#but now Dazai is the first person who's ever chosen him for /him/ | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

unicornpopcorn14 · 6 months ago

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13 for the ship prompt! :D

Ship Prompts 13- Write about your ship celebrating one of the members birthdays. Ship chosen: Queerplatonic Skk I got carried away with this (3.5k words aaaaa) 😭😭 Hope you enjoy it, Darcy!! :D

Saccharine

“You’re aware what day of the year it is, right?”

Dazai’s eyes widen, fork still in his mouth as the chatter of the restaurant fades in his ears. It’s been four– almost five years, surely Chuuya isn’t alluding to that. The moment he meets the other’s peeved face, however, his mouth gapes, with the fork still inside it, and whispers in horror,

“Don’t-”

Chuuya cuts him off with an exasperated sigh, “I enjoyed those 51 days of me being a year older, but alas. The time has come for me-”

“Do not-”

“-to be nice to you for the whole day…”

“NOOOOO!!!” He grabs his hair as he lurches back, other customers turning to their table, “Chuuya, if you’re a sadist, I’d much rather find out in better ways!” He bangs on the table with flat hands, to which Chuuya’s veins bulge at, “Would you quit with that awful annual torture-?!”

“Come on, you do this every goddamn year!” Chuuya bickers back, “Indulge a little in what I put myself through for your ungrateful ass.”

“You do it because I don’t like it!”

“Well, true.” Chuuya shrugs, leaning back with folded arms, “But don’t you get at least a little tired from doing this shit constantly? I’d say this is a much needed change of pace-”

“First of all, how dare you suggest that this ‘shit’ is but a front. Maybe you can’t help but pretend to hate me– and I get it, after all, who could resist my charm? But I truly hate you-!”

“Uh huh.”

“-Second of all, I’d rather stay alive than ever go through that quote-un-quote: ‘needed change of pace’ for the third time in my miserable life!”

“That so?” The smirk that Chuuya wears sends Dazai’s long-have-been-numb nerves prickling in foreign agitation that he hasn’t felt in a long time-

“Oh my.” Chuuya’s tone and eyes instantly soften, and Dazai recoils back before he can help it, “Miserable life, Osamu? I’m so sorry to hear that. We can talk about it, you know-”

Dazai clasps his ears shut, “Shut uuuup!!!”

“As you wish,” Dazai grimaces even further because Chuuya just listened to him, “but do know I am always here to talk, yeah?” Chuuya unsheathes one of his gloves to take Dazai’s hand into his own, expression so uncanny as he genuinely smiles at Dazai. The brunette feels sick-

“I’ll avoid you for the whole day if you keep this up!” He threatens crackly, can’t bring himself to take his hand away, “The Agency is definitely pummeling without me helping with the paperwork.”

Chuuya normally would tell him that he slacks on the job anyway, but now he just simply closes his eyes, that same damn smile on his face, “Just say the word, and I’ll give you all the space you need. Never doubt that, mackerel.”

The pet name doesn’t grant him the normalcy he’s desperate for when Chuuya says it in that tone of voice, “No- You’re not supposed to-!” Dazai can sense that his lack of acutely predicting Chuuya’s responses might drive him crazy very soon, so he attempts to try to calm himself, “Aren’t there mafia business for you to attend, Mr. Executive? Does Mori even know you’re here?”

“Don’t worry, Osamu, I freed the whole day just for you.”

“Stop calling me that-”

“Anything you want-”

“Raaaaaghhh!!!” Now he takes his hand back, clutching it on his chest as if he’s been burned, “You’ll crack. You’ll definitely crack. There is no chance you’re keeping this up forever. Your tiny brain won’t handle it!”

But he knows that isn’t the case, because Chuuya’s tiny brain had handled it for the whole day during his seventeenth and eighteenth birthday, and now at 23, his tolerance to Dazai’s insults have significantly heightened, to the brunette’s sheer disdain.

Chuuya tilts his head a little, hair swaying, completing his sickeningly sweet demeanor, “I’d do anything for the most precious person in the world.”

“Eugh- I think I threw up in my mouth a little.” He gags with a fist on his mouth, voice groggy-

The waiter comes up to them, telling them that the other customers have complained about Dazai’s occasional shrieks. Chuuya, still so freaking sweetly, informs her that they were leaving already, pays the restaurant without complaining once about Dazai never pulling his own weight, and they take off.

“This is a nightmare.” Dazai says after a long moment of silence between them, something that never happens, “My feisty dog is suddenly nice, he’s definitely transpiring something wicked against me!”

Chuuya- Chuuya laughs, “You know you’re ridiculous with that…” He doesn’t say it meanly, wiping a tear, which Dazai’s brain haywires at-

“Really, now? Laughing at calling you my dog?” The smallest of frowns dares crease his forehead, “This is too much, even for you.”

“What? You’re funny.” Dazai’s face pales- greens even, “So, where do you want to go, birthday boy?”

Dazai bristles at the nickname, then inhales to calm himself, an idea springing up, “Fine. You asked for it, Slug!” He knows just the perfect way to break him, “We’re going to the arcade.”

He sees the flash in Chuuya’s eyes, and deems himself victorious. Chuuya would never maintain this bullshit at the arcade given his ridiculously competitive nature. He’ll definitely scream at Dazai once or twice out of habit more than anything-

Nothing.

Clearly Chuuya’s willpower has also improved through the years, because there isn’t a single aggressive shout, there isn’t any accusations of Dazai tampering with the machines (he had), and though Chuuya laughs and enjoys the rounds, what he utters after his loss is the straw that breaks the camel’s back,

“Aw shucks. Good match, that was fun.”

Dazai leaps from his seat and turns around the machines to reach the redhead, grabbing his cheeks with panicked eyes, “Chuuya, Chuuya are you in there?! I think you’ve been possessed!” He speaks to the eyes, sensing their amused confusion, “Do something to tell me you’re in there! Any sign!”

Chuuya smiles.

“Ahh!” Dazai lets him go instantly, “Begone, demon!!”

“Come on, now.” The not-Chuuya says fondly- eughhh, “Up for another round?”

“No!” This didn’t work. Dazai needs to think of other ways, make up a plan. Operation: exorcising this cloying demon out of his partner begins in-

“How about we go to my apartment? I have a surprise for you.”

Dazai’s eyes dart as his mind runs in terrifying speeds, addressing the other without looking, “I don’t trust you with surprises right now. You may be small, but you’re no less terrifying.”

Chuuya chuckles, “You’ll love it, trust me-”

Dazai gets into a fighting stance, gasping, “Do not speak of trust with that tone of voice, not-Chuuya!”

Chuuya chuckles again, and his silky tone coaxes him to follow him to his apartment, nevertheless. Dazai can’t believe he’ll have to endure seven more hours of this, planning to break a thing or two of Chuuya’s belongings out of spite if nothing else.

“Don’t think your façade is fooling me, I can see right through you!” He announces impatiently from the couch, leg bouncing up and down as Chuuya pours drinks from the kitchen, “You gagged at least twice through this, didn’t you? Admit it.”

Chuuya laughs again, a record in Dazai’s book. This is so ridiculous. “Stop cracking me up, I can’t pour the drinks.”

Dazai sulks, sinking into the couch, “Shut up…” But it’s weak, replaced by flusterment he can’t ebb down. He feels suddenly helpless with the lack of the reactions, and wonders if he’s losing his touch. The antique vase looks like it wants to crash into the floor in full speed so much right now.

“You’re a little red.” Not-Chuuya is suddenly in front of him, sitting down as he gapes up at him in amusement, “Cute.” He attempts to give Daza his drink.

Dazai, with crossed arms, huffs and turns away, “I’m not talking to you.”

“Why? Did I do anything wrong?” Chuuya asks gently with a smile, placing the glass on the table. Dazai turns even further in order to hide the other from his peripheral.

No, you didn’t. And that’s the problem.

“Your hair looks soft. Fluffy.” Dazai suddenly feels fingers running through the back of his head. His noddle whips so fast his neck feels like it cracked,

“Ew, ew! Don’t touch me, cheap-Chibi-replica!!” He doesn’t exactly flinch away, fuming, “The real Chuuya calls my hair a dirty mop all the time! Do better!”

Not-Chuuya brushes his bangs this time, fixated on them as he speaks, “Maybe he never told you those things because…” He pauses, eyes down-casting a little. Dazai begged him to say ‘you’re a pain in the ass’. It’s what he expects, it’s what makes perfect sense, it’s what aligns with the Chuuya he knows like the back of his hand, pleasepleaseplease-

“…he never really thought he deserved you enough to do so.”

Dazai rigids, “WHAT?!”

“He’s afraid of things he’ll lose.” Chuuya, to Dazai’s absolute disdain, explains, “So he tries his best to push everyone away. Everyone he’s sure will be too precious to him, everyone he’ll latch onto just a little too much, he tries his best to maintain his distance from th-”

“Chuuya, I have never been more serious with you in my life: Please stop.” Dazai numbly says, suddenly so, so exhausted.

The redhead’s mouth clasps, as per request, but he clarifies that it still isn’t over, “Only six more hours and I will.”

“Why?” Dazai stresses, uncomfortable, “You can end it here. Nothing obligates you to-”

“You never asked for your surprise.” Chuuya cuts him off.

Dazai blinks, turning to him, “If I see it, will you stop?”

“Only if you want to.”

“Of course I will.” Dazai rolls his eyes, “Now, on with it. If it gets the real Chuuya out, then the sooner the better.”

Chuuya smiles, but there is something solemn regarding it. He gets up, with Dazai observing his every move, and scurries through a drawer big and wide enough to accommodate stacks of files and documents. Dazai’s eyes narrow, never taking interest to rummage through this particular drawer for how boring its contents appear to be, but now his interest in piqued, as Chuuya finds what he’s looking for with a small: “Aha.”

Dazai thinks he sees an envelope in Chuuya’s hand as he ambles closer, but that can’t be right-

“Here.”

“Your surprise is a letter?” Dazai truly hasn’t been more confused in his life. He hates that he can’t see where this is going, inspecting the brown envelope as he speaks, “Chuuya, I don’t think there is anything you can’t verbally say to me now, do you? This is usele-”

His eyes widen, breath catching in his throat as he reads the name embedded on the paper.

From: Odasaku

Time seems to stop while Dazai reads the nickname once, twice. It’s in English cursive that can never be Chuuya’s handwriting, and his hands tremble ever so slightly the moment he registers the credibility of what he’s holding. This is real.

“You- wh-” He looks back and forth between the envelope and Chuuya’s gentle eyes, gaze never seeming to want to leave either.

Chuuya sits on the couch, voice subdued, “Your Executive desk was cleared by me after your defection, as per my own request. I was admittedly selfish– looking for anything you might have left for me before you left. Something to explain, anything-”

“Chuuya-”

“Hey, let me finish, will you?” Chuuya sends him a soft smile in reassurance, “I found this instead, read the first two paragraphs before I closed it again. It explained everything I needed to know, Dazai.” He leans back, drinking out of the wine glass, “You can read it privately if you want.”

But Dazai doesn’t get up, scrambling to take the paper out with shaky fingers. His heart wildly throbs once a long wall of text meets his widened eyes,

This is but my latest prose as a person worthy of being a writer, a person who is not tainted with blood. Dazai, if I die before seeing you one last time, I do not wish to end things between us on such terms. There is a lot I wish to tell you before I leave…

Dazai reads every word, eyes welling against his will, making the letters blur and scramble as one. Oda speaks of their time together, his fondest memories, his ideals- tells him he would’ve left a letter for Ango hadn’t it been for the circumstances. Tells him the name of his adopted children, the characteristics each of them had.

I, truly, have considered you one of them.

Oda informs him of how much he resembled a burnt black cat the first time they met, how he doesn’t seem as burnt now. Dazai chuckles wetly as Odasaku says that he’s happy he’d known him, even for a short while, even in their circumstances.

Whatever path you’ll choose after what occurs, please remember this:

The brunette suddenly hiccups, an ugly sound seldom forced out of him. He covers his mouth, finds his lips too shaky to form words, heart feeling more than all it had felt in almost half a decade-

“He said he’s proud of me, even before knowing I’d defect.” He isn’t sure why he’s whispering this to his partner, “He-” His cheeks feel wetter than before, to which he looks at his hand. Droplets of salt continue to fall on them so assertively, he thinks they might cause them to bleed,

“What is this- what have you done to me…?” Dazai knows he’s crying, he just doesn’t know why he can’t will himself to feel numb again. Everything is hazy and sloppy and wet, and he keeps the precious paper away, afraid it will get caught up in that uncontrollable mess…

“Do you hate it?” Chuuya asks faintly, with some regret in it. Dazai shakes his head, leaving the letter on the table-

“No, I don’t but- these monstrous things won’t stop.” He croaks as he wipes with both hands on his face, and to his horror the tears double, the sobs get even more violent, “I think I’ve been possessed, too…”

“Hey, come here…” Chuuya guides him through his fit, which Dazai blindly follows, till he finds himself with a weight on his laps and both arms and legs embracing him. Dazai latches back so tightly, trembling as he puts all of his force into the fists that both hit Chuuya lightly and grab the back of his shirt with. He doesn’t have to wipe the tears when Chuuya’s garment acts as a napkin, soaking every single thing he wishes to hide.

“He said he’s proud…” Dazai repeats, squeaks, burying his nose into the warmth of his partner.

“That he did.” Chuuya’s ungloved fingers caress his hair, and don’t stop until the persistent tears finally stop flowing. Dazai stays huddled in the warmth for more seconds despite himself, selfishly wishing to steal it all, before shifting to indicate his desire to draw away, and Chuuya instantly gets off of him.

He can’t bring himself to look at the azure pupils no matter how hard he tries, eyes shifting away to the table and the carpet and the hands on his lap.

It has been long since he’s felt this bare, much less over a gift. He had received many birthday presents in the last two years especially: Ranpo would give him all the sweets he could offer, Kenji crops from his field, Kyouka pretty daggers, Atsushi hugs and flowers, the Tanizaki siblings a cake of their making, Yosano fancy wine bottles, Kunikida would treat him to a meal, and Fukuzawa would orchestrate the whole party…

While it would all be appreciated, he never really felt any joy over being one year older. Most times he regrets ever living this long, so he doesn’t regard the gifts or parties done in his honor with as much gratefulness as he feels he’s supposed to.

But this? This one letter lying opened on the table?

It might be the best birthday gift he’d… ever received.

And he wants to let Chuuya know that.

“Uh.” What was he supposed to say again? What did normal people say in situations like this? Thank you? Sorry? “You’re… appreciable, slug.”

That was neither- what the fuck, brain??

Chuuya would have pointed his terrible attempt at being grateful out at any other day, but now he simply smiles relievedly,

“I’m glad you like it.”

This version of his partner is starting to prove that he isn’t so bad, after all.

Dazai frowns, still avoiding eye-contact, “No, um, what I mean is… mmmm….” He sinks so far in the couch, till only his head is reclining by the back of the seat. He crosses his arms and averts his face, physically forcing himself to say it, “tnks…” he whispers.

“Hm?”

It’s a beat, then Dazai roughly flops his head on Chuuya’s lap, because he can’t articulate his appreciation with words, and thus wants to show it by doing something Chuuya likes, which is having to look down to see Dazai instead of the other way around. He feels the other tense for a second before his hand reluctantly cups his brown hair in question.

“Thanks.” Dazai grits into Chuuya’s pants, then rolls on his back, finally meeting the amused blues, “Don’t get the wrong idea, demon, you won’t catch me saying this to the real Chuuya at all. But you get a pass. Only this once.”

“Might as well feel honored, huh?” Chuuya chuckles, and it’s truly genuine.

A small smile cracks Dazai’s face for a mere second. Wannabe-Chuuya is really more acquainted to handle these moments than regular Chuuya. It’s definitely why he waited for Dazai’s birthday to hand the letter to him– an excuse to show his raw and real care that Dazai undeservedly bathes himself in.

“So, do you want him back, now?”

Dazai doesn’t, but can't ever shed light on contradicting himself, so he dramatically says instead, “I’ll think about it.”

The redhead’s brow ridges, though not with his typical ‘I’m done with your bullshit’ frown. It’s with a smile.

He wonders when Chuuya ever learned to be this good of an actor.

Dazai feigns a long sigh, “Fine, you can stay a little longer…” then pauses, blinking upwards, “Wait- am I betraying real-Chuuya that way?”

“I’m sure he doesn’t mind.” Chuuya says as he strokes Dazai’s unkempt bangs away from his face.

Dazai’s mouth curls in displeasure because he likes it, “I hate you.”

“He hates you too, buddy.” It’s better to hear it in third person, like this part of Chuuya forever believes he is worth not being hated, “Wanna spend the rest of the day here or go somewhere else?”

“Energy’s gone, not-my-Chibi.” He twirls the long end of the fiery hair in a finger, “Outdoor activities will be a chore…”

Chuuya shakes his head and rolls his eyes in fondness, “This might be the lamest birthday setting ever.”

“That’s exactly right.” Dazai sneers, “But when were we ever conventional with the way we do things?”

“Touche. At least I got a cake and a candle.”

“Ugh, no. You know I hate formalities.”

They carry it out anyway, with Dazai ruining Chuuya’s attempts to sing properly, and Chuuya being patient through and through.

His partner must have expected Dazai to want to stay home after receiving his gift, because they spend the next six hours doing everything Dazai likes– They play videogames, they cook and Dazai makes the kitchen an unsalvageable mess, they wildly dance together and stumble on their feet, they watch murder mysteries and brain rotting soap operas in a pillow fort, they play with cards and Chuuya loses every single time.

It's until there is fifteen minutes left till midnight, with Dazai getting his hair braided, that he finds himself glancing back with a devious idea in mind. Testing Chuuya’s willpower one last time wouldn’t hurt, would it…?

“Ah, so. I hate to admit it– who am I kidding, no I don't,” He gives an exaggerated winces as he glances back, “but I maybe, sorta bleached all your coats while you were in the restroom when I was mad at you.”

Chuuya pauses his braiding, staring at Dazai for a long while… then all of the veins on his body pop-

He gets yanked backwards by the hair, “Ow, OW!” Dazai laughs because finally, “My, Chuuya, you’re back sooner than expected!”

Chuuya grabs him in a chokehold, which Dazai tries to escape from, “I can’t fucking take it anymore,” He growls, and Dazai laughs even harder, “My coats? MY COATS, DAZAI?!”

“It’s tie-dye season! Never heard of tie-dye season?!” Dazai slips downwards, successfully scrambling away as Chuuya attempts to grab him but he isn’t fast enough-

“GET YOUR ASS BACK HERE!!”

Dazai's half-done braids bounce as he sprints, “Bring nice-Chuuya back first!!”

“SAY GOODBYE TO HIM FOREVER, BASTARD!”

“What?! Noooo, call me Osamu one last time!”

“IN YOUR WILDEST FUCKING DREAMS!!”

They pause the chase when Dazai’s behind the kitchen counter and Chuuya’s outside, if only to catch their breaths, “You know, if it weren’t for the fact that me being nice isn’t as effective on you, I’d have made it a staple on your birthday as well!”

Dazai grins evilly, as Chuuya pales.

“How would that go, again?” Dazai taps his chin, “Oh, Nakahara-Sama, You’re so smart and cool.” Chuuya’s face turns green, the piled urge to vomit since he’d started his act finally getting to him, “You are definitely not a dog and you’re actually the perfect height, goes nicely with your figure and strong build-“

“No, fuck! Euuugh!!!” Chuuya actively empties his stomach in a conveniently placed bucket, Dazai claps in victory,

“Aha! Maximum damage!!!” He points at him, “What comes around goes around, Slug!!”

“You’ll fucking pay for that!”

Chuuya breaks the door of the kitchen down, adding to the unhopeful mess Dazai’d made. Their wild goose chase keeps going till three in the morning.

And Dazai? Keeps laughing till all his heart’s content…

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spacexseven · 2 years ago

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A ROYAL AFFAIR - Time loop // Transmigration typical horror // Royal Otome Isekai/Fantasy Au :)

A KNIGHT IN SHINING ARMOR , you — or the unfortunate scapegoat who took on the shouldering blame of their cruel, cruel crown prince, Osamu Dazai. huh ? oh dear, a LOOPING DOOMED FOOL AMNESIAC FOOL you are? oh dear, oh dear!

(you don’t need to remember this. You don’t need to remember any of this.)

You can’t exactly remember why your chosen lord decided to have you executed for crimes you didn’t commit, but for a mere second you could’ve swore you saw his expression changed from confidence to fear as you were… killed. And yet, no blood is spilled. No wound lays upon your skin, awake and hungry for your pain. Instead, you’re in your sleepwear?

As dizziness spills away with your go through your morning routine, and you realize you've somehow managed to be sent back in the past: on the very first day of having the once in a lifetime opportunity of choosing your own lord to follow and pledge your life to.

a “once in a lifetime opportunity”, and yet, you have a second chance to change it.

The “Prince” Charming(s):

The Kingdom you live in, only the talented and strong rule. There isn't a specific true bloodline that remains in the royal family for the eternal rule of the kingdom is simple: choose the prince that conquers the throne and the heart of people. how one may interpret is to their own personal preference and opinions.

THE SECOND PRINCE, Dazai Osamu. Your prince, your lord, your life, and even once, you might’ve been able to call him your love. You had been blessed with the opportunity to serve under the eccentric prince of house Dazai. He has the reputation for spending his time on brothels and wandering the streets instead of walking the corridors of the palace to manage affairs or work as a diplomat. A sharp contrast to his more “Princely” rivals.

Rumors: oh the rumors! He has no ambition for the throne! preferring to lay in bed with the random person he had entangled himself with the night instead of running estates or completing campaigns. They say his mother was a noble woman! a beauty like no other, and one that tried to usurp the reigning queen. However the Prince doesn’t speak about that, nor does House Dazai ever talk about a woman that could be the second prince's mother. (here the rumors trail to darker words and secrets that kill: They say that the second prince is a born from the cursed bride of the devil. he destroys and corrupts everything he touches. he remembers his past lives as a demon whose purpose was nothing more than pure evil, and is now searching for an ounce of futile redemption. The second prince killed his own mother. Dazai Osamu has no living relatives and those that wander around the House Dazai are nothing but distant branch relatives, no true blood. The servants that speak too much disappear. The child that belonged to House Akutagawa is said to have been stolen and murdered in a fit of envy by the second prince.)

However, you shouldn’t pay too much attention to the useless babble that people contort for their gain! it’s only rumors after all.

What you know (or at least what you thought you knew): Beneath that eccentric and annoying behavior lies a more cynical and tired man. One whose hands are stained with too much blood. You had grown from holding disdain to respect as you had slowly peeled layer after layer off of Dazai and seen the truth. He worked hard for what he wanted, and what he wanted was the throne. He was cruel, yes, but brutal reality of the holding the title of prince was a burdensome one of torture and horrors.

The truth was this: Your father held enough respect for the second prince’s house that you helped but attempted to satisfy your curiosity by pledging your life and loyalty to the annoying second prince, Osamu of House Dazai. You didn’t expect to grow to care for the bratty and havoc wreaking prince, who like you, was also craving for company. Lonely and hungry for something. For someone. You had soothed the scars that he held and he soothed yours. A handkerchief is placed to the side when you get a graze or wound, balm and herbs acting as a remedy. A book is shared between the two of you filled to the brim with recipes of food and a variety of desserts and dishes you have tried and would like to try. A dagger, one gifted to you by Dazai as “As any proper little guard dog should have” said with the emblem of both your house and his, and your initials adorned at the side.

You give Dazai your heart and don’t look back.

Dazai was the one at your bedside when you got wounded after each conflict. Dazai was the one who looked after each document to ensure that nothing would go wrong. Dazai who stabbed a man after you had been poisoned. Dazai who you teased and he teased you back. Dazai who you kissed and kissed like foolish children falling in love for the first time. Dazai was the one who taught how to live, how to love, and how to die. For a man that talked too much about taking his own life, he oddly encouraged you to live.

Perhaps, that’s why you never saw the betrayal coming.

The princes start failing ill. one by one, they begin to drop. The Crown Prince’s death is an atrocity — brutal dismemberment and audience of many, and yet no true culprit has been found. Until key elements are revealed: a location of weapon, a dagger that’s all too familiar, and alibis that can’t seem to match up.

(“I was with his highness. I was always with his highness.”

“His highness denies that.”

The look that you catch on Dazai’s face is one you’ve seen many times, but never had it been directed at you.

A look mixed with hatred, disgust and slight indifference.

You had never felt like such a fool until that moment.

really, how much of a fool do you have to be that you didn’t see this coming ?)

The next thing you see is a sighing Dazai as he waves you away when the personal royal guards take you away to the prison, or should’ve taken you away.

Instead: You don’t have any relief as you walk each hollow step to your own execution.

This is what you know: you loved dazai with all your heart, and he betrayed you and left you to die. You won’t go through that again.

what you don’t know (oh, haven’t you done this before?) : in your first life, so many things went awry. Your choice in prince condemned you to a death — a death that King Osamu hadn’t seen coming, after all, you were never supposed to actually die. You will never get to see him go through his coronation. Never get to tease or talk to him again. You won’t see the horrors that took place in your public execution as he put down your executioner as they had put you down mere minutes ago. You won’t see him as he cradles you in his failing attempt to break down and destroy everything in his sight. The failed spell casting as your wounds heal, but your pulse never comes.

The blank look is basically carved into Dazai’s face as he carries your body back to the palace, seals anybody’s mouth shut. The silence that follows as the crowds of watchers, both innocent and guilty, part ways in fear as orders are placed: find the perpetrators that went through this and burn and kill everyone who stands in the way allows for paranoia and violence to grow rampantly only to be crushed in one fell swoop by the tyrannical demon king Osamu Dazai.

He hunts the traitors in your name. Your name that comes to become obscure and taboo unless they gain the rage of the tyrant demon king. A rusted dagger adorns his hip; he keeps an old handkerchief and a pair of rings under the floorboards with a book of recipes that will never see the light of day again.

What you know (again and again. you have to repeat yourself to make sure you actually listen lest you go back crawling to the familiarity of man who you once knew): The second prince is a cruel and dangerous man. More than willingly to manipulate and use others for the sake of his own goals.

you will never allow yourself to be damned again by a monster like that.

(instead a different monster will lead you astray.)

THE THIRD PRINCE, Nakahara Chuuya, the son of a foreign noble who married into the duchy and managed to land their way into having their child become one of the would be chosen princes. Your rival and enemy for being the rival to Dazai for being a candidate for throne, or had been a rival. He is also your victim and dirty secret that you took to the grave. You can’t to look at his for too long or else you might actually breakdown. Chuuya’s only crime had been to exist as the same era as Dazai’s.

