#mummy agency | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

enwoso · 1 month ago

Note

heyyyy i absolutely love the grumpy universe and i was wondering if your comfortable with writing it, could we get a fic of lovie meeting her dad or him reaching out to alessia to meet her?

A BRIDGE TO CROSS | alessia russo x child!reader

wow this is a long one, so i hope when reading this your comfy! i did decide to put the flashback in here and if any other questions arise from please ask away. also lovie’s not really in this one till later on, its more focused on alessia for once rather than lovie — but don’t worry she’s in it a little later on.

all that’s left from me is to say enjoy!

grumpy masterlist

a late afternoon sun spilled through the windows of alessia's kitchen, painting the room in a soft glow. the hum of life surrounding her as she answered a few work emails she hadn't had a chance to reply to yet while nursing a cup of now warm coffee.

you, sat across the living room floor, in alessia's eyeline from the open plan area as you hummed off-key with crayons sprawled across the floor. the floor being a chaotic masterpiece of mismatched papers, open markers and alessia's worst enemy at the moment, glitter glue.

alessia had been trying to focus on the emails from her agency on upcoming media appearances and events but her gaze kept drifting to her phone which sat beside her coffee mug like a ticking time bomb.

the message had arrived out of nowhere, a text message from harrison reed, her ex boyfriend from college who also happened to be your biological father.

alessia didn't even have the slightest idea on how he could of managed to get her phone number, it being reserved for only those closest to her. it had been years since she'd even though about hearing from him and yet, there it was. five words long.

(maybe harrison) | ‘i want to meet her.’

the words sat heavy in her chest, replaying over and over in her mind. she'd read the message half a dozen times already, trying to decode its intent. trying to figure out if it was genuine or another empty promise she'd have to shield her daughter from.

across the room, you were a picture of joy. your own little personality as you chatted away to yourself. you were drawing again, as always, your tiny hands gripping a purple crayon.

alessia smiling to herself faintly as she watched you press on the paper a little too hard as your tongue stuck out in concentration.

"mummy, look!" you chirped up as you sat up onto your knees holding up your creation, a stick figure with wild hair standing beside a lopsided house. "it's you and me!"

alessia chuckled softly, setting her coffee down to admire the drawing, "it's beautiful lovie, your getting to be quite the artist!”

you beamed as your face lit up, "i'm going to draw esme next" you announced grabbing the elephant teddy with such enthusiasm.

alessia leaned back on the seat she was sat at, her heart tightening. you were everything to her. she'd fought so hard to you a life filled with love and to shield you from the shadows of the past.

and now, he wanted to come back. and alessia was sure if she could trust him, especially not after how he reacted when she told him.

five years ago.

alessia was sat on the edge of the bathtub in her cramped dorm bathroom, the stick trembling in her hand. she had re-read the result at least ten times. her chest tightening with every glance at the small plus sign.

pregnant.

pressing a hand to her mouth, willing herself not to cry. but her thoughts raced: she was nearly four thousand miles away from home, her scholarship, her dreams of playing professionally.

everything she had spent years working for felt like it was slipping through her fingers.

the sound of her phone buzzing on the counter was what jolted her out of her spiralling thoughts. it was him, harrison. staring a the screen as her stomach twisted in knots.

she hadn't even told him she'd been late this month. he didn't know she'd been panicking all week, buying test after test after practice and waiting for her dorm to be empty before she even dared to use it.

taking a deep breath, she pressed the green button, answering him. "hey less," harrison said his voice easy and light, "what's up?"

her throat felt dry, but she forced the words out, "can you come over? i need to talk to you"

"sure, is everything okay?"

"just..come over- please harrison"

alessia had met harrison through a party in her first year at the unc campus, he a bit like her had a athlete scholarship but his was for football not soccer.

the two had been off and on for a few months before they became official at the end of her freshman year.

the two were a good couple, harrison looked out for alessia and she thought she loved him but maybe that was just because he was her first love — he definitely wasn't the one for her.

when harrison showed up fifteen minutes later, his hoodie pulled up against the chilly evening air, a plastic bag no doubt filled with snacks he'd grabbed from the local store.

alessia sat in the edge of her bed, her hands wriggling nervously in her lap. harrison leaned against the doorframe, his expression puzzled by the shear look on his girlfriends face.

