#dazai only referred to by his last name

[verxsyon]

canon compliant bsd. dazai x ability user!gn!reader

started to binge bsd this week and now i’m on s4 >:))). gotta say eng dub for this series is honestly amazing (addicted to akutagawa’s voice tbh i'm here for it). s2 gave me so much brain rot so lo and behold, this idea with dazai.

might be a series. kinda like slice of life of reader and dazai and pm!dazai to ada!dazai. or an equivalent of an 100k+ fic slow burn lmao. 

reader’s ability is named momentum, which is the title of the potential series. the following bullet points are how their ability works. hopefully it makes sense lmao:

it’s an amplification ability that works on ability users, themself included. allows them to exceed their limits for a short period of time. activates by adrenaline rush. themself: only step required if applied to themself. ability users: needs to achieve that step plus contacting anyone through touch. think of it as a sound amplifier. it won’t work if the source and reader are too far away from each other. 

there can be fatal consequences from using the ability as it is dependent on adrenaline rush, which can have negative impacts. ability users: their abilities are at risk of overload, possibly leading to death. themself: would experience adrenal crashes and may not use their ability from 1 day to 6 weeks depending on the severity of the adrenaline rush.

reader despises it due to what happened to their older sibling, trying to repress it as much as possible and want to get rid of it (if that’s a thing). they basically want to live a normal life, a promise made to their dying older sibling. after their death, reader inherited their house and left all of their belongings untouched. they’re still able to go to school despite all that, though doesn’t have many friends.

the goal of normalcy ends when they meet dazai at the school rooftop at 15, the time when he became an executive of pm. similar to atsushi’s first encounter, he tries a new way to commit suicide by jumping off there, scaring reader shitless. they consider dazai as their first friend.

he’s anything but normal. people are after him for who knows what reason, and unfortunately reader got dragged into the mess of an enemy group’s crossfire. they’re forced to use their ability to protect him and themself. long story short knowing dazai, it’s a setup orchestrated by him. the enemy group’s none other than his division to capture the one responsible for a certain incident years ago, which involved their older sibling.

this is like a good chunk of the prologue. afterwards it’s the slice of life stuff featuring the pm and the ada ofc with some special division over there. expect fallouts between dazai and reader tho because that’s bound to happen.

[familiariscanis]

whenever a fanfic refers to dazai as "osamu" i tab out immediately because i'm not on first name basis with him. i don't want to be on first name basis with him. we aren't that close.

[kentopedia]

˚☽˚｡⋆ shining like gunmetal

dazai x f!reader, 3.0k words

summary — dazai comes home late, covered in someone's blood

contents — pm reader & pm boss dazai, references to violence / torture lol, sfw !!, the plot is basically cleaning blood off dazai

notes — i thought this would help me get pm dazai out of my system, but i fear i may have to write another nsfw piece for that

Each turn of the clock became longer and longer as you watched the seconds tick down, signaling that another minute had passed. The sun had long since set; your dining room was illuminated only by candles, creating a romantic ambiance throughout the penthouse.

Across from you, an empty seat sat, its usual inhabitant absent. An array of food scattered across the table, far too much for just one person to eat. Perhaps, even, there would be leftovers for days after.

Your housekeeper, Izumi, set the last plate of hot food on the table, her eyes nervous as she flitted back to you, then to the spot where Dazai usually sat. While her usual duties did not include cooking, you’d recruited her that evening, hopeful that she could help you prepare all of Dazai’s favorite dishes. 

You'd just wanted to do something special for your beloved, and he wasn’t even there to enjoy it. 

Steam lingered on each of the platters, but it was quickly wafting away, evaporating into the cool air of the Yokohama evening. All of your hard work over the past few hours would seem insignificant if the Port Mafia's boss didn’t return before the meal cooled completely. 

You drummed your fingers against the table, trying hard not to give in to your annoyance. 

“He’s late.” You spoke the words to no one in particular, an observation that anyone could discern with their own two eyes. 

Still, you kept your gaze harsh on the empty seat, as if willing Dazai to materialize from thin air. 

The comment still seemed to shake Izumi from a trance, even if it had been nothing more than the obvious. She twisted her fingers together, flattening her top farther over her waist band. Although she was one of the only people in the mafia that saw the softer side of Dazai, the one he reserved just for you, she was still overwhelmingly intimidated by him. 

“I’m sorry, miss,” she said, even though you always reminded her that it was fine to address you by your name. “I can take it back into the kitchen and—”

You stopped her with a sigh, shaking your head before letting it drop into your hands. “No need. I’m sure he’ll be here soon,” you assured her, but it was already ten minutes past seven—the hour that Dazai had said he’d be back for dinner. 

Usually, you wouldn’t have minded. You knew that Dazai was busy, that the tasks piled onto him were unending and overwhelming. Even though you hated seeing him overwork himself, it was always alright. He never took his stress out on you and always showered you with affection upon his return from a long day. 

Tonight, though, he’d promised that he’d be there, right on time, for dinner. You agreed upon that hour beforehand, and he still hadn’t showed. 

Izumi looked at your disappointed expression, knowing how much the small moments with Dazai meant to you. You never doubted that you were the most important person in his life, and you never would. 

Despite that steadfast belief, you still ached when his work began to cut in on his time with you. 

“Give him a couple more minutes,” Izumi said, smiling as she squeezed your arm gently. She was just a few years older than you, but there was a motherly glint to her eyes when she regarded you, her affection just barely veiled. 

Over the past few years, you’d persuaded her to see you as more than just her employer, at the very least. There would always been a thin shield of professionalism between you, but now, you considered her something of a friend. 

You dispelled all your irritation on a steady exhale and did as she suggested, waiting five more minutes. The heat began to dissipate from the cooling food, the plates and bowls no longer hot to the touch. 

The time reached 7:15. Izumi returned from the kitchen again with a frown, wiping her hands on a cloth. “Is there anything you’d like me to do?” She asked, sympathetic to your spoiled night, her usually bright eyes dimming. 

You stood, the chair screeching as you pushed it away. Though it seemed like such a small issue compared to all the other dilemmas you’d faced with Dazai, the burning desire of tears began to make its way up your throat.

You shook your head, standing taller, trying to remind yourself that someone proud enough to stand next to Dazai wouldn’t cry about something so inconsequential.  

“I’ll take it to my room, if you don’t mind,” you said, and Izumi nodded, smiling at you, softly, but without the pity that she knew you hated. 

She made her way to your seat, to gather up a plate to bring to you in a moment. Though, she didn’t get far in her task, and you didn’t make it out of the room. Seconds later, Dazai was pushing open the door, his footsteps sharp in the otherwise quiet hall. 

You looked up at him, frowning, a complaint already parting your lips as you assessed his appearance. 

Dazai’s shirt was undone, his hair a mess, stands stuck to his forehead, creasing at unusual ends. He was covered in blood from head to toe, the deep color staining his crisp white top. It had splattered against his cheek, his suit, even on his shoes, creating an intimidating vision of gore. The bandages around his wrists had loosened, soaked a muddy brown from the oxidation. Dazai’s tie had also been discarded, the dark silk peeking out of his pocket. 

Despite the violence of his appearance, his eyes were soft as he headed to you, unbothered by anything else in the room. “I’m so sorry I’m late, my love,” he apologized profusely, his voice low and gentle, eyes crestfallen in a way that had you forgiving him on the spot.

Still, you pinned him with your gaze, letting him feel every second of those fifteen minutes you'd believed that he’d forgotten his promise. The distance between you felt cold, even when there was hardly any of it between you.

“You told me you’d be here,” you said with a frown. The food had continued to cool. All you’d wanted was to give him an ounce of kindness in his world of endless hurt.

“I know.” Bloodied, delicate fingers were on your elbow, barely grazing your skin as he attempted to ease you into him. “I really am sorry. I got caught up with something.”

You were no stranger to his definition of something.

Dazai began to lean in, hopeful that he could erase your worries with a kiss, but you held an arm out, keeping him away.

“Don’t kiss me with blood on your face,” you said, the bite only reaching the end of your sentence, even if it didn’t fully reflect your emotions. A desperate desire to be near him battled every move you made. 

“It was an apology kiss.” Dazai's bottom lip curled into a pout. 

You refused to be swayed by the vulnerability in his wide brown eyes. “I don’t want it.”

He glowered for a moment longer, trying to topple your pride. When he got nowhere, he gestured towards your seat, hoping you'd take your place once more.

“Fine,” he said dramatically. "I’ll pretend that didn’t hurt my feelings.” 

You wrinkled your brow, displeased by the insinuation that you would carry on as normal. 

Wearily, Dazai leaned against the chair, and waited. When you did nothing, he pushed it back in, eyeing you skeptically. “Do you not want to eat anymore?” He asked, frowning. It seemed he was not upset, but unsure of where you stood on the matter.

You made a face. “I can’t sit across the table from you and have a cheerful dinner conversation while you’ve got someone else’s blood coating your entire body.” 

Dazai looked down, as if only realizing for the first time that he was stained ruby red. “The food will get cold, darling.” 

“You should’ve been on time, then.” It came out more clipped than you meant it to, and Dazai just stared back, his expression terse as you communicated silently. 

Izumi, finally, made her presence known as she cleared her throat, directing both of your attentions back to her. “I can warm it,” she said, darting her eyes away when Dazai’s piercing gaze reached her. “If you’d like.” 

Dazai began to object, but you spoke over him, knowing his abrasive words would only upset her. Instead, you laced your fingers with his to drag him out of the dining room. “Thank you, Izumi. We’ll only be a minute.” 

You shuttled him into the bathroom, and Dazai remained uncharacteristically quiet, gauging your mood as you shut the door behind the two of you.

“Sit,” you said, perching him at the edge of the sink. Dazai blinked, but said nothing. His long legs stretched against the cabinets, feet reaching the floor, even as he rested his weight on the countertop.

You maneuvered around the bathroom, opening cabinets and shutting drawers, feeling Dazai's watchful eyes on you.

“You look beautiful,” he said, smiling, allowing his infatuation to consume him completely, now that you were alone. “As always. That dress looks particularly stunning on you, though. You should wear it more often.” He tried to lure you in by the waist, but you dodged him once more, letting him huff in annoyance. 

"Thank you," you said, barely above a whisper, and left him sitting in the bathroom alone.

Hastily, you returned to your bedroom, rummaging through his closet for a clean top. Though he had so many of the same styles, you settled on a silk, black button-up, one that would pair nicely with your own evening gown.

When you returned, Dazai was leaning against the mirror, eyes closed, the dirtied and discarded bandages ripped from his face.

Over the past few weeks, his hair had grown longer, curling around his jaw and over his eyebrows, thick and tangled from whatever damage he’d inflicted before coming home to you.

Yet, you softened at the sight of him so open, wishing you could take even an ounce of that stress off his shoulders. 

As he breathed, evenly and slowly, you ran a washcloth under the water, warming it. You could feel Dazai’s eyes on you as you hummed, busying yourself with the task at hand.

“I can’t tell if you’re actually mad at me or not,” he said, and though he forced out a laugh, the concern in his eyes was more real than he wanted you to believe. “I really am sorry.”

It was almost amusing that this was the man everyone in the city feared. When people looked at Dazai, it was never with affection, never with the deepest humanity within your own heart. Even when he’d always had so much love to give, just nowhere to put it until he'd met you.

Perhaps, in another universe, life had been kinder to him. 

You exhaled and relaxed, offering him the smallest of smiles. The wash cloth foamed with soap as you poured it, a fresh aroma of honey and vanilla fusing into the space between you. 

“I’m not mad, Osamu,” you said, and he visibly relaxed, hooking his ankles around yours while you stood between his thighs. “I was more disappointed than anything. I hate missing out on time with you.” You frowned and brushed the hair off his forehead, tucking longer strands behind his ears. “Will you take a break every once in a while?” 

Dazai melted under your soft touch, preening with a cheeky grin. “Of course I will.” He brushed his thumb over your cheeks, dark eyelashes fanning the sharp bones of his face as he stared, astonished by your care. “I’ve been busy this week, and I apologize. Just say the word, and I’m yours for a day, a week, a month.” He exhaled, unsteadily. “All you have to do is ask.” 

You smiled, and though you wouldn't ask for so much time with him, not when things were so hectic with the mafia, it was nice to know that you could.

Slowly, you ran the cloth over the splattered blood, wiping it off inch by inch. His skin tone returned to normal, the deep red stain erasing. 

“What happened this time?”

Dazai sighed, dropping his chin to his chest, releasing every ounce of cruelty from his being. It was so hard to reconcile the two sides of him. He was sweet to you, caring and gentle. But you’d seen him when he was out of your embrace, faced with an enemy, a subordinate that hadn’t followed rules. He so swiftly morphed into someone that was cruel, merciless, offering them a smile only in mockery. 

“Some idiot was leaking information to another group,” Dazai said, tracing patterns on your hips. “If he would’ve been smart, he would’ve realized he never had access to anything of substance. I don’t know why risking his position with us was worth some extra pocket money.”

You frowned. “It took you this long to figure out his plans?” It seemed impossible that anyone could have something to hold over Dazai.

He laughed darkly, no humor within in. “I had a few eyes on him, but I was waiting for some definitive proof. He’s been here for quite a while, and he questioned why he never promoted.”

Dazai rolled his eyes, never understanding how people could be so foolish, could let emotions rule their decisions over logic. 

You nodded, understanding as you wiped his lips clean, erasing all traces of blood from his pores. Once his skin was fresh, he leaned forward, capturing you in a kiss that nearly had you dropping the cloth back into the sink. 

Dazai pulled away, smoothly, even when you had been left breathless. “Don’t worry about it, my love.”

“The mafia is important to me too." You scrunched your features. “If something’s going on, I want to know.”

Dazai smiled lazily, leaning back onto the counter, the picture of nonchalance. “If I really thought it was worth getting worked up about, I’d tell you.” He curled a piece of your hair around his finger, playing with it idly. “Why? You think I don’t trust my favorite girl?” 

You stiffened, defensive, before releasing your shoulders once more, dropping your gaze to his chest. Slowly, you began to undo the buttons of his top, the threads so stained that it was beyond repair. “I don’t know, Osamu. You keep so many secrets. Sometimes I’m not sure.” 

Dazai was quiet, eyebrows raised as he assessed you. When you reached the fourth button of his top, he grabbed your wrist, forcing your attention back to him.

“I don’t keep secrets from you, sweetheart.” He tugged you closer, curling the other arm around your back, skirting between your shoulder blades. Dazai dipped his head, tenderly kissing your fragile collarbone, the touch so airy that it sent your heart racing. “You’re the only person I really trust. If I thought you actually wanted to know every gory detail about the torment I inflicted, then I’d tell you.” 

You breathed in, closing your eyes to steady yourself. It didn’t take much for Dazai to remind you of every reason you’d ever loved him.

“I don’t care about that,” you said as Dazai rested his forehead against your own, keeping his eyes on yours’ even when your gaze was pinned to his chest. He released his soft grip to let you continue your task, and you were swallowing, onto the fifth button. “It was just a passing comment.” 

“Maybe so, but I don’t ever want you to think that I’m hiding things from you,” he said, fiercely.

You shrugged. “I would understand if there were things you couldn’t tell me. It doesn’t upset me.” When the shirt finally became undone completely, you slid it off Dazai’s shoulders, wadding it up into a ball to discard. 

He straightened, replacing the dirtied white top with the darker, softer one. “I can tell you whatever I want.” He scoffed, sliding the black buttons through the holes. “I’m the boss.”

“I just assumed the boss would have highly classified information that had to be contained to a select group of individuals.” 

Dazai made a face at you, like your statement was completely ridiculous. He stood to his full height, tilting your chin up towards him with one long, slender finger.

“Well then, someone should’ve told you that the boss’s wife is never excluded from that group." Dazai smiled at the flush on your cheeks when you allowed yourself to indulge in his touch. “You are my equal. There is nothing in this world that’s more important to me than you. Nothing of mine that doesn’t belong to you as well.” 

Sometimes, you felt undeserving of his affection. It was hard to believe that the man who owned half the city would hand that power over to you willingly, if only you asked.

Though, that grain of doubt lingered in your mind was poison, and you would fight it for as long as Dazai loved you truly. Instead, you smiled, cupping his cheek before standing on your tiptoes to kiss his forehead. “Forgive me if I forget from time to time.” 

Dazai laughed and shook off your grip so he could sling an arm around your shoulder. He was still wearing the dirtied pants, but the blood had dried, and your stomach longed for the meal that you knew was waiting for you. You could let it slide, if only this one time.

“I’ll try to remind you more often,” he said, lips grazing your temple. “I really am sorry I was late for dinner, angel. It won't happen again.” 

You laced your hand with his own free one. The touch was backwards and awkward, your palm cupping the back of his knuckles. You just needed to be closer to him, to feel the touch of his warm skin and know that, for now, his time was only your own.

With a honeyed look, you whispered the words close to his ear, slow and seductive. “I’m sure you can find a way to make it up to me.”

[hxney-lemcn]

Crushcrushcrush — Ranpo Edogawa x gn! reader

summery: a simple deal turns into more as reader and Ranpo become closer.

tw: idk if it should be counted as objectification but Ranpo refers to reader as a treat (this is all sfw)

a/n: idk how I feel about this, what do y'all think? (title is a song)

wc: 1.6k

Master List

“I have an offer,” You stated, dragging a lone chair to sit across from Ranpo’s desk. A bored look painted the young detective's face, mindlessly rolling a lollipop over his tongue. Although he didn’t move, his eyes watched you with slight interest. 

Recently Ranpo seemed less and less inclined to do his work. It shouldn’t bother you, he wasn’t your responsibility…well at least when it came to his paperwork. Yet a nagging feeling tugged at you as his pile of work grew, less and less cases likely to be solved. The closure for someone’s loved ones or the safety of others relied on the whims of a childish detective. It didn’t feel right. So, when you were overthinking this problem only you seemed to have for the past week, you believed  you came up with a bulletproof plan.

“I’m listening,” Ranpo hummed.

Running over exactly what you wanted to say, you brought up a deal he couldn’t pass, “If you solve 10 cases every work week then I’ll treat you to whatever you want as long as it’s ¥4,500 or under. I’ll keep track of your monthly average, and if you exceed 40 cases solved in a month I’ll treat you to something worth ¥10,000. What do you say?”

There was a pause as Ranpo considered the pros and cons of this deal, and skeptically he asked “What do you get out of this?”

You hadn’t considered him to ask that. Either he would have agreed or disagreed, not dive into your intentions. Ironically, you felt that your reasoning was somewhat childish, so you hesitated before coming clean, “I just want to help people.”

Ranpo blinked before a smile spread across his face, “Okay! Nothing the world's greatest detective can’t handle.” He leaned back in his chair, arms resting behind his head.

“Oh!” You blinked, surprised he had actually agreed. “Cool, great. We’ll start next month so it’s easier for me to keep track.”

What became a simple agreement between co-workers shifted into a friendship. At first you thought you’d just give him the cash at the end of the week to spend on whatever his heart wanted…yeah you hadn’t thought that part through. When you tried to give Ranpo the cash at the end of the first week, he whined, complaining about how he needed someone to guide him to his favorite candy store. So not only were you giving him an allowance, but you had also become his go to guide. At first you were a bit annoyed, yes you had no grudges against the black haired detective, but all you wanted to do on a Friday evening was to rest in bed. 

Although it was an annoyance at first, your time together had grown on you. You got to know Ranpo better, and although he was very childish, arrogant, selfish…you get the point, he was also quite entertaining. You two worked together, but you hadn’t really interacted with him except for the meetings or greeting as you’d pass by. You felt yourself glued when Ranpo would tell you of his past cases, hands moving around while still holding his spoon with melting ice cream dripping onto the table. 

It didn’t take long for feelings to start forming. This agreement had gone on for 3 months at this point and you found yourself excited for the weekly outing you two shared. His childishness that had endeared you before was your downfall. Ever since you got to know each other better, Ranpo had begun pestering you more. Whether it be poking you for more snacks, or requesting you to join him during his cases, he never failed to gain your attention in one way or another. Which gained the attention of your fellow co-workers.

Dazai drawled your name, moving his chair to join you at your desk. You barely gave the bandaged detective a glance, continuing the report you needed to finish about you and Ranpo’s last case. Dazai disregarded your disinterest and continued, “Why haven’t you offered me a reward for getting work done?” A pout rested on his lips as he stared at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

You quickly shut him down, “You wouldn’t do the work.”

He found a way to make himself look even more pathetic as he whined, “You’re so mean! Ranpo gets to hang out with such an attractive person while the rest of us are just chopped liver.”

You stared at him blankly, unsure what his motivations could possibly be, “You just want free food.”

Dazai leaned back in his chair, hand resting over his chest in a dramatic gesture, “You wound me! Is it really such a shock that I may want to spend time with you, Belladonna?”