Rumors: he’s connected to an organization that kills and blackmails people. didn’t you know? the third prince’s paramour’s all end dead at the end. There is no reason to grow close to man who’s lovers all end dead or missing. They say he’s cursed by the result of his foreign blood! (They say that the current third prince isn’t the real prince. He took over the original candidate and all that remains is a fraud or an impersonator bribed by one of the other prince candidates.) It’s all rather funny considering that all of these have ended up at the court and yet the ruckus created by the third prince either blows them out of proportion or erases them completely. (Does anyone recall anything of the third prince’s origins? nobody?)

what you know: Chuuya, Unlike Dazai, managed the lands that he had under his domain and was well known for being a major wine tycoon. He visited high society houses and shops, a lover of luxury goods and rare valuables. He has a temper and knows how to hit, be it verbally or physically. He has a long line of lovers but a shocking amount coffins to go along side the long line of paramours. He’s been cursed by something. And… he trusts those under his command even if he is rather brittle and rough around the edges at the beginning. He struggles with his magical capabilities and leaves his right side wide open when attacking after he’s grown extremely tired — a quick slice to his throat and he’ll be too weak to hide from the attack to his chest.

He rolls his rs a lot more. Enjoys petting the local hunting canines and a has a small collection of novels that pile up. He gifts you a journal which you keep. He teaches how to pry secrets with only using words instead of fists. A touch of magic is thrown here and there because Dazai doesn’t enjoy using magic: “That asshole was never good at using any magic aside from nullifying it.”

You keep this knowledge to yourself. He, is not your lord.

(You cannot look at his face without remembering the peaceful and almost joyful look as the third prince smiled when you took his life. A request and order for Dazai. After that, you didn’t dare to raise your sword again unless it was to protect your lord.)

what you don’t know: He knew that it would happen. It was bound to happen sooner or later. Chuuya knew far too much too be left alive. He doesn’t hold it against you, only blames the circumstances that lead up to this and throws the blame on both the Devil and Dazai.

The las thing he gets to see is your pained expression as you bring down your sword.

(It could worse. It could always be worse)

A memory of something: Chuuya doesn’t mean for you get aggravated by his comments but he truly means well when he says to watch out for Dazai.

You learn this lesson a little too late.

THE FOURTH PRINCE, Dostoevsky Fyodor, and arguably the only one with the shred of royal blood, although it's often ignored for its foreign connection. The son of a low ranking concubine, a former princess, and rumored witch.

Rumors: the demon. the devil. a corpse. The bastard prince born out of black and cursed magic. that’s all that grows for the fourth prince. anything else is spoken of and nothing else is silenced. it’s eerily almost manufactured… but these are only rumors.

What you know: you don’t know if the bastard and dark sorcerer rumors and slanders hold any value to them, but you follow the motto of “seeing is believing” as well as choosing to make your opinion of things instead of going along and believing anything people whisper and babble about.

The fourth prince is far more private compared to the second or third prince. He lays away in a casino, his casino to exact. Something you only visited once or twice before with Dazai. He’s a very pretty man, but it’s rather obvious he’s far more frail and sickly than his rivals.

You don’t recall having the fourth prince as an enemy because you recall exactly how he dies. a slip of poison in a banquet and in a week, you’re side by side to Dazai and a weepy jester “honouring” the fourth prince. The jester hollers and cackles as he goes through a routine if comedy that shouldn’t make you smile but the odd glint in his eye fades whenever he looks at you and you push all these thoughts away because you don’t need to remember this and this is unnecessary —- Right. How could you forget? The fourth prince died in a sudden illness and it was unfortunate.

(you don’t need to remember)

what you (do)n’t know: Fyodor is a powerful mage and he won’t show his cards until the time is right. He curses and lies to ensure his own victory. Nikolai always watching and waiting for his commands. His death is far too easy to fake.

Frankly, the crown prince’s death is easier to make. Sacrificing the devil to ensure the Crown prince is vessel for the monster, his beast, is utterly child’s play to do.

It’s even easier to make false evidence and manipulate the other prince’s to destroy and attack themselves.

When his eyes land on the foolish knight of the second prince’s his luck has never been better.

(and yet? why does he grow bitter and even upset as he wakes up, a sense of deja vu, as he watches you prepare your usual duty as his knight. )

what is now: going on your knee and kissing his hand. You pledge your allegiance, your loyalty, and life to the sickly and weak fourth prince. Your lord and reason to live. You will be his tool for protection and slaughter. Sense of familiarity comes along this twisted road. You walk along someone you once saw in another. You see Dazai in Fyodor and you wonder why you don’t feel as afraid as you should be.

(you wonder when he’s going to betray you too.)

THE FIRST and CURRENT CROWN PRINCE, and the current owner of amnesia and ever growing trauma, Sigma, or rather THE CURSED OUTSIDER. Waking upon a body with no memories aside from the first ones being gained by meeting Fyodor Dostoevsky. His true name is unknown by the tradition of obscuring the crown prince’s name to avoid it being cursed, and yet it's both a burden and blessing to bear for him as he knows very well that he is nothing but an imposter.

Sigma remembers dying. Sigma remembers dying ( a laugh, a coat, a mere touch, and something stolen —) and remembers it being awfully painful. What Sigma doesn’t recall is who killed him or how he did, once again, in a new environment with eerily familiar faces. If there is a god, then it’s deemed Sigma is a favored jester because his life has to be some sort of divine comedy; otherwise, there is no explanation for the absurdities that he experiences.

Sigma has no House or connections to stand on. The closest thing he has to an ally is the ever uneasy companion that is the fourth prince, Fyodor. Who smiles at him like he knows more than he should and lies like he breathes. Sigma is alone and is a target for everyone that aches to have the throne for themselves.

And so it feels like a lucky break when you suddenly appear in his life, or rather his lives.

Because Sigma proceeds to die only to wake up again in confusion with Fyodor once again explaining his “background.”

Suddenly a lot of things begin to make sense.

Sigma has been repeating his life after the his terrible death and he is also sent back after you die.

You don’t know Sigma. There is no rumors, no speculation, no knowledge of the before or after or even the present. That’s fine. Sure. Okay. Sigma can work with that. (he tells himself that so he can ignore the twisted feeling of anger and grief he feels as he catches you staring him in confusion once more.) As long as he can figure out what the hell is causing this cycle and how he can save both your lives then Sigma will be happy.

Happy Birthday Tuna! sorry for the speedy and honestly half nonsensical birthday gift. I just wanted to make something for you. - 🦄

oh 🦄 anon my beloved...am actually wiping away tears bc this is the most wonderful thing ive had the honor of seeing :(

thank you for all the effort put into this, it's really well written! all the characters n their backstories are so detailed and fleshed out and ahhh this is the sweetest thing anyone's ever done for me head in my hands ㅠㅠㅠㅠㅠㅠ

im such a sucker for time travelling tropes and w a good dose and the twist w sigma!! this is so wonderful ill read a full fleshed book about this

i love prince dazai :((( even if hes a little bit scummy i adore him and his terrible ways <3 love the idea of him picking out a weapon for darling and engraving his name onto it before giving it to them like a constant reminder of whose grace they're under ahh the thought of him avenging everyone who hurt darling even after their death is soo yummy loosing his mind bc the guilt and the way he failed to save you is eating him up. (also the line; a different monster will lead you astray is soo mmmm)

chuuya my beloved :( cannot believe darling killed him bfr!! and the fact that he was genuinely trying to warn them about dazai </3 chuuya feels a lot more human than the others (ironic bcs of the 'imposter' rumors lol) but i cant help but wonder how different things would have been if darling followed chuuya instead of dazai...

i love the comparison of fyodor and dazai, how darling 'chooses' fyodor this time bc they see dazai in him...also very curious that his death was overwritten in their memory hmm i wonder why. i think maybe the fact that fyodor was weak and seemingly defenseless except for his words and his charm, unlike dazai who always seemed to be dangerous to everyone, was what ultimately attracted darling this time? maybe they want to believe he would need them more than dazai did, and wouldn't betray them after all?

i love love love prince sigma. seriously he'd be pretty good at it, with his dedication to his post, if not because of his general insecurities. i wonder who's really pulling the strings here, fyodor, nikolai or someone else? im really curious about nikolai's part in all this...sigma realizing he and darling are connected by fate and death and all else is insane!! makes for a great development. because now not only does his life (and return to life) depend on them, it's in his best interest to keep them by his side. seeing them work for fyodor hardly eases his mind, however, because he knows the fourth prince has something else planned, and maybe he already is aware of sigma's connection to darling...?

overall i love how you incorporated so many canon facts/themes into this too! it's pretty cool how sigma's lack of a 'proper' name and chuuya's clone thing is explained, and the overall mystery about it...mmm delicious. i hope one day i can write a nice long chaptered story that's as complex and well thought of as this too :> you will forever inspire me anon!!!

#ask 🐟#anon 🐟#bsd 🐟#royal au 🐟

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bungoustraypups · 9 months ago

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speaking of this post abt dazai and mori parallels since it got me thinking

the greatest change we witness, in "dog days are over", in mori's willingness to be vulnerable and open up and reconnect with how he feels and not continue ignoring his own emotions, happens after he tells fukuzawa what happened to his daughter, almost 18 years ago at this point in the timeline, and that's not a coincidence

chapter 3 is mori's defining moment in that fic. not just because he's finally sharing the story and trauma he's been shouldering on his own for nearly two decades, but also because fukuzawa's reaction is vital to mori realizing that what happened was not his fault, and that what happened to him was wrong and never should've happened.

eventually i'll get more in-depth on how he feels about himself in BSPverse, but to briefly summarize: mori, like many trauma victims who have yet to heal in any way shape or form, is incapable of looking at his past self objectively. he judges how he was in the past by how he is and what he knows in the current, not by how he was at the time in reality. mori looks at the red flags he now knows are red flags in his ex and goes "i should've known" and places blame on himself without stopping to think about the fact that, at the time, he never would've realized the things his ex was doing were like. bad. because he was just doing what almost every adult in his life prior to that had done to him before. the only difference is they were married and therefore mori saw it as his responsibility to cater to what his ex wanted regardless of what that meant for him

but the biggest problem with how mori sees himself is that he assumes everyone else sees the same thing and agrees with him on it. so when fukuzawa very openly says things that go against this, it finally starts getting through to him. fukuzawa isn't the first person in his life to disagree with him on how he sees himself - kouyou and hirotsu specifically see him in a kinder light than he does, not to the same degree but still - but mori is able to brush it off with the excuse of "they don't really know me", and to some degree he's right

but he can't do that with fukuzawa. his own logic gets used against him because not only does fukuzawa know him, and know him well, especially since they used to be partners, but fukuzawa has seen those dark parts of mori, the parts that are truly awful and the parts of him that are willing to do reprehensible things, and ultimately, has still chosen to love him and stay by his side. not out of obligation or because mori is his boss, but because he wants to. no one else has ever done that for him before

and also, mori knows fukuzawa wouldn't soothe or console him for something he felt he was responsible for, or was his own fault, a consequence of his actions. so when he does that, mori is able to get the idea for the first time in his life that there were times where he was, indeed, a victim of someone else's cruelty, and not just a fool who ignored the signs and was punished as a result

the entirety of "dog days are over" is also important to who mori becomes in BSPverse because he learns the valuable lesson that vulnerability doesn't always lead to the worst case scenario. it is possible for him to have and maintain healthy relationships without someone dying as a result, which is largely why he didn't do it in the past. there are times where he doesn't have to manipulate the outcome of every interaction and he or someone else won't die as a result

most importantly, "dog days are over" is where mori finally truly learns that he can be safe, even if only sometimes, even if only with fukuzawa. and i think that's beautiful

to close with an excerpt from chapter 9:

Now, as Ougai pulls back far enough to look into Yukichi's eyes - into the eyes of the man who would move Heaven, Earth, and Hell without question for Ougai, and their child (their family, Ougai reminds himself, because that's what they are, what they have here), if only they asked him to, or if he thought they needed him to - he finally feels the truth that I am not alone anymore, I am not loving alone this time settle in his mind, in his heart, in his soul, in his very being. The feeling he gets from that realization is almost as warm, comforting, and safe as Yukichi's embrace.

#bsd #bsd au #bungou stray dogs #bungo stray dogs #fukumori #zskk #zenki soukoku #bsd mori #bsd fukuzawa #bsp #bspverse #fic: dog days are over #cio.org #cio.txt #my writing #my fic #art

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silvfyre-writings · 3 months ago

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You get a nap, and you get a nap (BSD Fanfic)

Crossposted from AO3

Kunikida isn’t sure what to make of the newest addition to the Agency rota, not that he was ever given an opportunity to say anything negative about it to begin with. Not that he would’ve dared in the first place considering it’s Ranpo that’s involved in the situation. Well, more like it’s Ranpo that’s orchestrated this whole thing to favour himself like he always does, without caring what others might think of it in the first place.

Still, the young girl that he saved down in the train tunnels all those weeks ago insists that there is nothing malicious about her new vampire bodyguard, and well, Aya has quickly made a reputation for being stubborn and refusing to take no for an answer—like a certain older detective if he’s making comparisons—so he lets the fact that Bram Stoker, former enemy now turned tentative ally, is making the Agency his new home, slide.

Now, Kunikida knows for a fact that Bram has a dorm that he can stay at, because one of the first things that Ranpo announced after the very near end of the world was that Bram and Aya would be staying under the Agency’s guidance, and he wouldn’t hear anything against it. Not that anyone would ever dare to try and tell Ranpo no, not without unknown consequences befalling them.

Unknown, because no one’s ever dared to try in the first place.

What Kunikida doesn’t understand, however, is why Bram comes to the Agency to sleep instead of staying at the dorm. Even Aya, who has school and her own life, only ever stops by every few days or so—which Kunikida doesn’t mind in the slightest, because she’s a bright young girl who’s willing to learn, and he is nothing if not an educator. But Bram? The vampire will arrive in the morning with Ranpo, head straight to the couch and just take a nap with headphones on.

It’s starting to drive him insane, because surely, surely, there is something that Bram could be doing? Kunikida understands the need to rest, he does, and from what he’s heard about Bram’s life so far, it sounds like he’s in sore need of it. The main issue that he has with this is that Bram’s frequent sleeps��not naps, for the man sleeps the entire time they’re all working—means that one of the couches is always occupied, which isn’t ideal for the clients that seek them out for a job.

As if Bram’s mere presence doesn’t already unnerve clients.

“Kunikida-kun! If you keep frowning like that, you’ll scare all the beautiful women!” Dazai chirps, throwing his body into Kunikida’s personal space like he isn’t the next biggest nuisance.

“Dazai, I am warning you now, to get off my desk.” Kunikida says, eye twitching.

“Hmmm, warning considered.”

Kunikida takes a breath, patience waning, not just because Dazai has chosen now to be a pest, but because he hasn’t been able to do any work for the past several minutes, and he’s starting to fall behind in his schedule which is completely unacceptable. “Dazai—”

“What is it that’s caught your eye, Kunikida-kun…” Dazai doesn’t listen at all as he turns his head to see just what exactly it is that his work partner is staring at. “Oh, I see, has our resident vampire caught your attention?”

He feels his face burn in embarrassment. “That is not at all true!”

“There, there, Kunikida-kun, it’s nothing to be ashamed about, Bram-san is a very attractive person—”

“I am not attracted to—”

“Unfortunately, he’s taken already, but if you need a drinking buddy to drown your heartbreak with, I’m more than happy to join!”

Wait—what? “What?” Kunikida says before he even fully understands just what it is that Dazai’s told him, and when it does finally click, he swivels his head to stare at the other. “What do you mean, taken?”

Dazai blinks, perplexed at the question. “What are you confused about, Kunikida-kun? More importantly, what rock have you been living under? Bram-san’s been taken by Ranpo-san.”

Kunikida feels the oncoming migraine and rubs at his forehead. The vampire and his senior? Surely not.

But sure enough, it becomes obvious that something is going on when Ranpo gets up from his desk and makes his way over to the couch that Bram occupies with a yawn. His senior reaches up to pull his hat and tie off in one motion, discarding them on the floor like this is apartment instead of his workplace, and then Kunikida watches with wide eyes, as Ranpo crawls onto the couch that Bram is sleeping on, dragging the hood of his cape over his face as he curls up in Bram’s lap.

Kunikida doesn’t think it can get anymore damning when it does; Bram’s crimson eyes flicking open just long enough for him to notice the extra presence on the couch in front of him. They slip shut a moment later, but then the vampire turns a little to the side, providing a barrier so that Ranpo won’t fall off the couch, and further wrapping his arms around Ranpo’s waist, holding him very much like a lover would.

“See.” Dazai says, a smirk on his face. “I told you they were a thing.”

If there’s one thing Yosano doesn’t like about her job, it’s when she gets forced to pay house calls to her colleagues. Because it means, that even with her ability, it’s still not enough for the persons body, and they need further rest to heal from whatever injury they’ve sustained. Last time, it was Kenji, after a truck crashed through the restaurant that the boy was eating at, in which only Kenji was injured because he shielded everybody else, and it’d taken a month before he’d been able to come back to the Agency.

Now, though?

Now she’s on her way to pay a visit to her oldest friend, the person who dragged her from the abyss of her own mind and gave a new meaning to the life that she’d long accepted was over. It’s not often that Ranpo gets injured, and most of the time, he’ll take care of it himself, but surviving a bombing wasn’t exactly the kind of injury that one could survive. What’s even worse was that Ranpo wasn’t even working a case when he got hurt; he’d been out on a date.

She’ll never forget the way her heart skipped a beat when Bram rushed into the infirmary that day, Ranpo bundled up in the vampire’s coat and barely clinging to life.

Yosano healed him with no hesitation—this was Ranpo for god’s sake, of course she would heal him—but it hadn’t been enough. Comatose for a week, and then bedridden for another before she finally felt comfortable letting him go home, under the promise that he would have someone with him to keep watch just in case something went wrong. And of course, Bram had volunteered immediately, which Yosano finds extremely adorable. The way that he and Ranpo have formed their relationship has been well worth it; Ranpo is happier than he has ever been, and Bram is having an easier time fitting in with the Agency, even though he’s not working for them.

It's good, it means that the world is healing slowly, and after everything they all just went through, it’s very much needed.

It doesn’t take long for Yosano to make her way to Ranpo’s apartment—thank god Fukuzawa made sure that the dorms were close to the Agency when he purchased them—and she climbs the stairs, heading straight towards the dorm at the very end of the complex. Yosano’s not exactly sure why Ranpo wanted this particular apartment, but she doesn’t question the decision when it means she doesn’t have to think about which dorm is her friends and which is someone else’s.

Something that has very much happened over the years.

Once she’s in front of the door, she knocks on the door, deciding just this once to not simply barge in like she usually would. But just this once.

And now, the wait.

It takes a few minutes and another series of knocks before Yosano finally hears shuffling behind the door, and a second later, it cracks open, a crimson eye peering through the gap down at her. As always, it’s immediately unnerving to be under the gaze, not only because Bram is very good at intimidating everyone around him, but he has the height to make it even worse. Lucky for her though, that she’s long become immune to that; being under Fukuzawa’s care will do that to someone.

“May I come in, Bram? I’m here to check on Ranpo.” Yosano asks, a polite smile on her face. As enamoured as Ranpo is with the vampire, she still hasn’t forgotten that he was part of the reason why their lives were hell for so long. But she tries. Because Ranpo asked it of her.

“Yosano-sensei…” Bram’s voice echoes, deep and very much soothing. The vampire steps back and opens the door you to enter. “You are always welcome. Ranpo is asleep right now.”

Now that Bram mentions it, Yosano can see the tell-tale signs of her interrupting a nap, eyes that are struggling to stay open, and a sluggish pace as he follows behind her. Clearly, he’s on autopilot, and she’s proven correct when they step into the living space and Bram heads straight back to the couch where Ranpo lay; still asleep.

Yosano’s mouth twitches in amusement as she watches the delicate way in which Bram squeezes back underneath Ranpo, shifting so little until he’s comfortable that it doesn’t look like he’s moved at all. It’s honestly quite impressive.

“I might end up waking him, is that going to cause a problem?” Yosano asks before Bram can simply dive back into dreamland.

Bram blinks slowly, brow furrowing just slightly before he shakes his head. “Do what you must, but try not to wake him. He was a little feverish this morning so he is tired.”

Alarm bells ring in Yosano’s mind. “Feverish? Have you given him anything for it?”

“I called Fukuzawa-san to ask him what to do.” Bram says, raising an arm and gesturing to the kitchen table where a bunch of medications rest, most of which Yosano prescribed, but there’s a singular box sitting there that she knows didn’t come from her. “He suggested fever-reducers if it was not a bad fever, which it was not—” A yawn interrupts Bram’s words. “—he has had one dose, and the fever has not returned since.”

Yosano lets out a hum. A small fever is common with healing injuries, but it’s not usual this late into the game, so she’s a little concerned. There’s a number of reasons why Ranpo could’ve had a fever that morning, from it being stress, to an illness, and ideally, she’d like to avoid either option.

“Alright.” She says, dragging the coffee table closer to the couch so that she can sit on it. “I’ll be as quick as I can, so you can go back to sleep, Bram.”

Bram hums, but doesn’t say anything more as he closes his eyes, head dipping slightly as he falls back to sleep almost immediately.

A skill that the entire Agency would die to have honestly, she’s jealous.

But now that Bram’s asleep, it means she can give Ranpo a checkup without having a tall, menacing, vampire looming over her shoulder.

Like he had when the accident happened.

Ranpo’s arms are still wrapped in bandages, the burns underneath them healing steadily. She’s gentle as she takes each arm, unwraps the bandages and gives the injury a gentle wash before wrapping them up again. Miraculously, Ranpo sleeps through the whole thing, but those are the easy injuries. It’s the ones she can’t see that were the deadliest, because even with her healing ability, they were still only partially healed.

Yosano reaches up to unbutton Ranpo’s shirt, freezing when he sucks in a breath. Stay asleep, stay asleep, stay—

“…sano?” Ranpo blinks tiredly as he’s dragged back into the waking world.

—asleep. Damn it.

“Just checking you over, idiot.” Yosano says, continuing her previous action at a faster pace since there’s no longer a reason for her to be quiet. “How’re you feeling?”

Ranpo grunts. “Tired. The usual.”

The usual being: a little bit of pain mixed with a feeling of heaviness.

“Well, your arms are doing good, and it looks like your chest is as well. How’s your head?”

“Fine. Can I go back to sleep?”

“Once I’m done. I won’t be long.” Yosano speeds up her process, deeming the injuries on Ranpo’s chest to be fine and not in need of any extra attention, and rebuttons his shirt so that he doesn’t have to. Next comes checking Ranpo’s vitals, which is an easy enough process to do, considering Ranpo doesn’t feel like moving in the slightest to try and resist her like he normally would.

Satisfied with the results, Yosano packs up her equipment and ruffles Ranpo’s hair gently. “Alright sleeping beauty, you’re doing good. Come by the office once you’re able, and I’ll check you again.”

“Yep, got it, bye-bye…” Ranpo shoos her with a single wave of his head, rolling onto his side where he somehow becomes lodged between Bram and the couch.

“Sleep well, sleeping beauty.” Yosano says as she leaves, but not before she gets to witness Ranpo snuggle into Bram’s side.

How adorable.

“Ranpo-san, what are you doing?” Atsushi asks, curious as to the scene he’s stumbled upon, because it’s certainly not like anything he’s witnessed before in the building—and he’s witnessed some strange stuff before. From the looks of it, Ranpo appears to be… braiding Bram’s hair, the vampire dead asleep with his head in Ranpo’s lap as his senior stretches out on the couch, fingers meticulously moving through the long silver locks, repeatedly threading them together like its mere muscle memory for him. It’s certainly a strange thing to see from Ranpo of all people.

The only reason Atsushi even stopped in the first place is because of the relaxed look on Ranpo’s face.

Oh, and the fact that he’s a little curious about the stranger that Ranpo’s talking to, an older man in a white dress shirt with what would be a youthful face if not for the stress and age lines marring his face.

Ranpo pauses in whatever it was that he was saying to the stranger to look up at Atsushi, frowning. “Talking with Yasui-san? Is there something wrong with that, Atsushi-kun?”

“No, no, no, not at all!” Atsushi says quickly, not wanting to upset Ranpo first thing in the morning, because then the rest of his shift will become a living hell. “But what I meant is, what are you doing to Bram?”

“I’m braiding his hair, what else do you think it is I’m doing?” Ranpo questions, and then continues before Atsushi can even respond. “Oh, you meant to ask why. Why not? Bram doesn’t mind, he likes having his hair played with.”

“O-Oh, I see. I didn’t know you knew how to braid hair.” It’s strange to think that I all the months that he’s been at the Agency, that he doesn’t actually know a lot about Ranpo, so to learn something new is just… well, it’s strange. Even more so that Ranpo is openly sharing information.

Kunikida once told him that trying to get Ranpo to talk about personal things was like pulling teeth; you either gave up or left it to Fukuzawa.

“Eh? Of course I know how to braid hair, the President taught me.”

He did? Well Atsushi certainly hadn’t expected that response. “That was… nice of him.”

“Well, I had to learn, because Yosano wanted her hair braided, but she couldn’t do it herself at the time, and Fukuzawa-san was the only other person available. I’m pretty sure he just watched a video to teach himself before he taught me, but it worked, so I don’t care. Why do you ask, Atsushi? Want me to braid your hair? I’ll do it, but—”

“Ranpo.” The stranger, which must be the Yasui that Ranpo mentioned, and Atsushi realises isn’t a stranger, but the police commissioner that Minoura told them about on his first case with Ranpo, interrupts his senior. Both Atsushi and Ranpo freeze, but for entirely different reasons. “Can you focus so I can leave, please?”

“Wow, bored of me already, Yasui-san? You’re breaking my heart.” Ranpo crows, dramatically falling back against the arm of the couch with an arm over his face.

“We already scheduled lunch for later. So unless you want to do this then, you’ll do it now.” Yasui says, completely unbothered by Ranpo’s antics.

Which is honestly impressive to Atsushi. Most people he knows will give in to Ranpo’s demands in an instant just to make life easier for themselves, yet here’s this man, the police commissioner of all people, making a demand of Ranpo like it’s something he’s always done. Admittedly, he’s a little curious.

“Can I help with anything?” Atsushi asks.

“Yes.” Ranpo says.

“No.” Yasui says in return before turning towards Atsushi with a gentle look on his face. “Appreciate the offer, kid, but this is paperwork that Ranpo needs to fill out. Involving his vampire boyfriend.”

