreme suffering) to others.

He ruthlessly and repeatedly ruins people’s days (or lives) for fun.

If bsd would have a laugh track though, it would play every time Dazai does something like that, because “welp that’s what the silly bandaged man does!”

I think if anything, bsd teaches the power of PR and how a public image can be manipulated, because if it wouldn’t advertise Dazai the way it does (ie show his traits in an order and in a way that makes them palatable for the audience), people would see through Dazai’s “silly goofy attitude“.

The only reason people don’t despise Dazai the way they despise characters like Umbridge (from the series that shall not be named) is because Umbridge is an old lady and Dazai is a young dude who many people find attractive. (Even though. Let me just say. He’s probably the most average and normal-looking characters in bsd. So Idk what you’re all seeing but whatever.)

I bet that if anyone would meet someone exactly like Dazai in real life, they wouldn’t find his actions so “silly” and “goofy” anymore.

[dadbodsarehot]

dazai is gay and he loves joseph sorry i make the rules here

YOU HEARD IT HERE FIRST FOLKS. DAZAI IS GAY AND HE LOVES ME SORRY B/SD FANDOM 

[mamichigo]

This might sound a bit mean, but I've been enjoying the new season of b/sd way more since I started going into it without any expectations (and the plot has finally picked up the pace which also helps). Yes, there's still things being left out (there always will be), but just seeing the characters animated is so much fun

Plus we got Dazai getting [redacted] in motion, that's all I could ask for