You squinted at him, very aware that he only used that pet name when he was trying to woo someone, or in this case to bring your defenses down. And even though you knew he was up to something, you felt yourself give in. It’s been a long week and useless bickering wasn’t going to finish your report. 

“Do you want to join us or something?” You asked exasperatedly. 

“You’re inviting little old me?” Dazai asked with a dramatic gasp, a smile replacing his previous pout. “Oh I don’t know…”

“You’d have to ask Ranpo,” You grumbled, turning back to the half finished report. “And you have to pay for yourself.”

Little did you know, Ranpo was watching your entire interaction, a frown painting his features. He wasn’t sure why, but the thought of Dazai encroaching on your shared activity didn’t settle well. He was a selfish man, and you had become a treat all on your own. He wanted your attention on him, and although he knows it’s impossible for you to focus on him at all times, it didn’t stop him from wanting it. The thought was foreign to him, as he only really cared about the President’s praise or Yosano’s opinions, but you had managed to wiggle your way into his life and now he also cared about having your attention, praise, and opinions. 

When you had brought up Ranpo, Dazai looked over to said man, a pleased grin on the brown haired detective's lips. Ranpo’s frown grew, unsure why Dazai seemed so pleased. No way was he letting the lesser detective spoil his treats. 

“Oh Ranpo~” Dazai sang, only to be cut off.

“No.”

The sternness in Ranpo’s reply stunned you into tuning back into the situation. You watched in slight shock as Ranpo glared over at Dazai.

“You’re both so mean,” Dazai whined, but finally dropped the subject, sending you a smirk before returning to his desk. 

You glanced at Ranpo once more, only for him to have returned to his normal self, opening a bag of chips as if nothing unusual just happened. That was only the start to his unusual behavior towards you. You knew your doting on him would clue him in on your feelings, but you hadn’t expected him to reciprocate. Yes your agreement had started because you wanted to help people, but it had turned indulgent as you enjoyed your time with the detective. What you hadn’t expected was for it to become indulgent for him as well. 

The next sign was how the seemingly touch adverse man had turned into the clingiest motherfucker you had ever met. You didn’t mind until it started to intrude on your work. It started with small things, holding your hand as you walked the streets together, resting his head on your shoulder while you sat on the bus. Small things you could easily mistake as friendly (which you had), but the gestures started to blur some lines. Hugs that lasted longer than you could brush off, getting piggy back rides from you (if/when possible), cuddling with you on the break room couch when you both had a break. Dazai had found it his new goal in life to tease you as much as possible (it seemed that Yosano had taken up the same practice with Ranpo). Finally you both had breached gestures that clearly couldn’t be waved off as friendly. Ranpo had decided that the best seat in the office was your lap (you couldn’t suppress the embarrassment you felt as everyone in the office stared at you both), or how he’d insist you sleep over (you basically live in his dorm at this point).

The biggest sign of how Ranpo felt about you was when he offered you your favorite snack. Not only was it a snack, something he guards with his life, but it was your favorite, something he deemed worthy enough to know. Such a small gesture managed to warm your heart. There was only one problem…neither of you seemed to be able to open up about your feelings for the other. Your agreement had fizzled, as Ranpo settled for receiving your praises in exchange for his work, but you still would buy him an ice cream or some candy as a reward. 

The lines of your relationship continued to blur more and more. It wasn’t until finally Ranpo had introduced you as his partner, and no, not as a work partner. At first you became flustered, a label finally falling onto your relationship, and soon Ranpo had followed as he realized what he let slip. He thought of you both as together, and a wide grin adorned your face. Hoping to get through to him that it was okay as you wanted the same, you had pressed a kiss to his cheek…which only seemed to worsen his flustered state. 

At the end of the day…none of your co-workers were shocked. In fact, when Ranpo had declared your status to the office (much to your dismay), Dazai just had to quip, “Wait, you weren’t before?”

[bell4lan]

Brother's Best Friend

Genre: Smut

DNI: NON-MLM/NBLM, fujoshis, mlm/nblm fetishizers, trans fetishizers

CW: Feminine words used for privates (pussy, cunt, folds), clit is referred to as a dick, thigh fucking, fingering, teansie bit of a handjob, thigh kisses/hickies, mentions of puke (it's not a weird kink or smthn dw), praise, reader gets called good boy, modern au ig but it's not rlly that important lol

Character(s): Top Nakahara Chuuya x Bottom Trans Male Reader. Dazai is readers brother

'This must be a dream. It has to be.' Was all you could think as the cab you were in pulled up to one of the fanciest hotels you've ever seen. You hesitantly got out of the cab and grabbed your luggage before paying the driver, watching as she drove off. You turned around and stared at the huge building in front of you.

'I must be at the wrong place. There's no way he could afford a room here.' You thought to yourself as you continued to stare at the building. After a few minutes, you gathered the courage to walk in and check if you really did have a room at such a marvelous hotel. However, once you stepped into the hotel you were immediately tackled into a hug.

"(Name)!! Oh I missed you so much. How has my little brother been?" The man said in a sing song voice. You let go of your luggage and hugged him back for a few seconds before backing away.

"I've been okay. Dazai how in the world did you get us a room here?" You asked as you admired the decor.

"I paid for it duh. Are you impressed by your big brother?" He asked, putting his hands under his chin and batting his eyelashes. All you did was roll your eyes at him and laugh. You could hardly believe your brother, who you remembered to be a man who rarely took anything seriously, actually had a well paying job. He was incredibly smart yes, but he had zero work ethic. Honestly you were impressed by him.

"Sure I am." You replied sarcastically. He pouted, but quickly went back to his normal goofy self and helped you check in. As he lead you to your room, he informed you that it was connected to his so you could come over whenever you wanted. Though you knew that meant he'd be coming over to see you instead.

"Oh! Do you remember my friend Chuuya? He's staying with us." He said as you both arrived to your room.

"Dazai it's only been 3 years of course I remember Chuuya." You teased as you opened the door. The room was bigger and more beautiful than you expected. Dazai grinned at your look of shock and started helping you put your stuff away.

Once you were finished, Dazai surprisingly left you alone and let you relax until dinner. You weren't expecting to be at such a fancy place, so you didn't pack any formal clothing that would match the restaurants that were probably just as extravagant as the hotel. You tried your best though, and dressed up in your nicest outfit. As you were looking in the bathroom mirror to make sure you didn't look like an idiot, the door that connected the two rooms opened.

"(Name)! Are you done getting ready?" Dazai shouted. You decided that was enough of picking apart your appearance and came out of the bathroom. Thankfully, Dazai was dressed in a similar fashion, meaning your outfit was appropriate for the restaurant. Dazai smiled and walked back into his room, leaving the door open. You could hear Chuuya scolding Dazai for being loud, and Dazai purposefully trying to rile him up. They really haven't changed a bit.

You decided to wait outside the room just so you wouldn't be sitting around and looked on your phone. The door opened making you look up, and out came Chuuya. His hair was longer than it was the last time you saw him, and he seemed to have grown a few inches...? Wait that can't be right. You glanced down at his shoes and saw they had slight heels, making you smile to yourself. You both just awkwardly waved at each other before your brother came out.

Dazai led you guys to the restaurant, teasing Chuuya the entire time. Once you all sat down, you decided to look at the menu to see what food they have. Your eyes widened at the prices and you looked at Dazai like he was insane.

"Dazai these prices are ridiculous!" You whisper shouted.

"So what? I'm paying so order whatever you'd like." He said with a grin. You were seriously surprised. Just how in the world could he afford all of this? You looked at the menu and decided to go with a cheaper option since Dazai had already spent so much money on you.

"So (Name), did you find a boyfriend yet?" Dazai asked, wiggling his brows as he spoke. You could feel yourself get a bit flustered from the question.

"No I haven't." You said shyly. Dazai knew you got shy when it came to your love life, so you knew he was doing this on purpose just to tease you. "Did you?" You fired back. Dazai sighed dramatically and stirred his drink.

"Noooo." He whined with a pout. You just smiled at him and decided to move on to a different topic.

The night was fun. You had a good time catching up with your brother, and even grew a little closer to Chuuya. It had always been awkward between you two despite you only being a year younger than him and your brother. To be honest, you didn't really know why it was awkward. You got along, but it just seemed tense whenever you and him spoke without Dazai around.

Speaking of Dazai, he was currently on his 6th drink of the night and he was absolutely wasted. Dazai had always been a lightweight and he had ordered some strong drinks despite you and Chuuya telling him not to. You both decided it would be best to leave and take Dazai back to the room, which was a struggle. You both had to hold onto him because he was too drunk to walk, and he wouldn't stop singing.

"Oh my god shut up you bastard." Chuuya snapped as Dazai sang the same verse of his own made up song for the 10th time. Dazai just giggled at him and sang louder.

Finally, you guys made it back. You helped Chuuya get Dazai undressed and into his pajamas and thanked him for taking care of him. Once you were finished, you went back to your room to get ready for bed.

"ARE YOU SHITTING ME DAZAI?!" You heard Chuuya yell. You ran over to the door and yanked it open, seeing the side of Chuuyas bed covered in puke, Dazai passed out on the floor, and Chuuya red with anger.

"Oh my- Chuuya i'm so sorry. I'll clean this up for you." You said as you rushed over and helped Dazai up. He luckily didn't get anything on his or Chuuya's clothing or belongings, so you just helped him clean off his face.

"Don't apologize (Name) it's not your fault he's a dumbass." Chuuya said. You could tell he was furious considering now he had no place to sleep, and the room would smell like puke if not cleaned up quickly.

"Could you help Dazai get into bed while I clean up the puke?" You asked as you gently handed him your sleeping brother. He sighed and just nodded. You thanked him before gathering up the bedding that had puke on it, being careful to not touch any of it.

After almost an hour you got most of the puke out so it wouldn't smell, but you'd have to let the cleaners wash it tomorrow. You sighed and saw Chuuya sitting on the edge of Dazai's bed, glaring at him.

"I'm sorry Chuuya. You can use my bed if you'd like. I can just sleep with Dazai or something." You offered. You felt bad that your brother made such a mess and wanted to make it up to Chuuya.

"What? No it's alright. I'll just sleep in my bed." He said as he got up.

"But you don't even have a blanket or sheets. Please take my bed, I feel bad for what Dazai did." You explained. Chuuya thought for a bit before finally speaking up.

"Let's just both sleep in your bed. I'm tired and don't feel like arguing about this." He sighed.

"Okay, that could work. It's a pretty big bed. Just come over when you're ready to sleep." You said before leaving. Once you were back in your room you rushed to put some of your stuff away that you were too lazy to organize when you got back.

Once finished, you got into bed and tried to relax while watching TV. Chuuya came in not long after you turned it on and plopped down onto your bed, clearly exhausted.

"I'm going to kill your brother when he wakes up." He mumbled as he looked at the TV. You laughed and turned it off so you both could get some sleep.

A few hours later, you woke up and glanced at the clock on the nightstand. '3 am. Great.' You thought to yourself. You tried to go back to sleep but couldn't. Maybe it was because someone else is in bed with you? You weren't sure, but it was frustrating you.

Chuuya seemed to have trouble sleeping too, because you felt him sit up and heard him sigh. You rolled over to face him and saw him rubbing his eyes.

"Can't sleep either?" You asked. He glanced at you and nodded before laying down again, this time facing you. You both stared at each other for a moment before he asked you why you couldn't sleep. The conversation went on from there. It went surprisingly smooth considering you both were always so awkward around each other. You both asked each other things about your current lives, he even told you some stories about him and Dazai that you had never heard before. It was pleasant. You really enjoyed talking to him.

The conversation died down after a while, and all you guys did was glance around the room. Chuuya's gaze made it's way to your lips, and you noticed. You felt yourself getting a bit flustered and couldn't help but feel shy.

"Can I kiss you?" Chuuya whispered, cheeks dusted pink. You nodded and felt as he pressed his soft lips against yours. You certainly weren't expecting him to be such a good kisser, but holy fuck he was. He wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you closer to him, deepening the kiss as he did. Your arms went around his neck, the kiss getting more heated as you both got closer to each other.

It wasn't long before his tongue was in your mouth and your hips were grinding against his. You could feel his hard-on rubbing against you, making you shiver. His hands went down to your ass and pushed you against him harder, groaning into your mouth. You pulled away to catch your breath and felt him kiss your neck, sucking softly at the skin.

"Ch-Chuuya you can't leave marks." You breathed out. You heard Chuuya hum and he stopped sucking. He moved away from your neck and looked into your eyes.

"You know...i've always thought you were really handsome." He confessed.

"Really?" You asked. He nodded and pecked your lips.

"Do you want to take this further?" He asked, hand running up and down your side.

"Y-Yeah, but I don't have any condoms." You said shyly. He hummed and thought for a moment.

"We don't have to go all the way, I could fuck your thighs." He suggested. You squeezed your legs together and felt yourself get wet. He didn't even say anything that dirty, but his words made you hot. You said okay and watched as he went to get lotion from the bathroom. He came back and put it on the bed so he could take off his pants. You took off yours too, but hid yourself under the blanket. He took off his briefs after you did and wow, you sure knew where the rest of his height went. Honestly, you were a bit happy you weren't going all the way. He would easily be the biggest you've taken if you did, and you weren't sure if you were prepared for his size.

"Can I see you?" He asked, voice hushed. You nodded and moved the blanket. He moved in front of you and parted your legs, licking his lips once he saw your sex. He dipped his head between your legs and kissed at your thighs.

"Can I leave marks here?" He asked while glancing up at you. It wasn't like that part of you would be exposed at all during this trip, so you said yes. You moaned softly once you felt him sucking at the skin. Your thighs had always been a sensitive part of your body, so this just turned you on even more.

He pulled away and smirked as he saw the markings he made. Sitting up, he grabbed the lotion and opened it, squeezing some onto his hand. He rubbed some on your thighs, running his hand close to your pussy to tease you. He squeezed some more on his hand and rubbed it on his hard cock. You watched as he did it and offered to help. He of course said yes and sighed once he felt your soft hand stroke him up and down.

"F-Fuck you're good at this. If you keep going i'll cum." He warned as he pulled your hand away.

He positioned you to where you were laying on your side facing the wall while he was behind you. He put some more lotion on just in case and asked you to squeeze your thighs together. He slowly pushed himself between them, cock sliding against your folds as he did. He started to thrust his hips, hands gripping yours as he did.

You moaned softly as you felt him fuck your thighs. The whole situation was so erotic, so lewd. You never thought someones cock simply rubbing against you could feel so good. You positioned your hips in a way where his tip hit your dick and you choked back a loud moan.

"You h-have to be quiet (Name). The walls here are th-thin." Chuuya whispered, trying his best to not be too loud, though it was kind of hard when your thighs were giving him so much pleasure. You nodded and did your best to keep your noises down.

You looked below you and saw as his dick thrusting up against your pussy, making you whine. "Good boy." He whispered into your ear as you tightened your thighs. His thrusts were much faster now that your slick made it easier for his dick to slide between your thighs.

One of his hands moved to your ass and squeezed it as he got closer to release. He breathed out curses as he watched his dick disappear between your legs. He couldn't imagine how good you must feel inside, how good your pussy would feel around him. How you'd probably squeeze him as he praised you...fuck he was gonna cum.

He gave you a warning before his release, pressing tip pressed against your dick as he came and coating your cunt in cum. He pulled out and you turned onto your back so you could look at him.

"Chuuya...please fuck me." You begged quietly. You needed him. You needed to feel him inside you so badly, you had never felt so needy for someone before.

"No, we don't have a condom. Here-" He stopped mid sentence and sat up. He told you to sit up too and moved behind you once you did. He pulled you between his legs and told you to spread yours. You felt so exposed to him like this, but did as he said anyway. He moved his hand between your legs and gathered some of his cum on his fingers. He moved his hand up your mouth and positioned his fingers in front of it.

"Lick it off for me." He whispered. You licked off the cum and glanced up at him once you were finished. He kissed your head and whispered praises in your ear as he moved his hand back down and dipped two fingers inside you.

You gasped as you felt his slender fingers inside you, reaching deeper than yours could. He slowly started to thrust them, watching at how you squirmed from it.

"Does that feel good?" He asked as he sped up. You gasped and moaned out a yes. He slowed his thrusts and pushed in a third one, making you gasp. His fingers made you feel satsifyingly full as they hit your sweet spot repeatedly. You had such a hard time keeping your voice down as he fingered you.

"I-I'm close Chuuya!" You whined as he sped up. He pressed his palm against your dick as he fingered you, making you moan out curses.

"Good boy, cum all over my fingers (Name)." He whispered, chuckling softly when he felt you tighten around them. You came hard, pussy twitching around his fingers as your orgasm hit. Your hand covered your mouth to muffle the loud moan that you couldn't hold back.

Chuuya's fingers stopped moving and he pulled them out slowly, rubbing them on your folds as he whispered more praises into your ear. His other hand moved your hand away from your mouth, and he leaned down to kiss you.

Pulling away, he moved so that he wasn't behind you anymore and laid you down. He asked if you needed anything and got you the water you requested. He washed his hands and grabbed a hand towel from the bathroom to clean you both up a bit.

Once finished, he threw it into the bathroom to deal with later. After he dressed himself, he dressed you and got back into bed. He wrapped his arms around you and gave you a soft kiss on the forehead before falling asleep with you in his arms.

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

I originally started writing this story with a completely different plot but then I realized it wasn't anything like how I originally wanted it to be, so I deleted it and redid the whole thing and omg i'm SO glad I did. I had so much fun writing this story I started and finished it today. I really like this story and I hope you guys do too! ^^ This actually wasn't supposed to have so much plot but I got carried away ^^;

Also i'm sorry if I made Chuuya or Dazai OOC. I tried my best to keep them in character while also fitting them into a world where they aren't completely traumatized 😭. Also sorry if you expected smthn rough. Imo Chuuya would be a gentle lover. At least the first time he would lol.

Side note: I'm trying a new layout(?) so sorry if it's a bit weird ^^;

[thedamselzelda]

Break Into Chains

Featuring: Fyodor Dostoevsky & Beast! Dazai Osamu

Summary: Waiting... watching... done. Perhaps, playing this role was meant to take lesser time? Who could know now? Nevertheless, it's a role you must play out to its finale. Who knows what the end might be now? If only your part had been planned out better...

word count: 9.2k+, fem!reader, HOTD!reader → pm!reader (perhaps?), nsfw (domestic abuse [possessive Fyodor, very unhealthy relationship]), reader referred to with other names (no use of y/n), reader's eyes described as violet, Russian words used (general meanings at the end), slightly proofread

Author Note: Dear lord have mercy. This took wayyyyy too much time and for that I am sooooo sorry. I wanted to have this out last week, but the first scene DRAINED ME. I want to remind, or warn readers, this is a Dazai x reader fic, so Fyodor is not painted in good light.

ᡣ𐭩 There's also an additional part at the end since this part has been so delayed. The time is slightly ambiguous since I can't quite say when Dazai becomes PM Boss

previous part ~ next part | LBH masterlist | BSD Masterverse

Weeks had passed without a word from Fyodor, lulling you into a false sense of security. Yet, you knew better. His rats - Nikolai chief among them - lurked in the shadows, their watchful eyes ever-present. The unsettling thought that some of your own staff might be secretly under his command gnawed at the edges of your mind. But with the immense pressure of your new responsibilities, you couldn't afford to dwell on such paranoia.

Crisp crinkles echoed through your office as you shuffled through the papers littering your desk. Your eyes darted from document to document, meticulously ensuring everything was in order for the weeks to come. Invoices for food and excess liquor orders were neatly stacked, the staff schedule awaited your final approval, and ornate invitations for a masquerade party - Kōyō's insistence for after the Star Festival - had been prepared. The merger with the Port Mafia had transformed The Midnight's Caress into a whirlwind of activity, far beyond your initial expectations.

A weary sigh escaped your lips as you massaged your temples, the beginnings of a headache pulsing along your brow. A lit cigarette dangled precariously between your fingers, and you took a long, desperate drag, hoping the nicotine would quell the growing tension. The smoke curled lazily in the air, a stark contrast to the frenetic energy that now permeated the club.

When you agreed to sell to Osamu - to the Port Mafia - you hadn't anticipated this surge in business. Moreover, you'd agreed to the club becoming a front for trade, strictly in jewels. It was an additional burden, one you tried to distance yourself from, clinging to the illusion of separation from Mafia affairs.

Thankfully, Osamu had been true to his word, respecting your wish for distance from Mafia affairs. Yet, he kept you informed of pertinent matters, treating you with the consideration typically reserved for a high-ranking executive within the Port Mafia. This delicate balance he struck only served to underscore the undeniable shift in your relationship.

What had begun as harmless weekly chess games had gradually evolved into something more intimate. Weekend dinners became a regular occurrence, followed by conversations that stretched into the early hours of the morning, ending only when dawn threatened to break the night's spell. His presence, once a distant memory, now constantly permeated your thoughts, even in sleep. In your dreams, Osamu appeared to you, gentle and caring, showering you with the kind of love he insisted you “deserved.” These nocturnal visions left you feeling both comforted and conflicted, a stark reminder of the complex emotions that still lingered between you.