Ranpo pouts. “Fukuzawa-san could’ve done it.”

“Fukuzawa-san told me to make sure you do it since it’s your boyfriend.”

“What, jealous now? You had your chance, Yasui-san, and you turned me down.”

“And I still stand by that decision. Besides, you’re happy with Stoker-san.”

Atsushi very much wants to escape this conversation right now, especially since Ranpo uses Yasui’s words as an opportunity to launch into a very… personal story about him and Bram. One that Atsushi doesn’t particularly care if he overhears, but he would prefer not to hear it at work. And from the look on Yasui’s face, he’s simply resigned himself to the fact that he’s going to be spending the entire day at the Agency regardless of whether he wanted to or not.

“I think I hear Kunikida-san, um, have fun with the paperwork, Ranpo-san. Bye.” Atsushi doesn’t even wait for a response as he flees back to his desk, sliding into his chair where both Dazai and Kunikida look at him sympathetically.

“You aren’t the first to hear such a conversation, Atsushi.” Kunikida says, pushing his glasses up with a finger.

“And believe us when we say that it’s been happening for years.” Dazai chimes in with a knowing grin on his face. “Ranpo-san is very promiscuous after all.”

“Dazai!”

“What? I’m not lying, Kunikida-kun. Want me to name everyone that Ranpo-san’s slept with since we worked here?”

Kunikida deflates with a sigh. “That won’t be necessary. I’ll talk to him again later when he’s finished with his current business about appropriate conversations for the workplace.”

Atsushi glances over in the direction of the senior detective and the police commissioner, observing the way that Ranpo is still chattering away with a content expression, hands weaving another braid into Bram’s hair as he sleeps. As childish and inappropriate as Ranpo can be sometimes, it is sweet to see him so happy with the one he loves. And if it sometimes means hearing about the more… intimate sides to their strangely formed relationship, then Atsushi finds he doesn’t mind.

Too much that is.

If you had told Fukuzawa that one day, he’d find the teenage genius that he’d taken in would one day settle down with someone and stay, he’d actually consider laughing.

Because if there was one undeniable fact about Ranpo, it was that if he deemed someone attractive, that was it; he would flirt and tease and manipulate until he got into that person’s pants. It was almost exclusively men that Ranpo would chase after, and the person was always older—Fukuzawa’s not too sure if that’s something he should’ve been concerned about, or if it’s just simply just who Ranpo is attracted to. He’s about ten years too late to ask anyway, and he also doesn’t care who Ranpo sleeps with in his spare time.

One might ask how Fukuzawa knows this.

Well, as it turns out, Ranpo was rather vocal about his adventures, especially since, for a time, Fukuzawa was the only adult in his life that he trusted.

And while he did start to hear less of it as the years went by and Ranpo got older, he also didn’t. Because as the Agency grew in size, and more and more people joined, somewhere along the line, Ranpo decided to try his luck with the new employees.

Which worked, but it also came with the unfortunate side effect that the people Ranpo chose to sleep with would come to him to complain when Ranpo decided it was just a one-time thing—which it always was, and he couldn’t understand how his employees hadn’t figured that out already. It wasn’t like Ranpo hid his nature and his expectations; he wasn’t the kind of person to string someone along and toy with their if they didn’t interest him or want to be treated like that, unless they were an asshole about it, and then he would make their life hell.

Fukuzawa can attest to that a few times in their years of operations.

Still, it got to the point where Fukuzawa had to pull Ranpo to the side and tell him to stop sleeping with the employee’s just so that the complaints would stop.

He still isn’t sure if Ranpo actually did ever stop, but the complaints sure did, so he never brought it up again.

So with knowing that about Ranpo, he is admittedly, surprised, when Yosano swings by and mentions that Ranpo’s got himself a boyfriend.

At first, he’s proud, because he’s looked after Ranpo for thirteen years now, and it’s always a proud moment when someone you care for takes an important step in life.

But then he’s concerned, because Yosano then tells him that it’s Bram Stoker that Ranpo’s chosen as his partner, and whilst he knows that Ranpo managed to convince the vampire to switch sides in the end, there’s no denying that Bram Stoker was once their enemy.

And as the president of the Agency, and Ranpo’s former guardian, he just wants to make sure that Ranpo is safe and not in danger.

So he schedules lunch. At Ranpo’s dorm, because even though Ranpo owns an apartment elsewhere like himself, he wanted a dorm the moment that Fukuzawa mentioned he was considering buying them. At first, the scheduled lunch is set for the weekend, but it happens during the week instead, when Ranpo calls out of work claiming that he’s unwell—which isn’t uncommon.

Ranpo’s also called out for less over the years.

It’s no bother to Fukuzawa though, he simply says he’ll bring something over for him at lunch, which is when Ranpo lets slip that he’s not alone, asking Fukuzawa to bring two portions because Bram is with him.

Fukuzawa agrees, and refrains from speaking what’s on his mind as he hangs up.

Whilst Ranpo has called out for a wide variety of reasons, he’s hoping that he didn’t call out today just to have sex with Bram.

He wouldn’t be surprised, but he’s hoping.

Ranpo’s dorm is unlocked when Fukuzawa arrives, a plastic bag in arm with three servings of curry inside from Ranpo’s favourite curry place, so Fukuzawa pushes the door open and steps inside, letting the door swing shut behind him. “Ranpo?”

“Over here, Fukuzawa-san!” The call comes from the direction of Ranpo’s bedroom, although it’s hard to understand the words through the congestion that’s attached to the voice.

Ranpo is most certainly sick.

Fukuzawa walks down the short hall until he reaches the bedroom and stands in the doorway, and the first thing he notices, is the lack of mess. In fact, it’s extremely clean in the dorm, like it’s just been cleaned. It’s strange to witness after all the years he spent cleaning up after the genius detective.

And speaking of Ranpo…

He’s on the other side of the room, futon pushed up against the wall with a mountain of pillows for him to rest against. He’s smiling at Fukuzawa with puffy eyes and a redness to his face, but as it turns out, he’s not alone in the futon. Bram’s there as well, fast asleep between Ranpo’s legs, head resting against Ranpo’s stomach, and an arm draped over his thigh. A closer look shows that Bram too, is sick, with the same puffiness and redness to his face as his lover.

“Is that curry?” Ranpo asks, making grabbing motions for the bag, leaning forward as far as he can without disturbing Bram.

“It is. Can you even smell it?” Fukuzawa hands the bag over and kneels beside the futon.

“Not at all, but I recognised the Bram.” Ranpo pulls out the containers, handing one over to Fukuzawa and placing his own on the floor before he ties the bag.

Fukuzawa blinks. “You aren’t going to wake Bram?”

“He just fell asleep before you arrived, so no. I’ll reheat it later for him.” Ranpo throws a grin up at Fukuzawa. “Bet you never thought you’d see me taking care of someone did ya?”

“I did not, although I am proud of you for doing so.” Fukuzawa gives a soft smile. “The two of you are doing well?”

“Yeah, aside from this cold of course. I don’t like being sick.”

“No one does, Ranpo.”

“Well, I absolutely hate it. You can’t do anything! And even worse, is that I gave my cold to Bram, too. Apparently if he drinks my blood when I’m sick, it gives him whatever illness I’ve got.”

Fukuzawa doesn’t even begin to try and believe he understands the situation. Mostly because his mind keeps picturing Ranpo has some blood bag for Bram, and he doesn’t quite know how to feel about that. Just knowing that Ranpo regularly lets Bram bite and feed off of him is enough—he’s almost certain that more happens, but that is not a bridge he is willing to cross.

So he decides a change in topic is the best path forward. “I have noticed that he sleeps a lot.”

“Bram? Well, duh, of course he does. He’s been just a head for over a decade, and been forced to use his ability to turn and control a large scale of vampires. You’d be tired too! Also, he’s a vampire, so daytime naps are kinda his thing.”

Fukuzawa hums, and opens his curry to start eating it, inclining his head towards Ranpo for him to do the same. “I see, well may this rest prove fruitful to him.”

“It will. He’ll be awake and active in no time! Now, tell me if any interesting cases have come through.”

The morning had been busy at the Agency, so Fukuzawa begins to tell Ranpo about everything he’s missed in those few hours, and surprisingly, it’s a lot.

It reminds him of the early days of the Agency, when he and Ranpo would sit down for a meal and Ranpo would excitedly tell him about all the cases he worked on that day. It’s almost exactly the same, except it’s him telling Ranpo about work, and Ranpo is listening attentively, with one hand running through his lover’s hair.

Dazai finds it funny that no one at the office has noticed the interesting new pattern that’s developed recently—although, he’s not actually surprised, because his co-workers aren’t very good at noticing things that aren’t supposed to be common knowledge. Nothing fails to get by him though, not after the years he spent in the Port Mafia making sure that he knew everything that went on in that building.

What is this pattern, you might ask?

Well, it’s the fact that before the naps that Ranpo and Bram take together on the Agency couch, the two of them disappear for approximately fifteen minutes—sometimes it’s a little longer, and sometimes it’s a little less, but it’s always around that amount of time—before Ranpo returns and sits at his desk, making it appear that he’s working when he absolutely isn’t. And then, always a few minutes after, Bram will return and crash on the couch, falling asleep in seconds before anyone can even question where he went.

It gives the illusion that Bram spends his entire day at the Agency just sleeping away, but Dazai knows better.

He’s also got a plan up his sleeve that will be executed in just a few minutes.

And sure enough, Bram and Ranpo, who have been standing at Ranpo’s desk and quietly talking, slink out the door together, hand in hand. It’s cute, and Dazai truly is happy for Ranpo that he’s found someone to love and that will love him, but if there’s one thing he’s known for, it’s causing a little bit of mayhem.

Dazai waits five minutes before he gets up and follows the two lovers out the door, taking just a few seconds to figure out which direction to go before turning left and heading towards the stairs. If there was one place in the building you wanted to go and not be disturbed, it’d be the empty third floor, good for nothing except as extra storage space. It doesn’t take him long to get there, and when he does, he grins as he hears groaning noises coming from behind one of the closed doors.

Bingo.

In an instant, Dazai is in front of the door and flinging it open with a massive grin on his face. “So what are you two lovebirds up to, huh?”

His question goes unanswered at first, which is expected, because Ranpo’s a little occupied with having Bram’s fangs in his neck, the vampire’s hands running down his bare chest towards the line of his pants. The room reeks of the scent of blood as some of it escapes Bram’s mouth, running down Ranpo’s neck and chest—a lot of blood for two small wounds, Dazai thinks.

“Dazai.” Ranpo glares at him as he curls a fist into Bram’s hair. There’s a blissed out look to his face that he’s clearly trying to fight off just to keep that glare focused on him. “Fuck off.”

“And why should I? You’re supposed to be working too you know.”

“Be—cause.” Ranpo drags the word out as Bram digs his fangs in a little deeper. “I’ll make sure the rest of your days here are spent in misery.”

It’s not a threat, but a promise, and a valid one at that. Dazai hesitates just a little, because Ranpo is nothing if not vengeful when he’s pissed off, but his stubborn side keeps him going. “Aww, don’t be like that, Ranpo-san, whatever would Fukuzawa-san say if he found out.”

Ranpo’s eyes narrow—a win for him.

“I’m sure he already suspects something is going on.” Dazai continues. “If he finds out you’re doing this in the Agency building, he might just ban Bram-san from it, especially since he doesn’t actually work for us.”

“Dazai-kun.” Bram rips away from Ranpo’s neck, dragging a quiet whimper from the other man, as he swings his head around to fixate glowing eyes on him. “If you don’t leave right now, I will drain you dry. And that is a promise.”

“Ugh, alright, fine! You two are no fun.” Dazai sighs as he turns to leave the room. He doesn’t want to see what happens next anyway, but he silently hopes that once they’re done, Ranpo limps.

It’ll be worth the misery that’ll follow just to embarrass Ranpo for a change.

#bsd #bungo stray dogs #bsd fanfic #bramran #bram stoker #edogawa ranpo #fluff #sleeping together #writing #fanfic

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osarina · 7 months ago

Text

ᡣ𐭩 TO SOMEONE FROM A WARM CLIMATE

FEATURING: beast dazai osamu

SUMMARY: you're with him. you're actually with him. everything all of the other dazais have got to experience, he now can too. in his exhilaration, he almost forgets about the threats lurking on the horizon. until you slap him in the face with it, that is. {wordcount: 18k; fem!reader; romance & tragedy}

AUTHOR'S NOTES: PART THREEEEEEE i had a particularly terrible day today guys hahahh literally everything that could go wrong went wrong </3 i'm very tired, but i hope you guys enjoy this installment. for all of u who read badlands, we have a very anticipated parallel scene in this one. + i added a little surprise pov at the end heheh

GENERAL WARNINGS: again, i'll just leave this warning on every chapter - dazai struggles a lot with disassociation/derealization & losing himself in the pages of the book. + we have a bit more of unhinged thought processes on dazai's end which becomes particularly apparent during one of these scenes. as always please let me know if i forgot any warnings

SEE: UNREAL UNEARTH SERIES MASTERLIST READ: BADLANDS SIDE A

You wake up from what might be the best sleep of your life to the sun peeking through the blinds of an unfamiliar bedroom.

It takes a few moments for you to regain your bearings, yawning and stretching as you sit up in the bed, trying to figure out where you are. It’s fancy, fancier than anything you’ve ever come across before. The dark sheets are soft and silky against your skin, you swear that this must be what clouds feel like. The room itself is a bit odd—large but empty, there’s a dresser on the far wall and a nightstand next to the bed, but there are no trinkets or knick knacks that usually litter a person’s bedroom. It’s almost reminiscent of a hotel room, you think.

Your gaze drifts over to the side, where a vast window looks over the city. You can hardly see the view through the blinds, but you can tell you’re high enough that only clouds can be seen below, no sign of the bustling city that you know rests beneath you. Your hazy mind starts to remember what happened last night: the club, the convenience store, your apartment, the leak. Dazai.

Dazai.

Your face immediately feels hot, hand coming up to curl your fingers around your mouth as you realize whose room you’re in. Your eyes flicker around the room nervously even though you know he’s not in here with you. You wonder what time it is, you reach around for your phone to check but you must’ve dropped it somewhere in your exhaustion last night—hopefully somewhere in his apartment (can this even be considered an apartment? it’s huge!) Maybe he’s waiting for you out in the main room of his penthouse, you hope he is. You also hope that he got some sleep last night, you remember that he insisted for you to take the bed but you still feel bad that you usurped his room from him.

… Although it’s not much of a room. Big and fancy with a view that costs more than your life, yeah, but nothing that makes it his. Like a husk. A house, not a home. The bed doesn’t even smell like him—well, you can’t say you know for sure what he smells like besides the cologne he sported in your past few meetings with him, but you know it doesn’t smell like him because it doesn’t smell like anything. Only the faint smell of old detergent meets your nose, not a single other sign that someone has been living here.

You push the covers off of you and swing your feet over the side of the bed, stretching again as you kick your feet out with another yawn. You think this might be the first time in months that you haven’t woken up with an aching back or sore neck and you can’t help but cast a longing look back at Dazai’s bed, wishing you could steal it and drag it back to your apartment to replace your ruined bed.

You don’t bother changing as you drag your way out of his bedroom; you’re decent enough in a burgundy camisole and matching pair of shorts. Yes, you’d chosen your nicer pajamas because yes, you’d still been hoping maybe something would happen between the two of you. You hadn’t realized how hard the exhaustion was going to hit until too late.

Maybe something can still happen, you giggle a bit to yourself as you open the door to his apartment and then stop yourself immediately, horrified at yourself. You wonder when you became like this. You swear you don’t usually go around desperate for sex like this, you feel like a bit embarrassed, honestly, that your train of thought keeps leading this way but you blame Dazai because he’s plain cruel for flirting with you as intimately as he does without even sparing you a kiss. It’s like he’s trying to drive you crazy. You’re becoming even more convinced that the man set some sort of spell over you.

“Gooooood morning!” you sing, your voice still tinged with sleep as you exit the bedroom and catch sight of the object of your desires lounging back on the dark couch in the main room of his penthouse—penthouse, insanity—typing away at his phone with a frown. He’s dressed in the same outfit he was in last night, which is also the same outfit that he wore last week, and every other week before that—you wonder if he just didn’t change or if he has a dozen pairs of the same outfit.

Dazai doesn’t respond, gaze cutting upward, a bit too wide to be casual. The expression on his face is entirely indecipherable, something caught between shock and an emotion you can’t quite place, but it’s softer, you think, maybe a bit sadder too. You brush it off, wondering if he forgot you were here, which would be embarrassing but also a bit ridiculous. So, you think that maybe you just look like a mess after waking up. You should have brushed your hair before coming out of the room, you don’t even know if you brought a brush with you last night. You can’t remember.

You plop yourself down onto the couch next to him. Laying the side of your head against the cushions and curling up a bit, you position your body to face him as you say, “Your… apartment is so nice.” There’s a longing lilt to your voice as you speak. “If you’re not careful, I might never leave.”

It’s a joke, of course, you don’t want to intrude, but you think your life would be one hundred times easier if you were living in a place like this rather than your small, shitty apartment. Plus, you get a view and you’re not talking about the city. Dazai looks gorgeous beneath the mid-morning light, you think. Well, he’s been gorgeous every time you’ve seen him but you think especially so now, with the way his smooth skin glows and his dark eyes look almost gold beneath the sun rays, but you notice the dark bag beneath his visible eye and guiltily, you wonder if he got any sleep last night. He’d long abandoned his phone, attention on you, and you feel warm beneath his gaze.

“I don’t think I’d mind that all too much,” he murmurs, eye curved up as smiles softly.

You’re flustered, instantly, and your face feels hot as you avert your gaze to the coffee table in front of you. Your eyes focus on a familiar item sitting on it and you light up, reaching out for it. “My phone! You found it!”

You pull it toward you and unlock it, frowning when you realize that you must’ve left it open on your landlord’s contact information last night, trying to figure out what you should message him. You sigh as your tip your head back against the couch, realizing that you’re going to have to deal with all of this today. Fighting with your landlord about the leak, ordering a new mattress and a new laptop—god, you don’t even think you can afford that right now, you’re going to have to place a deposit down for your seat at school soon and then figure out tuition.

“You dropped it outside the room,” Dazai notes, drawing your attention back to him as he nods at the phone. “How did you sleep?”

“Better than I have in years,” you sigh wistfully, letting your head fall to the side to look at him. “You have to tell me where you got your mattress. This is the first time I haven’t woken up with a shitty back in forever… especially considering I need a new one because my ceiling decided to drop gallons of water on my bed.”

“Gin-chan would know,” Dazai says, and you can’t help but notice how his gaze seems to track down a bit to your lips as you speak. You try not to smile a bit. You think you fail. You do shift a bit closer. Subtly. You think he notices if the way his tongue darts out to wet his lips says anything about it. His words hardly register until he says, “I have to leave in a bit for a meeting, she’ll come make sure you’re okay and see if you need anything.”

Irrationally, your heart drops with the illogical fear that maybe you’re reading into things because who is Gin-chan and why does she know what type of mattress Dazai has? Maybe it’s not irrational, because that’s odd, isn’t it? Who would know what type of mattress someone has besides like… a wife? But wouldn’t he have mentioned a wife or a girlfriend in the past few weeks? Of course, he would have… right? You didn’t notice a ring, but you don’t want to be obvious and look down to check now. There’s no way he’s the type to cheat anyway, so you assume you’re just missing something—unless they’re not on good terms with each other but haven’t divorced? But… Your thoughts begin to spiral, rapidly and terribly, because you are not a homewrecker, you swear, but you don’t think you’ve ever wanted someone more than Dazai Osamu.

Dazai’s smile sharpens a bit, dark eye flashing playfully, as if he knows exactly what you’re thinking. He leans his head in a bit more, so close that you swear you can count every single individual eyelash, so close that your breath catches when the tip of his nose brushes yours. “Gin-chan is my secretary, I brought her off the streets when she was a child. She’s a sweet girl, I’m sure you’ll get along.”

Oh, you’re so cruel, Dazai Osamu.

You hate that you instantly feel relieved.

You hate even more that he definitely notices.

He leans in a bit closer, your breath hitches, but just when you swear his lips are about to brush yours for the first time, he pulls back to sit up straight again. His cheeks are dusted red, welcome evidence that you’re not the only one who was flustered by his proximity.

You clear your throat in a desperate attempt to regain some sense of control over yourself and then try to change the subject. “What type of meeting do you have?” you ask curiously, and then immediately amend the question, realizing this is your chance to question him about his job again, “What do you even do?”

Dazai hesitates, just like he did the last time you asked this question. You think he might try to avoid the question again but instead he says, “I took over my… father’s company a few years ago. I’ve been running it since.”

Your eyebrows shoot up a bit, impressed, although you notice how he seems a bit bitter at the mention of his father. “Really?” you ask, surprised. He can’t be much older than you. What was he eighteen, nineteen when he took over? “What type of company?”

“It’s a… sort of conglomerate. We have stakes in a bunch of different industries,” he tells you, dark hair falling in his eyes as he rests his head back against the couch. His eyes don’t leave you once, almost as if he’s drinking in the sight of you, you can’t control the way your heart races beneath his gaze. He reaches out, fingers brushing your skin in a way that makes goosebumps rise, and you can hardly breathe as he fixes the strap of your camisole, you hadn’t even realized it had slipped off your shoulder.

His fingers linger for a moment before he drops his hand back to his lap; you long for his touch again instantly.

“That sounds like a lot of work,” you say quietly, and suddenly Dazai looks a lot older and much more tired, gaze flickering down to his lap.

“Yeah,” he murmurs. “It is.”

You’re not sure what to say for a moment, so instead, you decide to reach out and grab his hand, intertwining your fingers with his and squeezing gently. He doesn’t hold your hand back at first, staring at where your hands are connected with a conflicted, unreadable expression, but you don’t let it bother you, holding his hand just a bit tighter before saying: “Well, I’m sure you’re doing a good job.”

He lets out a puff of air, sighing, and then finally, his fingers tighten around yours.

A bit too tight, but you don’t mind.

He doesn’t look like he believes you, and you think that’s a bit sad but you’re not sure what else to say, or even if there’s anything else to say. Dazai’s gaze flickers back up to meet yours and you think that you might not be breathing again. You’re hyper aware of his touch, the way his fingers curl around yours, thumb absently rubbing soft circles on the back of your hand. He’s close—you hadn’t realized just how close the two of you had gotten as you spoke. You’re leaning forward and he’s leaning in, both of your heads resting against the back of the couch.

You could kiss him, the thought rings through your head again. Your throat feels tight, the silence between you is comfortable but tense, as if he can sense the thoughts ricocheting through your head and is battling with his own. He shifts forward a bit more, gaze dropping down to your lips, and you brace yourself, tilting your face up a bit and then-

“Sir?”

You draw back right away, embarrassed, eyes cutting across the room where a girl with long dark hair stands, cheeks flushed and gray eyes averted up to the ceiling. She’s young, no older than seventeen or eighteen, and dressed in a sleek black suit. Is this Gin?

“Gin-chan.” Dazai confirms your suspicions as he greets the girl easily. “Is something the matter?”

“Chuuya-san is in your office,” Gin says, careful to keep her voice formal despite the way her face is on fire. “The executives have been waiting in the conference room on the thirty-eighth floor for twenty minutes. He says if you don’t come out, he’ll come in here and drag you out.”

Dazai sighs dramatically, eyes sliding shut. “Chuuya always has the worst timing,” he complains, rising to his feet. “Gin-chan, tend to my lovely guest while I’m gone, would you?”

Gin finally turns her gaze on Dazai, a bit surprised. “You don’t want me coming with you, sir?”

Dazai waves her off. “I’m giving you a more important job. I’ll make the slug take meeting notes. He’ll love that,” he says with an easy smile before looking down at you. “I’ll be back later tonight… wait for me?”

You stare up at him, breathless. You have to force yourself to nod. “Yeah,” you finally agree, voice wavering. “I’ll wait for you.”

The smile he gives you is brilliant, eye shining in a way that puts the night sky to shame.

You think you could stare at it forever.

His fingers burn.

Dazai can hardly pay attention to the meeting taking place around him as he stares down at his hand, the ghost of your touch still warming his skin. He feels giddy, his chest light and heart erratic in his chest. You’re upstairs. You’re in his room. You were in his bed this morning. You told him good morning. You came out and joined him on the couch while you were still in your night clothes. You almost kissed him. You almost kissed him. He almost kissed you. He would have, had Gin not showed up.

God, it was like something out of one of his dreams, one of the vague memories that haunt him when he’s at his lowest. When he’d wake up with wet cheeks and a tight chest, throat thick with aching desire and longing for a life that he never thought he’d have.

But he has it.

He has it.

He has you.

“Where is Gin-chan?” Kouyou’s voice tears Dazai from his thoughts. Dazai turns his gaze onto the woman, careful to keep his expression void of any of the emotions coursing through his body. “She is supposed to be attached at your hip, no?”

Dazai tilts his head to the side. “Gin-chan is busy with more important matters,” Dazai says dismissively.

Kouyou lets out a noise caught between a puff of amusement and shock, covering the lower half of her face with her fan as she watches Dazai with calculating eyes. Dazai wonders if she knows that you’re here, if Chuuya had mentioned anything to her already and this is just a test to see his reaction to her prodding.

“More important matters than the first meeting with all five of your executives in the same place in two years?” Kouyou presses, fanning her fan lightly as she tilts her head to the side.

“Yes,” is all Dazai says in response, not leaving any more room for conversation on the topic. He sees Chuuya roll his eyes from the corner of his vision, knowing just what Gin is up to.

“What is this meeting about anyway?” Ace suddenly speaks up, looking irate from where he’s sitting at the round table, leg folded over his knee as he looks around the room disdainfully. “This is disturbing my casinos, I had integral meetings with shareholders this morning that I had to reschedule.”

“If your casinos are so easily disrupted, perhaps they’re not quite as valuable as you keep making them out to be.” Piano Man gives Ace a demure smile as he speaks, veiling the venom dripping from his words—the most recently promoted of the five executives has no mercy when it comes to taking digs at the self proclaimed Jewel King.

Ace’s head snaps in Piano Man’s direction, lips turning down and eyes icy. Dazai wonders curiously if the man would snap something back with Chuuya sitting right next to him—that would be the end of that, Chuuya has always been viciously protective over his Flags. Dazai never liked Ace, knowing that the man is loyal only to himself, but he’s brought in masses of money and information to the Port Mafia. He considers whether or not he should step in, but decides to just watch idly, unsure of if he’s entertained or bored, folding his hands on the table and letting his head fall to the side lazily.

He wants to go back upstairs. Back to you. He’s tired of this already, every day it’s been something new the past few weeks—issues with the military police, issues with low ring organizations that seem to think they can play with the big leagues, issues internally. He wonders what you and Gin might be talking about, and then bitterly, he thinks it should be him sitting up there talking to you.

“This is about the Russians?” Verlaine drawls, looking severely unimpressed with the tension at the round table as he looks between Kouyou, Chuuya and Dazai. “I’ve heard from some of my birds that Nabakov’s men were spotted in the Sakae and Kanagawa wards. Interesting, no?”

Sakae and Kanagawa?

Dazai suddenly is a lot more attentive to the conversation at hand, if only because your apartment is around those wards. He was already reluctant thinking of letting you go back there, knowing that it’s not the best area in the city, but now? The thought makes his stomach churn, blunt nails digging into the wood of the round tables.

It’s not an option.

It’s not.

Kouyou raises a parchment between two fingers to show off to the rest of the executives before passing it over to Dazai, who stares at it distastefully for a moment before plucking it from her hand. He scans the words rapidly, lips twisting down into a deep frown the more he reads.

“What is it?” Chuuya asks impatiently, fingers thrumming on the table as Dazai reads.

“A missive from the Pale Flame,” Kouyou tells him, voice smooth and curious, eyes not leaving Dazai once as she waits for his reaction to it. “Nabokov wishes to personally apologize for not coming to the meeting himself two months ago. He claims that he’s coming to Tokyo to handle an issue regarding one of his major narcotics suppliers in three weeks and wants to host us under the guise of a business event to make amends and prove his dedication to our continuing alliance.”

The war in the mainland is over, the realization hits him hard, like he’s been doused in freezing water and struck with a train all at once. His vision begins to tunnel, just a bit, but enough for him to know he has to pull himself back together before it gets worse, but it’s hard because the implications of that-

“That’s not suspicious at all,” Piano Man sighs whimsically. “Since when does Nabokov care for apologies and amends? The man’s pride goes beyond the heights of the moon.”

“War must be going that badly,” Ace scoffs, amused. “I suppose we chose right in declining their pleas for support.”

“I wouldn’t be too sure,” Piano Man says flippantly, side-eyeing Ace blatantly.

Ace’s expression twists, but as soon as it does, it smooths out again, and a slow smirk is curling at the edges of his lips. He parts his lips to dole out a side comment and Dazai chooses to tune out the petty arguments, focusing on his own dilemma.

It can’t be a coincidence. Right when he finally starts accepting you into his life, the three way war plaguing the Russian underworld comes to an end and the threat that Dostoevsky poses to you becomes all the more present. Fate, the word haunts him, curses him, he wants to spit in its face but every passing day reminds him that the gods must be laughing down at him.

Doubt begins to riddle his chest, festering and spreading—should he send you away? Pretend that the past few weeks never happened and send you off to one of your friend’s apartments? But what if someone already saw him with you? If the wrong person saw, and he sent you away, he’d be signing your death sentence himself.

“What do you think?” Kouyou addresses him, drawing Dazai from his spiraling thoughts.

“The war between Tolstoy, Dostoevsky and Nabokov ended,” Dazai says, staring down at the table as his mind races. “The missive is a declaration of war.”

“Why would Nabokov declare war on us?” Ace asks doubtfully, leaning back in his chair. “For not giving him support?”

“Nabokov is a puppet.” Dazai’s tongue slides against the back of his teeth, trying to piece together what the best course of action to take would be. He’d been sure that the territory wars in Russia would last at least another two to three months. He’s sure that Dostoevsky is behind the missive, he doubts that Tolstoy would make a move into Yokohama, he’d prefer to move west, but he needs confirmation. But if it is Dostoevsky… Why has this timeline sped up so much? Dostoevsky isn’t supposed to officially make a move in Yokohama until after the Guild. The thought is cold and unnerving, he doesn’t like it. He’s been basing all of his plans around his knowledge of the other universes, so why is everything changing suddenly? He turns his attention to Ace and Verlaine, “Find out if Tolstoy or Dostoevsky came out on top.”

He has his suspicions, but he needs it confirmed before he makes any more plans. He has to be careful now, excruciatingly so. He can’t risk anything now that you’re with him and the threat of Dostoevsky has become exceedingly more imminent. However cautious and meticulous he’s been the past seven years, he needs to up it tenfold. He needs Dostoevsky six feet under. He needs Christie six feet under.

And most importantly, he needs to keep you safe, locked in the ivory tower, ignorant to the looming threats until Dazai has properly handled them.

But to do that, he needs to convince you to stay.

How is he supposed to do that without setting off alarm bells?

“What of the business event that we’ve been invited to?” Piano Man asks, white hair falling into his face as he tilts his head to the side. “Do we attend or tell him to shove it?”

“How eloquent,” Ace digs, but goes silent when Dazai gives him a icy look, no longer in the mood for their petty back and forth.

“We attend,” Dazai answers, exhaling as he turns his attention to the side, looking out the bulletproof window giving a vast view of the city’s busiest ports. “If it’s under the guise of a business event, there will be plenty of legitimate corporations there to use as shields should things go wrong, but the Russians aren’t stupid enough for that regardless. They won’t spill blood on foreign land in view of people who live in the light, it’s the fastest way for them to get the Special Division or the Hunting Dogs sicced on them. This will be the easiest way to gather information… and to try to take out the mastermind.”

Chuuya does not look happy with Dazai’s declaration, likely already tallying all of the things that could go wrong. It’ll be the easiest way to get to Dostoevsky, yes, but it’ll also be the easiest way for them to get to Dazai. Dazai is not stupid and he knows he has to be especially vigilant now, but no progress will be made unless some gambles are made—Fyodor Dostoevsky is slimy and slippery in every universe, for Dazai to get his hands on the man, he’s going to have to take a few risks. Dazai just has to ensure said risks are minimal, because every risk he takes is a risk to you too.

God, he feels sick, his head hurts so badly that he thinks he might die. If he was any other version of himself, he could drag himself to you and bury himself in your arms, a surefire way of making the pain disappear. But he’s not any other version of himself—he’s him, and he’s so bitter, because even when he has you, he doesn’t really have you, not in the way that he wants.

“Meeting dismissed,” Dazai says coldly, hardly sparing his executives another look. He’s ready to go back upstairs and be with you, even if he’s not ready to put that mask back on yet, terrified of scaring you away. “Get me the information I asked for.”

There’s a few spattered agreements and farewells. Verlaine, Ace and Piano Man all file out of the conference room. Kouyou and Chuuya stay behind. Dazai’s eyes slide shut, waiting for whatever the two have to say.

“I hope you know what you’re doing,” Chuuya finally says, voice gruff and Dazai doesn’t have to look at him to know that his fingers are probably digging into his palms in frustration. “Things are about to get bad. Don’t let some girl distract you from what’s important.”

Dazai looks up at Chuuya now, slowly, gaze glacial. If Chuuya were anyone else, he would’ve backed down or apologized, but Chuuya is Chuuya, so he only raises his chin, jaw tightening when he realizes that he pissed off Dazai with that comment.

You are what’s important, is what Dazai wants to say in your defense. He’s done all of this for you—you and Odasaku, but he bites the words back, resorting instead to turning his gaze to Kouyou, dismissing Chuuya without a word. Chuuya scoffs loudly and then he spins on his heel with a swish of his coat and storms out of the meeting room.

Dazai tilts his head to the side, daring Kouyou to mention it. The woman only raises her eyebrows, a knowing expression painted on her face, as always.

“One of my girls got their hands on a Russian suspected of being a member of the House of the Dead,” Kouyou says, fanning her face gently. “We’ve been unsuccessful so far in getting him to reveal any information. It could be useful in figuring out whether Tolstoy or Dostoevsky came out on top.”

Dazai exhales, because of course he can’t go right back to you, when has life ever been so easy for him? He pushes himself to his feet, body on automatic as he makes his way out of the meeting room and toward the elevator.

It’s fine, he tells himself, he’ll be back to you soon.

He just has to make this fast, and Dazai is never as efficient as he is when he has you as motivation.

Dazai is careful to make sure that no blood stains his face or hands as he leans back against the wall of the elevator. Getting the information out of the rat hadn’t taken too long once he got there, but the following conversation with Kouyou took an eternity. He watches the floors tick upward from the twenty-second floor all the way up to the forty-sixth, back to his penthouse where you’re hopefully still waiting. An irrational fear claws at his chest, that you slipped away and left the building, descending back down into the city that’s quickly threatening to become an imminent warzone. He knows it’s illogical, Gin would have told him if you left so you must still be up there, but a part of him can’t bring himself to believe it.

“I’ll wait for you.”

Your face blends with another version of yourself as he lets his eyes slide shut. The image of his apartment shifting into an unfamiliar hotel room. The atmosphere is much more somber in the hotel room, Dazai feels anxiety swelling in his throat and hope bubbling in his chest no matter how hard he tries to push it away as those very same words ring through his head. In a desperate attempt to sideline the emotions he can’t seem to control, he leans in to press his lips against yours. His own breath catches as the memory floods through him—he can feel the pads of his fingers burning as he pushes you back against the bed, his heart racing as his body hovers above yours, his mind foggy and dizzy as he kisses you so deeply that he think he might die from lack of air to his lungs. His tongue brushes against your bottom lip, his body slides on top of yours, hips slotting between your thighs and then-

Ding.

His eyes snap back open as he’s forced back to reality, the sharp trill of the elevator drawing him from the maze of the pages just as the doors slide open. He’s hardly able to settle down, sweaty palms wiping at his black jacket and tongue pressing to the roof of his mouth as he steps out of the elevator and into his penthouse, praying he doesn’t look half as frazzled as he feels.

It’s so bright, he thinks to himself, unused to having so much sunlight in his penthouse, usually keeping the windows blacked out just as he does in his office, but he figured you’d find that a bit odd so he made sure to fix it before you woke up in the morning. His gaze drags across the room, and he hates that his pulse spikes when he doesn’t immediately spot you, but it’s only a momentary spike when he realizes that you’re laying on the couch with Gin, some unfamiliar show playing in the background as you waves your arms around, talking rapidly.

He doesn’t move for a moment, standing there, admiring you—the way your skin glows beneath the sun, the way you smile widely, eyes glittering as you speak. You’re so animated. So alive. Dazai just can’t get used to it. He wonders if this is what his life would be like every day, if you stayed around. Waking up to you in the morning, relaxing with you under the early sun before he goes off to deal with his work, coming home to you waiting for him on the couch. Realistically, he knows it’s not that simple—you have your own goals and dreams and Dazai swore that in this life, he’d make sure you’d achieve them, so you can’t just sit around his penthouse all day until he comes back… but maybe it’s a practical enough to hope for the next few weeks until Dostoevsky is handled.

But first, he has to make sure you stay here and not try to go off with one of your friends, which will be a trial in itself. He’s not sure how to go about it yet, so he just needs to have faith that it’s not something you bring up right away.

Gin catches sight of him first, rising to her feet instantly, hands locked behind her back. “Sir,” she greets, nodding her head down a bit in respect.

You perk up at her words, leaning up to finally catch sight of him, peeking your head over the back of the couch and then raising your hand to wave at him. “Welcome back,” you say with a grin. “How was the meeting?”

Gin bids you a quiet goodbye before making her way out of Dazai’s place back into the office, leaving Dazai alone with you.

“Agonizing,” he answers truthfully, voice a low drawl as the corner of his lips instinctively curls up at the sight of you. He doesn’t come any closer, leaning back against the wall as you prop yourself up on the back of the sofa to look at him, resting your cheek on your folded arms.

A smile spreads across your face at his words, amused, and he wonders distantly if you would be even half as amused if you knew what the meeting was about or what he had to do afterward. The thought nearly makes his own smile falter, throat spasming. No matter how easily you might’ve accepted him and his past in the other universes, he knows that it won’t be the same in this one because it’s not his past. Not for the first time, he’s viciously jealous of all of his other selves—not only because of their relationship with you, but because they hadn’t needed to go to the depths of hell that he has had to in the name of keeping you and Odasaku safe.

It’s so hard. Lonely. The other Dazais always liked to insist that they were alone but they weren’t—not really. They always had so many people surrounding them even if they refused to accept it, meanwhile he-

He has nothing. Even now when you’re here, he knows that he’ll never be able to have you as intimately as the other Dazais did. He’ll never be able to open up to you like they did, rely on you like they did. He can’t because of the risk it would bring to the fragile stability of this world. He can’t because if you knew the truth, it would drive you away.

He’s so tired.

He’s not sure what you must see on his face, but your expression falls a bit as you look at him. You push yourself to your feet and he can’t help but notice that you’d changed out of your pajamas into a pair of leggings and a burgundy sweater. He also notices, a bit more dreadfully, that the duffle you’d brought last night is sitting outside his bedroom door, packed.

“I messaged one of my friends,” you say, voice a bit awkward, a jolt of panic shoots through him, realizing that you are bringing this up right away and he hasn’t had time to figure out how to go about convincing you to stay. “She said I could stay with her until my apartment is fixed, so I won’t be bothering you much longer. Thanks for letting me stay the night.”

Dazai hardly refrains from sighing and letting his eyes slide shut in frustration.

He really can’t get a break.

“I…” he trails off, unsure of what to say. He could tell you that it’s not a bother, but he doubts you would believe that, and how is he supposed to insist without coming across as shady? He has to try though. “It’s not a bother. You can stay here as long as you want.”

It won’t be enough, and he knows it from the way you immediately shake your head, sitting back on your heels to look at him head on. “I appreciate it, but I don’t want to intrude.”

His mind races as he tries to figure out what to say but it’s hard to think with dark talons pulling at his brain, images of you flashing before his eyes—limp in his arms as he tries to shake you awake (futile, your skin was already cold when he got back from work), unmoving on the floor of your apartment as he stands at the door (he’d only stepped outside for a moment), the fear in your eyes as you topple back over the side of the roof (he can’t get to you in time. he never can.)

“It’s no intrusion… Truthfully, it gets a bit lonely here on my own,” Dazai finally admits, his voice sounds faraway to his own ears as he struggles to ground himself from the foreign memories, he hopes it doesn’t come across that way to you. He can see your face shift a bit at his words, brows furrowing and lips turning downward—not pity, thankfully because he hates pity, but more so understanding. Hooked, he realizes and then deals what will hopefully be the final blow: “I really wouldn’t mind the company.”

Your lips part to say something but no words leave them. You stare at him for a moment, looking between your duffle and your phone and then back to him. He waits, breathless, because he doesn’t know what he’s going to do if you say no, if you insist on leaving. He can’t let you leave, not until the threats have been dealt with, he refuses to sign your execution warrant—he can live with you hating him, even if the thought makes him sick, he can’t live in a world without you.

Finally, you give him a smile.

“I mean, it would definitely be easier getting my work done here than in her cramped apartment, it’s hardly big enough for her and her boyfriend, much less me on top of that,” you say with a laugh, rubbing the back of your neck. “If you’re sure…”

Dazai has to physically restrain himself from letting out a sigh of relief.

“I’m sure,” he murmurs.

You light up and then look back at the television. “Well, I found a few movies I want to watch, if you’re up for it?” you ask with a hesitant smile.

Dazai gives you a soft, matching smile. “I’d love to.”

Oh, god, how did you end up like this?

You can hardly breathe properly, legs tossed over Dazai’s lap, head resting on his shoulder, his arm curled around you. The movie is still playing in the background but you’re hardly following the plot anymore, too focused on the feeling of Dazai’s thumb rubbing idle circles over your hip. You don’t even know if he’s aware he’s doing it, but it has your entire attention—your heart is racing, you’re sure he must be able to feel it, he’s just being courteous in not mentioning it, and your body feels hot. Every now and then, his thumb dips a bit lower and you swear he must know what he’s doing but he’s barely sparing you a glance, engrossed with the movie playing on the disgustingly large television mounted on his wall.

The movie that you had been excited to watch but now can’t even recall what the plot is.

And it’s so odd. You don’t like cuddling. Or, you thought you didn’t like cuddling. Whenever your past partners tried to cuddle up next to you to watch a movie, or at night before bed, you’d grimace and try to subtly shift away, but now? You’re leaning into him, you find comfort in the arm draped around you and the fingers drawing absent patterns on your hip, you find warmth in the way your body is tucked against his.

It’s absurd, you think, why is he so different from everyone else?

Your friends think you’re crazy. When you texted one of them to ask for a place to stay until your apartment is fixed, and then abruptly said nevermind because Dazai offered to let you stay at his, you were hit with five calls in a row and a spam of texts ranging from: “wym ur staying with that random guy you met at a bar two months ago???” to “girl ur crazy, this is stranger danger 101. you were literally just complaining about how you know NOTHING about this man. i am NOT coming to ur funeral.”

The last one is a lie, Kei would come to your funeral and she’d cry like a baby while stuttering through the eulogy, but it’s no issue because there won’t be a funeral. Regardless, you still shut your phone off because the vibrations were getting irritating, but now, you kind of wished you still had your phone to peek at because you can’t focus on the movie and you need something to distract you from Dazai’s touch otherwise you’re bound to make a complete fool out of yourself.

You spare a look up at him—just a quick glimpse, but it proves to be a fatal mistake.

He’s already looking at you.

There’s a fond expression on his face, a warm look in his eye. When he realizes you’ve caught him, his lips tilt upward and he says, “You haven’t been watching the movie.”

A soft accusation. Teasing. It leaves you a bit flustered. You want to look away but you can’t bring yourself to.

“Guilty,” you manage to get out, giving him a sheepish smile.

“I thought you wanted to watch it.” His voice is so soft and light that it makes goosebumps rise to your skin. He keeps his tone low so as to not disturb the atmosphere between the two of you, and it only serves to further the yearning you feel for him, eyes darting down to his lips as he speaks. His gaze sharpens a bit, pupil dilating when he notices where your eyes had tracked down to. Your mouth dries.

“I did,” you whisper, leaving the implication in the air that something far more interesting has caught your attention, breath catching as your eyes lift back to his, wishing that you could know what he’s thinking. You can see his mind racing, as if he’s fighting with himself about something and then-

And then he kisses you.

He leans in just enough to brush his lips against yours, brief and hesitant, as if he’s just testing the waters. And it’s electrifying, you don’t think you’ve ever felt anything quite like it. Every other kiss you’ve had pales in comparison to the faintest brush of his lips to yours. His eye searches your face as soon as he pulls back, as if to make sure you’re okay with this; you can see the hint of something edging on desperation as his gaze flits back and forth between your eyes. He wants to know you’re okay with this, needs to know.

You don’t waste a second as you lean forward, hand coming up to cup the side of his neck as you press your lips against his. You don’t have the same hesitancy that he does, heart thudding in your chest as your fingers intertwine with the curls at the nape of his neck, your body flush to his. His lips are chapped, but you don’t mind—it feels familiar somehow, almost comforting. You can feel the rough material of his bandages brushing your cheek but you only press closer. He tastes like fine whiskey and faintly of iron, a strange combination but you can’t get enough of it.

He’s still hesitant, you can feel it in the slow way he kisses you. His fingers twitch from where they’re resting on his lap, as if he’s itching to reach out and touch you but doesn’t know if he should. Your hand slides up from his neck to the back of his head to pull him impossibly closer, tongue darting out to drag against his bottom lip, and that seems to be all of the push he needs.

His hand comes to rest on your waist, fingers biting a bit too deeply into your skin but you don’t mind. One swift motion and he’s laying you back against the cushions, body sliding on top of yours, his other hand shifting upward, large palm cupping your cheeks as he tilts your head back to deepen the kiss. Your eyes flutter shut, you let out a soft, pleased sigh into his mouth when you feel his tongue tracing your inner lip.

You think you could kiss him forever, you realize, heat pooling in your stomach and a fluttery feeling spreading through your chest. The hand on your waist slides down a bit to your thigh and your breath hitches when he parts them just enough for him to slot his hips between them, and god, you want him.

You think your heart might fly out of your chest, and you don’t know why you’re so nervous. You have casual sex all the time to relieve stress but nothing about this feels casual, it feels so intimate; you let out a shaky breath as Dazai’s lips drag from yours to kiss the corner of your mouth, trailing down to your jaw, nipping at the spot behind your ear that always makes you shudder (god, how does he know your body so well already? it’s unfair, you might die), tongue tracing the underside of your jaw lightly, he kisses down your neck, teeth ghosting your pulse point and one of your legs instinctively hooks around his waist, dragging his body closer until you can feel him pressed up against you and-

A screech comes from the television.

You jolt, he jolts, both of you startled, having forgotten that the movie was even playing in the background, too lost in the feeling of one another. Your chest rises and falls rapidly as you try to reorient yourself, leg slipping from his waist to rest back down on the couch.

The moment is ruined, naturally, all too hyper aware of the scene playing in the background and embarrassed by how quickly that had escalated. Dazai’s cheeks are dusted red as he shifts off of you back into a sitting position, and his lips are wet and swollen, and so very tempting.

You want to kiss him again, so you do.

You sit up and cup his cheek to tilt his face in your direction, pressing your lips to his in a short and sweet kiss. You smile against his lips before pulling back and tucking yourself back into his side, gaze focusing back on the movie.

He lets out a puff of air that sounds distinctly close to a laugh before he wraps his arm back around you, warm and comforting, casual, as if it’s something he’s done a thousand times before, and you think Kei can suck it, because you’re starting to think that the ‘random stranger at the bar’ might become the best decision of your life.

A few days later, you’re stretching on a yoga mat looking out down upon the vast city below, Akutagawa Gin is sat pretty on a barstool next to where you’re stretching, one leg crossed over her knee, rapidly tapping at her phone as she finishes up some emails for Dazai, who’s god knows where dealing with whatever business Dazai Osamu deals with.

“It’s a bit weird that they’re taking so long to fix my apartment, isn’t it?” you ask absently, grimacing as you shift into a pose that pulls at all of the wrong muscles. “Usually it doesn’t take more than a day or two.”

You still don’t really know what Dazai’s company is, you were only able to find vague scraps online about the Mori Corporation: a massive, affluent conglomerate that formed seven years ago. Apparently, it has a hand in just about every industry from technology to shipping, so you suppose it makes sense that Dazai is hardly ever around, but you’re finding yourself increasingly bored. There’s only so much time you can spend in the same apartment, no matter how big or fancy it may be. The days have been incredibly repetitive with Dazai leaving for his work meetings, you relaxing and getting some of your work done, talking to Gin, and then Dazai coming back late at night.

“You’re probably not the only apartment that had a leak,” Gin says, astute as always. “Your landlord might just be getting to the others first, and if they’re half as bad as yours was, it’ll probably take a bit.”

You scowl. “It would be just like him to leave me for last,” you say, half to yourself as you sit back on your heels, looking over at Gin. “I swear this man has had something out for me since I moved in. Did I tell you about the time he took three weeks to get back to me about a work order I put in for my sink? Three weeks. I had to wash all of my dishes at my neighbor’s place. How embarrassing is that?”

Gin looks amused, gray eyes lifting from her phone to look down at you from where she’s sitting. “Multiple times, in fact.”

“Well, I’m going to tell you again,” you say matter-of-factly before launching into a tirade that you can recite word for word in your sleep from how often you’ve vented about it to people over the past two years. In your defense, it was absolutely ridiculous, it never should’ve taken that long, but you digress.

You like Gin, you decide as she listens intently to the same rant she’s heard at least three times over the past week, nodding along and adding supportive commentary when necessary. Well, you decided you liked her the first time you met her, but you’re just reaffirming it now. For as formal and professional she is, she always gets a certain gleam in her eye when she talks to you, and you can actually see her for the eighteen year old she is, rather than just as the secretary of the boss of one of the biggest corporations in Japan.

You think she likes you too, you muse as you finish off your rant and go back to laying like a starfish on the yoga mat, not in the mood to do any more stretching. She always lights up a bit whenever Dazai tells her to spend the day with you instead of following him around. You’re not sure why he does it, you figure he’s probably making things harder on himself by not having her around, but you’re not going to complain because you think you’d go crazy with no one to talk to.

But even if she does like you, she’s still not very forward with information about Dazai and the Mori Corporation. She tends to change the topic whenever you bring it up, or sometimes she just gives you that look, the one that tells you that she isn’t going to say anything about it. You think it’s a bit weird that they’re so secretive about it, but you suppose she just doesn’t want to speak on behalf of Dazai when you ask about him, and the whole secrecy about the business probably has to do with trade secrets or something

Although you don’t really think you’re asking questions that could even scarcely tap into trade secrets, but you think that maybe they’re just paranoid. Probably for good reason if the business is half as influential and lucrative as the few things you’ve found online claim it is, but still, knowing that doesn’t make you any less curious.

“Hey, Gin-chan.” You decide to get an early start on today’s attempt to whittle information out of the girl. When she looks at you questioningly, you turn your head to the side to look at her. “Is Dazai okay?”

Gin looks a bit startled by your question, but you only wait for an answer. You think he must be having trouble with something regarding his business because every day he comes back to his place later and more stressed, you can see it in his face when he walks in, the dullness in his eye and the way he can hardly cover it up before you catch sight of him. You don’t know why he’s so intent on hiding the exhaustion from you but you wish he wouldn’t.

“Why do you ask?” Gin questions carefully, as if she doesn’t know how to answer the question which pretty much confirms that something is wrong.

“I figure he must be having trouble with something in his company,” you say absently, watching Gin blink in surprise, another confirmation that you might be onto something. “He comes back to the penthouse later every day, and more tired. And even when he’s here, he spends most of the time on his phone unless he turns it off. You’ve been on your phone more often the past two days too, so I figure it’s connected.”

Gin hesitates and then she says, “We are… having difficulty with a rival company,” she finally says, and you sit up to look up at her again, leaning back on your hands. “They are trying to push us out of some key industries in Tokyo and Yokohama. Their… CEO is hosting an event in two weeks that we’re supposed to be attending, along with many of our subsidiaries. We’ve been trying to prepare for it while dealing with some other internal issues. He’s probably just… drained.”

This time, you hesitate, a lump forming in your throat as her words register because how fucked up is it that he’s so drained from work and then has to come back to his penthouse and entertain you? Guilt swells in your chest, you don’t even know where he’s been sleeping because he’s been so dead set on you taking the bed that he won’t even hear your arguments on it.

“Should I… go stay with my friend then?” you ask hesitantly, and when Gin gives you a half-alarmed, half-concerned look, you elaborate: “I just… feel bad, I guess. That he’s dealing with so much work and can’t even have a space to decompress when he finishes because I’m here.”