The lines between past and present, professional and personal, had begun to blur, causing you to find yourself navigating through an increasingly complicated emotional landscape. Osamu's actions spoke of a desire to rebuild what was lost, while your own feelings remained a tumultuous mix of longing, caution, and the ever-present awareness of your true mission.

Your weary eyes drifted to your phone, its white light a stark contrast to the warm yellow glow of your desk lamp. A message from Osamu illuminated the screen:

Osamu:Hey, I'm sorry. I ran into some issues here. I'll be there soon. Did you decide on a place yet?

A small smile tugged at your lips, the domesticity of the message both comforting and unsettling. You extinguished your cigarette in the overflowing ashtray, ash and butts a testament to your increased stress. With a deep breath, you reached for your phone, fingers hovering over the keys as you contemplated your response. The soft glow of the screen illuminated your face in the dimly lit office.

Still settling everything for Kōyō's party in the upcoming weeks. I picked dinner last week, so I'd say it's your turn. Surprise me.

The smile lingered on your lips, a small content sigh escaping through. For a moment, the weight of your responsibilities seemed to lift, replaced by a warm anticipation.

"Who's got you smilin' like that?"

You whipped your head around, heart leaping into your throat at the unexpected voice. Nikolai stood in the shadows, his lanky form materializing as if from thin air.

"Fuckin' shit, Nikolai!" You breathed, slamming your phone screen down upon your desk. Your smile instantly vanished, happiness evaporating. "I have a fucking door!"

You shot your hand up and gestured at the door, only to freeze as it swung open. The atmosphere in the room shifted palpably, the air growing thick with tension as Fyodor entered, Dimitri closing the door behind him with a soft click.

"Fyodor!" You plastered on a smile, rising to your feet. You felt Nikolai watching you, stepping back slightly to allow you to approach the front of your desk.

Fyodor's hand rose slowly, a silent command for silence. His eyes, cold and unreadable, refused to meet yours. "Have you been having a good time, moya zhena? I see you are quite busy."

He gestured to your desk in disarray behind you. You cocked your head, clinging to your facade of innocence. The words fell from your lips quickly, showing your anxiety from the sudden, unexpected intrusion. "Admittedly, business has increased dramatically, which is why I haven’t been regular in our correspondences��"

Nikolai's sharp laughter cut through the air. He held up a champagne bottle, a mocking toast.  "No need to be so anxious, Marena. We simply came to... ‘surprise you’, seeing as you sold The Midnight’s Caress and still have ownership. That’s quite interesting."

You shot an irritated glance at Nikolai, who fell back onto chaise with infuriating casualness. Closing your eyes, you shook your head, trying to regain composure. Your eyes fluttered open to look back at Fyodor. "I only sold it to get closer to him. He thinks you're abusing me. I'm using that to our advantage."

"But why would I harm you, moya dorogaya zhena?" Fyodor's gloomy expression finally rose to meet yours, his eyes boring into you with unsettling intensity. His eyes shimmered slightly, as if trying to coax you into a sense of security. "I love you."

Irritated by his selection of reply, your eyebrow twitched involuntarily. His cold tone a stark contrast against his words. "Of course, moya lyubov'. I know that. Just as I love you."

Fyodor moved towards you, his gaze never wavering. Your body reacted instinctively, inching backward till you brushed against your desk, betraying your mind's attempt at control. "Yet, you cower from me."

Your eyes darted between his, desperately searching for the motive behind this unexpected visit. Panic rose in your throat; Osamu would be arriving soon, and Fyodor couldn't be here when he did. "I just… feel your impatience, moy dorogoy; your unrest. I assure you; I’m working my way back in. The Book will be ours."

Fyodor’s lips curled down; you could see he was no longer interested in your promises, your efforts. "Still, I see no progress from you. You have yet to even pass through the threshold of the Port Mafia’s doors."

"I—"

Before you could explain yourself, Nikolai's voice cut through, uncharacteristically low and ominous. "The rats have watched you, Marena. And unfortunately for you, they've whispered of your betrayal in the dark halls."

Your jaw clenched involuntarily as he continued, "Fyodor doesn’t exactly see your late-night rendezvous with Dazai as productive.” Nikolai's lips curled into a cruel smirk. "Who knows what the two of you have been up to?"

The implication hung heavy in the air, a deliberate attempt to unsettle you and sow further doubt in Fyodor's mind. You fought to keep your expression neutral, acutely aware of the growing tension in the room and the dangerous ground you now tread.

Your chest heaved with each breath, anger and fear coursing through your veins. But you refused to continue to cower before them. "Of course you've been watching me. Whispering lies into my husband's ear." You raised your chin, forcing steel into your gaze. "You have been envious of me since the moment he brought me in."

Your ears began to ring loudly from Nikolai’s boisterous laughter. You gritted your teeth, becoming increasingly irritated by his presence. Nikolai’s laughter faded into a malevolent grin. "Envious? Oh, Marena, don’t be absurd! Who could envy a woman who clings to men who see her as nothing but a tool?"

You remained silent, taken aback by his venomous words. A flicker of hope prompted you to glance at Fyodor, expecting him to intervene, to silence Nikolai's disrespect. But as your eyes met his impassive gaze, the harsh truth crystallized - Fyodor was no longer your ally.

The realization hit you like a physical blow. Months of delayed progress, your prolonged failure to retrieve The Book, had worn Fyodor's patience. Nikolai, ever the opportunist, had seized upon this, whispering doubts and suspicions into your husband's ear. Now, standing before you, Fyodor was a stranger; his former affection now completely erased, replaced by cold calculation.

You felt Nikolai's gaze bore into you, his words continued cold and calculated. "Dazai’s affection doesn’t make you special. To him, you're just another expendable pawn in his grand game. And Fyodor," he gestured towards your husband, "anyone could see he doesn't favor you out of love; he pities you! You're nothing more than a tragic puppet, dancing on strings held by men who will never see you as their equal!"

Your eyes fluttered, a tempest of emotions raging behind them. Frustration and anger simmered in your veins, not just at Nikolai's cutting words about Osamu - words you knew to be far from the truth - but at your own naivety. The realization crashed over you like a tidal wave, leaving you clear minded for the first time in ages.

Fury ignited in your gaze as you locked eyes with Fyodor. "Is that so?" The words escaped as a low, dangerous murmur. You searched his face one last time, hoping against hope to find a glimmer of the man you thought you had married. But there was nothing - only a cold, calculating stranger stared back.

"It makes so much more sense now," you continued, your voice gaining strength with each word. Fyodor's head tilted slightly, a flicker of intrigue crossing his otherwise impassive features. He seemed curious about the conclusions you were drawing from Nikolai's taunts.

"I was a girl wanting freedom and you saw that dream in me, and so you seized the opportunity. You wanted to dangle me in front of Dazai this whole time," you spat, the pieces of the puzzle falling into place with sickening clarity. "That's why you insisted I return home! So you could give him a taste of something he couldn’t have. You lulled me into a false sense of security, fed me morsels of affection to temper my cravings, all to push me towards retrieving The Book! Not for us! But for you!"

Throughout your revelation, Fyodor's expression remained stoic, unmoved by your piecing together of his elaborate scheme. His lack of reaction only confirmed your suspicions, twisting the knife deeper. You were intelligent - Fyodor had always known this. It was inevitable that the facade would eventually crumble, that the truth would come to light.

You took an intentional step forward, and it was now Fyodor who took a slight step back.

"Now, you cower from me." You laughed, a sound tinged with both bitterness and newfound resolve. The sound cut through the tense silence, causing Nikolai to stiffen slightly in the background. Your eyes never left Fyodor's as you closed the distance between you, each step deliberate and measured.

You stopped mere inches from him, so close you could feel the warmth of his breath. The familiar scent of his scent, once comforting, now seemed nauseating and oppressive. Still, you didn't flinch or back away. Instead, you tilted your chin upward, meeting his gaze with unwavering defiance. Your proximity forced Fyodor to look down at you, a subtle shift in the power dynamic. Despite the slight height difference, it was clear you were not intimidated. Your body language radiated confidence, a stark contrast to the meek subordinate he had expected you to remain.

Your lips curved into a smirk, a dangerous glint in your eyes. Fyodor mirrored your expression, his own smile cold and calculating. The air between you crackled with tension, two predators sizing each other up. Your voice dropped to a menacing whisper; each word laced with deadly intent.

"You gravely misjudged me, Fyodor. You saw a vulnerable girl to be manipulated, a pawn in your grand design." Your eyes narrowed, boring into his with unwavering intensity. "But soon, you'll witness the true nature of the Port Mafia's Izanami. And you'll realize just how badly you've miscalculated. With every new life you assume, ty chertov ublyudok, I will find you and kill you, again and again, until the day comes when you can’t tell where you end and the life you stole begins."

Fyodor's lips curled into a cold smile. "Eto tak?" he replied, his voice dripping with mockery as he echoed your words. His eyebrow arched, a gesture of casual dismissal that belied the tension in the room. "Well, Izanami, I think that you'll find that your role here is not quite yet finished."

As Fyodor spoke, his lifeless gaze slid past you, settling on Nikolai. The abrupt shift in his attention left you reeling, a sudden vertigo gripping you. An icy tendril of dread snaked down your spine as Fyodor turned away, his lack of retaliation more unnerving than any threat.

In that disorienting moment, the gravity of your mistake crashed over you. You had fixated on Fyodor, forgetting the other dangerous player in the room. The air grew thick, almost suffocating, as time seemed to stretch and warp. Your instincts screamed a warning, every nerve on high alert.

It happened in the blink of an eye.

A whisper of movement behind you sent alarm bells ringing through your body. Pure instinct took over, your mind barely catching up as you spun around. Your eyes widened in horror as they locked onto Nikolai's form. His face wore a sadistic smile, eyes glinting with cold purpose as his arm arced through the air.

Desperately, you threw up your arm in a futile attempt at protection. However, it did no good as the champagne bottle connected with brutal force, shattering against your skull with a sickening crack. A shower of glass shards rained down, mixing with the sticky liquid that now saturated your hair and trickled down your face. A sharp, burning pain lanced through your forearm where the bottle's jagged edge had sliced into your skin.

The world lurched violently, your vision swimming in and out of focus. Agony exploded through your head, each pulse sending waves of nausea and pain radiating outward. You staggered, your legs threatening to give way as your senses overloaded, struggling to process the sudden assault.

Across your back, you felt the sharp, stinging pain of multiple lacerations. The acrid smell of champagne mixed with the metallic tang of blood, confirming your suspicions about the source of these new wounds - the shattered remains of the bottle that had started this brutal assault.

Nikolai then seemingly darted around you with intentional speed, exploiting his ability to materialize in your blind spots. Your eyes desperately tried to track his movements, but he always seemed one step ahead, vanishing and reappearing like a malevolent specter. The sharp sting of alcohol assaulted your vision, and as you struggled to blink away the burning sensation, a sickening crack echoed through the air.

A crushing force collided with your right arm, the impact reverberating through your body. Your mind reeled as you imagined the bone splintering beneath your skin, fragmenting into a thousand jagged pieces. A guttural cry escaped your lips as your arm went limp, hanging uselessly at your side. Before you could process the agony, another vicious blow struck the same shoulder, intensifying the waves of pain coursing through your body.

Despite the overwhelming pain, survival instinct kicked in. You fought back with desperate, uncoordinated movements. Your uninjured arm flailed wildly, fingers grasping at the air where Nikolai had been just moments before. If you could just make contact, just brush his skin with your fingertips, you knew it would all be over. Your ability would cease this nightmare. However, Nikolai was too quick, too practiced. He danced just out of reach, leaving nothing but empty air in your grasp. Your frustration mounted with each failed attempt, the realization of your powerlessness adding a new layer of anguish to your physical torment. The bitter taste of failure mingled with the blood in your mouth. As your body screamed in agony as the assault continued, hit after hit, a different kind of pain blossomed within your chest. Resentment bubbled up, hot and caustic, directed not just at your attackers but at yourself.

You wrestled with the dawning realization, desperately trying to silence the insidious voice in your mind. It whispered at first, then grew to a deafening roar with each passing moment of agony. "You fool," it seemed to taunt, the words reverberating through your battered psyche. "Look at the mess you've made of things."

Your thoughts drifted to that sun-drenched day at the quaint café in Italy, the scent of espresso and freshly baked cornetti, and the charming smile across from you still vivid in your memory. But no, you sowed the seeds of your downfall were planted even earlier. You recalled the day Osamu approached you, his eyes a frenzy of emotions, seeking reassurance as he grappled with the weight of his sudden succession. Instead of offering support and feeling relief at the resolution, you had chosen indifference, allowing bitterness to take root in your heart. Was it not you who had longed for it more?

It seemed trivial now to dwell on the chain of decisions that had led you to this moment of reckoning. Yet, as your body gave way and you crumpled to your knees on the cold, unforgiving floor, these memories were all you could cling to, a lifeline in the sea of pain and regret threatening to drown you.

"Please..." The word escaped your lips as a barely audible whisper, a final, desperate plea. Despite its softness, it was enough to give Nikolai pause, his imposing figure freezing mid-motion.

Fyodor's voice sliced through the tense silence, calm yet commanding. "I do believe that gets the point across. Thank you, Nikolai."

As the tears cleared your vision and burning, you saw Nikolai step back, lowering his improvised weapon—an ornate, silver candelabra from your office, now stained with crimson. A bitter chuckle escaped your lips, bordering on hysteria. Your hand had gone numb, and a vice-like pressure tightened around your chest. It took every ounce of strength to keep your head lifted as Fyodor approached, replacing Nikolai's looming presence.

He crouched before you, raising his hand to thread his fingers through your matted, sticky locks. "Moy malen'kaya mysh'," he murmured.

A solitary tear escaped as you attempted to turn away in disgust, but Fyodor cupped your cheek with unsettling tenderness, like a lover trying to soothe your pain. His thumb gently wiped away the tear threatening to streak your bruising skin. He shushed you softly as your lip quivered, unable to contain your anguish.

"I will give you one more chance, moya samaya bol'shaya lyubov'. Perhaps this will help get you through the guarded gates of the Port Mafia." Fyodor said, his voice a velvet caress as he stroked your head. Despite his gentle demeanor, the weight of his power over you was palpable. Your breath caught in your throat at his next words. "But if you fail me, I will have that detective you are so fond of gutted."

Your eyes fluttered as fresh tears welled up and spilled over. You shook your head weakly, your pleas barely above a whisper. "No... no, please."

Fyodor's smile was soft, almost benevolent, as he leaned in to press his lips against yours. You squeezed your eyes shut in revulsion, forcing yourself to return the twisted show of affection. As he pulled away, he hovered mere inches from your face, his breath warm against your skin. "I hope you're creative with my death this time," he murmured, his words laced with dark anticipation. "Just one page, moy dorogoy. That's all I need. Bring me one page from The Book within a month’s time, and perhaps, I'll reconsider the detective's fate. Fail me again, and... well, let's hope it doesn't come to that."

You remained motionless as Fyodor rose, your eyes tracking his every movement as his attention shifted back to Nikolai. Each breath became increasingly laborious, pain radiating through your body in waves, discovering new territories of agony with each passing moment. The metallic taste of blood lingered on your tongue.

As Nikolai moved to open the door for their departure, Fyodor's gaze returned to you, his eyes glinting with a mixture of possessiveness and cruel amusement. His voice, smooth as silk yet sharp as a blade, cut through the heavy air between you.

"Despite Nikolai's charged words, Dazai evidently still harbors feelings for you. But, moya dorogoy zhena," he paused, "he will do what he must to achieve his goals. You are nothing more than an obstacle for him, a fleeting distraction."

Fyodor's lips curled into a smile that never reached his eyes as he delivered his final, chilling statement. "To me, you are everything, moy angel smerti. You would do well to remember that."

The words hung in the air, as stale as the empty promise of helping you. As the door closed behind them, leaving you alone with your pain and the weight of Fyodor's threat, you couldn't help but feel the noose of circumstances tightening around you.

You winced, a sharp hiss escaping through clenched teeth as you gingerly cradled your broken arm, drawing it close to your body. The initial surge of adrenaline began to ebb away, leaving in its wake a tide of overwhelming pain and exhaustion. Your eyelids grew heavier with each passing moment, the world around you starting to blur at the edges.

From somewhere far away, as if through a thick fog, you heard the faint buzzing of your phone vibrating on the desk. Osamu calling, no doubt. A part of you yearned to answer, to hear his voice, but your limbs felt leaden, unresponsive. In that moment of weakness, you found yourself hoping—praying even to whatever cruel deity might exist— that Osamu would somehow sense your distress and come to find you.

As your eyes fluttered closed, fresh tears carved warm trails down your cheeks. Fyodor's words echoed in your mind, a haunting refrain. Even in this dire situation, with your relationship to Fyodor taking this twisted new turn, you couldn't bear the thought of Oda becoming a target. You tried to steady your breathing, pursing your lips with each labored exhale as you tilted your head back, fighting against the encroaching darkness.

The phone continued to buzz, the sound becoming from further and further away. With immense effort, you attempted to rise, to crawl towards that lifeline. But your body betrayed you, and you pitched forward, your cheek connecting with the plush fibers of your new rug. Another one to be replaced… Your vision narrowed to a pinpoint, then faded to black. The last vibration of your phone became nothing more than an auditory ghost, dissipating as consciousness slipped away.

Osamu, what did I do…

Osamu's leg bounced incessantly as he sat in the back of the sleek black car, the soft leather seat doing little to calm his fraying nerves. He cursed under his breath, pressing his hand firmly against his thigh in a futile attempt to still the movement. The usually composed Mafia executive was irritated with himself, his calm facade cracking under the weight of his tumultuous thoughts.

Neon lights from the bustling Yokohama nightlife flashed across his face in a dizzying array of colors, muddling the conflict swirling within his mind. Tonight. It had to be tonight. The mantra repeated in his mind, a mix of determination and barely contained anxiety. He was going to ask you to return to the Port Mafia, to come back to his side where you belonged. The very thought sent a tremor through his body, a potent cocktail of exhilaration and terror coursing through his veins.

God, how he hoped you had sensed his intentions during the past weeks—surely you must have. All those carefully orchestrated conversations, the gradual sharing of executive-level information... He'd watched you absorb it all, your eyes lighting up with that familiar spark of intrigue and excitement. If anything, that light seemed even brighter than in the other universes he glimpsed in his dreams and visions.

Osamu's mind reeled, memories from alternate realities blurring together in a kaleidoscope of possibilities. In every version, you were there, a constant by his side across the multiverse. Here, now, in this world - why should it be any different? It shouldn't. It couldn't be any longer. The separation had gone on far too long already.

But what if...? No. He violently shoved the doubt aside, refusing to let it take root. You'd been so receptive, so eager to engage with Mafia matters again, even if there had been initial hesitation. Surely that meant something. It had to.

He needed you back. The Mafia needed you. But if he was honest with himself - a rarity for the guarded man - he longed for your return on a level that transcended mere organizational goals. You made him feel... whole. Grounded. Like the best version of himself, a feeling he'd been desperately missing since your departure.

What if he pushed too hard? What if this was the mistake that finally drove you away for good? The thought made his chest constrict painfully, his breath catching for a moment.

No. He couldn't think like that. In every universe, in every reality, you belonged at his side. This one couldn't be the exception. He wouldn't allow it to be.

His hand moved instinctively, reaching into his breast pocket to retrieve his phone. With slightly trembling fingers, he punched in your number, holding the device to his ear. The monotonous rings gave way to your familiar voicemail greeting: "Thanks for giving me a call! Sorry I can't get to my phone right now!"

Osamu frowned, a new thread of worry weaving its way through his already tangled thoughts. Why weren't you answering? Surely, you were just attending to matters within the club, your phone left behind in your office. Yes, that had to be it.

"You 'ight, boss?"

Osamu's gaze snapped up to the rearview mirror, meeting Albatross' concerned look. He cleared his throat, forcing himself back to the present moment.

"Yes, Albatross," he replied, his voice steadier than he felt as he closed his phone with a swift motion. "Our ETA?"

"Just under two, sir."

He hummed in acknowledgment, his fingers seeking out the familiar texture of his silk scarf, fidgeting with it to channel his nervous energy. As his eye darted about the passing streetscape, he fought against the nagging thoughts threatening to overwhelm him.

For what if you refused, purely out of fear of Fyodor retaliating? Or what if...? No. Here he was once more fighting himself. He couldn't let himself go down that path. You would see reason. You had to. Because the alternative – a world where you weren't by his side – was simply unthinkable. Especially now, with the clock ticking relentlessly on his grand plan. Osamu was acutely aware of the limited time he had left in this world, and he was determined to spend as much of it as possible with you. Every moment was precious, every shared experience a treasure to be cherished before the inevitable end. He needed you back, not just for the Mafia, not just for his plans, but for himself – to make these final chapters of his story truly meaningful.       