Gin says your name with so much humor that you’re almost insulted, but there’s a glitter in her eyes as she looks at you, so any complaint you have promptly dies. “Being with you is decompressing to him,” she says quietly, and though warmth spreads through you at the words, you’re still doubtful.

“I don’t know,” you say, unconvinced. “I see the way he tries to hide how exhausted he is whenever he sees me. He shouldn’t have to put in so much effort to mask himself in his home just because I’m here.”

Gin doesn’t respond for a moment, gaze flickering down to the floor, but when she speaks, her voice is soft.

“He’s always so lonely,” she says, more to herself than anything else, but then she raises her eyes to meet yours, “no matter how many people are around him, he’s always so cut off from everyone, refusing to let anyone get close… except when he’s with you. In all of the years that I’ve known him, I’ve only ever seen him happy when he’s with you.”

You stare at Gin, lips parted to respond but no words leave them.

Instead, Gin continues, “He… had to step up at a very young age. He was sixteen when he found me in Suribachi and even back then he was just so… empty. I’ve never seen him actually acting his age except when he’s with you, or talking about you. So-”

Gin is interrupted abruptly by her phone ringing. She looks down and gives you an apologetic look before answering the call and wandering off to the other room, leaving you to your thoughts. Your throat still feels swollen, but with a far more pleasant emotion now. A small smile tugs at the edges of your lips, hand pressed to your chest as if you can physically slow the erratic pace of your heart. Your face feels warm and a giggle slips from your lips as you flop back down to the yoga mat, staring up at the ceiling.

Or, well, it’s not entirely pleasant. A heavier feeling settles on your chest as Gin’s words about what Dazai used to be like—still is like, whenever you’re not around—process through your head. It’s not like you didn’t have any sort of inkling about it, you’ve known that there’s more than meets the eye about Dazai Osamu since the first night you met him, and the past week you’ve spent with him only has made you more sure of it. His mind drifts off so often, eyes faraway and expression so vacant that sometimes it takes a few tries for you to get him to come back to you.

You don’t mind, but it does make you sad to know that he’s been like this for as long as Gin has known him, and since the only time she’s ever seen him even partially happy is when he’s with you, you can’t help but wonder how many years he spent depressed and isolated. And you’re realizing, a bit scared, that you’re starting to care for Dazai a lot because the first thought that crosses your mind is that you wish you’d met him sooner so he didn’t have to spend all of this time alone.

You sit up straight, alarmed by your own thoughts, because yes, you’re enamored by Dazai and you have been since you met him almost two months ago, but you didn’t think you were falling for him yet—not like that at least. It’s absurd, you still hardly know much about his personal life. You don’t know about his family besides for the fact he took over his father’s company, you don’t know anything about said company besides the scraps you found online but… but you remember the way he kisses you gently, and the way his expression always softens when his gaze falls on you, and the way whenever you speak, he’s always giving you his full attention no matter how inane the topic might be, willing to listen to you ramble on about all of the books you’ve read and gossip with you about your ex-coworkers and drama happening in your friend group and-

Oh.

Yeah. You might be falling for him.

Your hand rises to your lips, mind racing and spiraling all at the same time and you realize that you really, really need fresh air. Promptly, you remember that you’d meant to ask Gin to order some groceries because Dazai’s kitchen is about as bare as his bedroom, and you’ve been craving some specific snacks anyway; you also wanted to have her order some actual food so you can make something to try to make Dazai eat more because you’ve noticed he doesn’t eat all too much and you don’t think that’s very healthy considering how much stress he’s under. You’re not the best at cooking, but you can make do and just pray that he likes it.

A perfect excuse. You’ll run out and grab some groceries, maybe take a walk in the nearby park to clear your thoughts and come to terms with the realization you’d just come to, and then come back and do something nice for Dazai.

Decision made, you bound over to the door Gin disappeared into so you can let her know where you’re heading, but when you peek your head into Dazai’s office, you see Gin in deep conversation with someone over the phone, brows creased and frown on her lips as she stares down at some of the paperwork on Dazai’s desk. She looks distinctly frustrated and slightly distressed, so you decide not to bother her. Instead, you just close the door quietly and make your way over to the elevator, stepping inside when it finally reaches the top floor and pressing the button for the lobby.

You won’t be long anyway, you doubt she’ll even notice you’re gone.

The elevator dings as it reaches the first floor of the massive building and you adjust your purse over your shoulder as you step into the lobby—it’s massive and bustling with dozens of people. You haven’t been back down here since he brought you here a few days ago, and you’d been too exhausted to really be able to gather your bearings, plus it had been the middle of the night and not as many people had been around.

You’re hardly able to peek around for half a minute before someone runs into you.

You let out a quiet yelp, startled, blinking as your gaze focuses on the man who’d bumped into you. He’s a bit on the short side with fair skin and light freckles dotting his nose and cheeks, bi-colored eyes—one brown and the other blue—narrowed as he studies you. He’s pretty, you think. Not quite as pretty as Dazai, but definitely attractive. Or he would be, if he wasn’t staring at you with such an unpleasant expression.

You half-think he’s about to demand that you apologize even though he’s the one who bumped into you, and you think if he does, you’re going to have serious problems with him, but instead, a vague recognition flashes through his eyes as he finally speaks. Although, you can’t help but notice he still is looking at you with distinct displeasure even after recognizing you.

“You’re the girl that’s been living up with the boss,” the man says, his voice is cool and guarded and you feel a bit uncomfortable under his stare. You’ve always been particularly good at reading people, and you can tell at first glance that he does not want you here. “Where are you going?”

You don’t know why it’s any of his business, but you say: “Out. I’ve been cooped up for almost a week. Plus, I don’t know how Dazai feeds himself, he has literally no food in his place.”

“Does he know you’re going out?” he asks, eyes narrowing onto you as he tilts his head to the side.

You bristle, not liking his tone. “He’s not my keeper.”

“No, but he’s gone out of his way to give you a place to stay when he didn’t have to. The least you can do is let him know when you’re going in and out.” The man matches your sharp tone with his own and you wither a bit, because he’s right, even if he is being a bit of an ass about it.

“Gin-chan was busy,” you mutter. “I’ll text him.”

The man lets out a sigh of what can only be utter suffering, lifting his head to look up to the ceiling as if asking a higher deity ‘why me?’ You have no idea what’s going through his head, and you just want to slip out of the building and drink in some fresh air and sunlight, but the last thing you expect is for him to look back at you and ask:

“Want company?”

You blink, wondering if he’s fucking with you, but he only stares at you, expression flat as he waits for a response.

“I-” You’re about to say no, you aren’t particularly looking for company, but then you realize that this might be a chance to try to gather some more information about Dazai. You quickly amend to a: “Yeah, sure… What’s your name anyway?”

“Nakahara Chuuya,” he tells you, voice a bit brusque. “Just call me Chuuya.”

Dazai comes home to an empty penthouse.

For a moment, he doesn’t react. The unconscious smile that had begun to curve to his lips while taking the elevator back up to the top floor of the headquarters falls instantly as his dark gaze sweeps across the room that you’re usually lounging in with Gin only to find it eerily silent, void of the laughter he’d become desperately used to the past few days.

He doesn’t let the panic hit right away, not even bothering to slide his coat off before making his way over to his bedroom, wondering if you’d decided to take a nap. He very much does feel a distinct spike in his heart rate when you’re not in there either. He stands there for a moment—Gin is still up here, she would have called down if she had to leave, so where are you?

Where are you?

Dazai suddenly feels sick to his stomach, a bit dizzy on his feet.

Did you leave?

Why did you leave?

Did you go into his office? Find something implicating his position in the Port Mafia?

Or did you just get sick of staying in the same place so many days in the row? Why wouldn’t you tell him if that were the case?

Maybe you were just sick of him.

His vision spins a bit, he presses his hand against the frame of his bedroom door to steady himself. Stop it, he tells himself, inhaling deeply once to try to get his head back on straight. But he can’t, he can feel numbness spreading through his chest viciously at the thought of you leaving. The void returns with a vengeance, consuming him entirely, and it’s only the thought of the chance of you being in danger out there alone that pushes him forward. He needs Gin to tell him what the fuck is going on.

What does he do if you left on your own voilition?

Dazai’s head is not sitting on his shoulders properly. It can’t be. Everything looks wrong, everything feels wrong. His hand drops down to his side, resorting back to the technique he had to use before he met you—he steadily taps your name against his thigh as he forces himself to walk across the room to his office, to where Gin must be, to get some answers. But even your name isn’t enough to keep him grounded.

He’s holding you in his arms. You’re so cold. There’s blood everywhere. They’re telling him to let you go. He can’t. He never can.

He’s reaching out to you, desperately trying to grab your hand before you topple over the side of the roof. He never makes it.

He has to make a choice. A life for a life. He always chooses to save you. It doesn’t matter—they always kill you anyway.

Nausea builds in his throat, he forces it back down, and when he opens the door to his office it’s a bit too aggressive. Gin’s head snaps up from where she was working at Dazai’s desk, flipping through papers with creased brows as she tries to put together the list of suspects. She stands up instantly at the sight of him, lips parting to greet him. He doesn’t let her.

“Where is she?”

The words come out cold and cutting, a far cry from the awful emotions wreaking havoc on his chest and mind. To his absolute distress, Gin only looks confused at his words, lowering the phone and bidding goodbye to who he can only assume is Kouyou as she asks:

“... What do you mean?”

Fuck. Dazai takes a step back out of his office, back into the living room of his penthouse. His head feels all hazy, his vision starts spinning more. Fuck. You had to have left on your own. There’s no way anyone is getting all the way up to the top floor through all of the guards, and if they did, they wouldn’t leave Gin alive. Fuck.

Where did you go?

There’s blood. Too much blood. Or is it water? He’s dragging you out of the water. And then his fingers are meeting air, the tips of his fingers just barely scraping yours before you plummet down, down, down.

Why the fuck did no one say anything to him?

He can hear Gin talking, but her words go in one ear out the other. Dazai pulls out his phone, double, triple, quadruple checking to make sure he got no messages. None from you (his chest hurts). None from either of the Black Lizard captains. None from Atsushi. None from Kyouka. None from Chuuya. All people who should have feasibly noticed you leaving the headquarters.

Dazai has never done well with emotions, negative or positive, but he thinks fear is the worst of all and he’s been plagued with it since the moment he’s come in contact with the Book. Fear of the future, fear of making a mistake, fear of fate.

Fear is the mind-killer. The quote rings through his head over and over again, damning and true. It’s the one emotion that paralyzes him, puts him into a state that makes him incapable of making decisions. Fear of one thing turns into fear of another—it’s a ceaseless cycle, and a ruinous one. Fear of you leaving him turns into fear of you being vulnerable and then to fear of you being targeted and then to fear of you being dead, and already he can feel numbness spreading from his chest to his limbs. He thinks he feels Gin touch his arm but he can’t even turn his head to look.

So he does the only thing he knows how to do: he channels it into something else. He funnels the fear into something more familiar, something more welcome.

First, it turns into frustration—another emotion capable of incapacitation, but one that’s far more manageable. He jerks away from Gin, grip tightening on his phone as he paces back across the room. His thoughts begin to race, a red fog clouding his mind as he wonders why the fuck no one told him that you left, and if no one knows that you left, then Dazai is going to have to have serious fucking words with all of the security details posted throughout the building because that sort of laxness is not acceptable.

He doesn’t even know who he should message. Atsushi? The boy might close in on himself and shut down for failure and Dazai cannot afford to deal with that. Chuuya? Not an option, Chuuya would be the last person to go to about you seeing how often he actively expresses his distaste for your presence in the building, Dazai doesn’t want to give him more ammunition about you. Hirotsu? Might be the best option, the Black Lizards are quick and efficient, they’ll be able to track you down fast, but if he sends the Black Lizards he needs to figure out what he’s going to do.

What is he going to do?

God, he doesn’t know. The red starts to tint blue as a helpless feeling sweeps over him. He doesn’t know what to do. You left on your own, he doesn’t know why and he doesn’t know if you have any intentions on coming back. He doesn’t know what to do if you don’t plan on coming back. His whole reasoning behind the decision to indulge in you was centered on the fact that he could protect you in this lifetime, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to keep you in the ivory tower forever but he hoped he’d at least have a little longer to try to figure out a plan.

And the fact that you didn’t even tell him that you were leaving doesn’t bode well—again, the fleeting, anxiety-inducing thought of you stumbling upon something that you shouldn’t have crosses through his head but he pushes it away. Maybe you left because you were bored, because he wasn’t around and Gin was busy, he can try to fix that. He can fix that. Maybe he’ll even convince you to come back.

But if he can’t…

He has two options:

He can put protection details on you, it would be an extension of Port Mafia resources that will face a lot of push back from his executives considering they’re approaching a gang war with the now united forces of Dostoevsky, Nabokov and Tolstoy, but he doesn’t give a fuck about what his executives think, you and Odasaku are the only things that matter in this universe so he’ll do whatever it takes to make sure you’re safe. But regardless of what his executives think, the main issue with this option is that your safety is not guaranteed. It’ll only take one slip up for your life to be forfeit and for everything that Dazai has built and sacrificed to be flushed down the drain.

That leaves option two. Forcing you to stay in the tower. Locking you up until he can ensure that there are no more threats to you (there may always be threats to you). You’d hate him, surely, and is he capable of living in a universe where you hate him? He has to be, if it means your safety. But that isn’t the life that he wants for you. He wants you to live, achieve all of the dreams you were never able to in all of the other universes, you can’t do that if you’re locked up.

Dazai feels sick. Regret starts to churn his stomach. He never should have approached you. He never should have indulged. He never should have convinced himself that he could keep you safe because he can’t. It’s fate. Fate. Fate.

The word twists the cloud fogging his vision, the ugly color that formed of the mixed blues and reds turns darker, until an inky black is creeping into his vision. Fate, he hates the word, he hates the inevitability, he hates himself for dancing right along with the strings that have been placed on him by the cruel gods above, even when he knew what would happen if he did. The weight of the gun hidden in his jacket starts to weigh all the more heavily, his fingers twitch toward it, desperate to feel the familiar weight of it in his hand. And then-

And then the elevator dings.

Dazai’s gaze cuts to the side, sharp and cold, and it’s only when the elevator doors slide open and your pretty laugh rings through the air that Dazai’s world is finally set straight again. The color returns, the numbness disappears, the void is pushed away for another day. His eyes land on you, and the bright smile painted on your lips as you bound back into his penthouse.

“You’re back early!” you say, delighted, and Dazai can only hope and pray that you can’t tell how badly he’s spiraled because you weren’t around. He thinks you can, of course you can, because your smile falters a bit but then it brightens again as you make your way over to him and-

Oh.

All of the tension in his body melts away as you make your way over to him with a skip in your step and lean up on your tiptoes to wrap your arms around his shoulders. Dazai lets out a breath, too sharp and too shaky for you to not notice with how close you are to his face, but he can hardly bring himself to care as he brings trembling hands to wrap around your waist. He basks in the feeling of your warmth and if any of the numbness had threatened to linger, it’s certainly gone now as he calms himself down by setting his heart in pace with yours as he feels it thump steadily against his chest.

“Where did you go?” His voice is hoarse, as much as he tries to make the question seem light.

“You have no food, Dazai,” you complain, and you don’t seem to care that he’s definitely hugging you for a bit too long, propping your chin on his chest to look up at him. “Plus, as fancy as your penthouse is, I can’t sit around in the same place for days. I wanted to go out on a walk. So I ran to the store to pick up some groceries. I thought I’d make it back before you, I wanted to try to make something for dinner. I saw a pasta recipe while I was scrolling through Instagram that I want to try out, although I should probably test it out on my own before feeding you any. It usually takes me a few tries to get a recipe down and the first few attempts are more akin to toxic waste than actual food…”

You ramble, probably because you can tell how out of it he is and it’s scary how easily you can see through him because he thinks it’s only a matter of time before you see through to what he really is. But for now, he lets his eyes slide shut as he loses himself in your voice, and he feels silly for thinking that you would leave without saying anything.

He knows you better than anyone else in the world. Anyone else in any world. Maybe even better than you yourself. He should have known better. You would never do that, no matter what you learn about him, no matter what he does. It’s not who you are—you’re always so stringent on communication, you can’t sleep until an argument is settled properly. It’s something he’s hated in other universes, because he’s flighty and can’t handle confrontation, but he thinks it’s something that he should rely on in this one, because he knows that no matter what you might learn, you’ll always sit down to give him the chance of a proper conversation rather than just ghosting him.

He spiraled for nothing.

He’s not drawn back to the present until he hears:

“... and Chuuya is so cool, by the way. Why didn’t you introduce me to him sooner? He has an ability, I’ve never met an ability user before. I made him carry all of the groceries, and he did it like it was nothing. Gravity manipulation? Did you know in undergrad, I wanted to major in physics—I tried to actually, but had to drop 101 because apparently my brain is not cut out for the sciences. Or mathematics. It was kind of embarrassing actually, who has to drop out of a 101 class?”

In your spiel, only one word—one name—matters. His eyes reopen, he makes sure to keep his body lax in your arms as you lean against him so you can’t feel his sudden shift in mood. His gaze is cold and cutting again, lifting from you to behind you, where he finally lays his eyes upon the person with you.

Chuuya stands there, dozens of grocery bags hanging off his arms, a faint red glow around each of them signaling that he’s using his ability. Dazai’s expression is lethal as he stares at his executive, but Chuuya’s lip only curls up in a half-snarl, as if daring Dazai to say anything, before he makes his way out of the elevator to bring the grocery bags into his kitchen.

And Dazai can’t say anything, not this time, because he’s already figured out what happened: you must have tried to leave on your own when Gin was busy because you were bored, and Chuuya ran into you and tagged along so you wouldn’t be defenseless should someone target you to get to him, in spite of how he feels about you and your presence in the building.

Dazai bites his tongue, for once, and instead focuses back down at you. His expression softens when he catches you looking up at him, curious, and he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear.

“You should have texted me,” he murmurs. “I would’ve told you I had a quick day today, we could’ve gone together.”

Your expression twists a bit in irritation. His eyebrows shoot up in surprise.

“I did text you,” you say, indignant, and Dazai’s brows furrow and you immediately draw back to pull out your phone. He misses your warmth instantly, but forces away the longing. Your lips part a bit as you look down at the screen, a sheepish expression on your face as you say: “... I thought I texted you, evidently, it did not go through.”

Dazai lets out a puff of air, half-amusement, half-disbelief, because of course it was a matter of miscommunication, and he thinks again that he should have known better. Logically, what he assumed was so unlikely that it shouldn’t have even crossed his mind, but evidently, you turning him into an illogical and emotional fool is something universal across all of the different worlds.

But he still remembers the one fleeting thought he had earlier—that you were bored, and probably lonely sitting up here all day, especially when Gin is busy dealing with Port Mafia matters. This is bound to happen again, and next time, he might not be lucky enough to have someone catch you slipping out of the building.

So, he’ll have to do something about it himself, make sure you’re not bored enough to leave the building and unwittingly place yourself in danger, he decides, pleased.

“Would you…” Dazai hesitates as he looks down at you, uncharacteristically nervous. You tilt your head to the side curiously. “Would you want to go on a date with me tomorrow?”

A smile splits across your face.

“Is that even a question?”

Dazai’s woken up by someone shaking his shoulder.

Realistically, he knows that no enemy is able to make it to the top level of the Port Mafia’s most well-protected tower—it’s impenetrable, if the masses of armed guards on the lower floors aren’t enough to keep out intruders, then the Black Lizards on the middle floors would be more than enough, and if even they aren’t, Atsushi and Chuuya are stationed on the higher floors, ready to jump into action at a moment’s notice. Still, he’s startled, unsure of who would be in his office waking him up at this time and caught off guard because he hadn’t even meant to fall asleep, so instinctively, he’s reaching for the gun hidden at his side, eyes a bit wild as he jolts up, trying to figure out what’s going on.

“Sorry.” He only settles down when he hears your voice coming from his side, apologetic and little over a whisper as to not alarm him anymore than he already is. Instantly, his fingers loosen around the grip of his gun, a lump in his throat when he realizes that he almost pulled a gun on you. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Dazai shakes his head as soon as your words process, still trying to gather his bearings. He’s in his office, he must’ve fell asleep while looking over paperwork at his desk—plans for the upcoming event hosted by Nabokov, and a list of all of the possible informants that could be leaking information to Dostoevsky’s rats because one too many of the Port Mafia’s warehouse’s have been raided by the military police in the past few weeks for Dazai to be comfortable with, and he knows Dostoevsky is behind it because the man has been leaving little clues like it’s some sort of game to him. Dazai thinks that they should just kill all of the suspects and be done with it—if someone is even being suspected of having betrayed the Port Mafia, then they’re doing something severely wrong, but Kouyou advised him to go about this the right way.

Subtly, so as to not draw your attention, he shifts to cover the papers and then gives you his full attention, curious as to what you’re doing up so early because the sun hasn’t even risen yet. He’s been trying to make sure that he wakes up before you so that you don’t come looking for him in here, knowing where this is the most likely place where you’d stumble upon something that incriminates him as a mafioso rather than a businessman.

“You didn’t,” he lies through his teeth, voice a bit hoarse from sleep. “Is something wrong?”

You’re still dressed in your pajamas, but you have a fluffy rube wrapped around you and a soft smile on your face that makes Dazai’s chest swell. Your eyes are bright, gleaming with a type of excitement that has him tilting his head in curiosity, waiting to see what you have to say.

“Do you have access to the roof of the building?” you ask him, voice still hushed but tinged with more enthusiasm. When he nods, a smile splits across your face. “Can we go up there?”

Dazai doesn’t have the willpower to deny you anything, so there’s no hesitation as he says: “Of course.” But then as he rises to his feet, pulling on his long, black coat that he’d shrugged off at some point last night, he looks at you and asks, “Why?”

“I like watching sunrises,” you say, bounding over to the elevator and waiting for him to follow. He does, of course. He would follow you anywhere. Everywhere. He dreads the day you go somewhere he can’t follow. It’s inevitable—he doesn’t believe in the existence of heaven, but if there is one, you would go there, and he won’t. There’s too much blood on his hands, staining his skin no matter how much he scrubs it raw, and the blood that runs within him is black and corrupted, beyond any type of remedy. “I want to see one from the highest point in the city.”

Oh. Dazai’s heart leaps to his throat when he realizes what’s about to happen, pulling his access key from his pocket and swiping it against the pad to allow access to the roof. Some things differ across all of the universes: the way you meet him (although you’re always the one to find him), the way you die (he always finds you though), sometimes it takes a while for the two of you to progress past the friends stage, but it’s usually not too long.

Everything varies except for one thing: the sunrises. In every universe, you have an obsession with them: you like watching them, seeing as many new ones as you possibly can. You explained to him once that it was because it helps you move forward, gives you hope, a reason to wake up each morning. The infatuation with them began after your brother’s death in the other universes when you couldn’t find any reason to keep going on your own so you sought one out in the sunrises—although this is something you only opened up to him about in one universe, in all of the others, you’ve hidden your past struggles with depression from him. He’s not sure why, maybe just because you don’t want to burden him with them.

It would be just like you, trying to share the weight of all of his burdens but shouldering yours on your own.

He wonders if you’ll tell him in this one. He wonders what made that universe’s Dazai so special. He feels viciously jealous and for a moment, irrationally hates his other self, only finding solace in the fact that all of the other Dazais would probably feel just as scorned over the fact that only one of them got special treatment.

He thinks you can sense the deterioration of his thoughts, because you reach out and lace your fingers with his as you lean against the back of the elevator, waiting to get to the top floor. His grip on your hand is a bit too tight, he thinks, but it keeps him grounded. You’re here. You’re with him. All of the other universes don’t matter. Only this one does.

His lips part to speak, to fill the silence, but no words leave them. He thinks he’s spoken more these past two months with you than he has in his entire life. He never has any desire to speak unless he’s with you, and then he’ll find any reason to speak if it means he can hear your voice.

“You don’t have to sleep in your office, you know?” you say abruptly, voice quiet. You’re not looking at him, he wonders if you’re embarrassed at whatever you’re about to say because you hesitate as you add, “I know I’ve pretty much commandeered your room but… I wouldn’t mind sharing a bed with you. This is your place, you should be comfortable too.”

Dazai thinks his face might be on fire, all of the air whooshing from his lungs at your words because of course, it’s something he’s thought of, dreamed of, but he never imagined you would just offer it up like that. He’s quiet for too long, evidently, because you seem to be more embarrassed. Just as he’s about to force something out, the elevator doors slide open and you’re rushing forward, yanking him along, as if to pretend you never said anything and Dazai can’t help the small smile that curves onto his lips.

“That would be nice,” he tells you quietly, he doesn’t know if you hear but he thinks you do because your grip on his hand tightens.

The air is bitterly cold as high up as the two of you are, and the wind is wicked. He thinks that you’re definitely not dressed warm enough, a robe isn't nearly enough to shield from this type of cold, but you look unbothered, an exhilarated smile painted on your face as you drag him dangerously close to the edge of the roof, and Dazai can’t help the way his anxiety spikes—not for his sake, but for yours. His grip on your hand tightens a bit but you only plop down at the edge of the roof, tugging his arm gently as a way of beckoning him to sit with you.

He does. Of course, he does.

His legs dangle off the side of the roof, thigh pressed against yours, and you keep your fingers laced with his, holding his hand on your lap. You stare ahead, eyes bright and excited as you wait for the sunrise. He stares at you, captivated. A part of him is still convinced this is all some twisted dream that his mind conjured to torture him—that he’s going to wake up slumped over on his desk to an empty apartment with only the faint memory of you to console himself with.

Desperately, he wonders if there were any other universes like this, if this is just another spiral into the pages of the Book, just one more intense and more vivid than all of the rest. He knows there were universes where he stayed with the Port Mafia, universes where he became its boss—but he was older in those, in his mid or late twenties. No, this is his universe, it has to be, right? Right?

He doesn’t realize that his grip on your hand has tightened until you look over at him, and instantly, he loosens it, but you only tighten yours in response. Your eyes meet his and suddenly Dazai is breathless, unsure of what to say or do. You always look at him as if you’re looking into him, not at him, not like everyone else. It’s unnerving. He hates it. He loves it.

“Are you okay?” you ask him, knocking your shoulder into his.

The smile on his face doesn’t necessarily meet his eyes, but the words he speaks are probably the most genuine that he’s ever uttered in his entire life. “When I’m with you? Always.”

Your expression softens, although he can’t help but notice that you don’t seem entirely placated by his response. He’s grateful that you don’t push though, because he doesn’t want to lie to you. You lean over though, resting your head on his bicep, and his breath hitches when you bring your free hand to your lap too, cradling his hand in both of yours. He forces himself to look ahead again, not wanting you to see the way his visible eye has suddenly become misty.