Osamu exhaled sharply through pursed lips as Albatross brought the sleek black car to an abrupt stop outside The Midnight's Caress. The club's neon sign bathed the street in a garish blue glow, highlighting the queue of patrons eager to enter your establishment.

"I'll only be a moment," Osamu said, his voice taut as he slipped his phone back into his jacket pocket. His fingers curled around the door handle. "We'll be going to Azamino Ukai-tei once I return."

Albatross let out a derisive snort, his eyes meeting Osamu's in the rearview mirror. "Azamino Ukai-tei? Seriously, boss? Taking her to such a fancy place?" He shook his head, not bothering to hide his disdain. "What's next, gonna get down on one knee? Oh wait—" He paused for effect, his lips curling into a smirk. "Forgot she's already got that rat bastard."

Osamu froze, his knuckles whitening on the door handle as he shot a sharp glare at his subordinate. The caustic comment struck a nerve, but he couldn't entirely fault Albatross for his opinion. The other Flags shared similar sentiments about you.

"That's enough, Albatross," Osamu warned, his voice low and dangerous despite the turmoil roiling within him.

Albatross raised his hands in mock surrender, but the sarcasm in his voice was palpable. "Sure thing, boss. Just remember, some stray cats ain't worth bringing home, no matter how pretty they are."

Osamu gave a heavy sigh, too preoccupied with his own emotional storm to properly address Albatross's insolence. "We'll be down soon," he muttered, yanking the car door open and slamming it shut behind him, the sound echoing in the night air as he tried to push Albatross's words from his mind. Damn that man and his sharp tongue. It was an unwelcome reminder of how The Flags disapproved of you, a fact that had been a constant thorn in his side even before your departure.

He couldn't help but recall that day - the five remaining Flags and you, standing in his office with heads bowed in shame. The memory was etched into his mind, a permanent reminder of the crime committed within Port Mafia walls. What had been done was done. All six of you bore the consequences of your actions from that day forward, and he knew he couldn't fix what had been permanently damaged, no matter how much he wished otherwise.

Shaking his head to escape his thoughts, Osamu strode towards the club's entrance and was recognized immediately. The doorman stepped aside with a respectful nod. Osamu returned it with a curt nod and faint smile of his own, passing the threshold of curious onlookers. His eye took in the full crowd before him, an impressive amount on the Thursday night. He searched among the throngs for any sign of you, desperate to catch a glimpse of those amethyst eyes he knew so well. But among the bustle of staff and club-goers, he found no trace of you. Strange, he thought. He'd expected you to be downstairs, if not waiting for his arrival.

Without your guiding presence, he found it oddly difficult to navigate the crowd. To the drunkards and oblivious patrons, he was no one important - a foreign feeling in a city where nearly everyone feared the Port Mafia's presence. As he moved through, his gaze caught a few staff members whispering and glancing his way. Their eyes held judgment and cruelty, something he hadn't seen in them before tonight. It was as if he was unwelcome in the building he'd visited so many times before.

The longer he watched, the more they seemed to scurry away, like rats exposed to sudden light. Shadows darted across his peripheral vision, always just out of sight when he turned to look. An uneasy feeling settled in the pit of his stomach as he approached the first flight of stairs. Something was wrong here; he could feel it in the oppressive silence and the stale air that clung to his skin. But what exactly? And where were you? The questions echoed in his mind, amplifying his growing anxiety.

His feet carried him upward as quickly as his thoughts raced, skipping up the flights with increasing urgency. The banister felt sticky beneath his palm, and he could have sworn he heard whispers emanating from behind the peeling wallpaper. His breath came in short, sharp bursts as he climbed higher, the pit within his stomach churning with each step.

The stairwell seemed to stretch endlessly before him, twisting and turning like a maze, though he knew it wasn’t so. Dim, flickering lights cast grotesque shapes on the walls, transforming innocent shadows into menacing silhouettes. He pressed on shaking the visions from his mind, driven by a mixture of fear and determination, his senses hyperaware of every sneer and whisper within the building. If he hadn’t been able to negate other’s abilities, he would assume these visions to be the works of another ability user. Unfortunately for Osamu, they were common works of his own mind, something he hadn’t quite yet become familiar with as negative thoughts poured in to drown him.

Alarms rang within his ears as he yanked himself onto the third landing, his bandages feeling damp and sticky against his skin from the sudden exertion. His unbandaged eye immediately locked onto the empty door frame of your office, conspicuously devoid of Dimitri's imposing presence. The door was slightly ajar, a sliver of darkness visible through the gap, but not enough for him to peer inside.

He swallowed hard as he caught his breath, the taste of adrenaline bitter on his tongue. His hair, slightly damp with sweat, fell slightly into his face, obscuring his vision. With trembling fingers, he ran a hand through the tangled strands, pushing them back. His other hand reached out tentatively to tap the door open.

As the door widened with an ominous creak, his worst fears were justified. There you were, motionless in the dim light filtering through the blinds drawn over the office windows. Your name fell from his lips, quietly at first, a desperate whisper in the silence. Then, as his leaden feet carried him forward, your name escaped louder, echoing off the walls in hopes of rousing you from your unnatural stillness.

His eye roved over your still figure, taking in every detail with growing dread. Your head was slumped forward, a curtain of hair cascading down to hide your face from view. Your back was pressed against the front paneling of your desk. In your lap, you cradled one arm, the angle suggesting injury or worse.

"Bella?" Osamu's hands trembled as he gingerly brushed your hair from your face, his nostrils flaring at the pungent scent of alcohol mingled with something metallic. His unbandaged eye roved across your features, his heart clenching at the sight of fresh crimson droplets and forming bruises marring your skin. As his fingers found purchase upon your cheeks, he released a shaky sigh of relief when you grimaced, your eyes slowly fluttering open.

"Osamu?" Your voice, barely above a whisper, sent a jolt through him. He watched, transfixed, as tears escaped from your eyes, leaving glistening trails down your battered face.

He managed a weak smile, feeling his own eyes well up. Internally, he cursed as the bandage over his left eye became damp. The urge to protect you, to shield you from further harm, overwhelmed him. Before he could stop himself, he pulled you toward his chest, wincing as you let out a sharp groan.

"I'm sorry, I..." Osamu's voice trailed off, the words catching in his throat. Seeing you in such a state was excruciating, and the weight of guilt pressed down on him. He should have been there, should have prevented this. “I’m sorry. I should’ve been here sooner.”

Your hand found his cheek, and he leaned into your touch, savoring the warmth. His forehead touched yours, as he inhaled sharply to calm himself. It grounded him, a reminder that you were still here, still fighting.

"Osamu... I just want to go home. Please take me home..." The desperation in your voice tore at him. He gazed into your bloodshot, teary eyes, his chest tightening at how small and vulnerable you looked. It was a far cry from your usual commanding presence, and it shook him to his core. You gasped as more tears fell, "I can’t take this anymore."

"Of course. Of course, cara mia..." Osamu's mind raced, considering the implications. The guests couldn't see you like this - he knew how fiercely you guarded your image. And the staff... a cold realization settled over him. Despite your careful selection, he was now certain they were plants, watching your every move.

With slightly trembling hands, he fished out his phone. "I'll call Chūya... and Doc. You'll need to see Doc." He hated how rushed and unpolished his words sounded, so unlike his usual eloquence.

Your vigorous refusal caught him off guard; you shook your head and weakly pushed away from him. He watched, heart in his throat, as you tried to stand, only to pitch forward dangerously.

“Stop,” he scolded gently, your name a worried hiss on his lips. "You'll surely only hurt yourself further. Chūya will clear the club, but you need to see Doc."

As he cradled you against his shoulder, dialing the phone, Osamu felt the weight of responsibility settle heavily upon him. Your whispered words about them, The Flags, wanting you dead sent a chill down his spine, but he pushed the thought aside. Right now, getting you help was all that mattered.

When Albatross answered, Osamu steeled his voice, pushing down the worry that threatened to break through. "Albatross, I need you to go get Chūya and Doc. Bring them here immediately." As he spoke, he tightened his protective hold on you, silently vowing that no further harm would come to you on his watch.

"Course, Boss. We'll be back in five."

Osamu closed his phone with a soft click, his attention immediately falling back onto you. His hands, usually so steady and sure, trembled slightly as he pulled the maroon silk scarf from around his neck. “They broke your arm...” he muttered, his voice low and seething with barely contained rage.

With an attempted gentle precision, he wrapped the silk around your forearm, fashioning a makeshift sling. Each wince or groan you let out cut through him like a knife, and he found himself whispering "sorry" with every slight tug and pull. Osamu tried his best to be gentle, but his anger made his movements less fluid than usual. His mind raced with violent thoughts of retribution against Fyodor. If he had the time, if it fit into his plans, he would kill the man without hesitation. It was only your voice, weak but present, that pulled him back from the brink of that consuming rage.

"Why would you command them to help me? It just further cultivates that issue. I can't take back what I did to Piano Man, and they will always hold it against me."

His eye found yours as he reached up to tie a knot of silk behind your head. The warmth of your gaze steadied him somewhat. I would like to think... we've all grown since that day," he said softly, hoping his words held more truth than he feared.

You rolled your eyes and sighed heavily; the sound filled with a weariness that made Osamu's heart ache. He carefully maneuvered behind you, leaning back against the front of your desk. His hands, gentle but insistent, urged you to lean back, to rest against him as they awaited Albatross and the others.

He cradled you close, his arms forming a protective cage around you. The fear of losing you, of you slipping away from this world and leaving him behind, gnawed at the edges of his mind. Your head fell back upon his shoulder, and you looked up at him, your eyes capturing his in a moment of shared vulnerability.“I don't think Chūya's grown at all... especially height wise.”

Osamu felt you give a pitiful huff of a laugh, your lips curling into a weak smile. Despite the gravity of the situation, he couldn't help but feel a small spark of relief at your attempt at humor. It was so quintessentially you, finding levity even in the darkest moments. He allowed himself a small chuckle, the sound rumbling in his chest against your back.

"Perhaps not vertically, no. Though his ego has grown to compensate. It's a wonder he can still fit through doorways."

Osamu felt a warmth bloom in his chest as he heard you manage a weak laugh. The sound, though faint, stirred memories of happier times, of shared laughter and stolen moments before everything had fallen apart. His lips curved into a bittersweet smile, unseen by you but evident in the way his arms gently caged around you. He finally allowed himself to savor the feeling of you in his arms, finally returned to him, and despite everything, still able to laugh at his quips about Chūya.

🎹 𝒮𝑜𝓃, 𝒞𝒶𝓃 𝒴𝑜𝓊 𝒫𝓁𝒶𝓎 𝑀𝑒 𝒜 𝑀𝑒𝓂𝑜𝓇𝓎

Your head quickly bowed down as the slam of the double doors reverberated behind you, the sound adding to the tense atmosphere of Dazai's office. In your peripheral vision, you saw Lippmann jump slightly, his eyes squeezed shut and slightly puffy from what you assumed was a mix of stress and sorrow.

You closed your eyes, taking in a deep breath that did little to calm your nerves. The scent of polished wood and old leather filled your nostrils, a familiar smell that now seemed tainted by the gravity of the situation. You knew nothing productive would come of this; it wasn't exactly your fault. However, if Dazai didn't take action, it would only solidify the views, the opinions, and the overall stance that The Flags and the Port Mafia held of you.

Dazai swiftly passed all six of you who stood before his desk, his coat billowing slightly with the rapid movement. The sound of his footsteps on the hardwood floor seemed unnaturally loud in the silence. Chūya was the first to break the oppressive quiet, his voice tight with tension, "Da—Boss, you have to know this wasn't our fault."

Your head shot up, eyes darting over to him, a mix of disbelief and anger flaring within you. "Why? Because you'd claim it was all me?" The words came out sharper than you intended, laced with bitterness.

Chūya's bi-colored eyes met yours, a challenge evident in his gaze. "Well, if you wanna admit to it?" His tone was equally caustic, the underlying tension between you palpable.

Your lips parted as you attempted to shoot back at him, but you were cut off by Dazai’s booming voice.

"Shut up! Both of you." Dazai's angry tone cut through the air like a whip, emanating from behind his desk. He was leaning over, hastily flipping through the report, his movements jerky with barely contained fury. The atmosphere in the room grew even heavier, if that was possible. It was clear that Dazai was beyond angry - this kind of infighting was unacceptable, something even Mori wouldn't have tolerated.

"I honestly don't care who started it," Dazai said, looking up from the papers, his single visible eye scanning the group before him. "I just want to understand what happened to cause this. I shouldn't be standing before the six of you with a member of The Flags, a member of the Mafia, dead within my building."

All of you stood in uncomfortable silence. For once, Albatross, usually quick with a quip or comment, was silent, seemingly at a loss for words. Doc kept his gaze fixed on the floor, anxiously pushing and pulling his IV drip beside him, the soft squeaking of its wheels the only sound in the room. Iceman, true to his taciturn nature, remained stoic and silent, having been merely a witness to the events that had unfolded.

"So?" Dazai's eye scanned all of you again, his gaze falling upon you last. You steeled yourself, looking back at him, unflinching. You could feel the pain emanating from him, see it in the way his eye closed momentarily, his head falling into a slight shake of disappointment.

Unsurprisingly to you, it was Lippmann who stepped forward, the movement causing you to roll your eyes. You knew him well enough to anticipate what was coming - some elaborate story crafted to soften the blow, to shift blame or minimize the severity of what had occurred. As he composed himself and opened his mouth to speak, you braced yourself for whatever tale he was about to spin.

"Boss," he began, his voice a perfect blend of concern and disappointment, "I'm afraid what we witnessed today was a grave lapse in judgment and control from our... esteemed colleague."

He gestured towards you with a subtle, dismissive wave. "Piano Man, while admittedly agitated, was merely expressing concerns shared by many within our ranks. His approach may have been… unorthodox, but his intentions were rooted in loyalty to the Port Mafia."

Lippmann's eyes darted to you briefly, and you furrowed your eyebrows causing him to refocus on Dazai. "Unfortunately, instead of de-escalating the situation as one might expect from a sub executive, Izanami here resorted to... extreme measures. Whether this was due to a lack of proper training, an inability to handle pressure, or perhaps," he paused meaningfully, "other motivations, I cannot say."

His voice lowered, taking on a conspiratorial tone. "It pains me to suggest this, Boss, but we must consider the possibility that this incident was not entirely accidental. The speed and finality with which Piano Man was dispatched raises... questions about intent and premeditation."

Lippmann straightened, his expression a mask of regret. "I fear this tragic event may be symptomatic of larger issues within our organization. Issues of favoritism, perhaps, or the granting of positions beyond one's capabilities. It's not my place to question your decisions, Boss, but for the sake of the Port Mafia, we must address these concerns."

Your eyes flashed with anger as you stepped forward, turning to face them all, ignoring Dazai's growing protests. "Is that how you would describe Piano Man's unprovoked attack on me? As 'expressing concerns'?" Your voice trembled with barely contained fury.

"As I've said countless times before, though I was born and raised in the Mafia, I still worked and earned my position. My role began long before Dazai stepped into his position as our boss."

You looked among the group, your gaze lingering on each face - men you once respected, now twisted by their silent misjudgment and apparent willingness to see you harmed.

"I will not apologize for defending myself against Piano Man, especially if this is how the five of you choose to twist events - painting me as some sort of liability or threat to be eliminated." Your voice rose, filled with indignation. "I have never once plotted against Dazai or the Port Mafia, nor will I ever. My loyalty to this organization goes far beyond the petty jealousy and baseless accusations you're throwing around."

Your eyes locked onto Lippmann, your words sharp and precise. "Your insinuations about 'favoritism' and questioning my capabilities are nothing but thinly veiled attempts to undermine my position. I've proven my worth time and time again, and I won't stand here and let you rewrite history to suit your narrative."

The room fell into an unbelievable silence, the air thick with tension. Even the usually persistent squeak of the IV pole's wheels had halted, as if the inanimate object itself was holding its breath. The lights dimmed dramatically, casting long shadows across the faces of those present, as your words hung heavy in the air.

As one, you all turned your attention to the screen that had silently lowered before the windows. The footage flickered to life, replaying the incident in the hallway with stark clarity.

There you were, walking purposefully down the corridor, your stride confident until the moment Piano Man and the other Flags called out to you. You watched yourself turn to meet them; your body language open, ready to converse. Yet, even through the silent playback, it was clear how quickly the conversation soured.

Piano Man circled you in the video, his movements predatory. As you watched, you relived the moment in your head, the echo of his insinuated insults ringing in your ears. His lips moved, forming words you could still hear clearly: accusations of your rapid rise through the ranks being due solely to your relationship with Dazai, claims that his love for you was a weakness.

The footage showed you lunging at Piano Man, your face contorted with rage at his comments. Immediately, all the men around you raised their weapons, causing you to freeze in place. You watched Piano Man's lips move again, hearing his taunting words from just hours before: "Let's see how fearsome you are, “great” Izanami."

Your gaze flickered away from the screen to Dazai. He was lounged back in his office chair, a cigarette dangling precariously from his fingers, its ash growing long and threatening to fall. You gritted your teeth, a mix of emotions swirling within you. How did you get here? Looking toward your lover for some form of help, even as you knew it would be considered unwise for him to play favorites. Yet, you could admit he always did. The easier jobs, the safer ones, always fell to you. He had ensured you were fully moved into the penthouse with him, safe from anyone who would attempt to harm you otherwise... well, in hindsight, you hadn't expected this.

Your attention reluctantly returned to the camera feed. You watched as Piano Man swiftly moved to wrap the piano wires around your throat, the thin metal glinting in the hallway light. A part of you wondered if he would have actually killed you, or if this was all some twisted hazing ritual to force you to stand down from your position. It didn't matter now.

The final moments played out on screen - you, standing before Piano Man, blood pouring from his eyes and ears. It seemed surreal, like watching an out-of-body experience.

"From what I can tell... she was provoked into attacking." Dazai's voice cut through the tense silence, startling everyone.

No one said a thing in response. The men only looked back at you, their gazes a mix of fear, disgust, and something akin to awe. To them, you were an unnatural anomaly that shouldn't have existed.

"I expect this to never happen again. Do I make myself clear?" Dazai's voice cut through the tension, stern and final. Yet Chūya, his face flushed with anger, still felt the need to avenge his fallen friend.

"That's it?" Chūya's voice was loud and rough, grating against your ears like sandpaper. "She gets no punishment?"

You scoffed, your patience wearing thin. "Here I was going to let this go, but what about you five getting punished? You all ganged up on me! Watched him and let it happen!" You took several purposeful strides toward Chūya, getting close enough to see the flecks of gold in his blue eye. "You are just as much of a guilty party as I am!"

"You privileged ass bitch; you better get out of my face!" Chūya's words were laced with venom, his body tensing as if ready to strike.

You puffed out your chest, outstretching your arms in a challenge. "Or what, Chūya? Gonna finish the job?!"

Before either of you could make another move, Dazai was between you, his movements so swift you hadn't even seen him leap from his seat. One hand gripped your wrist tightly, the other pressed firmly against Chūya's chest.

"This is done, now!" Dazai's voice was sharp, brooking no argument. You huffed as his grasp on your wrist tightened, a warning. His gaze scanned yours, which was still locked in a fierce staring match with Chūya. A guttural sound of frustration escaped Dazai's lips as he looked up at the remaining Flags. "Leave!"

They scurried out quickly, but you barely noticed. Chūya was all you could see, red clouding your vision like a bloody mist.

"You get off scot-free while my friend is dead! All 'cause you fuck the boss!" Chūya's words dripped with accusation and bitterness.

In a moment of blind rage, you spat in his face, mentally thankful for Dazai's unyielding grip on your wrist.

"I oughta kill you and get your misery over with!" Chūya snarled, his hand twitching towards his hat.

"Chūya!" Dazai's voice cracked like a whip as he pushed hard against his chest, forcing him back several feet.

"Why don't you then? Huh? You'd be doing me a big favor if I never have to deal with you again!" The words tore from your throat, raw and angry.

Dazai hissed your name, pulling you from Chūya's line of sight. You tore your arm away, huffing as you stormed over to the bookshelf, seeking some semblance of calm.

Your eyes darted over the book titles, desperately trying to settle your frayed nerves. Behind you, you could hear hushed murmuring interspersed with Chūya's occasional outbursts. You narrowed your eyes, attempting to stay focused on the shelves before you. Your fingers traced along the spines, the familiar texture of leather and cloth a small comfort.

Suddenly, your finger grazed a book spine that felt off - lighter, newer. Curiosity piqued, you tugged on the random book, one you wouldn't normally notice, and found it wasn't actually a full book, but a façade hiding something behind it. Leaning in, your nose brushed against the edge, inhaling the scent of old parchment. Your eyes widened as you spotted another book tucked behind the others, almost out of sight. Its stark white cover was a stark contrast to the darker tones surrounding it, with golden details catching the light just barely.

You turned back, seeing Chūya storming out of Dazai's office, his departure punctuated by the slam of the heavy doors. Quickly, you returned the shell book to its original position, your mind racing with questions about the hidden tome.

Dazai turned to you, sighing your name heavily as he began to walk over. "What a mess."

A thousand responses flitted through your mind: Wouldn't have happened if you didn't kill Mori. If you had only let me take the position I always told you I wanted. If… if… Maybe I should have left with Oda when I had the chance. But you kept every racing thought to yourself, only offering a noncommittal hum in response.

He stopped before you, his unbandaged eye looking weary and tired. With a gentleness that contrasted sharply with the earlier violence, he cupped your cheek, leaning down to press his forehead against yours.

"You did nothing wrong," he whispered, his breath warm against your skin.

"I'll let our maker decide that," you sighed, grasping his hand. "You need to stop coddling me. It's inadvertently led to this."

His breath fanned over your lips as he pressed them against yours. The kiss, once a source of comfort and passion, now felt tainted with bitterness. Yet, you returned it, your love for him still present, even if battered by recent events out of his control. This test of your relationship was something you hadn't anticipated, its ability to strain and potentially break your bond a sobering realization.

He frowned as he pulled away, still holding you close. "Only if you stop asking people to kill you."

You forced a smile, the expression not quite reaching your eyes. "The only way I'm going, amore mio, is if you're going with me."

previous part ~ next part | LBH masterlist | BSD Masterverse

Author Chat: I think after this part I might take a little bit off from writing, but trust: the next part, I'm excited for. It's just being a dog mom, nursing student, and person in general has drained me slightly and I want to give my all towards writing because I love it as an outlet.

Also, I want to mention, it hurt to write The Flags in this way, but with reader being ambitious while also having a romantic relationship with Dazai, I saw it as a reason that could anger some of the members, especially if Dazai dotted on the reader (which let's be honest: Beast! Dazai and Main Story Dazai would def do.)

If you liked, feel free to like and reblog! I always appreciate everyone who interacts! ᡣ𐭩 ~DamzelZelda

Song Inspos: Haunted- Chris Grey Dark Bloom- Amber Run Runaway- Aurora Piano Man- Billy Joel (Lyric Only)

Russian Word "Dictionary" (Curtesy of [unreliable] Google translate):

moya zhena: "my wife"

moya dorogaya zhena: "my dear wife"

moya lyubov': "my love"

moy dorogoy: "my dear"

ty chertov ublyudok: "you fucking bastard"

Eto tak: "Is that so?"

Moy malen'kaya mysh': "my little mouse"

moya samaya bol'shaya lyubov': "my greatest love"

moy angel smerti: "my angel of death"

[justcallmesakira]

Bsd men with a childish s/o part 2!

Sypnosis: Bsd men with a very silly and goofy s/o with ranpo, akutagawa and nikolai! Genre: Lowkey fluff, crack

Warnings: poisoning with peanuts, sliding down a metal Rollercoaster railing, implied doxxing a Mexican kid, blasting, teeth 😇

A/N: Okay so my last post got loads of likes so I decided to do a part 2 because why not? I don't think I will do part 3 but you can request if you want..?

Ranpo-

Wow... look two autistic lovers challenging each other who can eat the most sweets without getting cavity!

You one time tried stealing his candies,, so he kept you in those childrens tents filled with colorful balls😧😧😧 yk those silly cages made for children so they think they are meant to have fun?

Nahh fukuzawa gunna call the CPS

If you think he will be all sweet with you.... No shit bro your in for a ride, AND I MEAN A LITTERAL RIDE-

"uhh ranpo I don't think we should use a Rollercoaster as a slide" "shut up you kid! Sliding not a crime xD"

Two grown up adults found sliding down a roller coasters rail

BRO let the news reporter have a break 😭

He's kinda like dazai but a bit more childish with you (awh how cute...)

One time he tried to play with a kid on the sandbox but he refused so you came and gaslighted the kid to eat a peanut butter lollipop 🍭🥜

Turns out the kid had allergy to nuts

Kid: AUGHHH AGUH AGHGh AEEEEUGHH you: :3 Ranpo: god must be happy

FAMILY GUY Reference??? YES

And so two totally romantic lovers go on a journey to poison little kids!

Hohoho if aomeone bullies you he's gonna go "Hello (first name) (middle name) (last name) who lives in (full address) and was born in (birth hospital)" on that Mexican kid who tried to bully you

That's hot😋😳🤭

One time you lost your left glove in the winter so he took your left hand and slid it in his gloved hand

YES THAT'S POSSIBLE I DID THAT TO MY hopeless romantic ass Self!!!!

Akutagawa-

....

How did you get him to date you bro 😀

He does not even understand what wrong with you so he always has be the one saving your ass during a mission just in cas3

OH it's not for your protection.... It's him protecting the building so you don't blow it up

😁😁😁

You know how he goes ◉ - ◉ sometimes? That's exactly how he questions your silly antics

"I can't wait for the tooth fairy to come for the teeth under my bed!" "◉-◉" higuchi: you are too old for fallen tooth what are you sa-- Y/N WHO'S TOOTH IS THA--"

He only glared at higuchi telling her to not question it with you behind him ":3"

Sometimes you play with his rashoumon by putting make up on it

Idkdontaskmehowyoudidthat-

"sir we bombed up the plac-" "good" 💁‍♀️💄👹---🧑

GUYS THE DEMON IS THE RASOUMON AND DON'T QUESTION IT

If anything akutagawa is questioning why he has to keep you in a children's daycare

BRO give him a break-

When dazai met you and you two had matching energy he was just staring at you two with respect... He felt a bit felt out though

HUG HIM RIGHT NOW👿

Other then that he tries to understand you and protect you from danger because of your goof :)

Nikolai-

This is gonna get messy.... 😨

Honestly you have matching energy butttttt- BONUS POINTS IF YOU ARE A TERRORIST WHO Goes >:3 WHILE BLOWING UP A BUILDING-

Fyodor is questioning his life choices because you two acCidENtaLly burned his kitchen

"Damn.... It's 7 am..." Fyodor said calmly as he saw his only house burn down

Your gonna become his pretty assistant in his circus or sth🤡

Anyways you know those bumper cars? You two ride those and bump each other with it causing a friction and blasting the whole place

He will let you lay on his thi- I mean lap if you are too tired but don't be surprised to wake up with pigtails and heavy makeup :>

NIKO I love you but if you do that... Things are gonna get way messier😊😊😊

If

If you want anything he Wil just open up his portal and bring

"oioioioi koala (the name you gave him because of kolya) I want to drink shrimp and lollipop soda" *opens up portal and takes out a golden can* "here you go! :3" "Oh tank yew :3"

Totally sane and normal!!

Yes you call him koala instead of kolya but he always goes 😳🤭

I would too bbg wann-

Overall I think it's sort of good to be cheerful I mean at least you get too get away with his pranks (slightly)

Just make sure he doesnt sigma 3 breakdown hair you

A/N: I know this wasn't good but I am not in the mood to write yk--so sorry it's not funny or anything anyways I am not sure whether I WI will write part 3 or not

Tag: @silverbladexyz

Reblogs and likes are very much appreciated!

[aspoonofsugar]

Chuya's Tainted Sorrow

Here comes a meta on my favourite bsd character:

Chuya is mostly explored in the two BSD novels Fifteen and Storm Bringer, so this post covers what happens in these books. In particular, I am going to use Chuya's song, gift and literary references to explore his story.

DARKNESS MY SORROW

Darkness My Sorrow is Chuya's character song and its title combines two different literary references:

Darkness comes from the Sheep Song, which is used to trigger Corruption:

O acquaintances, grantors of dark disgrace, do not wake me again!

Sorrow comes from Upon The Tainted Sorrow, which gives its name to Chuya's ability

Let's discover what these two poems represent.

CHUYA'S DARK DISGRACE (THE SHEEP)

O expectations, stale and dismal airs, leave this body of mine! I want nothing anymore but simplicity, quiet, murmurs and order. O acquaintances, grantors of dark disgrace, do not wake me again! I will endure my solitude, arms seeming already useless. O eyes that open doubtfully, open eyes that stay motionless for a while, ah, heart, that believes in others more than itself, O expectations, stale and dismal airs, leave, leave this body of mine! I enjoy nothing anymore but my wretched dreams. (The Sheep Song, Part II)

The Sheep is Chuya's first group, which welcomes him in as a child. Why is the organization called after this animal? There are several reasons, which tie with Chuya's relationship with his friends.

1 - Chuya is a herding dog

The Sheep's members are normal kids, but Chuya guards their territory and punishes trespassers violently. This is the behaviour of herding dogs, which are famous for their aggressiveness towards outsiders.

"Everyone's waiting for you to give this enemy a beatdown! That's the only way we Sheep can protect our turf! We've only made it this far because everyone knows they can't mess with us!" (Shirase in Fifteen)

2 - Chuya is a sheep among wolves

"Chuuya's got all that berserk firepower, but here he's like sheep getting stared down by a wolf." (Dazai in Fifteen)

Chuya's relationship with the Sheep is exploitative and toxic. The other kids use Chuya's love and wish to belong to control him. All in all, Chuya is used as a pawn for the organization's well being:

"We Sheep took you in when you had no family and nowhere to go, but you already gave us more than enough in return. That's why... it's time to rest... after dying and contributing to the Sheep one last time." (Shirase in Fifteen)

3 - Chuya is the King of the Sheep

Luois I, King of the Sheep is a children book about a sheep, who finds a crown. He puts it on and becomes King. The point of the story is that Luois I is like other sheep, but chance and a superficial attribute turn him into a royal.

Chuya sees himself in the same way:

"I'm not a King," the boy, Chuuya Nakahara, spat. "I just happen to have something no one else does: power. I'm simply fulfilling the responsibility I have." (Fifteen)

Chuya's "crown" is his gravity manipulation gift that sets him apart from others. He even calls it a "good card", so something luck gives him.

Luois I lets the crown get to his head and believes he is above others. Chuya instead really wants to be part of the flock:

Chuuya wasn't anyone special; he didn't have a skill, either. He was just a regular member of the group. He wasn't the king, he had no powers, he wasn't the center of attention - he was simply a single Sheep among the flock, chatting with his friends. (Chuya's wish in Storm Bringer)

However, his ability is so powerful that it is the Sheep kids, who forget Chuya is a teenage boy just like them:

"Chuuya's covered in wounds. I've never seen him like that. He looks just like a regular guy my age. Wait, no - he doesn't just look like one. He is my age. He's a boy just like me." (Shirase in Storm Bringer)

In short, Chuya doesn't want to be the Sheep King, but he is forced into the role by the crown of power:

"Shut up! If you think you can become king, then do it! You can have this power!" Chuuya howled, unable to take it any longer. "To hell with power! If I didn't have this skill, I'd still be with you guys...!" (Storm Bringer)

Still, gifts are metaphors of the characters' interiority. So, what does Chuya's abnormous skill symbolize? What is the real flaw that defines Chuya's relationships and gets in their way?

"Once there was this boy who could amplify the skill of anyone he touched. Super convenient. So what do you think would happen if he used it on himself instead of someone else? (...) He amplified the skill to amplify the other skill, which amplified the skill to amplify skills that amplify skills. This self-referencing continued nonstop as he endlessly amplified his own skill." (N in Storm Bringer)

Storm Bringer reveals that the origin of Chuya's gravity manipulation is the gift to make other skills more powerful. The user applies his gift on himself and makes it stronger and stronger until infinite energy is created and space warps. So, Chuya's singularity is born: a gift able to control gravity. In other words:

The original ability is to make others stronger

If the ability is used on one-self (so that the wielder can become more powerful and make others even more powerful), then a contradiction arises and a monstruous skill appears

This process is a representation of Chuya's tendency to grow stronger for others' sake. He hones his fighting skills to protect the Sheep (to make them stronger), but this turns them too dependent on him (an organizational vulnerability). What a good leader should do is instead to nurture his people, so that they can be independent and strong:

“A leader is both the head of the organization and the organization’s slave. For the survival and the profit of the organization, they gladly put themselves through any manner of filth. They develop their subordinates and place them where they best fit. And, if necessary, they use and dispose of them. For the sake of the organization, they take on any act of barbarism with glee. That is a leader. All for the organization, and for the protection of this beloved city.” (Mori in Fifteen)

This is Chuya's mistake and the reason why the Sheep disbands. Chuya falls short as a leader not because he isn't as smart as Dazai or Mori (if anything, I think he is going to be a better leader than both). Rather, he fails because he doesn't know how to depend on others:

"It's because you are our friend. Were things different with the Sheep?" They had been. That was what Chuuya's flustered expression was saying. Everyone in the Sheep depended on him. The contrary was unthinkable. (Storm Bringer)

He insists on doing everything by himself, but a leader should work with his subordinates. This is what Chuya lacks in Fifteen and what he sails up to learn.

Still, to succeed Chuya needs to face the origin of this flaw, which lies in how he perceives himself:

O eyes that open doubtfully, open eyes that stay motionless for a while, ah, heart, that believes in others more than itself

Chuya sees himself as inferior to others. This complex makes him willing to be used, if it means he belongs somewhere:

LONELY DARKNESS MY SORROW, once it is opened by the key I'd rather just fall than go back to being alone Staring at the destroyed cage of this self, (GRAVITY) Slowly, I sing, "Not bad at all."

This is the key stanza of Chuya's song, which reveals what Chuya's darkness really is. Loneliness. Chuya is scared of being alone, so he does his best to conform to others' wishes. For example, he dresses like those around him not to stick out.

Chuuya, age fifteen - He wears sportsy clothes, with several sheep symbols:

Chuuya, age sixteen - He wears a formal attire with much black in it. Perfect mafia-style:

However, he can't escape his interior pain, which metaphorically manifests in Corruption:

O acquaintances, grantors of dark disgrace, do not wake me again! I will endure my solitude, arms seeming already useless.

It is not by chance that the verses, which open Chuya's gate affirm the poet's solitude. That is because deep down Corruption is just this. Chuya's isolation.

THE TAINTED SORROW (ARAHABAKI)

Upon the Tainted Sorrow, Today, the snowflakes fall so harsh. Upon the Tainted Sorrow, Today, even the strong wind gusts. The Tainted Sorrow is Just like a fox’s hooded fur. The Tainted Sorrow is Covered by snowflakes and it cowers. The Tainted Sorrow has Nothing to desire and nothing to wish. The Tainted Sorrow has A dream of death to its wary self. Upon the Tainted Sorrow, Trembling like a pitiful soul. Upon the Tainted Sorrow, Nowhere to belong, the sun sets... (Upon The Tainted Sorrow)

Corruption is a state where Chuya gives up his body to Arahabaki. What is this entity? In universe, it is a singularity, a self-contradicting skill able to create infinite power. It metaphorically represents two things:

Everyone's objectification of Chuya

A part of Chuya himself

1 - Chuya's life is defined by others reducing him to a skill

-N and the Government kidnap, abuse and clone Chuya because of his self-contradicting gift. It is not the two kids (the original and the clone) they are interested in. Rather, they reduce them to their special abilities:

"Just like how we respect your will, we respect the will of your skill Arahabaki, as well. But... how should I put this? Your will is tying Arahabaki down, and as long as your will is firm, we won't be able to remove Arahabaki from you." (N in Storm Bringer)

N says it oudloud. He respects Arahabaki's will more than Chuya's. Except that Arahabaki has no will:

"Sigh... Why do you wanna see it so bad?" Chuuya said. "It doesn't have a personality or a mind of its own, so what's meeting' it gonna do for you? You gonna pray to it because it's a god? It's a god of destruction, y'know. Nothing more than a mass of energy. It's no different from a typhoon or an earthquake. Ya might as well pray to a power plant." (Fifteen)

Arahabaki is not a person, but the embodyment of Chuya's gift. And yet, it is given a name and treated as more important than the kid.

-Rimbaud literally wants to turn Chuya into a skill:

"Allow me to reintroduce myself. Rimbaud. Arthur Rimbaud. My skill is called Illuminations. Chuuya, my goal is to kill you and absorb you into my skill" (Rimbaud in Fifteen)

He doesn't want to kill Dazai because he hates murdering children. And yet, Chuya is Dazai's same age. However, Rimbaud sees him as nothing, but Arahabaki's host.

-Verlaine wants Chuya to be his clone:

"I dunno about you, but I'm human." "You aren't human. You're 2,383 lines of code." (Chuya and Verlaine in Storm Bringer)

He denies Chuya's humanity and insists he is an artificial creation. Chuya can't be the original kidnapped child, but needs to share Verlaine's origins and hate for the world. Verlaine doesn't consider his brother a person, but an extension of himself.

2- Arahabaki is Chuuya's inner beast

In psychology, the beast is a personification of one's deepest and most repressed feelings. What are Chuya's?

His control on gravity suggests two strong emotions:

a) A lack of freedom - The ability to control gravity should make one freer. And yet, Chuya is always chained:

Even though it feels like I might be trapped, there is no room for sentiments I'll push myself to the limit and dye everything jet-black The world is a bird cage, faded in colour Even if I lament, I can't get out of this prison

He spends his childhood imprisoned in a lab. He is used as an attack dog by the Sheep. He is threatened to join the mafia with his friends' lives and Rimbaud's secret files. In a sense, he always serves someone. That is why Arahabaki is a servant deity.

b) A huge existential weight - He can make things lighter, but he still shoulders too much:

"Tell me, tin man," Chuuya suddenly stated, his voice devoid of all emotion. "Why did they die?" "Because of you, Chuuya." Silence. "Yeah, it is my fault." (Chuuya and Adam in Storm Bringer)

For example, Chuya blames himself for what happens with the Sheep, the Flags and later on Adam:

"What's wrong, Chuuya? Everyone's going to die at this rate. You're going to kill them. Your shortcomings are going to kill them." (Verlaine in Storm Bringer)

Chuya fears whoever gets close to him dies. That is why Arahabaki is a god of destruction.

Points 1 and 2 explain Chuya's loneliness. On the one hand others only see his skill (objectification). On the other hand Chuya doesn't see himself (struggle with the beast).

Arahabaki is a god whose origins are uncertain, so nobody understands it. Not even Chuya:

'In languor dreams of death' … who was the one that said it?

In the song, Chuya wonders who is the author of his own poem. This shows how disconnected he is from himself. He wears a mask of violence and bravado to hide his vulnerability. Still, this fragility emerges every time he lets Arahabaki out. Here comes the interpretative key of Chuya's character...

Arahabaki is nothing, but the Tainted Sorrow of the poem:

Upon the Tainted Sorrow, Today, the snowflakes fall so harsh. Upon the Tainted Sorrow, Today, even the strong wind gusts. The Tainted Sorrow is Just like a fox’s hooded fur. The Tainted Sorrow is Covered by snowflakes and it cowers.

The tainted sorrow is a fox covered in snow, while the wind howls:

Black snow began fluttering around Chuuya. Red scar-like runes crawled across his skin. He ignored the law of physics, hovering in the sky, as he glared down at the beast on the surface. Intense heat caused by the gamma radiation filled the air. The night was scorched, and the scenery warped. (Storm Bringer)

Arahabaki-Chuya is described as a tailed-beast and the anime shows he is similar to a fox. Moreover, he is covered in black snow, while his gravity powers manifest a strong wind.

The rest of the verses convey Chuya's feelings:

The Tainted Sorrow has Nothing to desire and nothing to wish. The Tainted Sorrow has A dream of death to its wary self. Upon the Tainted Sorrow, Trembling like a pitiful soul. Upon the Tainted Sorrow, Nowhere to belong, the sun sets...

Interestingly, the fox and the setting sun come up in Storm Bringer:

The video showed a golden coin. One side was engraved with a fox, the other with the moon. It was beautiful yet somewhat melancholy. (Storm Bringer)

The young Chuya repeats Upon the Tainted Sorrow while playing with a coin that has a fox and a moon on its sides.

The literary metaphor becomes clear. The Sheep Song is the key to open the Tainted Sorrow's gate. Chuya activates Corruption through verses, that state his loneliness. He says them, when he is ready to face the darkest part of himself.

WHAT IS CHUYA?

The Tainted Sorrow has Nothing to desire and nothing to wish. The Tainted Sorrow has A dream of death to its wary self.

The Tainted Sorrow dreams of death, which means Chuya is suicidal.