You trace absent patterns on his skin as you wait for the sun to break over the horizon and Dazai is lost to his thoughts once more, heart suddenly clogging his throat as he realizes that yes, this is his universe and yes, you are here. With him. He doesn’t have to cling to the vague memories of your warm touch and sweet words, not when you’re sitting next to him and giving him them now. Why is he trying to drift off into the pages when he has you here? In a universe where Dazai was certain he’d never experience the tenderness your presence brought him, he should be savoring this.

“Gin told me the other day that you guys are having trouble with a rival company,” you say quietly, and that draws him back to the present, brows furrowing as he wonders just how much Gin told you, mind racing as he tries to figure out where exactly this conversation is going. “That you guys are trying to prepare for an event they’re hosting in a week. I don’t want you to… worry about me or anything while you’re busy getting ready for all of that… Maybe that’s a bit presumptuous of me to assume but I just… I don’t know. I know you’ve been stressed about it, I don’t want to put more on you.”

Dazai lets out a quiet puff of air. “You see right through me, don’t you?” he murmurs, voice gentle and fond as his gaze drifts over you. “You don’t have to worry about that. You don’t put any stress on me.”

You look a bit flustered at his words, glancing down at your lap, at where his fingers are still laced with yours. You squeeze them tighter for a second and then look back out at the horizon. “... I’m glad,” you tell him softly. “I’ll keep out of your way the weekend of, though. I already talked to one of my friends, she’s going to let me stay with her for the weekend. Well. Assuming my apartment isn’t fixed by then. I still can’t believe it’s taking so long.”

The fondness is gone. Dazai’s world crashes and burns.

It’s only sheer willpower that prevents his sudden burst of anxiety from showing on his face. He turns his gaze out to the horizon now, staring ahead as he tries to figure out how to tell you no without sounding psychotic.

His tongue presses to the roof of his mouth, the nails of his free hand scrape painfully against the rooftop as he desperately tries to fumble together a plan. You cannot leave the tower the night of the event. There’s already a high chance that Dostoevsky knows about you—Dazai knows there’s a spy in the Port Mafia and he doesn’t know if they’ve spotted you around the base. You’ve been leaving the headquarters more frequently during the day since that day with Chuuya; Dazai is never able to join you but he makes sure that Tachihara, Chuuya or Atsushi are with you on the chance that you’re targeted.

If he’s being realistic, there’s no shot that Dostoevsky doesn’t know of you already, and if you’re out and about while the entire Port Mafia is readying for this event… No one would be left for him to station a protection detail on you, and it would be just like Dostoevsky to capitalize on that as he has in so many other universes, having you killed when no one is around to protect you.

God, is this it?

The words ring through his head. Cold. Damning. His bones feel as if they’d been thrown into a blast chiller and stuck back inside of his body. His stomach churns. Is this it? Is this how it’s going to happen?

He can’t let it happen. How does he prevent it?

How does he prevent it?

He thinks there’s only one way, but it leaves a sour taste in his mouth because it’s nearly as risky as letting you go off on your own, the only difference being that he would at least have some semblance of control over the situation.

“Oh,” he finally forces out, the words sound distant and hoarse even to his own ears.

You look at him. Fatal. You can always read right through him, he has to make his decision quick.

“You sound… disappointed,” you say hesitantly.

He makes his decision, and he prays to any god that will listen that it doesn’t backfire.

“I was… going to ask you to be my date to the event, actually,” he says, careful to not look at you and give you even more of a window into his mind. He feels the way you straighten at his words. Hooked. He continues with, “... but if you already made plans with your friend…”

“Really?” you breathe out, your grip on his hand is tight, he can feel the way your fingers are trembling around his.

“Really,” he tells you softly, finally daring to look at you.

Your eyes are shining, the expression on your face so open and unguarded that Dazai almost feels bad for lying, but you don’t have to know the truth, that the only reason he’s inviting you with him is because he can’t have you going out and about alone. Not now. Not until Dostoevsky is dead.

But once Dostoevsky is dead, then what about all of the other threats? Agatha Christie? All of the enemies he’s made in this lifetime? When does it end?

He can’t think about that right now. He has to tackle the issue at hand first.

You turn your head to look back out at the horizon, a smile edging at the corners of your lips. “I would love to be your date,” you say so quietly that Dazai almost doesn’t hear you.

But he does, and he can’t hold back a relieved breath this time as he squeezes your hand.

A comfortable silence washes over the two of you as you wait for the sunrise, and Dazai doesn’t think he’s ever felt more at home. He’s still tired, undoubtedly; he hadn’t meant to fall asleep last night because he knew damn well that he’d only be more tired when he woke up, it would’ve been easier to just stay up the whole night. But now, he’s so at ease with you that he could almost fall back asleep—and that’s a feat in itself because Dazai hardly sleeps, and never feels comfortable enough to do so, he only ever sleeps when he's too exhausted to keep going. You’re so warm, so home, how could his eyes not start drooping shut?

“You know why they’re so great?” you suddenly ask, drawing him out of the drowsy state he was threatening to fall into. You’re still looking ahead, but he’s looking back down at you now.

It’s close—the sun is about to rise, and he doesn’t care to see it himself, he cares to see you. He wants to see how the orange hues reflect in your eyes, the way your skin glows beneath the golden rays; he thinks it’s a holy experience, Dazai has felt the whirlwind of emotions that all of the other Dazais go through the first time they see you beneath the rising sun and he never thought he’d be able to feel it for himself.

“Because no two are ever the same?” His voice is soft and hesitant, and he’s not thinking as he speaks. He doesn’t even register what he said until you’re pulling your head off of his shoulder to look at him again, eyes wide, delighted.

“Yeah!” You toss him such a stunning smile that it almost physically dazes him. “You get it.”

He doesn’t have the heart to admit that he’s a fraud, closing in on himself a bit, but you don’t notice, head turning straight again.

“They give me something to look forward to,” you say, a bit quieter again. Your gaze is distant as you look out into the sky, as if you’re seeing something that’s not actually there. “I want to see as many of them as I can.”

Dazai once tried to find the same comfort in sunrises that you did. It was when he first came up with his plan and he realized that he’d never get the chance to be with you, and he’d never get the chance to call Odasaku a friend. He came up here, actually, and watched the sunrise in this very spot. It was bitter and cold. It made him sick to his stomach. It made him feel emptier than he already was. And he realized that there was no beauty or appeal to them unless you were at his side.

“We should…”

You trail off as you turn to look at him again suddenly and Dazai’s lips part to warn you that you’re going to miss the best part—your favorite part, as you’ve told him (not him) over and over again. But the words die on his tongue as the sun breaks over the horizon and wow, he understands it.

He understands it. God, he understands it. Everything he’s felt through the other Dazais pale in comparison to the sight before him and how it entirely devastates the thin thread of control he has on his emotions whenever he’s with you. Enamored. Captivated. His chest feels tight and his throat feels swollen and Dazai is in love. He is so completely and irrevocably in love that he doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to recover.

Suddenly, he understands why so many of the other Dazais have come to terms with their feelings for you at this moment.

The sunrise washes over you and Dazai thinks you’re utterly angelic. Your eyes reflect the myriad of colors sweeping over the horizon, your skin glows beneath the red and gold hues. You’re beautiful, unreally so. Too divine for someone like him to lay his tainted fingers upon. He’s suddenly hyper aware of how his shoulder is brushing yours and how your fingers are laced with his. He thinks he should pull away, spare you from his putrid touch, but he couldn’t even if he wanted to, and he doesn’t want to, because he’s so wholly selfish that he would rather condemn you to ruin than part from you.

“We should watch them together,” you finally say, and your eyes don’t leave his and you’re missing the sunrise but you don’t seem to mind, searching his face desperately for an answer.

It takes an embarrassingly long time for your words to process, but when they do, Dazai thinks there’s no way he’s going to be able to hide the sudden urge he feels to cry.

“Yeah,” he says. His voice cracks, he can’t even bring himself to care. “Yeah, we should.”

Nakahara Chuuya is livid when he gets a notification to his phone about the roof suddenly being accessed, knowing damn well only one other person can get up there. The vibrations from his phone wake him up, and then the subsequent spike of panic that shoots through him when he realizes what the notification is and what the implications of it are is more than enough to have him throwing himself out of bed and sprinting up the stairs, realizing that the elevator will take far too long.

It takes him a total of two minutes to get up to the roof from the thirty-second floor, and by the time he gets there, he’s so full of rage that Chuuya feels like he might explode. The last time Dazai went up to the roof, he was six bottles deep and Chuuya was hardly able to grab him before he toppled over the edge, and Chuuya is not in the mood to deal with that this early in the morning.

Chuuya hadn’t thought this would be an issue now, not with you here because although Chuuya still doesn’t know quite who you are or how you’ve managed to get Dazai Osamu under your thumb, he knows that Dazai is not the Dazai that Chuuya knows whenever you’re around. And Chuuya doesn’t get it, you’re nice enough, pleasant to talk to and pleasant to look at, but he doesn’t think that there’s anything special about you. Not special enough to have Dazai so entirely enamored by you that he’s starting to put the Port Mafia second, at least.

Apparently not enamored enough to stop from getting shit-faced and suicidal, though.

Chuuya’s jaw tightens as he pushes open the door to the roof and-

And he freezes.

The fury slowly starts to dissipate as he catches sight of where you’re sitting at the edge of the roof with Dazai as the sun finally starts to rise. He thinks he should leave, go back down and get a few more hours of sleep before he has to meet Kouyou and Hirotsu at ten to go over the protection details for the event Nabokov is hosting, but he can’t help the way he hesitates, watching how absolutely infatuated Dazai looks as the sun rays sweep over you. Less like the cold and cruel boss of the Port Mafia that Chuuya’s become used to over the past few years, and more like the kid he met at fifteen, the one who disappeared and turned into a shell of himself after a few months of Chuuya knowing him.

Chuuya never understood why. The only time he ever got close was that night on the roof when he started breaking down after Chuuya stopped him from jumping, but even then Dazai refused to explain anything to him. It pissed him off, honestly, because they were supposed to be partners. Chuuya was supposed to have the asshole’s back, no matter how infuriating he may be, but something changed a few months before Dazai’s sixteenth birthday and whatever it was, it entirely killed off anything left of the Dazai that Chuuya knew. No matter how much he demanded to know what happened, Dazai blew him off—dismissive at first, then cruelly, until Chuuya finally had enough and let it be.

If he wanted to go off and be a husk of himself, then so be it, far be it from Chuuya to stop him.

But now…

Chuuya lets out a quiet huff, shaking his head, drawing his eyes from where Dazai is looking at you as if you’re the only thing in the world that matters, stars in his eyes and a soft smile on his lips, to look up at the sky. He supposes it doesn’t quite matter if he doesn’t understand what’s so special about you to make Dazai act like this, just the fact that you do is enough—and if it turns out this is all some scheme by one of the Port Mafia’s enemies to get close to Dazai, Chuuya will do what he has to do. He always does.

He thinks he should still grab Dazai—if Chuuya remembers correctly, he has a meeting with Ace in twenty minutes, but he takes one last look at where you’re sitting with him and lets out another heavy sigh, shaking his head and deciding that he’ll just handle the meeting. He’s been meaning to have a word with the man about his business in eastern Russia anyway.

He closes the door quietly, heading back inside, all of the lingering resentment and anger washed away; he lets Dazai indulge, if only because he knows nothing good ever lasts in this line of work. It’s only a matter of time before his luck runs out.

#ᡣ𐭩 carina’s archives #dazai x reader #dazai x you #dazai osamu x reader #dazai osamu x you #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs x you #bsd x reader #bsd x you

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ohtomatotome · 2 years ago

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Watch

—----------

Title: “Watch”

Characters: Comte de Saint-Germain, Sebastian x Female Reader (Ikemen Vampire)

Word Count: 1,598

Rating: E

Tags: Jealousy, Unrequited love, Voyeurism, Masturbation, Cunnilingus, Vaginal Sex

Trigger Warnings: Broken Trust?

Author’s Note: Part of #VisionsOfTemptation2022 for Kinktober (prompt credit to @xxsycamore ). This one is angsty. Why do I hurt Comte? I certainly don’t hate him. In fact, he’s my favorite character in the game. It seems like everything I write for him has him either panicking, pining, pouting, or putting an end to a fight. Perhaps because in the game he appears serene and capable on the outside, so I enjoy seeing him struggle with something that really challenges his composure.

Prompt Used: Voyeurism

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It had started out so innocent, so seldom, so unattached.

When you arrived at the Parisian mansion in the 1890s, le Comte was the perfect host. He had assumed the father-figure role for most of the vampires there, and that same paternal regard was extended to you. You felt safe within his careful gaze. How could you know heat lurked beneath the gentle smile?

The truth was far more expansive than you ever realized. He was always watching.

When you were receiving idle flirtations from Arthur and Dazai, he had seen your flustered blush.

When Napoleon surprised you with his innocent morning kiss, he had been outside the door.

When you were relaxing in the thermae, he had hid himself in the corner obscured by steam and plants. Later that night would be the first in a countless string of nights he had jerked himself off while picturing you.

When you were trying so hard to impress Sebastian, he saw the determination on your face.

When you had reached a boiling point of frustration with trying to understand your feelings for Sebastian, he watched you run to Leonardo for consolation.

When a special spark of electricity passed between your gaze with Sebastian one evening at dinner, he didn’t miss it.

When you and Sebastian were working side by side in the kitchen and exchanging lingering glances and quick little kisses, he had been watching from the hallway.

He had been a silent witness to all your important moments in the mansion. He had held his tongue for too long and let the chance slip away. He could have easily made a romantic impression on you from the very beginning, sweeping you off your feet and making sure you looked at no one but him.

But he hadn’t.

That would have been selfish.

Besides, you would be leaving in one month, so what would have been the point to secure your affections?

How was he to know that the Door would malfunction for so long and trap you here in the past?

In the interim, you fell in love with Sebastian, and he with you. Everyone was happy for the both of you. It seemed only natural for the two humans to pair up.

It would have been unnatural if you had chosen a vampire, to say nothing of a pureblood.

Unnatural, indeed.

Never had jealousy felt so personal to le Comte.

When your relationship was becoming more intimate, you began fretting over the plain and matronly state of your underthings. They had been a bulk delivery of identical pieces that Comte bought as soon as you arrived. You hadn’t had a say in it. You were grateful at the time, but now you wish you had something a little more exciting to wear, since there was someone in your life who was going to see you naked. Eventually.

Le Comte watched you grumbling as you pawed through her dresser. Of course he was there, out in the hall, watching. “Would you like something new? Any particular item in mind? Let me buy it for you. Come, ma cherie, let’s go shopping.”

He watched you run your hand over the silk drawers and camisoles in the shop. His vivid imagination pictured your shapely form being hugged by that champagne fabric, visualized your hand gliding down his own bare stomach and reaching lower, the new light of dawn dappling your skin.

“Monsieur?” Your perky voice brought him out of his reverie.

Of course he had to have you try them on to make sure they fit. He insisted on standing guard right outside the dressing room. He smirked as he heard the rustle of fabric and your delighted cooing. There was immense pleasure to be taken in the knowledge of you wearing the lingerie at his request first, before Sebastian ever got to see them. And even greater pleasure knowing that he was the one purchasing the items that would be closest to your nakedness.

—------

He also happened to watch as you boldly led a red-faced Sebastian into your room one night.

Le Comte decided to indulge his own selfish fantasies for once. As soon as you closed your door, he silently locked himself in the room next to yours. This unused room held a secret known only to him: a peep hole through the back of the closet that was hidden behind the tapestry hung in your room, threads strategically thinned out in that exact spot. The surveillance was originally needed for a suspicious house guest Comte did not trust. He hadn’t used it in decades.

His watchful eyes were on your every move as you began to loosen your layers of constrictive clothing, shimmying out of them until you were only clad in the very same lingerie he had bought you. Le Comte observed this fact with pride and satisfaction. And envy. Always envy, that ever-present thorn in his heart.

You encouraged Sebastian to undress next, kissing him as he undid his many buttons and snaps. Now the two of you are just in your underwear, the candlelight and moonlight cooperating to give your curves the most delectable shadows and highlights. You made a slow show of removing the silk slip until the only thing touching your skin was the pale light.

Le Comte longingly contemplated your bare beauty and silently cursed the butler for not grabbing your hips to see how the plump flesh gave under the pressure of a squeeze. He heard you say something in a low, sultry voice, but even with vampiric hearing could not make out all the words. The hungry tone, however, was unmistakable. It waltzed down his spine deep into his belly. That tone was the last inducement he needed before unbuttoning his pants and taking out his member, already stiffening and begging to be stroked.

Sebastian didn't need any further coaxing either. After you laid on the bed he began working between your legs with his mouth and fingers, making up for with enthusiasm what he lacked in experience. Le Comte watched your lips with rapt attention, how they opened and closed around silent gasps. Each inhale of yours was matched with a stroke of his hand down his cock. Sebastian continued until you were mewling and your thighs started to twitch involuntarily with pleasurable spams.

You pleaded in a husky voice for your lover to fill you, clutching at his hair and tugging him up towards your body. Le Comte had to be careful now, his heavy breaths were difficult to keep silent. He strained to see your face as Sebastian entered you. Exquisite. Sublime. Perfect. The low moan you let out was enough to shake Comte so badly he had to hold onto the wall for support before he erupted. He was close, but he wanted to hold out as long as possible and cum at the same time as you.

Sebastian staggered the pace of his thrusting, sometimes fast and hard, sometimes slow and deep. Comte tried to time his fist strokes along with your sounds, imagining it is him that was making her sound so wanton and needy. In his fantasy, you had always come to his room when you needed consoling. It was his shoulder that you had cried onto. It was his arms that you found solace. It was his eyes that you desperately wanted to capture. It was his heart that you fought to uncover. It was his soul that you had desired. It was him that you loved. Him. Not Leo, not Sebastian, not anyone else. He was the only one who gave you everything you needed.

Right at that moment, he closed his eyes as his mind was painting a picture of the two of you making love in the garden gazebo at midnight. He could almost smell the night-blooming phlox and hear the crickets. You’re lying beneath him, gazing up at him with eyes full of love and lust. Oh! If only you had ever looked at him like that, just once. Just once. Just…

Your sighs and gasps turned breathier and higher-pitched. Le Comte knew you must be close to a climax. He resumed a rapid motion on his shaft, eagerly awaiting that triumphant sound. He peered through the hole once more to see your back arching off the mattress, legs wrapped around Sebastian, mouth open in a silent pull of air, and then – your little shriek that almost made his dick jump out of his hand. Your following moan was all he needed to chase his own finish. He had a handkerchief ready and caught every drop as his chest shuddered with shaky breaths.

The guilt was immediate. He felt dirty and despicable to his core. A sudden gloom overtook him as he splayed a palm out against the wall for support. The elegant mouth turned down in utter disgust at himself.

What was he doing?

You had trusted him. You looked up to him as a benefactor, as the respected master of the manor. As a friend.

And this was how he repaid your trust?

Deplorable. Sickening. Unforgivable. Reprehensible.

Self-hatred and self-pity overwhelmed him. He buttoned up his fly and stuffed the soiled handkerchief into a pocket.

He could hear the couple renewing their love-making as he silently moved out of the closet and into the dark room. Anguish pierced his chest. Shame soured his mind. He didn’t know how long he sat in that room, letting the sounds of bed springs and pleasurable grunts float over him, wishing for something that would never be.

#ohtomatotome #my fanfic #ikevamp #kinktober 2022 #kinktober #visions of temptation 2022 #ikemen vampire #ikevamp comte #ikevamp sebastian #ikevamp sebastian x mc #ikemen vampire comte #ikemen vampire le comte #le comte de saint-germain #ikevamp abel #ikevamp saint-germain #ikemen vampire saint-germain

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urfavfandomles · 3 years ago

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i saw a man so beautiful i started crying?

dazai osamu x gn! reader

mention of suicide (as expected)

You couldn’t breathe.

This is how you’re gonna die. A heart attack. Not being able to breathe. Not able to do anything, frozen at your spot in line in the cafe. Fuck. Fuckfuckfuckfuck. This is the end of your life, and you won’t even be able to tell anyone you loved goodbye. And you’re positive your newspaper eulogy would be pathetic.

Why are you going to die?

Because you saw a man so beautiful tears clouded your gaze. You couldn’t tear your gaze away from him. He was a fucking angel. Dark hair, a bit messy. A straight nose carved out from God himself. Pretty, pale skin, which was covered on his neck and arms by bandages. Very fucking weird, but it didn’t even take away from how beautiful he was. His tall, lanky form, moving with a grace across the cafe. He hasn’t noticed you staring at him yet.

Your body works on autopilot. You walk back through the line, ignoring the grumbles of everyone you shove past. The closer you get, the more and more warm your face gets and the more tears fall from your eyes. You are sobbing in the middle of a busy cafe in Yokohama.

You finally reach him, and he finally glances at you. He flashes you a smile, that was so charming it hurt even more. His eyes widen a bit in response to your ugly crying, but you can’t even stop.

You sling your purse off your shoulder, and unzip it, shaking hands reaching inside. Your entire body was trembling. You grasp the 1040 yen that was in your purse and shove it towards him, looking into his eyes. He looks completely caught off-guard. He opens his mouth, most likely to ask you if you are okay, but you just shake your head at him and continue to offer him your money.

“You are the best looking person I have e-ever seen,” snot was running out your nose, “s-s-so I think you deserve this money, and I was going to buy my lunch with this but whatever.” Your voice is cracking, and your face is so flustered as you continue to stare at him. Your tears blur your vision. You couldn’t place why he was so beautiful to you. There was no way you’d ever meet someone with the same disposition as this man, and surely no one as handsome.

His expression morphs from one of surprise to something else, cheeks beginning to spread a gorgeous shade of pink, and dear God, how did you even manage to talk to this man? You were aware of how pathetic you probably looked, but a part of you really didn’t care because you saw the smile grow across his pretty lips, and it was as if he were an angel who had come to appear in your life to mock how embarrassing you are. People all around the two of you are beginning to whisper, and you can feel even more heat grow across your face. Your whole face was undoubtedly as red as the tomato soup you were going to purchase for your lunch before this man came through the door and changed your entire life.

Were you fucking insane? Probably. Were you mentally stable? Absolutely not, and this is something you had been working on in therapy. Inability to regulate your emotions, but none of that mattered. Should you pack your things in your apartment here and move to the other side of the world? Most likely.

You’re shocked as a cold hand brushes against yours, and you watch as the man, in a dramatic flourish, gets down on one knee. He holds your hand, and you should probably wipe the snot and tears away from your face, but you were frozen. There was nothing you could do while this man was near you.

“This is the best day of my life!” the man cried out, his voice a bit high-pitched from how genuinely happy he sounded. His eyes were full of light, as if he was the one who saw a holy being. “A beautiful, ethereal, otherworldly angel has chosen to talk to me first! Oh, goodness, nothing could be better than this!”

Your mouth opens and closes like a fish, and you’re now positive your soul is sliding out of your body as you watch as he guides your hand to cup his handsome face, his hand pressing yours against him. Oh god, he hasn’t let go. You’re sure you can die now, happy that a man this beautiful said this about you. You open your mouth to reply, when he beats you to it.

“Will you commit a double suicide with me?”

Wait -- what the FUCK?!

#dazai x reader #dazai osamu x reader #bsd x reader #bungo stray dogs x you #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs #bsd headcanons #this is my first time writing for this fandom #bsd crack #mine #anyways I am in love with him despite being a lesbian

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along-came-atsushi · 4 years ago

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BSD Mayoi’s Tarot Cards

I really liked BSD Mayoi’s approach to the tarot card theme and the beautiful artwork they put in there. Therefore, I decided to take a closer look at their meanings and to see if it fits with the chosen character.

All used cards belong to the Major Arcana tarot cards. The Major Arcana represent life lessons, karmic influences and big archetypical themes that influence a person’s life and the journey of their soul. They are the symbol of human consciousness and the key to life lessons. The Major Arcana include 21 numbered cards, starting with The Fool as the number 0. A Major Arcana in a tarot reading means that the person must reflect on the life lessons or that they are currently experiencing this time.

The tarot cards’ meanings and interpretations depend on and changes whether it’s upright or reversed. That means every card has positive (upright) and negative (reversed) meanings and their interpretations are heavily based on context. For example, The Fool in a reversed (negative) interpretation doesn’t simply mean that the person who gets the tarot reading is stupid, but that they might be in a point in their life where they have to decide something important and are reluctant to do so. Justice in an upright (positive) interpretation doesn’t simply mean that the person is righteous, and so on.

Besides their general meaning, the tarot cards also have a meaning for specific aspects of human life: health, spirituality, love and relationships, career and money. For this meta I’m focusing only on their general meaning.

I’m going to show and quote the character’s reaction to their assigned tarot cards first, then describe the card’s design, explain their general meaning and lastly compare it to the character’s personality, relationships and ability. The original cards’ description is based on Rider-Waite’s “Pictorial Key to the Tarot” card guide and can vary with other cards’ designs. Please note that Mayoi has either left out or changed some elements in favor of their artistic freedom.

All information in this meta has been gathered from my research of several internet sites. I really had fun with the way I wrote this meta, so if we’ll ever get more characters as tarot cards, I’d very much like to continue this series.

[Beware: Spoilers for the Hunting Dogs/Decay of Angels Arc!]

Atsushi – The Fool

Memo:

Nakajima Atsushi as The Fool tarot card. While initially surprised by the name of his card, after learning of its interpretations, he seems to be deeply moved as he looks back on his past.

Quotes: - “The name of this card, ‘The Fool’, surprised me at first, but I see it has positive meanings too! I'm kind of relieved...” - “It also stands for ‘freedom’. Hm... Compared to my old self, I can learn a lot of things, everyone from the Agency is by my side... and I can decide my own path...”.

Description:

The Fool usually gazes at the sky and the universe. Atsushi’s gaze is turned towards the viewer, probably a design decision. But he has his head lifted up towards the sky, still implying the original direction of The Fool’s gaze.

He carries his bag with a branch that rests on his shoulder and the bag contains all the things that he needs. Since it’s not big, it could mean that he either doesn’t need much or that he doesn’t own much to begin with. The white rose on his bag symbolizes purity and innocence. The white dog to his feet symbolizes loyalty and protection.

Normally, The Fool is seen to be at the edge of a cliff, unaware that he could fall into the unknown. Behind him is a mountain, symbolizing the challenges that are about to come. But he doesn’t care about these things right now, he’s focused on starting his journey and to learn the lessons that he came to learn.

Meanings and Interpretations:

- UPRIGHT: (new) beginnings, freedom/free-spirited, adventure, travel, originality, innocence, foolishness, carelessness, idealism, youth, spontaneity, lack of commitment.

- REVERSED: recklessness/risk-taking, carelessness, negligence, stupidity, distraction, apathy, irrationality, lack of fun/hope/faith, holding back.

Atsushi’s reaction at the meaning of his card is not surprising, since the word “fool” is not associated with positive meanings. The Fool in tarot is interpreted as the protagonist of a story and the Major Arcana is the path he must take, which is also called “The Fool’s Journey”. Along his way he meets new teachers and new life lessons and unveils the great mysteries of life. He eventually completes his journey reaching The World card.

Despite its name, The Fool is generally a positive card and the change it brings are seen as a welcome one. It indicates new beginnings, which means that someone is on the start of an exciting and unexpected adventure. On this adventure, The Fool may take a leap of faith, but will grow through this as a result. The adventure may not only be mental, but also physical, where The Fool has to travel to a place they’ve never been before.

Reversed, The Fool still means new beginnings, but it can signify that the person is reluctant to start their adventure or to jump into their new experience. It can indicate that the person is living in the moment, but that they behave recklessly towards others in their excitement.

~ ~ ~

This fits Atsushi, since he is the protagonist of BSD’s main story and his journey starts without him knowing about all the things that are about to come (positive and negative).

Atsushi’s past experiences in the orphanage as well as his isolated upbringing make him somewhat unaware and naïve about the world he lives in and its rules. He is unsure in his own capabilities and hesitates to take a new path unfolding before him (e.g., him joining the ADA). The new beginnings, as well as the dog symbolizing loyalty and protection could be a give and take symbolization for Atsushi. Meeting several characters in his life (especially the ADA members) offers him a new beginning, but he also stands in as a new beginning for these characters.

He is loyal and protective towards people who are important to him, but they also believe in him and are loyal and protective towards him, too. During his journey he takes a leap of faith in trusting in characters that were on the antagonizing side at first (Lucy, Akutagawa, Fitzgerald) and as a result, he grows through these interactions.

If possible, he likes to avoid doing tasks alone due to his lack of self-confidence and experience, which is shown when he questions himself, feels distressed or tries to avoid tough situations. Whenever the situation forces him to rely on himself (e.g., infiltrating Moby Dick) he comes out of it having learned a new lesson. His journey doesn’t only take place in his mind, but he has also physically traveled to a place where he has never been before (e.g., Standard Island).

Negative memories and experiences are something that hold him back throughout the story and make him hesitant in his decisions (e.g., the headmaster’s voice in his mind). He acts recklessly and careless in stressful situations, which causes him to tap into other characters’ traps (e.g., when he was under Q’s curse). During these situations he is not able to move on on his own and needs the help of others (e.g., Dazai scolding him). But he slowly realizes that he is now free from those past circumstances. He embraces the good things in his life and with this gradually moves on from his past.

Yosano – The Empress

Memo:

Yosano Akiko as The Empress tarot card. While she is not particularly interested in the divination aspect of tarot, she seems to have noticed the similarities between herself and The Empress.

Quotes: - “Tarot, yes... I am not at all interested in the overly uncertain aspects of divination, but The Empress has a rather beautiful design. I like it.” - “Apparently, The Empress is associated with vitality. Fufu, ‘vitality’. I like the sound of that.” - “I can only treat humans. And even then, I cannot treat all humans. I cannot control the vitality of the land like The Empress. Even so, I must do what I can.”

Description:

The Empress sits on a throne as representation of her dominion over growing things. She wields a scepter with her left hand, which represents her power over life. A shield is placed at her feet, the eagle on it is the heraldic emblem of the Holy Roman Empire. She wears a crown with stars, showing her connection to the mystical realm and the cycles of the natural world (usually there are twelve stars, symbolizing the twelve months of the year and the twelve planets).

Golden wheat grows in the foreground, framing her figure and indicating the abundance of harvest. The background is adorned with mountains, instead of a forest as in the original design. The depiction of nature in The Empress’ card signifies her connection with Mother Earth and life itself. She rejuvenates herself by the energy of nature.

The figure of The Empress is often depicted as a pregnant woman, her robe is patterned with pomegranates, the symbol of fertility. She is also mostly adorned with the symbol of Venus (that is sometimes shown on the shield instead of the eagle), which is the epitome of love, creativity, fertility, beauty and grace.

Meanings and Interpretations:

- UPRIGHT: Pregnancy, fertility, motherhood, sensuality, nurturing, creativity, beauty, femininity, nature, harmony, art, abundance.

- REVERSED: Insecurity, infertility, lack of confidence, lack of growth, overbearing tendencies, disharmony, negligence, creative block, dependence on others.

The Empress represents femininity and motherhood. Parents-to-be (mothers as well as fathers) who receive this card are encouraged to build on their communication with their children and to show them their nurturing side. However, even if the person is not a parent The Empress’ message stays the same.

It tells you to embrace your softer side and to listen to your emotions and intuition. People, especially those in need of empathy and compassion, will be drawn to you and you will be able to provide them with your nurturing. Not only does The Empress represent the creation of life, but also of romance, art or business. She symbolizes the emergence of an idea and the need to be receptive to change.

When The Empress appears reversed it tells you to embrace your feminine qualities. This also applies to men, as it is believed in tarot that all humans have masculine and feminine energies that need to be brought into balance. It signifies that a person may have been suppressing or neglecting their feminine side that needs to be embraced.

A person may be too focused on the material and mental aspects of their life and has disregarded the emotional and spiritual aspects. They may be putting the needs of others before their own or they may feel emotionally overwhelmed, so that they neglect the people important to them. It is advised to shift your focus in these situations and to ground yourself to get back to your inner balance.

~ ~ ~

Yosano is not associated with pregnancy or motherhood per se (since she is not a mother), but her role as a doctor and her ability can be interpreted symbolically in that way. She “creates” life or “gives birth” by bringing people back to life. She “nurtures” life by healing severe wounds.

This fits with her story arc, because she started her medical career already in her childhood. What began as a forced work during the war, turned out be a good blessing at first. The soldiers were in awe with her and her restoring ability, they were thankful and drawn to her nurturing side.

However, this turned out to be seen as the exact opposite, when the soldiers gradually experienced more trauma due to them being brought back to life over and over again. The same people now behaved hostile towards Yosano, involuntarily earning her the title “the angel of death”.

This trauma and abuse led to Yosano suffering herself, because she was forced to put the need of others before her own. This then led to her despising her own life and ability. She became visibly miserable and just a shell of who she once was, believing that she only brought demise to other people.

It was only when Fukuzawa and Ranpo found her that she started to gain hope and strength, because she was told that they were not interested in her ability, but in her kindness for others.This was the start for Yosano to realize that it’s not her supernatural ability alone, but also her mind and intentions that can help people, and marks the start of her career as the ADA’s doctor (even without her ability she is still a doctor and even without that she still values life and wants to save it).

Through her experiences she now knows the limits of her own abilities (both her supernatural ability and her abilities as a doctor), which can be seen in her reaction to her card. She still hasn’t given up on her work and duty, despite her negative memories. She won’t be losing track of herself, because she now has people at her side who truly care for her.

Kenji – The Chariot

Memo:

Miyazawa Kenji as The Chariot tarot card. He seems very interested in the illustrations of the brave horses and their chariot. The two horses depicted on the card remind him of his days back in Ihatov.

Quotes: - “The Chariot looks so valiant! And it has two horses! I bet they're good horses.” - “Apparently, one of the meanings of The Chariot is ‘the ability to take action’. Hmm~, I can't really tell, but what do you think? Do I have that?” - “I think it would be so fun if I could do my detective work with horses like the boy on this card! If I worked with horses, I feel like I'd be able to do a lot more!”

Description:

Kenji is depicted as armored warrior. His laurel crown (although heavily altered in design) symbolize victory, success and spiritual evolution. The figure of The Chariot usually stands tall inside his chariot. In Kenji’s case that has been upgraded and exaggerated to him standing with one foot on the foreside and pointing with one finger ahead. A heavy indication of taking action and moving forward.

In front of the chariot are two horses, which represent positive and negative opposing forces and duality. The two horses pull in different and opposing directions, yet The Chariot uses his willpower and sheer resolve to move them in the direction that he wants. He doesn’t need to hold reins to move, instead he controls it through the strength of his will and mind.

In the original card’s design, the armor of The Chariot is decorated with crescent moons, which represent what is coming into being, a tunic with a square, representing the strength of will and other alchemical symbols that are a representation of spiritual transformation.

The canopy above his head is adorned with six pointed stars that indicate his connection to the celestial world and the divine will. Instead of horses, two sphinxes are in the foreground. A city with a large river can be seen behind The Chariot, symbolizing the need to be in flow with the rhythm of life while charging ahead towards your goals.

Meanings and Interpretations:

- UPRIGHT: victory, overcoming obstacles, success, ambition, determination/willpower, control, self-discipline, hard work and focus, action.

- REVERSED: forcefulness, lack of direction, lack of self-control, powerlessness, aggression, coercion, being blocked by obstacles, opposition.

The Chariot upright represents overcoming obstacles through determination, focus and willpower. The person may feel motivated, ambitious and in control, therefore they are encouraged to go for what they want. There may be challenges and obstacles in The Chariot’s path, but if you stay focused and believe in your own abilities, you will be able to overcome these. The Chariot can also represent travel, as it is a means of transportation.

People who receive this card may feel like they are fighting a battle and because of that act defensively or aggressively to hide that they are emotionally vulnerable at the moment. In this case, you are encouraged to find balance between the heart and the mind. The Chariot also indicates success in sports and competitions.

The Chariot reversed means that a person may feel powerless and lack direction and confidence. They may feel put upon by others or the circumstances in their life. This can lead to anger and frustration as well as uncontrolled aggression. The Chariot advises you that you need to take control of your own destiny and to not let outside forces determine your path.

It indicates that you need to set boundaries and stick to them and to be clear about the time and resources you are willing to dedicate to others. If people in your life become too needy and demanding the person is advised to take back their own power.

~ ~ ~

Kenji starts his story by moving from the land to the city. His decision to leave his family and village, live in the city and to work for the ADA can be interpreted as him moving forward in a physical and spiritual sense. He is willing to challenge his new surroundings and grows through this as a result.

He has shown to be very confident in himself and his abilities, being the most optimistic of the group and to always look on the positive side of things. Tough situations do not worry him much, because he believes the outcome will work out just fine.This determination also transfers to other characters when they are with him and should they find themselves in a distressed situation (e.g., when he had his mission with Atsushi who was constantly worried about how Kenji does his work).

Being able to control something with his pure willpower could also be interpreted as an allusion to his supernatural ability that allows him to lift up cars or tear down stone walls on a whim. However, Kenji’s ability relies on the fact that he needs to be hungry in order to use it and the ADA members also advise to not disturb him when he is sleeping, because he will get irritated and aggressive in that state.

Kenji has been shown to not only be able to get over physical obstacles, thanks to his ability (e.g., bringing Fukuzawa out of the hospital). He is also able to encourage his peers to get over mental obstacles (e.g., his speech to the ADA when they flee from the HD).

Kunikida – Justice

Memo:

Kunikida Doppo as the Justice tarot card. Having always stood for justice and ideals, Kunikida has a favorable impression of this card.

Quotes: - “Justice... What a well-named card. The sword and scale illustrations aren't bad either.” - “I have no desire to sit on a throne, but I value fairness, which is one of the meanings this card holds. I want to uphold this as I carry out my Agency duties.”

Description:

Kunikida as the figure of Justice sits on a throne, holding a sword in his right hand and scales in his left hand. The sword points upwards, symbolizing a firm and final decision. Its double-edged blade is a reminder that our actions always carry consequences. The scales show that intuition must always balance logic and are a symbol of impartiality.

He wears a crown with a small square on it, a representation of well-ordered thoughts. His white shoes looking from underneath his robe also symbolize that our actions have spiritual consequences.

The figure of Justice sometimes is depicted in front of a loosely hung purple veil, which signifies compassion. Two pillars frame the figure, symbolizing balance, law and structure.

Meanings and Interpretations:

- UPRIGHT: justice, karmic justice, consequences, legal disputes, law, truth, honesty, integrity, cause and effect, life lessons, fairness.

- REVERSED: injustice, karmic retribution, dishonesty, corruption, lack of accountability, dishonesty, unfairness, karmic avoidance.

In an upright context, the Justice tarot card is a representation of karmic justice, legal matters, cause and effect. Justice symbolizes truth and integrity and can imply that a person may feel the urge to speak out the truth. This person values honesty and integrity in others, too.

Justice also relates to balance and signifies that an event may occur that is beyond a person’s control or their own making. In these moments Justice encourages the person to keep themself level-headed as the events unfold. It also signifies that a person is about to make a choice and that they are currently weighing all their options. In legal matters, this card shows that the outcome will be a fair and balanced result.

Reversed, Justice means injustice and the avoidance of karmic justice. It symbolizes that a person has been treated unjustly or that they are in a situation where they are being affected unfairly by the choices and actions of others. The person may feel victimized or blamed for something that isn’t their fault. Justice reminds the person to still keep their balance. If the person created the situation themself, it is advised to think about how they can react to that situation. It also signifies that the person must be accountable, if they created the situation by bad choices and actions. This means that the person should not blame others and to be more self-aware.

It can also symbolize dishonesty and that a person should not lie their way out of something or try to justify it. The person may also have hardline views in their life and prejudices the people around them. In legal matters, Justice indicates that the result will be one of injustice or that the outcome may not what the person has hoped for.

~ ~ ~

Kunikida is practically the personification of justice of all of the ADA members and justice is also something that he has been shown to think about a lot. He takes his work very professional and serious and tries to bring every case to a fair result. If he isn’t able to save people, he calls out the unfairness of the situation (e.g. when he tried to save the abducted victims in the Azure Messenger case.) This shows that he feels responsible and guilty even for events that were out of his control.

He seems to try to balance his own life by sticking to his written ideals and calls others out shouldn’t they behave in the same way (e.g. mostly seen when Dazai is neglecting his work). If he notices that people are distressed during a bad situation, he reminds them to keep their balance or he tells them to think about what they can do (e.g. to Atsushi when the Black Lizard attacked the ADA office). But he also reminds himself about these things (e.g., seen when he was told by Jouno that he felt relieved about the ADA getting caught and with this his ideals falling apart. But then he got back to his knees and defended the ADA, so that they could escape.)

When Kunikida meets new people, he keeps up his guard and distance at first, and holds prejudices about them (e.g. when he met Dazai, Atsushi and Kyouka). This can lead to him having a wrong first impression of people (negative and positive) and with this easily fall into traps (e.g., when he did not realize that Sasaki was the Azure Messenger).

This implies that he first weighs to be careful about whom he trusts (in this case a new colleague), and changes his mind about them later, once they have proven to be trustworthy.

Tanizaki – Temperance

Memo:

Tanizaki Junichiro as the Temperance tarot card. While he initially tilted his head at the card's rather strange design, he faces its mystical aura head-on. He seems to have interpreted the card's meaning in his own way.

Quotes: - “The person on this card is pouring liquid from one cup into another... What on earth for?” - “So, Temperance also means ‘harmony’. Hm, am I harmonic? Oh, sometimes I sort things out when there's a commotion at the office... so I guess I am?” - “Hmm, so it means ‘devotion’ too... The only person I'm devoted to is Naomi. To me, Naomi is irreplaceable.”

Description:

Tanizaki balances himself with one foot on land, representing the need to stay grounded and the other in the water, representing the need to be in flow. The water he pours between two cups are the symbol of the flow and alchemy of life. This was a standard symbol of Temperance as one of the cardinal virtues, as it represents the dilution of wine with water.

In many decks, the figure of Temperance is depicted as winged angel, but instead we see two feathers, probably meant as surrogate of the angel’s wings. The background shows a path leading to a mountain with a golden crown on top, but this depiction has been changed in Tanizaki’s card and the golden crown rests upon his own head instead. The crown is a symbol of taking the higher path and staying true to one’s meaning and purpose in life.

Meanings and Interpretations:

- UPRIGHT: Balance, peace, patience, moderation, inner calm, perspective, tranquility, harmonious relationships, soulmates, purpose.

- REVERSED: Imbalance, self-indulgence, excess, clashing, lack of perspective, discord, antagonism, recklessness, hastiness, self-healing, re-alignment.

Upright, Temperance indicates that a person has found their inner calm and peace. They have a good perspective on things and care about harmonious relationships. It signifies feeling content and having found tranquility. Temperance shows that a person is in touch with who they are inside and what they value.

They have their own moral compass and have learned not to get dragged into other people’s conflicts. Minor issues won’t knock them off balance, instead they adapt to the situation with a clear mind and a calm heart. Figuring out your aspirations and your goals is easier for people who get this card in their readings.

In a reversed position, Temperance means imbalance. It signifies that a person behaves in a reckless manner. The person may have lost touch with their inner calm and peace, which leads to them seeking gratification in harmful and risky ways (like alcohol, drug use or gambling).

It can also mean that the person has a lack of harmony with the people in their life and due to this the person may lash out to people close to them, which then causes them to get dragged into drama. In these situations, it is advised to take a step back and look at how you are behaving, because you may lack to see the bigger picture. Examining the root causes and working to resolve them is the way back to your inner calm and peace.

~ ~ ~

Tanizaki appears to be one of the calmest people in the ADA. He does not get into quarrels with others, even if he is wary or hesitant about their ideas (e.g., giving in to Naomi’s demands and shenanigans, hesitating and getting tricked by Dazai to participate in Atsushi’s entrance exam).

Although, he is nervous on missions, he still takes them on with a clear mind and a professional approach. Many missions are entrusted to him alone, showing that people know that he can handle the situation just well.

His decision to work for the ADA could imply that he has found his goal and his purpose in life. His dedication to Naomi shows that he is patient and calm, and that he cares deeply for a harmonious relationship between them. Keeping her safe above all things indicates that he’s sees it as his purpose in his life, too.

However, Naomi is also his biggest weak point. Whenever she is in danger or hurt, Tanizaki gets knocked off his balance and inner calm. These situations make him hastily jump into actions and due to this he becomes an easy target for others (e.g., when he attacked Higuchi out of anger, he didn’t notice Akutagawa; when he was about to kill Mori to save Fukuzawa, he tapped into Kouyou’s trap).

Even though this does not only concern Naomi’s well-being, as he has also been shown to make rush conclusions, if other people he cares about are in danger or in a predicament (e.g., when Fukuzawa was about to die due to cannibalism; offering to join PM as exchange instead of Yosano). His work as a detective on this aspect lets him also get regularly dragged into other people’s drama, either the drama of clients or the drama of other ADA members.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Sources: www.biddytarot.com | www.thetarotguide.com | https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Major_Arcana

#atsushi nakajima bsd #akiko yosano bsd #kenji miyazawa bsd #doppo kunikida bsd #junichiro tanizaki bsd #Atsushi Nakajima #Akiko Yosano #Kenji Miyazawa #Doppo Kunikida #Junichiro Tanizaki #bsd meta #bsd analysis #Bungou Stray Dogs #bsd mayoi

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daephilawrites · 4 years ago

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Akutagawa having a crush on the Port Mafia’s nurse HCs

Requested by @justxrin

Format: Headcannons

Genre: Fluff

A/N: Thank you so much for request! I had so much fun writing this, the idea is so perfect, and yes Akutagawa deserves the love! Also, pardon me if I messed up some medical terms and if I made Aku OOC.

(◍•ᴗ•◍)✧*。

Ever since Akutagawa joined the Mafia, he was subject to numerous check ups considering the fact that he has weak lungs from growing up in the slums.

It’s usually Mori who checks his condition, but then Mori decided to get an assistant.

The first time he heard of Mori getting a new assistant, he was rather indifferent with it. He's already pretty used to Mori checking up on him and he doesn't need a new person to do the same. After all it just means he had to talk to someone new and the concept of socializing tires him, plus he's too busy trying to get Dazai's attention.

On the other hand, you were just some "lucky" fellow who was chosen by Mori to be the Mafia's nurse. It was a dangerous job, but you agreed nevertheless. You're doing it for the money after all, and the pay is quite high.

The first time you and Akutagawa officially met was during the Mafia's regular check up and you were responsible in helping Mori record data.

You were casually engaging in small talk within the members while recording their BMI, their eating habits, their allergies, etc. You asked about their day, comforted them, gave advice, and cracked a few jokes.

Akutagawa, on the other hand, was drawn to your charisma. Unlike Mori, who was cold, you were warm and kind, like a beam of light that shines within a dark place. He was interested in you, but he never showed it.

Since he had a lung condition, he was advised to have check ups more often than the other members of the mafia. Not that he minded, in fact he saw this as an opportunity to talk to you.

Within the span of months, you two were already close to each other that others could even tell.

He new about your family, the things you like, your hobbies, and that made him fall for you. You’re personality is beautiful and free. He wondered how strong you are, how you managed to survive this wretched world and he adored you for that. He loved how caring you are, how you manage to make everyone around you smile and that’s what made him fall for you.

And you loved him too. You don't know what or why you were so drawn into his energy, but you did. Maybe it's because he's a man of words? Whatever it is, you want to keep him safe.

On the other hand, Akutagawa, though he loves you, he's not the type to show it or say it. He's trained to keep his guard up, and he wouldn't let a mere crush distract him, or would he?

One day, Mori had came to the realization that an opposing agency with a speed increasing ability user has came to sabotage the delivery of weapons for the Mafia. Therefore said, he sent Akutagawa and Higuchi to eliminate them.

While Higuchi dealt with the minions, Akutagawa came for the ability user. However, that specific move was not calculated properly as he had an extremely hard time landing a scratch on the ability user.

Thought he actually managed to do so, he received a huge scratch on the side of his abdomen and the wounds were very deep.

That being said, he was aware that he's losing a huge amount of blood, as his vision starts blurring and he feels himself growing dizzy.

Higuchi, being the best side kick (dibs on my girl, she’s so pretty AAA-), tried to persuade help him but he's too stubborn.

"Akutagawa-senpai, we need to patch your wounds immediately. I'll drive you to the-"

"I don't need a doctor. I can stand on my own."

"But senpai-"

"sHUT-"

And then he passed out. Big Oof.

Higuchi took matters into her own hands and decided to drop Akutagawa on your clinic.

And that's where you came in the scene.

You were both pissed and concerned. How could this man forget that health exists just because he's too eager to prove something to someone who doesn't even deserve his attention?

You carefully placed him on a bed and proceeded to clean the wounds and then stich them together.

It was obviously painful so it woke him up. And now that he's awake, he's gonna be dramatic as fuck.

Remember that one chapter in BSD Wan where he gets all capricious? Yeah that.

And he's blushing too much while you were patching up his wounds. It worried you because you thought the wounds were infected and he was sick.

"Akutagawa-senpai, are you okay? You're red."

"I-it's nothing."

"... Okay..."

You two were awkward as hell since ya'll are in close proximity towards each other. But you still focused on his wounds because aside from the fact that it's literally your job, you were also concerned of his health. And you didn't notice that he was actually talking till you paid attention to his voice.

And then he slips up and confesses to you.

"Y/N, I never received this kind of kindness before... Thank you... I'm just gonna let you know how much I love you."

And you were there like, :O. You totally didn't expect that. You were too awkward and you didn't know what to say so you just stared at him like a deer in the headlights.

He was about to die of embarrassment when you didn't reply LMAO. But you were fast enough to reply that you felt the same.

"... Akutagawa-senpai, I didn't expect you to feel the same way as I do... Thank you."

And that's when you first saw the most sincere smile he gave you. He only smiles when he defeats an enemy. Maniacally, that is. But this was a whole new side of him and you treasured it.

At the end of the day, you gave him a lecture about how he should value his health LMAO.

#bungou stray dogs #bsd #bsd x reader #bsd x y/n #akutagawa headcannons #akutagawa x reader #bsd scenarios #ryunosuke akutagawa #bsd akutagawa #bsd headcanons

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ruubles · 3 years ago

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A Bundle of Crimson Roses (Pt.3)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Pairing: Chuuya Nakahara x Reader

Warnings: Cursing , Alcohol , Suggestive Themes , Gore , Blood, Violence

Word Count: 6790

Y/N) stood at the back of the gazebo, her body leaned atop the white wooden rail as she stared out across the well maintained garden. Flowers twisted in the moonlight and swayed in the gentle breeze, rose bushes stood without a branch out of place and recently pruned, and the fountain brought a continuous stream of sound. These little details had been the focus of her attention, the only thing dragging her mind away from the bodiless head sitting on the ground behind her.

She hadn’t brought herself to do anything with it yet, leaving it there in hopes that maybe it was just a hallucination, but the longer she stood the more the realization came crashing down. In her time under the Port Mafia she’d seen, and done, horrible things that were considerably worse than this. Even so, she was shocked that someone would risk their life to get the corpse only to leave its head behind as a warning.

That’s what this was. A warning.

A warning to stay away. A warning to not track these people down. Whoever had been responsible for this murder was dangerous and they wanted the mafia to know that. They not only created a drug that could remove someone’s ability, but they went through all the trouble of tracking the victim down to keep this information from them. It was a basic strategy but well thought for this situation. As long as they left behind as little traceable evidence as possible then it would be near impossible to find the culprit.

“Fuck. That sure explains the missing body.” (Y/N) had lost herself in thoughts of the situation and hadn’t noticed Chuuya’s approach. She didn’t bother to turn around and listened as he approached her, his steps were shallow light as he took the longest route around the head. After a moment she felt him beside her, his arms crossed and laid on the railing. “You should have told me you found something, I was still searching the house!”

He huffed a little as he spoke, eyes focused ahead just as hers were. “Sorry, I guess I got caught up thinking about something. I haven’t had a partner in quite some time.”

“Tch. You don’t have to apologize, I’m not used to a partner either. Last time I had one, it was that shitty Dazai.”

(Y/N) chuckled, her grim face shifting to one with a slight smile. She shook her head at the mention of the suicidal man, he was quite the topic in the Port Mafia, even after he abandoned them. “I was never that close with Dazai, but I knew of him through a friend. It would seem many people perceive him in different ways.”

“Many people don’t like him, and I couldn’t agree with those people more.” Chuuya turned to look at (Y/N), finally acknowledging that she had at some point turned to face him. Her (E/C) eyes met his and he could see that glint in them, not the one of seriousness from this morning, but the playfulness he’d seen in her last night.

“Who are you Chuuya Nakahara?”