This is why he is both drawn and repulsed by Dazai:

"Your birth itself was a mistake. We're the same. Is there really a point to suffering through all that pain for a life that isn't even real?" The voice was taunting him. "Shut up," Chuuya spat, but even he knew he was talking to himself. "Screw you, Dazai." "That's just proof that you at least somewhat believe what I'm saying. Because deep down inside, you're the same as me." (Storm Bringer)

Dazai is the Chuya, who regrets being born and wishes to die. Still, he is also the Chuya, who wants to live, despite it all:

Chuya quietly stared at Daai's expression as if he were searching for something human deep inside of him. "So you're saying... you want to live now?" "I wouldn't go that far," Dazai replied with a resigned smile. "Maybe I won't find anything, but I figure I'll give it a try." (Fifteen)

The Tainted Sorrow wishes nothing because it isn't a person. Chuya fears he has no will of his own because he isn't human:

Chuuya Nakahara didn't dream. For him, waking up was like a bubble emerging from within mud. (Storm Bringer)

This fear is why Chuya's friendship with Adam is so important.

Adam is a an artificial creation, like Chuya. He is even called after the Frankenstein monster. He is a robot programmed to destroy himself for the sake of his mission:

"This is the real reason why an android was sent, instead of a human detective. My core, which now contains state secrets, will be incinirated along with Verlaine." (Adam in Storm Bringer)

Adam is a person, like Chuya. He is even called after the first man. He is a friend, who chooses to sacrifice himself for a loved one:

"I get to protect you. I couldn't ask for more." (Adam in Storm Bringer)

Dazai and Adam are linked to life and humanity, which are the main themes of Chuya's arc in the novels.

They both get to keep on living together with Chuya:

Dazai curled into the fetal position and screamed, "Dying with Chuuya? Anything but thaaaat!!" (Storm Bringer)

"Would you like to hear an android joke, Master Chuuya?" (Adam revealed as alive at the end of Storm Bringer)

Fittingly, Storm Bringer ends with the three of them together and alive. Chuya loses several friends, but by the end he still has two bonds. Two people who survive their friendship with him.

Even more importantly, Dazai and Adam both care about Chuya's humanity:

"Chuuya's gonna kill N at this rate and lose his humanity, but I want to see him suffer as a human. That's why I have to stop him" (Dazai in Storm Bringer)

"Do you know whether Master Chuuya is human?" I was curiously hopeful that he would know the truth. (Adam in Storm Bringer)

Not only that, but they help Chuya finish his arc and find himself:

Then what is a soul? My friend's final words... What if those words were merely the words of a soulless command? So what? (Chuya in Storm Bringer)

Dazai gives Chuya a choice and Adam helps Chuya make it.

Dazai believes in Chuya's humanity more than anyone else:

"You sound like you're certain he's human." "I am." Dazai sighed, smiling. "There's no way I could hate a man-made character string this much." (Storm Bringer)

N, Shirase, Rimbaud and Verlaine all reduce Chuya to a skill. Dazai instead sees Chuya as his own person. Sure, he finds Chuya annoying, but he is the only one, who interacts with Chuya for who he is, rather than what he can do.

Adam realizes Chuya is human no matter his origins:

"Asleep or not, he is just an ordinary human," Chuuya replied indifferently. "his skill is strong, but that's it. He gets mad, he worries... That doesn't seem to be enough for him, though." "You are exactly right. It appears you have reached the conclusioin you needed to arrive at." (Chuya and Adam in Storm Bringer)

The Flags, Verlaine, Dazai and Chuya himself are focused on uncovering Chuya's birth. Is he the original kid or the clone? Discovering the truth is everyone's goal. Still, by the end Adam realizes Chuya's nature doesn't matter. He is Chuya either way. He is the person who teaches Adam about humanity. He is Adam's first friend.

Thanks to both Dazai and Adam, Chuya finally faces himself and activates Corruption. Not only that, but Chuya's final choice to let Arahabaki out is a perfect example of how he interprets freedom:

Even though it feels like I might be trapped, there is no room for sentiments I'll push myself to the limit and dye everything jet-black The world is a bird cage, faded in colour Even if I lament, I can't get out of this prison BUT NOW, DARKNESS MY SORROW I have not yet fallen apart So, as I laugh off this imposed inconvenience Let's overturn even the heavens and the earth (GRAVITY)

Chuya is trapped in many ways and he knows it. He is given a gift he doesn't want and he is forced to join an organization he dislikes. And yet, he makes all these "imposed inconveniences" his. Chuya accepts the "card he is given" and uses it the best he can.

He combines his gift with martial arts, so that it really becomes his own ability:

He finds his own motivation to work for the mafia:

"I chose to join the Mafia on my own, and I'm never gonna be your lackey, much less your dog!" (Chuuya to Dazai in Fifteen)

He doesn't open the gate when N forces him, but he chooses to on his own terms.

It is really not by chance that in Chuya's first big fight in the manga, this happens:

Chuya claims there is no choice, but he is still the one who decides to activate Corruption. Even when trapped, Chuya always pushes forward and plays the hand he is dealt with passion. Even if he is unsure of who he is, he lives on as himself.

WHO IS CHUYA?

Chuuya took off one of his leather riding gloves and gazed at his hand. This is my hand, he thought. (Storm Bringer)

Chuya is a person. He has always been, no matter if he is the original or the clone. He feels pain, happiness, surprise. He is able to bond and to empathize with others. All of this makes him human. Not only that, but all of this makes him Chuya.

It is interesting that by the end, many people who objectify Chuya, recognize his personhood.

Shirase sees him as the teenage he is and saves him

Mori traps Chuya in the mafia, but is touched by Chuya's passion and loyalty:

Both Rimbaud and Verlaine eventually see who Chuya is:

"Chuuya, you already possess strength and talents all your own, separate from Arahabaki. You are strong not as a god but as a human being." (Rimbaud in Fifteen)

"Does that mean... you do not yet resent the world?" "There's people I hate, but not all of'em," replied Chuuya. "I know better than to try and live a solitary existence. You used to feel the same, right?" Verlaine didn't respond. It was as if his silence itself was his answer. (Storm Bringer)

And tell him to live on:

"Chuuya... can I... ask you... a favor?" "What is it?" "Live" Randou said in almost a whisper. (Fifteen)

"Chuuya-live." (Verlaine in Storm Bringer)

Chuya manages to inspire all these people. At the same time, he is inspired back by them:

I was blessed with wonderful friends. That's all. I could have been in your situation, and you could have been in mine. (Chuya to Verlaine in Storm Bringer)

He integrates all his loved ones in who he is:

He (probably) imitates Hirotsu's habit to wear gloves and to take them away, when he is getting serious. This mannerism partially substitutes his practice to fight with the hands in the pockets

He is given his motorcycle by Albatross and keeps it as a memory of the Flags

He wears Verlaine's hat, which is really a gift from all three Chuya's key parental figures:

1- Rimbaud creates it for Verlaine

Once Verlaine puts on the hat, the fabric lining acts like coils, deflecting any external command sequences that could tamper with his mind. In other words, the wearer can control command sequences at will. With this hat, Verlaine is one step closer to becoming a human with free will. (Rimbaud in Storm Bringer)

2- Verlaine passes it down to Chuya

"You really like that hat, huh? That was his, right?" "Yeah, I'd rather not wear my brother's hand-me-downs, but it's got some pretty useful functions." (Shirase and Chuya in Storm Bringer)

3- Mori gives it to Chuya as a gift when he joins the mafia

"What's the hat for?" "It signifies your acceptance into the Mafia," Mori explained with a smile as he stood facing Chuuya. "Whoever recruits a new member into the organization usually looks after them as well. It's custom to gift the new recruit with something they can wear as a symbol of that bond." (Fifteen)

As a result, Chuya's hat is an object full of symbolism:

Within the darkness, a shadow of a hat lightly dances.

It is both shadow (a shadow of a hat) and light (within the darkness, it dances). On the one hand it is the key to Corruption, so to chaos. On the other hand it gives Chuya the power to control this chaos to an extent.

It is both what grants Chuya's free will and what threatens his autonomy:

It describes Chuya's bond with Mori, which is contradictory. Mori blackmails Chuya to join the mafia and controls him. He also offers Chuya a family (heart) and an insight on leadership (mind).

It represents Chuya's bond with Rimbaud and Verlaine, who are Chuya's literary parents, as their real life counterparts inspired Chuya Nakahara's poetry. In general, Chuya's past lowkey alludes to the true poet's one, at least metaphorically.

Nakahara Chuya is born in a rather wealthy family and forced by his father to pursue medicine studies. However, he discovers poetry when he is 8 years old and his younger brother dies. Later on, he rebels against his father's education and is inspired by Rimbaud and Verlaine's works. He imitates both their poems and their dandy life-style.

Similarly, BSD Chuya finds himself trapped until he is symbolically awaken to literature (break out of the lab) by Rimbaud and Verlaine. Here, his poetry (Upon The Tainted Sorrow) is set free and Chuya is reborn:

Those newborn cries filled the outside world in the form of flames. The raging flames brought destruction to the surface for as far as the eye could see. And thus, " " was born. (Fifteen)

Interestingly, Chuya is 7 or 8, when Rimbaud and Verlaine arrive in his life. Moreover, his survival and freedom come at the cost of his other self (his clone/the original Chuya). Just like Nakahara Chuya's first poem is the result of his grief for his brother's death.

In other words, Chuya is Rimbaud and Verlaine's literary child. He is what their bond leaves behind. This is why initially they both strongly project on Chuya, but eventually let him go. Isn't it normal for a parent to see themselves in their child? And isn't it normal for the child to imitate the parents to an extent? And yet, the child is his own person. Just like this, Chuya is strongly defined by both Rimbaud and Verlaine, but he is growing into himself:

"It's okay. The Port Mafia is my family now" (Chuya in Storm Bringer)

So, who is Chuya? It's easy, really. He is a Port Mafia Executive (and probably the next Port Mafia boss). Right now, he needs to define his role within the organization and outside Mori. As a matter of fact, Mori is Chuya's third father, so to become an adult, Chuya needs to outgrow him. Just like he did with Rimbaud and Verlaine. Only then, he will truly choose who Chuya Nakahara is.

[chososchalupa]

HII is it alr to ask for jealous ranpo x reader😭😭

Basically the reader has this friend and calls them "sweetheart" and stuff (like how alastor treats charlie idk if you watched that) and steals her attention, love you🔥

ofc! sorry this took so long to get to, i've had the worst writers block,, ilysm! Hope you enjoy <3

Pleasure to meet you

contents,, F!Reader x Ranpo, slightly toxic!Ranpo, splash of Hazbin Hotel references (watch it, its so good), fluffy ending <3 not proofread ofc

WC- 821

You sat in a booth at your favorite cafe listening to your boyfriend and coworkers laugh and talk loudly, nothing was out of the ordinary until you heard your name being called from a familiar voice. You spun your head around to see an old friend from your previous job giving you a bright smile. You quickly got up from your spot and ran over to wrap your arms around him.

“How have you been, dear?” He asked, wrapping his arms tightly around you.

“I’ve been great! This new job is really fun. I’ve made tons of friends and even-”

“A boyfriend, I see” He laughed, staring over your shoulder.

You looked over to see Ranpo glaring intensely at the two of you. You gave him a small smile before turning back around. 

“He can get a little jealous sometimes. Come on, I’ll introduce you” You smiled, dragging him with you back to your table. “This is Dazai, Yosano and last but certainly not least, this is my boyfriend, Ranpo” 

Your friend gave a smile to everyone before going to shake Ranpos hand, “Pleasure to meet you”

Ranpo gave a fake smile, “Quite”

Your friend gave a small chuckle before looking back to you, “I must get going now but we should get together if you’re free this evening?”

You agreed and gave another small hug before waving goodbye and sitting back in your seat besides Ranpo.

“Well he seems pleasant” Dazai smiled

“Oh yeah. He seems great” Ranpo muttered, his words dripping with sarcasm.

You rolled your eyes at his pettiness before excusing yourself, “I have to get back to the office. Kunikida has been blowing up my phone about an unfinished report.” 

・❥・

You assumed Ranpo would be back to normal by the time he made his way back to the office, but you were incredibly mistaken. Despite his fake smiles, he would barely speak a word to you.

“Did I do something wrong?” You asked, stepping into the elevator beside him at the end of the day.

“No” He responded, keeping his responses as short as possible. 

The walk home was silent, the only sounds being your soft footsteps and Ranpo sighing, clearly trying to show he was upset without actually saying it.

Once you both were inside your home, you spun around to look up at him with your arms crossed.

“Yes?” He asked, his emerald eyes staring down at you.

“Why do you keep pouting? Ever since I saw my old friend you’ve been acting jealous!”

“Did you ever think maybe I am jealous?” He asked, blinking slowly.

Your eyes widened, “Of what?!”

“I don’t like him” He responded, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. 

“Why?”

“He’s tall, he’s handsome. You clearly enjoy being around him. I just don’t want him to take you from me and he’s trying to!” Ranpo explained, his bottom lip jutting out in a small pout as he finished speaking. 

“He’s certainly not trying to take me from you, my love. I promise”

“Yeah? And how do I know that?”

“Because Ranpo, He-” You started but were instantly cut off by your cell phone ringing. 

Ranpo looked down at the caller ID before scoffing, “Of course” he sighed, seeing your friend from earlier calling.

You glared at him before answering the phone on speaker,

“Hello, darling!” He started, causing Ranpo to glare towards your phone. “I unfortunately have to cancel our plans tonight, something has come up with work” You glanced up to your boyfriend, seeing a small smile form on his lips, “But I would love to invite you and Ranpo over for tea this week. My partner and I would love to have you”

You watched as the color drained from Ranpo’s face, causing you to let out a small giggle, “We would love to! I miss both of you”

“Wonderful! I will message you when we have a set time. It was lovely seeing you today” 

You quickly finished up your conversation, hanging up the phone and glancing back towards Ranpo.

“As I was saying, he already has a partner. And even if he didn’t, I will only ever love you. You make me happier than any person on this earth” You smiled, hugging your boyfriend tightly as he sighed. 

“I’m sorry I was wrong. I didn’t mean to get so jealous” He spoke, pulling you tighter to his chest.

“You were what? Could you say that again?” 

“No.” He replied with a small laugh. “Can we go cuddle?”

“Of course,” You smiled, pulling away from the hug. “I’ll get snacks, Go put on a movie”

Ranpos eyes lit up, “I love you so much” He spoke, kissing your forehead before turning towards the living room to put on a movie. 

You smiled as you watched him walk away, you felt so lucky to have him, even if he was an idiot sometimes.

[cryptidghostgirl]

The Line (Port Mafia!Dazai x Port Mafia!Reader)

Pairing: Dazai Osamu x Reader

Description: Something is there, but if they both pretend it isn't, then everything is okay.

Warnings: Angsty but also more fluff than angst I think, mafia stuff, bomb talk, its Dazai so double suicide mentioned once. Sex also mentioned in passing like once. I think that is it, please correct me if I am wrong.

Word Count: 1,262

Master Lists:

All Master Lists 

Bungou Stray Dogs Master List

Hazbin Hotel Master List 

A/N so i found a screenshot of this tumblr post of this quote on pinterest and besties,, I am running with it. I will add the quote in at the end.

Was it his hand on the small of her back? Was it the feeling of his whispered breaths against the shell of her ear? When had the line been crossed, if it had been crossed at all? Neither really seemed to know where it had even been drawn in the first place. Perhaps that was the trouble with it all.

Danger was a part of life for those unlucky enough to call themselves members of Yokohama's notorious Port Mafia. It was the only constant, in Y/n's eyes. Well, danger and Dazai, but they were kind of one in the same, weren't they?

"Belladonna."

The same low, constant hum. She looked up from her desk.

Dazai stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame with an aloof air. He'd grown quite a bit in the two years since she had met him. She supposed she must have grown as well but, somehow, he still seemed to be exactly the same. It was the calculating quality of his gaze. It was the smirk, the way the light glinted off his hair.

"That's new."

Y/n gestured towards the man with the end of the pen she grasped in her hand. Almost without thought, he raised a hand of his own to the bandage on his left cheek.

"I suppose it is."

They were never supposed to have even met one another in the first place. Their jobs were ones that should have pulled them far apart from each other's graces. He was an executive, after all, and she was just a lowly clerk. She dealt with numbers, paying off people who needed paying off, covering up the footprints of great men like him. He was supposed to send his subordinates to deal with her. That was what everyone else always did. Dazai wasn't like everyone else though, was he.

"I've got something for you." he stated, straightening up and taking a few steps into the room, his hands firmly in the pockets of his coat.

Y/n raised her eyebrows.

"What is it, another job?"

"A present."

Dazai pulled a box from his pocket, snapping it down on top of the work Y/n had splayed out over the desk's surface before her. It was large and flat. She eyed it suspiciously.

"It wont bite."

"You do."

"I said it, didn't I?"

"What is it, a bomb? Think it would be funny to watch me struggle to deal with something like that?"

"Don't give me any ideas." Dazai playfully replied.

"Is it full of anthrax? I have already told you, I have no interest in committing a double suicide."

"Just open it."

The Mafia was a dangerous place, those who worked there lead dangerous lives. There was no denying the living, breathing thing between Y/n and Dazai but... there was no place for such a creature here. Besides, neither of them would know what to do about it if there was. They had both forgotten how to be gentle long ago, were unsure if it had ever been in their nature in the first place. All that was left was the sharpness.

Hesitantly, Y/n picked the dark red box up and opened the lid. Nestled in the black velvet of the interior was a necklace. It was old, an antique locket of sorts with a few flowers engraved on its oval front.

"Nightshade." she commented.

"Made me think of you, Belladonna."

That was one of the things that helped tow the line, the invisible and complex line. Y/n never called Dazai anything other than his last name and Dazai only referred to her as 'Belladonna.' At first, the name had irritated her. It had felt like a denial of her personhood, her individuality. That was before she had known there had been a line to cross at all. She was older now, wiser. She looked back up at him.

"How sweet." she bitterly replied.

Dazai smiled his lazy smile in response. A girl could give up everything for a smile like that, even her life. Y/n wouldn't though. If she was willing to, that was mean it was all lost. They would have crossed the line long ago, if that were true. They couldn't have that. The line was what kept them safe, kept hem sheltered, kept them. He closed the distance, stepping up beside her in the space behind her desk.

"Here."

Long, slender fingers snaked around the locket's delicate chain, pulling it from its bed. Y/n's breath caught in her throat as his fingers brushed against the back of her neck, securing the necklace. It felt heavy against her chest, a foriegn weight that seemed to cut right through her skin to her bones below. Gently, he slipped a hand under her chin, tilting her face up to him.

"Perfect." he hummed.

Had they already crossed it? Was it too late? If so, what had been the deciding factor? Was it the late nights up on the roof, talking till the sun rose? Was it the knocks at her door at odd hours? Had it been their legs tangled together beneath the covers night after night, no sex required?

"Thank you."

What needed to happen, what change had to occur for them to be able to say the words that echoed in the backs of their minds?

Dazai's hand lingered on her face for a moment longer. Y/n mourned the warmth of his touch as he dragged his fingers from her.

"I have to go."

Y/n sighed, turning back to her messy desk.

"The work of a Mafioso is never complete, is it."

A statement, not a question. Dazai let out a light laugh in agreement. Y/n picked her pen back up, listening intently to his footsteps as he crossed back over to the door. At the sound of a pause, a hesitation in the pattern, she looked back up.

"Same time same place?"

She smiled. Tonight, the kitchens. Stolen food, stolen time. Stolen kisses too most likley.

"Yeah."

Belladonna. Something poisonous, something detrimental. Something completely and entirely his, if he was brave enough to take her. Dazai wasn't so sure he was, not right now at any rate. Dazai was a man who didn't like uncertainties. In fact, he avoided them at all nearly costs. He didn't know if the day would ever come when the bravery or the assurance would arrive. With things as they were now, it felt inevitable. A ticking bomb, a precariously placed glass. One wrong move, and everything would shatter.

With a curt nod, he disappeared back out into the hallway. Y/n listened to his footsteps against the carpet of the hall as he retreated, picturing the way he must look in the moment, wondering where he was off to.

The line was there, the brick wall between them. They both knew it. How far was too far? Was it holding hands as they walked down the street, checking to make sure no one could see? They already did that. They already did a lot of things. Maybe... maybe the line would dissolve when the fear left or, maybe, when it felt more manageable, they would be able to cross it, if they hadn't already.

How far was too far?

Y/n reached her hand up to her chest, fingering the cool silver of the locket where it hung at her collar. Maybe, just maybe, they had gone to far already. Maybe the world was already falling down around them, they just hadn't noticed it yet.

----

Here is the quote that inspired this:

[ahli-stuff]

Toska

Pairing: Fyodor Dostoevsky x Dazai Osamu

Content warnings: non-sexual choking, non-sexual nudity, non-consensual touching, references to suicide and sh, implied unrequited relationship, unhealthy relationships

Excerpt: “Fyodor has to ground his head against the carpet to cauterize his heartache.”

Fyodor is, upon close observation, a quite ugly man.

He is all misshapen joints, scabbed fingers, and sunken eyes. His eyelids strain to even blink, the skin stretched thin as paper.

Fyodor Dostoevsky is only pretty from certain angles, where light hits his jawline but shadows the rest of his body, and he is made briefly, into a painting. The picture of a corpse that hasn’t been told to decay. Dazai happily marks it with cigarette butts.

“I love you,” Fyodor says on one such afternoon.

Dazai says, “I know,” as he retches into his one-room, no-door bathroom. It’s ergonomic; Fyodor will immediately know whether or not he will have to drag Dazai out of the tub whenever he visits.

“I love you,” he presses, experimentally bold, the sharp edge of his mind heat-dulled. His tongue is heavy and stupid. “And if you knew how to…” Would you choose me?

Laughing through gagging, or gagging through laughing, Dazai says, “what?” but the lilt follows the Japanese “no.”

Fyodor lies back down, sweating in a pile of blankets, cold. “Then who else?” He grits through perfectly closed teeth.

“Nobody,” and even that word is in the cadence of another’s name as Dazai spits another lie into the sink. “If I could, it might be you.”

Fyodor back sticks to the sheets. He is downing in cold liquid as he says lightly, “don’t play this game with me, Osamu.”

“There’s no games! Now, now, don’t be so angry,” he’s right, Fyodor is so angry his corpse might rot awake, “you wouldn’t want my love anyways—“

Dazai leans into to kiss him, unrinsed mouth and all, “—because then, I wouldn’t be here.”

Fyodor pushes his face away, cringing. The unspoken question that succeeds that statement was already answered the moment they met. Fyodor knows this. Hurt pulses out of from his fingertips, spreads up his cigarette-marked elbows and urge him to move. His parietal lobe is numb. The weekend is at least five-eighths ruined; Fyodor will likely find a back alley junkie closet to mope within for the next week.

He shoves the blankets off, moves to get away until Dazai circles around him like a traitorous snake. “Fyo—Fed…Fedya,” he can’t even come up with his own nicknames, “stay, I have enough booze to last us two days.”

Dazai says it clumsily, medicated, with his arms loose and caging around Fyodor’s scrapyard body—Fyodor would pull them off now—useless crab arms. Peel the bandages off and eat them.

“Let go.” He pushes, and then when that doesn’t work, he pulls. Fyodor doesn’t have the mind to be dangerous at this moment, only the heart to be. He wants to find a safe place to rot.

(There are no safe places for him. Fyodor made sure of that, hundreds of nights and bodies ago.)

“No,” Dazai squeezes, and Fyodor’s body is even colder. “What did I say? What did I do?”

He does not want to be near Dazai right now, with all of his cat-like confusion and innuendos and riddles, despite it Fyodor habitually being able to return that sort of play. This afternoon, his brain is a fog and his heart has a traitorous homesickness—disaster looms.

“I want to go home.” He says flatly.

“What home?” Dazai asks. Fyodor should bite Dazai’s tongue out.

Fyodor’s hands roam up and down the highways of Dazai’s thighs. They are marked up—used—maybe a lamb or two has lost its way along his roads.

“I’ll bite your tongue out if you kiss me with vomit still in your mouth.” It’s a half truth, half lie. He would bite Dazai’s tongue out; truth. He wouldn’t kiss Dazai if he tasted like vomit; lie.

Dazai sticks his tongue out at him and digs his prettily manicured nails into Fyodor’s chest.

He wants Dazai in wholes disguised as halves, and Dazai wants Fyodor in halves that are halves. Throughout their time in each other’s sphere, Dazai had never lead him to believe anything else.

He didn’t have to.Traitorous inner voice. Fyodor’s hands ache; from his palms to his fingers, he bleeds hurt.

Where would Fyodor go from here? No really, where(what) does Fyodor even have? In his current rotation, he has an apartment complex in Bangladesh, a prison cot in Russia, his working office at [redacted], Dazai’s old shipping container here, in Japan—Fyodor wants to choke the leech of interest that immediately latches onto the thought of anything “Dazai’s”—What about staying at Nikolai’s? Sigma? …Bram? ……Fukuchi?

With each name that flits by his heat-addled mind Fyodor only further curdles with desperation-hate. Hate-desperation. He curls into his own body protectively, still in Dazai’s arms, and he can’t even pretend that he isn’t cold.

No where to go but through, then.

Fyodor finds where lines map Dazai’s wrist and squeezes. Dazai hisses, flinching backward as Fyodor twists. He puts both hands Dazai’s ribs, as if he can further cave them inwards, pushing him flat on the bed.

Fyodor is straddling on him, stark naked and flaccid, pallid and skintight, ugly the way a horror movie is under good lighting with his fingers around his victim’s throat. Dazai in beneath him, panting, thin and soft—godless curls spread out like dozens of cut brown wings. Skin gold lined enough to make a devil weep.

Dazai calls him “pretty,” in between his garbled choking and Fyodor almost wants to thumb his eyes for lying to him again. He doesn’t.

Fyodor enjoys choking Dazai less only because he knows Dazai will always enjoy it more. This time, he feels nothing at all.

Dazai’s arms frantically scrabble against grip, survival instinct kicking into overdrive as his nails rake against Fyodor’s wrists. Fyodor watches, as he has done dozens of times, the moment that light reappears within Dazai’s hole-dark voids seconds before he goes unconscious.

Dazai paws at him, whimpering quietly as his eyelids flicker dreamily. He is the picture of a perfect victim; an orphic martyr for himself. Petulantly, Fyodor releases him.

Sputtering, Dazai curls, staining the bed with spittle. He heaves as if to gag again, but swallows hard, turning to Fyodor unhappily, “what was that?”

“What was what?”

“You held on longer last time.”

Fyodor moves to snag a blanket off the bed, cover his own body, and grasp around the floor for his clothes.

“Why are you angry at me?” Dazai repeats from the bed, new bruise marks adorning his neck with an objective kind of beauty. Dazai, unable to ever live and let lie when the situation ever actually calls him to, says, “I like you, isn’t that enough?”

Fyodor cannot help the way he shivers, made stupid by the heat and the cold, the yesses and nos, and the man who may be the only one who will vaguely remember him if he fails. When he succeeds. He won’t fail.

Fyodor has to ground his head against the carpet to cauterize his heartache. He needs to trade out this body soon.

“I’m leaving. Do whatever you please with my phone.”

He wants to pray. To lick his wounds in dignity. Dazai can be tortured another day, when Fyodor does not feel like he might give up everything for the proximity of another body.

He tugs his shirt on, staggering to his feet but Dazai, Dazai will not let him go, Dazai yanks his arm with enough force to dislocate and they fall in a heap. Dazai will push him away when Fyodor wants him and pull him close when all Fyodor wants is absolution; he keeps—digging up Fyodor’s corpse to ogle, prodding at the cockroaches in his mouth and peeling his skin like dried dates—neither the man nor the though of the man will let Fyodor go, and now, ever since the day that Dazai’s criminal profile burrowed a home in his skull, Fyodor’s isolation has become unbearable.

“What did I do to deserve this?” He rasps.

“You wanted it,” Dazai says, in response to something else entirely. “You don’t deserve to feel sorry for yourself. Not after everything you’ve done.”

“I never wanted you.”

“And yet, here you are.”

Laughing as if he isn’t a punishment, his fingers rake Fyodor’s hair taking clumps of strands with it. Dazai is the Yama to his Christ. The idea of finding divinity in the mundane is far too trite of a trope these days.

“Do you,” but Fyodor still licks his lips. Dazai’s gravity makes him a fool. “Do you really think that I’m—”

Dazai leans down and kisses the crown of his head as if he is a child. Or, maybe, one of his horrible high school flings.

He pities the corpse in Dazai’s grasp. It is shaking and whimpering, and it is surely not Fyodor.

[chuuyrr]

If it isn’t too big of a request what if like Akutagawa was taken hostage by an enemy as bait to lure in the PM and I know Akutagawa can easily break free but this particular enemy has a member with an ability similar to Dazai’s meaning they can nullify someone’s ability just very differently.

Scarlet Witch! Reader upon hearing (Aku and reader are together) this goes on a rampage and drag Dazai off his ass to help them with rescuing Aku since Dazai’s ability will cancel out that other persons ability. Reader does most of the killing as some members were assigned to guard the prison Aku was in and Reader goes like “You want my lover, you’re gonna have to fcking kill me!”

basically this scene from Helluva Boss

when akutagawa gets taken away from his scarlet witch! s/o

bungo stray dogs x scarlet witch! reader

masterlist of the series

╰➤ CW(s): spoilers for bungo stray dogs, reference to wanda maximoff in multiverse of madness + wandavision, detailed fight scenes and mentions of blood

╰➤ PAIRING(s): akutagawa ryunosuke

╰➤ SYNOPSIS: in which the akutagawa ryunosuke is taken in as a hostage and bait by the enemy organization lure the port mafia, but they have no idea that in doing so, they're also luring in the port mafia's scarlet witch, who just so happens to be the black-fanged hellhound's darling.

╰➤ SONG SUGGESTIONS(s): ...ready for it? by taylor swift

"they.. fucking.. what?!"

port mafia executive nakahara chuuya recoiled at your harsh tone of voice as mori and his other subordinates when koyou ozaki reported that akutagawa had been kidnapped by the enemy organization.

even mori was taken aback by your sudden outburst, knowing how calm and collected you usually were and how you were never hostile. this was the first time they'd seen you snap and break as you always spoke softly and were very polite.

"[surname]-chan, put everything back down," mori sighed, shaking his head as he stared at you, unfazed by the pieces of papers and other furniture that were already floating in the air as they glowed red with your fingertrips twitching with agitation as an ominous pressure wafted in the atmosphere.

"[name], you heard the boss," your mentor, chuuya, exclaimed as he placed a hand on your shoulder, "i'm just as pissed as you are, alright? take it easy."

"how am i supposed to calm down when he's out there gravely injured and was taken in as a hostage to bait the port mafia in?" you raged, your eyes now furiously glowing red.

chuuya sighed, wondering if his temper and arrogance had rubbed off on you as you scoffed and glared at him before stopping your red psionics from making things float in the air with zero gravity out of rage. well, you were his subordinate, and possibly his younger sibling, given that he was only four years older than you and that you shared a brotherly bond with him.

"i understand how much akutagawa means to you, [surname]-chan," said mori, clasping his hands together, "but you must not let your emotions get the best of you."

despite mori's and your mentor's words, you were so consumed by rage that their words merely passed from one ear to the other.

you couldn't sit still as mori discussed what needed to be done with you and chuuya, but you already had other plans as you twitched and cracked your fingers, which they found uncannily similar to dazai, especially kouyou when dazai threatened her once.

"what are you doing, kiddo?" chuuya asked, raising a brow as red wisps of psionic energy oozed from your fingertips.

"i'm going to find.. and i'm going to kill every.. last one of them," you murmured as you stood up from your seat, your red glowing eyes boring into mori's with a death threat.

with that, you abruptly left the office, swinging the doors open with your red psionics as you extended your hands.

"o-oi! [name]! where the hell are you going?!" exclaimed your mentor, "[name]!"

chuuya rose from his seat to pursue you, but was abruptly stopped by mori. he said, blinking as he spoke calmly, "there's no need for that, chuuya. i was going to send [surname]-chan to get akutagawa and bring those fools to their knees anyway,"

"that damned kid.. tch, does [name] even realize the illuminati has a member with the equivalent ability to dazai's ability?" scoffed chuuya, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"i believe in [surname]-chan, so you should as well. after all, you're the mentor," mori smiled, almost sinisterly. "and for another thing, [surname] [name] isn't the port mafia's scarlet witch for nothing, chuuya-kun," he reasoned.

it was exactly what mori had in mind.

there was only one person you were going to approach in order to get akutagawa back.

you learned earlier in koyou's report that the illuminati, the enemy organization, had an ability user capable of nullifying any ability, which is why akutagawa was taken in, but the conditions are unknown, unlike this ability user you knew who does the same thing but with physical contact.

you wouldn't risk going after akutagawa and tbe illuminati empty-handed if you weren't certain that your chaos magic and other set of abilities wouldn't be nullified, whereas the one you were familiar with truly wouldn't.

inside the agency office, atsushi and the other detectives were taken aback, wincing at the sound of their door swinging open by red psionics pushing it.

they were all taken aback when they saw a familiar figure, you, to be exact, dressed in a dark red leather coat—the scarlet witch of the port mafia—standing in the door frame, hands extended out.

as you walked inside, or more accurately, stomped, the heels of your boots clicked against the pavement, everyone stood up. they could feel an ominous aura radiating from your body and couldn't move, but dazai osamu simply sat in his seat, legs propped over his desk, arms behind his head, headphones on, singing with his eyes closed.

you sighed at dazai and flicked your hand, using your red psionics to take his headphones, jolting him back to reality, prompting him to exclaim, "oi, what gives—ack!"

but dazai came to a halt when his shirt collar was yanked upwards, forcing him to rise from his comfortable sitting position, which was now floating mid-air as your red psionics took hold of him.

"well, if it isn't [name]-chan?" dazai's eyes widened slightly at the sight of you, blinking as he tilted his head to the side, "what brings you to the detective agency?" a small smile rose on his lips.

everyone was taken aback by how unaffected dazai was by your presence, and how casual he was with you—he even knew your name.

you scoffed at his friendly smile. you still don't understand how this man managed to leave the port mafia and live a renewed life as if he hadn't been a monster who made your boyfriend's life a living hell in the past, but as much as you hated it, you needed him to help you.

as you heard weapons being unsheathed, you hardened your gaze and flicked your other hand up. at that moment, kunikida's gun and yosano's machete were yanked from their grasps, as was kyouka's blade, which she whipped out as she summoned demon snow to her side.

you glared at them all for a split second before shaking your head, snapping your fingers to drop the weapons to the ground as you turned back to dazai, speaking in a calm tone of voice and folding your arms across your chest, "i'm not here as your enemy, i'm here as a client."

"a client?" dazai held a baffled yet amused look across his face, "how interesting, [name]-chan."

"yes, your client," you confirmed, twisting your hand before dropping it to your side, releasing dazai's collar and allowing him to return to his seat, "and whether you like it or not, dazai, you're going to help me bring back someone."

"bring someone back.." dazai's eyes blinked at you for a moment before it dawned on him who you were referring to, "oh."

yes, of course. that would explain why you were practically blazing with rage.

"hmm, alright. i'll help you out, [name]-chan," dazai said with a smile, standing up from his seat and removing his headphones, "who am i to refuse a client in need of my assistance?"

"hey! you can't be serious about assisting a port mafia member, dazai!" kunikida exclaimed as he looked at you, "don't you remember the last time we took in a client and it turned out to be an ambush?!"

"i'm confident of assisting our client this time, and besides, if [name]-chan really wanted to, we would have been hurt by now," dazai explains with a sigh, shoveling his hands into the pocket of his brown coat, "the scarlet witch of the port mafia can kill in the blink of an eye."

with that, you turned your heel and walked out of the office, pushing the door open with your red psionics.

as you picked up dazai in the air again, dragging his ass with you, leaving kunikida and the rest of them speechless, wondering how and why in the world dazai was so eager to help you, and even more so casual with you.

you and dazai were on the way to where akutagawa was after he deduced where he and the enemy organization were after you gave him the information you obtained from the mafia. however, dazai asked you a question.

"you know what i don't get, [name]-chan?" dazai began, tapping his cheek with his index finger.

"what?" you asked, scoffing at dazai's familiarity in addressing you.

"why me? you do realize you have that hat rack as your mentor. hell, and your wiggly-woos too," dazai explained briefly, folding his arms across his chest and tilting his head as he stared down at you.

"because the illuminati has an ability user like you. they can nullify abilities and that's why ryunosuke—i mean—akutagawa was taken hostage," you explained to dazai, your eyes narrowing as you looked away, "and the thing is, i don't know if i can work through their ability like i can with yours. i don't know the conditions, and you're the only one who figured out their exact location."

"and how certain are you that i can nullify an ability user similar to mine to help you out?" dazai chuckled, raising a brow at you.

"because yours only requires physical contact, whereas the said ability user's must have a different condition, and in any case a singularity would occur," you sighed, looking up at him, "of course, you would know how to react quick."

"you sure have grown up, [name]-chan. the last time i saw you, you were still quite young, serious and introverted, practically fragile as a glass too," dazai commented, staring down at you with what appears to be a soft gaze that made you scowl, "but still cunning and intellective as ever, and even way back in the mafia, you were the only one with guts to talk like that to me, and it was real amusing."

"don't talk to me like you're that familiar with me. i am not happy to see you at all, dazai," you said bitterly as you and dazai came to a halt in front of the massive steel doors in a secluded forest area somewhere in yokohama.

"ughh, chuuya's attitude has rubbed off on you, [name]-chan. when you were little, you weren't even that hostile to me!" dazai grumbled, childishly pouting, "you're way meaner now!"

"shut the hell up before i take your mouth away!" you yelled, a nerve protruding on your temple from agitation.

you straightened your back and stared at the massive steel doors, shaking your head. you cast a quick glance over your shoulder at dazai, who was no longer acting childishly, but was instead glancing at you with a curt nod, signaling that he was indeed ready.

you extended your hands, blasting the steel doors open with your unrivaled red psionics. as soon as you did, you and dazai were met by a swarm of guards armed with firearms and katanas.

"well, this is unexpected. i was expecting more from the port mafia," the gifted said as he banged against the bars of the cell akutagawa was in, causing him to wake up fairly weakly, his half-lidded, hazy eyes meeting yours, "and you must be this hound's little darling too. well, that's bad, i plan on keeping him around like this."

for a brief moment, your eyes softened as you discovered your beloved in a cell somewhere in the place, battered and bruised, chained like a dog in the cell as the ability user you were expecting stood right in front of prison.

"yes, i'm his little darling alright," you said as dazai stood behind you as you stepped into action, tilting your head.

your [color] eyes then glowed red menacingly as you scowled with your calm voice rising into a higher, and harsher tone, "you want my lover? you're gonna have to fucking kill me!"

you extended your hand to the guards charging at you. with your red psionics, you blasted and tossed them in the air before slamming them to the ground, causing a crater to form and debris and soot to scatter as a result.

instead of simply using your magic to fight harder, you incorporated it into a skillful close hand-to-hand combat, which surprised dazai enough that his mouth was slightly parted.

a smirk crawled across akutagawa's bloodied and exhausted features as he looked at you proudly as you moved sharply with fast precision as your red psionics simultaneously blocked hits of bullets and blades aimed at you as you used them all against the guards.

you even mind-controlled one of the guards to decapitate himself before manipulating his corpse to fight alongside you against the rest of the guards. all the while, you were using him as a shield and didn't care if blood was gushing out from the blades piercing his abdomen and decapitated head.

it was morbid but impressive—so much so that dazai smirked. he had always seen you making the most of your long-range combat ability, but it appears chuuya, your mentor, has changed that drastically. your fighting style now resembled chuuya's.

you now discarded the body and attacked, expertly dodging the other guards by either sliding and ducking fast only to snap their necks or manipulating their bodies to finish each other off with their own weapons.

the enemy organization's ability user stiffened for a split second as you effortlessly crushed a man's skull with your red psionics. as blood splattered on your face, you remained unfazed.

you kept walking as another who was still alive tried to shoot you from among the bodies. however, his limbs twisted and bones broke instantly when you twisted your hand. the last guard screamed in agony as his body mangled and exploded in a burst of blood.

"you know, i would have crumbled by now if i were you in your shoes," dazai mocked the ability user at the end of the area who was standing right beside akutagawa's prison as he trailed after you from behind and laughed.

your eyes held no warmth or remorse. the illuminati member saw only one thing in you: a mindless killing machine of the port mafia with one goal in mind, and that was to get your lover back at any cost.

your aura reeked of bloodlust and enmity, and it was comparable to the boss of the port mafia.

"hell hath no fury like a belladonna scorned," declared dazai as he soundlessly moved right behind the ability user who was frozen in fear at the sight of you.

before the ability's conditions illuminati's member activated, which turned out to be marking the surroundings with glowing violet runes, dazai nullified it, and even if the singularity had caused him to cancel out his own as well, dazai was quick enough to grab his arm behind his back and force him to yield.

you came to a halt and tilted your head, your eyes glowing red as you stared at the man dazai was holding. a smirk crawled across your lips as you turned your heel and walked past akutagawa and dazai.

despite your desire to revel in the vulnerability and helplessness of the gifted was who possessed a similar ability to dazai, your priority was not him.

dazai watched the ability user stiffen up before his neck broke, which dazai assumed you killed him from inside his mind, and looking at it—it wasn't snapped. you literally broke it.

you made your way to the cage prison where akutagawa was and immediately used your magic to break the bars and chains on him. as soon as you did, you knelt down to akutagawa's slumped figure against the bars and began to mend his wounds and injuries, which he visibly flinched at given how strange it feels to be stitched up at the molecular level.

"i'm sorry. i know, it feels weird, but i have to," you exclaimed, your tone of voice now hushed and calm as you no longer bore an emotionless and monstrous look, "just hang on tight for me. okay, ryuu? look, even dazai is here."