The question was a strange question, similar to the ones he’d been asked when they first met only twenty-four hours before. “That’s a dumb question for someone Mori spoke so highly of.”

“I’m no fool Chuuya Nakahara, I’ve looked into the case files of almost every high ranking member of the Port Mafia. You are the person with the least amount of information. I was able to get more from Mori’s own public file than your private one.” (Y/N) backed away from the ledge and took a few steps away from Chuuya, carefully watching her movements to stay a good distance from the head. “I’m working with someone who I know nothing about. Mori knows you’re loyal to him, but I have no reason to believe that you wouldn’t shoot me if the opportunity provided itself.”

“Now why would I do that? Mori made you my partner, and I’m not going to disobey a direct order from him.” Chuuya scoffed and turned to face her. “Plus you’re one to talk about minimal information when your file doesn’t exist. I may not be the most strategic person in this mafia, but I do like knowing who I’m dealing with.”

“It would seem we’ve hit a roadblock then. My files, both public and private, were burned upon request and I assume the missing information from yours is also ash.” (Y/N) stepped towards Chuuya, their eyes locked in a challenge with one another. Her eyes changed rapidly to a dark piercing gaze, as if the trust she’d gained for him had drained at a rapid pace. “I have no doubt that our partnership will be beneficial in this case, but if neither of us trust one another then I see no reason for us to be friends.”

~x~

Chuuya’s eyes remained glued to the road ahead, his ears honed in on the quiet breathing of the seat diagonal to his own. If he focused he could see the faint outline of a person in his peripheral vision, but their body still remained shrouded in darkness. (Y/N) had chosen to sit in the back of his car, to the seat opposite of her was a bloody bag securely buckled down.

They hadn’t spoken even a word after their show down in the gazebo, perhaps newfound apprehension had been built between both parties. Few people knew of Chuuya’s past, but he understood that the mystery made any relations he had with another person difficult. For all (Y/N) knew he was a treacherous fiend that would stab her at moments notice. Though that statement applied for him as well, he had done his digging in the hours before he’d seen her standing alone outside and the stories of her did not disappoint.

The woman without a face, that was the constant whenever they mentioned her. He hadn’t a clue what it meant but whatever it was made her dangerous. Far more than most people of the mafia. Tidbits of information wormed their way into his mind, some of which were likely untrue, but the more he learned the less he really knew. From what he’d been told she’d joined the mafia at a fairly young age, just a little bit before the Dragon’s Head Conflict, and during the conflict was when her true strength had come to light. Mori promoted her just after the whole fight started, but he told no one but Daza and a few people who knew of her.

“Tomorrow I propose we go to the scene of the fight. We could likely find some bullet casings or leftover blood. It could be a lead for where to find these people.” Chuuya could see in his eyes that even though she was speaking to him, she hadn’t turned away from the window.

“We could go in the morning and-”

“Afternoon.” She cut him off. “I have business to attend tomorrow morning and I would much rather not be forced to reschedule. My apologies for cutting you off, but please continue.”

Chuuya rolled his eyes but made no comment on her rude interruption. “Then we can meet up tomorrow afternoon; Do you need a ride?”

(Y/N) hummed to herself for a moment before answering him. “If it isn’t too much trouble. My business is at a bakery on Southwest Street: Kim’s Kreamy Delights. They have some of the best sweets I’ve ever tried, I’m a big fan of their Dasik, but Mrs.Kim only makes them on Lunar New Year. When it’s not around that time, I usually get a kkwabaegi.”

“You seem well acquainted with sweet treats, I assume you know that they aren’t healthy.” Chuuya’s comment was somewhat judgmental, but it seemed to fly over (Y/N)’s head. Her mind still focused on the warm treats she would get whenever she was in town.

“I know that, but I do things for the enjoyment of myself. We are members of a mafia Chuuya, I’ve never expected to live a long life, nor a happy one. If you wish to judge then do so but I will not be changing my habits based on your criticism.” He had thought she hadn’t noticed the backhanded rudeness he’d displayed but it seems as though she had.

There was a strange silence that fluttered through the air of the car as the light of the city finally made its way through the car's windows. Slowly the trees on the outer rim of the city turned to buildings and the streetlamps illuminated the faces, every post passing by in a fleeting second before another one replaced the eerie orange light. Chuuya’s car sped down the street, not one to abide by normal street laws, and every sharp turn brought them closer to the mafia’s headquarters.

After a couple of minutes he pulled up in front of the towering building, its floors spiralling upwards into the stars. Several windows could be seen alive with a blazing light, not a strange sight considering many of the mafia’s business matters occurred during this time of night. Usually Chuuya would be in there monitoring what went on in every crevice of that building, but instead he was heading home to an empty apartment where he’d be receiving regularly spaced messages updating him on what was going on. It had been Mori’s order for him to get some rest, but the work of a mafia member was never done when night fell.

“Are you sure I can’t drop you off at the place you’re staying at? I don’t mind driving a little further.” Chuuya had extended his offer not because he was kind, but because Mori had been clear that someone should be looking out for this woman. He’d gone as far as assigning Hirotsu to monitor her, there had to be a reason he’d want someone of such importance to watch out for someone as capable as an executive.

“I’ll be fine, but thank you for the offer. There’s some papers I want to take a look at before going to my residence.” (Y/N) opened the door of the car, bringing both her legs out onto the sidewalk with a gentle click of her heels. She hesitated before turning back around. Her hand latched onto the top of the sheet that they had used as a handle and dragged the head towards her. “I truly am sorry for my words earlier. One of my bad habits is trying to forget my past, and I let that get to me. If it’s okay, I would like to take back my rude words.”

That was surprising. In the garden, (Y/N) had been so serious and gave off the same feeling that Mori gave off whenever someone questioned his authority. She was authoritative when she spoke of her burned files and her going back on her word of their relationship being nothing more than partners was something he hadn't expected. Thirty minutes ago he’d fully been prepared for her to be just another person he sees at work, but yet here she was apologizing. Every time they spoke it was like talking to another person, but this is the one who he’d met that had no apprehensions brought about by their job; This was the woman who was behind the mask of the mafia.

“I’m not one for friends.” (Y/N) had tried to hide the slight slump of her shoulders at his words, but he noticed the slight change before she stepped out of his car. She closed the door without turning around and began to walk towards the building's entrance. Chuuya rolled the window down and called out. “But I would like to try one of those kkwabaegi you were telling me about.”

She stopped her motions and turned to face him with the smallest of smiles on her face. “You butchered that name.”

“Oh shut up!” He snapped before rolling up the window and speeding off. (Y/N) watched as his car went down the street and eventually turned the corner. Her (E/C) bleary with a tiredness she’d held for so long. They were far from friends, but in the mafia did anyone really have a friend? A life like theirs was not made for relationships greater than the ones they formed at work and that was a fact (Y/N) had learned a long time ago. She didn’t expect anything from Chuuya, but she hoped that maybe when this was all over that there might be someone who wants her to stick around.

“So are you enjoying your new partner?” The voice was deep and sudden, there had been no one around moments before. (Y/N) showed no surprise of this person's newfound presence; She had known the moment he had appeared behind her. “The kids aren’t mad, but they are expecting you to take them out for ice cream. You’d better not disappoint them or I’ll pour all your wine into a bush.”

“Oh come on Isaac, I may not be the most caring person in the world but I wouldn’t disappoint those kids. Not again.” (Y/N) turned to face her friend. Isaac stood with his head turned up as he let out a puff of air and watched as it turned white and then disappeared. He wore the same outfit he wore whenever he was bartending: A dark gray button up tucked into a pair of pitch black jeans, simple but with the added spice of five undone buttons to reveal a well sculpted body beneath. He was a person of habit. “Did you just finish a shift?”

“No? What gave you that idea?” They walked side by side to one another, Isaac’s hand buried in his pocket as they approached the building.

(Y/N) stopped in her tracks, a deadpan expression replacing the sly smile she’d worn moments before. “You cannot tell me that outfit is the extent of your closet.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean!” Isaac snapped, hand pulled from his pocket as he balled his fingers into a fist. “I have better fashion than you Ms.I-Dress-Like-An-Cubicle-Worker.”

“Oh quit it, you’re acting so childish, Isaac.” (Y/N) shook her head and walked into the building, neither of the guards questioning her presence much. Her comrade followed her lead and stayed close as though fearful of being found for being out of place. “I thought better of you.”

“Oh shut it you hag, let’s just get this over with.”

~x~

“I doubt there’s anything left at the scene of the fight. Especially if you say it's a city owned warehouse.” Isaac sighed and fell back on his chair before continuing. “They’re easy to access and I doubt that someone willing to go through all the trouble of disposing the body wouldn’t clear that place out.”

Mori sat at his usual spot at the head of the table, silent as he listened to both (Y/N) and Isaac shoot ideas off one another. He seemed enthralled in his own thoughts as he considered a plan of action. They all sat close to one another, Mori at the head of his table with one of them sitting in a chair on either side of the table. So close there was no need for their voices to be raised and that meant that anyone outside would have a hard time listening in.

It was strange for someone so strong and hated like Mori to allow an outsider like Isaac to ever be near him, but after all Mori had done for them both he trusted them more than a lot of the members of the mafia. (Y/N) was his executive and by extension Isaac was loyal, though he would not hold his tongue around him like she would.

“(Y/N), you must have an assumption as to who is behind this. Please clarify who it is.” Mori wanted to hear all the information, even if it might be wrong.

“Is that really even a question, Ougai? You’ve had the same assumption considering you didn’t only bring me back here, but you called a meeting with my old partner.” (Y/N) was apprehensive to continue, her idea had a lot of backing and would likely be true. For now it was only that, an idea, but the more they investigate the closer she’ll get to the life she used to have. “I think it was them. That old man is smart and a drug like this isn’t far from something he’d do.”

Isaac gritted his teeth, trying to find an argument for why it wouldn’t be them. Anything to keep the idea of them coming back out of his mind. They’d spent so much effort to escape their past and join Mori that even a possibility of the past coming back to haunt them was pestilent. “There wasn’t anything left with the part of the body they left behind. It’s protocol to leave them with every single body, you know that.”

“Of course I do, but there are exceptions to that rule! Given a direct order from him you don’t have to-”

“And if it is absolutely impossible, I know.” Isaac cut her off to continue his idea. “Something like this, so large, the old man wouldn’t want to let anyone take credit for it. He wants people to know it's them so they’ll be afraid.”

“There were roses in her garden.”

“You said she had a garden full of flowers of all kinds.” He argued back, hand hitting the table a bit too harshly. “A couple of roses bushes doesn’t fucking matter!”

“Enough.” Mori interjected. He’d taken both Isaac and (Y/N) in at a young age, but they both had a tough time before he found them. They may not have been together these past few years but they are still better partners than any two people who ever graced the mafia. Above all Mori sought to keep things neutral between them both so that they wouldn’t say anything they’d regret when things calmed down. “We have to think rationally and take a moment to talk it over. Neither of you are foolish, I’ve seen the things you can accomplish together but tensions are high right now. For now we assume it’s one of the recent organizations who have stood against us.”

It was silent for a moment as the pair thought things over. They’d lived a long life with shared pains but they both had managed to come out better for it. Isaac was raising five kids and smiled everyday as though it were his last, on the other hand (Y/N) buried herself in work and drowned herself with expensive delicacies to erase it all. They were like family and neither of them would blame the other for how things went after Oda’s death.

“If it’s not?” Isaac’s voice was low and gravelly as though he were on the verge of tears. It was weak and pitiful, but it explained exactly how they were feeling. “What if it is them, Mori? Do we fight them? We won’t win that.”

“It isn’t them.” (Y/N) cut in before Mori could say a word. “It can’t be. We went through so much to slaughter them during the Dragon’s Head Conflict. The numbers don’t lie, nearly every branch was pruned because of us. To come back now, and with enough people to even consider facing the Port Mafia, is impossible.”

Isaac slid his chair back and stood up, dark eyes more gloomy than they were glossy. “You seem to forget (Y/N), pruning is done to help a plant grow.”

~x~

Chuuya looked from his phone to the fancy hotel he’d parked across the street from. His eyes held hesitation as he scanned across the messages on his device one final time. Part of him wanted to ignore the messages and just go home, but doing this had become a ritual. A guilty pleasure that helped calm his riled nerves.

‘I don’t have work tonight if you want to drop by our special spot.’

‘C’mon Chuuya, at least let me know if you’re going to show up. I need to know if I should open the champagne sooner rather than later.’

‘Fine. I’ll be waiting, but until then let me leave you with a special present.”

‘Attachment: 1 Image’

Chuuya’s eyes scanned across the image once again, to say it was scandalous was an understatement. There was no face presented in the image, instead the picture captured a woman’s body adorned in a set of elegant hand-woven red lace lingerie. He wasn’t unfamiliar with the outfit considering he’d been the one to take it off her many times before.

Their relationship was nothing more than a late at night call whenever they needed to relieve some stress. Neither of them knew much of the other, their names had come the first night they’d grabbed a drink and their sexual desires came soon after. Though there were a few things he noticed: Her schedule was not linear, he’d get spontaneous messages throughout the month asking if he were free. Most of the time he could clear just a bit of time and make his way here to meet with her for a few hours.

They’d been doing this for months at this point and he still couldn’t wrap his head around the stupidity of his actions. Everytime he said he would end things off and never see her again, then as though he were wrapped around her finger he would be back here: Car parked in the same spot as always and his route to the room the same. A member of the mafia took a risk two or three times a month to visit a woman whose life he hadn’t a clue of.

Using his memory, Chuuya made his way through the lobby, passing by a clerk who offered a knowing nod in his direction. It was the same thing time after time but that familiarity was something he clung to. No one questioned him. No one asked why he did something. No one looked to him for answers. It was the opposite of what he did for work, but it was so much more freeing.

Taking the elevator up, Chuuya watched as the red numbers changed, going up one by one until finally the number fifteen. One final chime echoed through the metal cage and the doors slid open into a long spiraling hallway. Three steps out of the elevator, three doors to the right, and on his left. That path he’d memorized after his third meeting with this strange woman.

With a deep breath Chuuya tried to prepare himself to end this debacle that could become scurrilous if things were to go wrong. He opened the door and slid into the room quietly as though trying to go unnoticed. The sound of a running shwoer gently swayed throughout the room and he knew that she was getting ready for what she presumed to be his imminent arrival. He slid off his cape and hung it on the coat rack besides the door, his hat following suit.

The water shut off and a voice called out to him from somewhere beyond sight. “Oh Chuuya~”

Her voice was sweet as it called, drawing out the a at the end of his name to grab his attention. Getting the message he walked from the main room into the small, but still fairly large, bedroom. There she stood, body wrapped in a white towel that barely covered the most private portions of her body.

Alberta Einstein. She was a beauty to behold; her almond shaped eyes holding the deepest most dark irises you might ever see as if they were shadows coming to life with no light reflecting off of them. Long white hair would usually be flowing down her back and sway gently every time she took a step. Her figure was lean but she seemed to have curves in places that would make any man fall in a matter of moments. Now, standing bare in a bath towel, she was ravishing. Droplets of water dripping from her body and onto the floor, running from her neck down to her towel, and more littering the floor of the bathroom.

“I wasn’t sure you would show.” Her feet sunk into the carpet as she walked towards Chuuya, imprints of water marking her chosen pathway. Once close enough, her hand danced around his top button before easily sliding it undone. Slowly she moved to the second button and slowly began to undo it as well, but she hesitated. “Something wrong?”

Her eyes danced up to meet his, a shade so dark that his light blue eyes could never fathom their depths. “We should stop this.”

“You’re quite right, Chuuya. This relationship is going no where and it never will: We’ve been having casual sex for months but neither of us have caught an ounce of feelings.” She leaned into his lips, heat fanning across his face as she spoke, still continuing to fiddle with his buttons. “But isn’t that the fun part, my dearest Nakahara? Life isn’t about love even if people wish it was; It’s about enjoying yourself so much that you can’t possibly find it in your soul to frown.”

She leaned in and finally met his lips in the softest most gentle kiss she’d ever given to him. Her lips were warm as she pressed her body flush against his. With quick hands she undid the buttons at a much faster pace than the one she’d set before. Chuuya knew better than to let her do this once again but he quickly melted into her touch. Their lips entwined with one another as her mouth parted to let a gentle moan escape.

“I must say your sexual prowess surprises me. For such a short man you truly are skilled in bed.” She taunted his height, attempting to mask it with a compliment. They’d played this game time and time before.

“Tch. Same as always Ally, crude and judgemental so much so that you can’t even acknowledge your own shortcomings.” He moved from her lips to just under her ear, teeth grazing against her earlobe and sending a shudder down and throughout her body. “Last time we were together I specifically remember you getting so worked up that you could barely beg for more.”

She smirked and gulped down a large portion of air. Ally was not nervous, it was apparent on her face, instead she was excited. “That’s because I’m not a beggar.”

Chuuya had a response gliding across his tongue but before it could come out the incessant ringing of a phone bleared through the room. Ally let out an audible groan and pushed Chuuya away, hand lingering on his unbuttoned shirt for just a bit too long. Part of him wanted to pull her back but then he reasoned with himself and realized that his wish of ending things could still come true. With the interference of an outsider he had caught the slipup he’d made many times before.

“What the hell do you want, Thomas?” Ally snapped through her phone, she paced back and forth as she listened to the person on the other line. After a moment she stopped dead in her tracks. “You really are useless without me. Fine, fine I didn’t mean it.”

She turned to Chuuya and gave that smile, the same one he’d often give her when his work called him away from the hotel room. Though this time he was pleasantly surprised by the situation. Furthering contact with someone so wrapped in mystery was not beneficial in any way. If anything it was dangerous and reckless. She meant nothing to him and that feeling was mutual, so neither of them had any real attachments to one another. It was best to end things here so that neither of them had too many hard feelings when things would inevitably go bad in a few more months. Casual sex and a freind with benefits was the closest he’d ever get to a real relationship given his line of work, but even that was something he hadn’t saught after much in his time.

“I was busy.” She growled into her phone before taking a deep breath and calming her nerves. After a moment her resolve and anger faded in one swift motion and she sighed. “I’ll be there in fifteen minutes, just wait for me in the meeting room okay?”

With a final goodbye she hung up the phone and tossed it onto the bed. She followed suit with her phone and fell onto the white bedding, face smashing against the soft comforter they would usually be tangled in by now. “This is for the best Alberta. I meant what I said. My job isn’t the most lenient and I don’t need distractions right now, so this is my final goodbye to you.”

She turned to look at him, watching as he redid the buttons she’d worked to undo. Turning over she spread her arms across the bed and closed her eyes. A soft smile tugged at the corner of her lips. “That’s true, my job is also picking up pace right now. We have a big projecting starting and I’d hate to miss out on it because of an outside relationship. Perhaps when things settle down we could meet up again, relive the first we met.”

“That won’t be necessary, when I say final goodbye I mean it.” Her ears perked up and she sat up, realizing now that he had already left the room and slid on his jacket. She heard the door open and then once again his voice rang through her ears. “Find yourself someone who’s actually in love with you, okay? Someone who’s worth your time.”

With those final words, the door closed to the hotel room and she was left alone to her thoughts. Intrigued by the man who she’d enraptured by her beauty. She had no romantic feelings towards him, but she was quite sad that their days of booty calls would no longer be happening.

~x~

Chuuya walked through the halls of the Port Mafia’s building, against the order he’d been giving he returned to headquarters in hopes of catching Mori before he left. Though after travelling up to the top floor he’d come to the conclusion that his boss had already left. He’d likely have gone to get rest for the night or take Elise to do something better than sit around his office.

“Chuuya.” Kouyou’s appearance behind him was sudden, her steps quiet as ever as she approached with her usual long strides. Her dress swayed as she continued by his side. As usual she spoke and moved in a way so elegant that she resembled a goddess. “How is your evening? I could have sworn Mori told you to return to your residence.”

“It’s late Kouyou, you should’ve gone home hours ago.” Chuuya tried to divert the subject from his disobedience, but he knew that even so Kouyou would insist. She was a Port Mafia executive above all else but that did not mean she was heartless. It was fleeting comments that passed by ever so often that reminded him of this; She cared about him in a similar sense to how she cares for Kyouka. “Do you have any idea where Mori might be? It’s late but usually he wouldn’t have left by this time.”

“Last time I saw him, he was meeting with (Y/N) and that handsome young bartender. I always forget his name but he makes the most wonderful cocktails.” Her voice sounded nearly dreamy as she recalled the delicious drinks she’d enjoy ever so often. Kouyou was the type of person who could handle her liquor well, unlike himself, and he’d seen her drink a dozen fruity drinks without ever slurring a single word. It was honestly somewhat startling. “Though I do remember he stormed out and your partner followed close behind. They sounded as though they were having a heated discussion but I was too caught up in a phone call to hear much of what they said.”

“Isaac.” Chuuya said slowly , Kouyou perked up and turned to him with a soft questioning hum. “That’s his name. Why would Mori want to meet with a random bartender? I thought (Y/N) said she was going home.”

The woman next to him chuckled, she pressed the button to call the elevator before turning to him. “I have no clue why Mori would want to speak with that man but I assume he has a reason and we should not question him. As for (Y/N), I’m glad to see you’re getting along with her. You were quite opposed to your partnership during the meeting this morning.”

“Getting along isn’t the phrasing I’d use.” Chuuya grumbled, arms crossing as he turned to face the elevator instead of his mentor. “I don’t trust that woman. She’s hiding something and I’d rather not be staring down the barrel of a gun when I find out what it is.”

They fell into silence, neither of them knowing what to say. Chuuya wasn’t in the wrong for believing she was hiding something, no one who can switch their personality as quick as her is being genuine. Mori trusts her and that is abundantly clear but what isn’t is why he’d never heard of her. Another executive that no one knew of was strange to say the very least. For now he wouldn’t question her much, instead seeing what he can find out without her realizing he’s digging around for information.

Kouyou knew a little of (Y/N), Mori had told her some of the stories about the feats she’d completed during her time in Russia. She knew there was more to the story but if Mori had trust in her to stay loyal to them then it was not her place to question it. One thing was clear to her from the way that her boss spoke: (Y/N) was strong and she is not foolish, and keeping her hidden from everyone was a strategy of the finest creation. He hadn’t told her what his ability is but whatever it was it made her abnormally strong compared to a regular mafioso.

“Your accusation is likely true, she is hiding something from us but I believe that Mori knows exactly what it is. We’ve pledged our lives to the mafia which means we are to have faith in our boss.” Finally after what felt like minutes the elevator door dinged and began to open. “I have a strong feeling that you and your new partner aren’t nearly as different as you’d like to believe… Perhaps I’m just being foolish.”

“You really should be getting some rest, my dear (Y/N).” The voice of Mori coed from the elevator, his slender hands wrapped around her shoulders as he gave them a gentle squeeze. She tried to shrug him off but the further she got from his grasp the tighter his hold became. It was almost as though watching a father taking care of his young daughter, but below the surface they were hiding something. Chuuya and Kouyou had been so enraptured with their own conversation that they hadn’t bore witness to the quiet whisper Mori had slipped to (Y/N) before the doors were all the way open.

“Get off of me you old man!” She shouted, bringing her foot back on his before whirling around. Not noticing his presence, her back bumped against Chuuya’s chest. He stumbled a bit at the sudden added weight but his arms caught around her and steadied them both. Surprised, she turned to face her hero with an utterly sweet smile. “Oh? Hello Chuuya, I didn’t expect to see you again this evening. Did you not have plans to attend?”

Mori perked up at the mention of one of his executives, specifically the one he’d told to take the night off. “Plans fall through often, no big deal. I just thought I’d come to make sure that Mori had been given a full report on what we found.”

“There’s no need to worry Chuuya, (Y/N) has given me a full report and I have faith that your digging tomorrow will bring more information to light.” Mori straightened himself from the endearing man they’d seen moments ago. His voice had a cold demeanor as it always had when he spoke with them, though when he spoke with her it seemed he had a similar attitude to the one he used when communicating with Elise. “I have faith in the both of you to prove your worth as executives. May you prove my assumptions right that your partnership was not in vain, then perhaps I could be persuaded to give you both a raise befitting your work.”

(Y/N)’s eyes searched up Mori, her gaze travelling from his gloved hands up to his rigid smiling face. It was clear to her that he was faking every word and gesture as if hoping to give his two closest advisors a false sense of security. His whisper still rang in her ear, ‘For now, act as if our conversation with Isaac never happened. You are, and only are, an executive of the Port Mafia.’ The message was clear with what he wanted but the intent behind it was a mystery. Had he meant it as a form of comfort to remind her that her past was not to stop her from having a future, or was it a warning to keep up the act as a perfect mafia princess and play the diplomat role, perhaps it was neither and simply a reminder that her life has only ever been that of a pawn. Any way he went about saying it, there was obvious fabrication of joy in his face.

“Thank you, sir.” Chuuya took a low bow before his boss and Kouyou offered a small courtesy. “Though I would like to speak with you about a few things when you have the time.”

Mori looked from Chuuya to (Y/N) as though he were asking her what questions she’d brought about from Chuuya, but all she did was shrug in response. He would either ask about her past and her file or he would bring up the fact that their partnership was not in the best of graces. “I truly would love to speak with you about this Chuuya, but Elise has been waiting on me for hours! Tomorrow morning I should have a bit of free time if that’s okay.”

“That will be fine, thank you sir.”

“Now, as your boss, I must request that you all get some rest. Specifically you (Y/N). I know that bad habit of yours and I’d prefer it if it didn’t interfere with your work.” Mori’s words confused the two people who didn’t know much about her habits, but she understood it well enough. He had made a jab at her constant desire to work and the way she would stay awake until the point of utter exhaustion. It was a bad habit she’d had for a long time; But it was part of the reason she got so much work done. “Please do watch your phones in case there’s an emergency, but if there is not then enjoy your time off.”

Mori stalked away from the group and in the direction of his meeting room. “Well I should be going as well, I’ve got some place to be. May you both have a goodnight.” (Y/N) wasted no time in excusing herself from the situation, wanting nothing more than to find her way to a place she’d been meaning to visit since she returned to Yokohama.

“Do you need a ride?” Chuuya was not fond of (Y/N), and that feeling went both ways, but his partner had done nothing to wrong him yet. Until she did so, he would be kind and offer her a ride. Kouyou smiled to herself but used her fan to hide it; The gesture earned a glare from Chuuya. “I don’t mind, I’ve got a stop to make before I return to my apartment anyway.”

“That won’t be necessary, but thank you for the offer Chuuya.” (Y/N) stepped into the elevator and gave a small wave before the doors began to close and seal her away from them both. “Tomorrow afternoon, don’t forget okay?”

With that she was gone.

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