"dazai?" akutagawa raised his head weakly to see the bandaged man in a brown coat now standing behind you, looming over you.

"you look like a mess," dazai said to akutagawa as he blinked at him, but he immediately let out a surprised yelp when yanked his hair using your red psionics, "ow! [name]-chan!"

"that's for ryuu," you said, your eyes slightly narrowed at dazai, before returning your gaze to akutagawa, who was now sitting up as his wounds and injuries healed.

"thank you," akutagawa said quietly in gratitude, and you smiled back, but he couldn't help but stare at you as you finished patching him up with your magic.

that's right. even if dazai was right there, akutagawa focus was on you; this is how you know akutagawa is truly in love.

you also knew that akutagawa wasn't one for hugs and physical contact, so you were doing your best not to fling yourself at him, especially since quality time and acts of service were more of his love language.

but that seemed to change just this once.

your eyes widened in surprise as akutagawa leaned in, wrapping his arms around you, his cold body warming up at the close distance between you two, unfazed by the soot and blood all over you. he was just as happy to be reunited with you as you are with him right now.

"ryunosuke.." you muttered in surprise before smiling and tightly embracing him back.

"it feels nice once in a while.." akutagawa held a smug look, chuckling as he glanced at you.

dazai smiled as he watched you and his former subordinate reunited. now, if there's one thing you have in common with him, it's the way akutagawa makes you feel alive and warm, bringing light to your eyes. it was the same thing he had witnessed after leaving the mafia.

however, it amused dazai to see how quickly you transition from a fearsome and terrifying force to be reckoned with to such a sweet and loving darling to akutagawa every single time.

[ author's notes ! for reference, i also used the delted scene of multiverse or madness wherein wanda was supposed to fight the masters of the mystic arts in hand to hand combat. i hoped you enjoyed reading this. thank you for requesting <3

p.s. ! i also added in a small detail in this writing, which is reader being chuuya's subordinate (again) but also his little sibling figure. i figured it'd only make sense because akutagawa used to be mentored by dazai, so you should have chuuya as your mentor lolol. that's all, bye-bye ! ]

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[mania-sama]

MISTAKE

MISTAKE - NF

➼ information ❧ Bungou Stray Dogs ❧ Pairing: Akutagawa Ryuunosuke & Dazai Osamu ❧ Tags: angst, relationship study, character study, implied/referenced child abuse, anxiety attack, discussion of death, dazai-typical suicide references ❧ Summary: The Dazai-Akutagawa apology we all need. ❧ Word Count: 1,660 ❧ Cross-posted from Archive of Our Own ❧ Original post date: 30 April 2023

Ever since Atsushi’s mentor died, Akutagawa has wondered how Dazai would die.

If one asked him a month ago, he would’ve answered quickly and honestly: suicide. It’s the most obvious answer, and anyone who has spent at least five minutes with the man would agree with Akutagawa's response. Ryuunosuke trained under Dazai for hours on end for years, yet his perspective was no different than the average person’s.

Now he isn’t so sure.

Dazai approached Akutagawa the day that the orphanage headmaster was hit by a truck, and instructed him on what to do. He remembers wondering directly afterward how he would feel if his own mentor were to pass. Dazai had not told Akutagawa to be kind, but he treated Atsushi with such anyway. It’s how he would want to be handled if he were under the same circumstances.

He’d imagined it: a report in the newspaper, his afternoon scan of the obituary, the boss, or even Atsushi. He’d grieve for a day, maybe two, and continue on trying to gain Ghost Dazai’s approval. Somehow, he didn’t believe death could stop the Demon Prodigy from affecting the living.

Akutagawa no longer believes that he will only grieve for a day. He does not believe he will grieve for two. He doesn’t know if he will grieve at all, or if Dazai’s passing will shroud his shoulders like Rashoumon. Uncertainty spreads through his veins like wildfire as he walks away from the woods, away from Dazai and the task waiting ahead.

“Before you leave, Akutagawa, I have one more thing to tell you.”

“What is it?”

“I won’t live to see the saved world. Do not let this stop you.”

Dazai didn’t explain further, and Akutagawa didn’t ask. The details wouldn’t matter in order for the mission to be completed. A part of him wishes to run back and kneel before his old mentor and beg for him to reconsider. The world could burn and Akutagawa would be happier for it if it meant Dazai would stay to watch the flames.

Akutagawa doesn’t see this as an act of suicide. Just as he makes his way to the Port Mafia building for the last time until the Decay of Angels is exterminated like unwanted rats, he’s not doing so out of personal desire. He does so because he was told to and that is that. Dazai will die not by his own will, but so the mission will be completed and the world can move on.

The man sitting on a tree stump will be dead. Akutagawa did not say goodbye.

Atsushi’s orphanage headmaster perished in a hit-and-run. Something that could’ve happened to anyone at any time anywhere. To most people, it was just an accident. To Akutagawa, his death was only another name to the many under Dazai’s long list of murders and coordinated demises.

He wonders, then, if Dazai’s death will appear as such in the newspaper.

Dazai Osamu, age 22 and member of the Armed Detective Agency, horrifically passes away in an apartment fire.

Armed Detective Agency Member Dazai Osamu dies from an unexpected heart attack at the young age of twenty-two.

Dazai—

The building Akutagawa finds himself in front of is not the main Port Mafia complex. He stands in front of the condo he shared with his sister with his heart beating rapidly in his chest. Usually, it’s a sign of an oncoming cough fit that will end in his inability to breathe properly for the next twenty minutes.

It’s not the same this time. He unlocks the front door and walks inside, tense beyond what’s strictly necessary.

Falling off a cliff.

Twenty-two.

Drunk driver.

Overdose.

Dazai Osamu.

Drowning.

Armed Detective Agency.

Akutagawa blinks. Rashoumon holds an envelope in its jaws in front of his face. It’s colored an unstained white and seemed as though it had been pressed by a steam iron. He doesn’t remember turning on the lights, walking to the dining room table, nor activating his ability. Sometimes Rashoumon could get a mind of its own, but it couldn’t have made him lose consciousness.

Disregarding the dread pooling in his gut — though he long learned to trust his instincts when his survival depended on it, and to ignore them when he had something to prove — Akutagawa grabs the envelope from the charcoal-black maw and dismisses his ability. His grip is uncharacteristically light.

Akutagawa Ryuunosuke does not receive mail. The envelope in his calloused and dirty hand is a bloody, beating heart; a raindrop still falling; a golden goblet filled with poison.

The penmanship is remarkable. His name is spelled out in kanji, dedicated to him and only him. It cannot not be mistaken for mail sent to his sister. It says Ryuunosuke, with each line fading in and out at the dots without fail. It does not say Gin.

Before he turns it around to open the envelope, he notices that the house is empty and the table is barren. There is no sign of life, no sign of a break-in, no sign of anything else misplaced or otherwise handled in any way, shape, or form. The envelope did not appear in his P.O. box, though he doesn’t ever go down to it because he does not receive mail.

He can infer that the sender knows that about him. That implies the sender knows many other things about him as well.

This does not worry him as much as his lingering thoughts of mentors, hit-and-runs, and detective agencies. Stalkers can be killed. Endless possibilities and anxieties do not die so easily.

Akutagawa returns his attention to the envelope and carefully unseals it using a pocket knife. The paper inside is off-white and thinner than the envelope. It crinkles and shakes in Akutagawa’s fingers.

He has a steady hand, he thinks. The letter shouldn’t be moving.

Perhaps it trembles in time with his unreliable heart. He continues to think of rivers, drugs, and mountains as he places the envelope on the table and properly opens the letter. There are a few things he’s expecting to be the contents: a ransom for his sister, blackmail to the police, or God-forbid a love letter.

He doesn’t consider the possibility of there being four words and a hand-drawn tiger.

I’m sorry for everything

It’s not punctuated, and the handwriting is the same as the one displayed on the envelope. Before he can truly process the sentence, he crumples the letter and throws it onto the table. The noise it makes is unsatisfying, and Akutagawa wishes it had been a head he’d slammed. At least then his anger would have a pay off.

He breathes deeply, his throat pinching in pain, and scrambles to undo his damage. He rubs the creases on the edge of the table, hard enough to get the job done but not so rough that he tears through the paper.

It doesn’t help and he panics, smoothing it out over the surface with a hand this time. Akutagawa notices his own trembles and knows that he’s been doing that since he left a dead man behind without saying goodbye.

He chokes and reads the letter and rereads it again. He presses his palm to the thin edges and hangs his head over the words as though it would encourage more to appear. The tiger head drawn below the singular sentence taunts Ryuunosuke with its little whiskers and winking eye. It isn’t cute despite the clear intention of it being so.

The Port Mafia does not apologize.

Dazai Osamu is no longer an executive under Mori. He is no longer Akutagawa Ryuunosuke’s mentor, and that has never been clearer to Akutagawa now.

His fingers curl and it takes a piece of the paper with it. When he sees his action he hurries to release, but it causes the letter to tear. A paper cut on his pointer finger bleeds and stains the letter, and the nights he spent bleeding out from Port Mafia Executive Dazai Osamu come rushing to the forefront of his mind.

I’m sorry for everything

A tiger. A goddamn tiger. Akutagawa doesn’t delude himself into believing that it’s some sort of joke; it would only waste his time. He reads it again and again and again until he’s sure he could repeat it to each and every person in the world those exact words without faltering once.

Dazai can’t be sorry. The Demon Prodigy has never apologized to anyone in his life, least of all to Akutagawa. He didn’t say sorry when he punched Ryuunosuke without warning. He didn’t say sorry when he made Akutagawa gut out an alleyway cat. He didn’t say sorry when he shot at him in front of the Black Lizard without warning. He doesn’t say sorry, nor can he be.

Akutagawa realizes with certain clarity that Dazai’s death will not be suicide. He will not set himself on fire, drown in a river, or shoot heroin in his arms until he dies.

If the plan is to commit suicide, Dazai would not have sent him an apology letter.

Dazai Osamu is no longer the Demon Prodigy that cares for no one and looks for death at every corner. He is not the Grim Reaper, the youngest executive in Port Mafia history, nor Akutagawa’s mentor. Dazai is a detective, helping innocent people, keeping himself alive, and taking care of the people around him.

Someone who doesn’t care would not go out of their way to know he doesn’t check his P.O. box, to learn his passcode, and leave the condo completely untouched because they know Gin likes to keep the living area clean and Akutagawa doesn’t like to upset his sister.

Akutagawa thought that Dazai didn’t care. He hadn’t said goodbye to the man sitting on a tree stump, but that man said goodbye to him.

I’m sorry for everything

Detective Dazai Osamu says goodbye, and Akutagawa slouches over and cries onto the hand-drawn tiger.

[lyloneliness]

Okay, I'm frustrated that bones changed some details in the anime since it suppressed the proofs that Dazai is alive and I'm also tired of seeing this chaos... So I'm gonna share the complete explanation of how it is he survived and no one will be crying anymore!!!

So first of all, look closely at the bullet impacts on the wall.. ..... There are only three even though chuuya shot four times. There no impact behind dazai's head, when the bullet would normally go through dazai's head.

At this point of the reflexion, some think that it's a point blank bullet, which makes sound and all but doesn't kill. But I don't think it is cause :

When did chuuya put it in his gun? If it was really one, asagiri would show chuuya recharging

It would hurt dazai much more than that since the gun is literally ON his forehead, the impact itself greater than what we've seen

There is no shot sound for this shot if you look closely

BUT, there are three shot sound on the next panel, which means chuuya hurt dazai on the forehead with his ability somehow (I think since dazai isn't touching him directly he can still augment the mass of his gun and direct it forward in order to leave a round mark on his forehead), and THEN shot three times to fool Fyodor into thinking that the wound on dazai's forehead was made at that time and that he shot him in the head, shoulder and hip.

But then, where did the 'headshot' go? If you remember what dazai said just before the 'we're destined to-' speech, he screamed at chuuya saying "where the fuck are you aiming at, you lousy shooter ?! ". And we've seen when chuuya arrived that he can respond to dazai's provocation... Now, look at the first shot impact on the wall :

It's two times bigger than the others. And the first shot sound on this panel is different from the two that follow, meaning it hit something other than flesh. So I think chuuya made a Pinpoint shot in the first hole as an answer to dazai's provocation and to make Fyodor associate it with the head wound, and then shot two times to enforce the feeling of violence and comfort Fyodor into thinking he won.

Note that this theory is plausible because we've seen on the screens Fyodor is looking at that the camera is in chuuya's back, and that chuuya knows it since he was in the control room with Fyodor before coming here. Which means Fyodor cant see the moment of the impact on dazai's forehead, but only the three shots after and the wound on dazai's head.

Also note that none of dazai's injuries are dangerous for his life, none of them are situated on vital points or nerves and all. And since dazai is bleeding much more from the first wound than the two last, I think at that time chuuya hit his artery and that's why he complained... And chuuya ajusted after that.

Aaaand that's what everyone is saying so you probably already know it but, he COULDN'T speak if he were really shot in the head (which they suppressed in the anime to make it more realistic and leave the suspense) .

Also his 'last words' could be talking about how he waited for the proof chuuya was still on his side, and not about how he waited for death as a suicide maniac.

Let me also remind you that a vampire can chose to ignore the order to kill when it's someone important to them, like we've seen with aku. That doesn't keep them from hurting them (shots, atsushi's leg... AGAIN) but at least, they can chose not to kill them. Or even to sacrifice themselves, like akutagawa when he didn't activated his armor, willing to take atsushi's punch..

I'm sure most of you know that the 'goodbye' in chap 101 isn't just a farewell to chuuya but also the title of the last book of irl dazai. And we know from several fights that the tactics soukoku uses are named after the irl authors' book, meaning dazai said this code to tell chuuya that he wants to use that plan.

Also dazai's rambling about how many time he imagined this scene could also refer to that, but since he says he imagined it the other way around, the original 'goodbye plan' was probably more about chuuya playing dead and dazai saving the day, unlike how it happens here.

Alright! Hope you feel better after reading that and thanks for getting to the end! ✧(｡•̀ᴗ-)✧

And if you like it and/or don't want ppl crying anymore please reblog this, we need the truth to come out!!! And I made it with all my heart (❀╹◡╹) ❀~

[tinfoilhatsss]

Dazai's name

Many people focus on Dazai's name, and how people tend to only use his last name. I was thinking about that - many characters are only referred to by their last name, so why is it so significant?

Well, Dazai tends to refer to the people that are significant to his character by their first name (and so do other characters). Chuuya, Atsushi, Fyodor and even Oda (who went by the name 'Odasaku' with Dazai, hence using a mix of first and last names).

Names are very important! To me, this signals the fact he sort of 'hides' parts of himself when he's with others who are close to him and how his true personality is difficult to figure out. Very interesting...

[bluebamb00]

VOLUME 25 COVER HAS BEEN CLEANED UP,

and im here to talk about it. (Major spoilers... if you didn't think of that before)

First of all, we have 5 different people in the picture:

Fukuchi

Fukuzawa

Dazai

Fyodor

Possibly Atsushi? (The legs behind Dazai)

Analysing the main elements of the picture that stand out the most, we can see that:

Fukuchi and Fukuzawa are side by side; behind them is a coloured background. Fukuzawa's side is white, and Fukuchi's is black. This should represent the good and evil, (I'm going to absolutely reach here) but it could also represent the symbol of Yin and Yang.

The symbol of Yin and Yang is halved into white and black, with a small amount of white in black, and black in white. So, according to this logic, perhaps Fukuzawa may do something evil in the name of good. This could range from wiping out a good majority of Yokohama to anything. But this could also mean sacrificing someone.

And following that, Fukuchi may help the Armed Detective Agency. As there is a little amount of good, there is a chance Fukuchi will help the Detective Agency with defeating Fyodor. Taking into account the fact that he is most likely dead, it could mean that he has already helped. In the image, the Shintō Amenogozen is stuck into the ground. The Shintō Amenogozen is a sword that belonged to Fukuchi before being merged with the Holy Sword Soluz Levni. When a sword is stuck into the ground, it sort of looks like a cross. And this was actually done in some cases in real life, when headstones couldn't be placed at that moment.

This is one indicator that Fukuchi is not saveable, and might be killed off. And to quote our favourite beauty, Koyo: "A flower that blooms in the dark can survive only within the dark. If you pursue the light, its heat will burn you up in the end." Applying this logic to the fact that Fukuchi looks ashamed in the original cover image, and that he is surrounded by darkness, it is safe to say he may not recieve a spot in the light.

The Shintō Amenogozen is also on Fukuzawa's side of the cover. It sits right under his image.

This could mean that the sword someday comes into Fukuzawa's possession.

Seperating Fukuzawa and Fukuchi is the demon himself, Fyodor.

Surrounding Fyodor, there is a dark aura. Just finding some posts on reddit and the general internet, most people tend to say that anyone with a dark aura has secrets deeply hidden. Secrets. Extremely dark secrets, with an additional tie to dark magic or dark powers.

Fyodor's ability has already been revealed, so only God knows what other secrets he could be hiding. But in Fyodor's hands, he holds what appears to be a rook. From an article I found speaking of the symbolism of chess pieces,((https://steemit.com/life/@iamthenerd/the-symbolism-of-chess) Here is the link if you'd like it ^^) the symbolism of a rook is essentially brute force.

"The rook is brute force. It is a disregard to beliefs. It is the equivalent to "Hulk smash!". "

Relating the rook to be a direct use of force is a beautiful analogy for this cover especially. Fyodor revealing the nature of his ability could be one way of using "brute force"; a reveal of one of his secrets. (I call the 'nature' of his ability one of his secrets, as it had not been revealed beforehand and a lot of us had honestly been mislead by that scene of Fyodor and Karma in my humble opinion) Another way this rook could reference brute force is following his ability reveal. When he causes a tripolar singularity.

"Just as in real life, we do not pull out our rooks until the board has developed a bit....There is a time and a place for the rooks where they are highly effective. The only trick is to make sure you keep account of the rest of your board and never "just use" your rooks unless it's all you have left!"

Following what this source says about the rook being a possible last weapon, this tripolar singularity could be the last thing Fyodor has left for him at the moment. As always, the protagonists win in the end, but this could represent the end of Fyodor being a main antagonist and finally bring an end to his cruel antics! Sorry Nikolai.

In all his glory, lays the detective Osamu Dazai.

In the cover, Dazai is laying with his eyes closed, but he carries a determined look on his face. Surrounding him are Japanese Camellias.

There is a lone camellia right next to his heart, and a camellia stabbed right through with one of the Hunting Dog's swords that sits above his shoulder.

The meaning of the Japanese Camellia can mean a many of things:

Devotion and Undying Loyalty

Bravery and Perseverance

A Symbol of a Noble Death

As I said before, Dazai dons a determind look. This could link into both the Devotion and Perseverance. He is determined, but for what?

Well, my best guess would have to be saving the Detective Agency. The stabbed camellia above his shoulder could represent how the Hunting Dog's had come close to defeating him and his plans behind the scenes, but had not defeated him. However, as the camellia represents loyalty, the stabbed camellia could represent a part of him that has been betrayed or could be betrayed by his loyalty.

We all know about the transfer of one Agency member to the Mafia, and I think it's safe to say a majority of the BSD fandom hates it. (I SURE DO, I DON'T WANT DAZAI TO GO BACK WAAAAHHHH) Dazai could be chosen to transfer to the Port Mafia.

However, although this may seem insignificant, the light is shining on Dazai. In BSD as a series, the ADA is represented as 'The Light' and the PM as 'The Dark'. Dazai is still shining in the light, and the light is also shining on the camellia on his heart. This gives me the small amount of hope needed to say that Dazai will remain in the Armed Detective Agency, and that his devotion to the ADA will truly be seen by all.

Dazai also keeps on his bolo tie, which I have seen mentioned by a lot of people to be a symbol of his connection to the ADA. His bolo tie is in no way damaged or harmed, and it reflects in the light. This would also symbolise him remaining in the ADA.

Although, there is a hefty chance he could be. Mentioned in the part of Fukuzawa and Fukuchi, I say that there could be a sacrifice made by Fukuzawa to maintain good. This could be 'sacrificing' Dazai and putting him down as the transferee.

Also, I'd just like to add, it's most likely to early to be deciding who goes to which faction. Like I said, though, I cannot predict what Asagiri will do.

In the background of the sky Dazai lays in, we can see a pair of legs running.

There is no one else I can think of when I see those high legged trousers. Atsushi. Atsushi not being in the main focus, but being in the background, could insinuate that the rest of the ADA will appear in the story quite soon as support characters in this part of the story.

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All in all, I have reason to believe that this may be one of the final volumes of the DOA arc. The usage of Fyodor's rook - his final(?) piece- is giving me that impression heavily.

I have never posted any of my theories before. I hope anyone who reads this takes my thoughts into account.