"alright, what's going on? you look like you've seen a ghost" his american accent cutting through the room like a knife. alessia looking up at him as she tried to think of the best way to say it.

biting her lip as her heart pounded in her chest. she didn't know how to start so she just held up the pregnancy test, her hands trembling.

harrison froze, his easy and chilled demeanour evaporating, "is that...?"

she nodded, "i'm pregnant" she said it barely coming out above a whisper.

he scoffed, as he stared at her his face totally unreadable. before he laughed a short, disbelieving sound. "your joking right, like this is one of those weird youtube pranks?" he asked spinning his head around to look around for a camera.

"it's not a joke harrison."

his expression immediately changed, "you can't be serious less, we're still in college. we aren't ready for this-"

"do you not think i don't already realise that!" she snapped, her voice breaking, "do you think i haven't thought about how this is going to change everything?"

harrison let out a loud sigh as he paced the small room, "so.. what are you going to do?" he asked as alessia glanced at him with a blank expression, "you're not actually planning on keeping it, are you?"

alessia's stomach churned at his words, "it's not 'it" harrison. it's a baby, our baby."

he stopped, his face paling, "less you've got a scholarship, you've got a great future ahead of you, you can't throw it away for this?"

her voice wavered, but she stood her ground. "i haven't decided yet, but if i keep the baby, it's not 'throwing my future away'"

harrison shook his head, his tone a lot colder now, "you're not thinking straight. just figure it out.. alright and let me know what you decide."

and without another beat or word, harrison left. leaving alessia alone in the suffocating silence.

—

it had been two weeks since alessia had found out she was pregnant and the decision of what to do had been weighing on her both mentally and physically.

she'd hardly slept, her thoughts consumer by the enormity of what was ahead. but after breaking silence with her family and them offering her their undying support.

with many sleepless nights on the phone to her mum, she knew what she wanted. for both her and her baby.

she was going to keep the baby.

the clarity didn't make facing harrison any easier. she had spent the morning rehearsing in her head what to say, trying to figure out what his reaction would be.

arriving at his dorm, it not being too far of a walk from hers. hesitantly she lifted her hand hovering over the door before finally knocking.

harrison answered quickly, his expression guarded, "hey, you alright?" he asked pulling the blonde into a side hug as he kissed the top of her head.

"can..we talk?" alessia asked, stepping to the side to sit on the couch before he could respond. not wanting to give herself the chance to back out.

he closed the door behind her, crossing his arms as he leant against the wall, he knew exactly what the conversation was about to be had. "so have you figured it out?"

alessia frowned at the casual tone in his voice as if this wasn't a serious conversation but she forced herself to stay calm knowing an argument right now would not be the best thing, "yeah i have. i'm keeping the baby."

harrison's eyes widened briefly clearly not the answer he was hoping or expecting as his brow furrowed deeper. "less, come on. think for a moment. your only twenty, we're still in college. your finally getting noticed by the senior teams, and football is going well for me. you can't seriously think this is a good idea-"

her jaw tightened, "it's my decision, harrison. i've thought about it and this is what i want. i'm keeping my baby"

he scoffed, running a hand through his hair, "are you hearing yourself right now. how are you supposed to raise a kid at your age, it's insane less"

"i'll figure it out" alessia snapped her voice firm despite the lump in her throat. "i have my family. i don't need you to like it, harrison. but i just need you to know this is happening"

he stared at her for a long moment, his expression hardening as he let out a loud sigh, "look i'm not ready for this" he said his voice cold and clipped. "i can't be a dad, less. not yet anyway"

alessia felt something in her chest pang, the hurt cutting a littler deeper than she expected. but beneath the pain a fierce determination began to take roots she straightened her back meeting his gaze head on.

"ok" she said shrugging, her voice steady, "if you don't want to be involved, you won't be. but know this, my baby deserves better than someone who walks away when things get hard."

harrison opened his mouth as if to argue, but alessia shook her head stopping him. not wanting her hear anything else from the boy.

"i don't want anything from you, harrison. not your money, not your time, nothing. from now we're done. me and my baby won't have anything to do with you."

her words hung in the air like a challenge and for a moment alessia thought he may change his mind, say something and protest her stern words.

but he didn't, he just sighed shoving his hands into his pockets, "if that's what you want"

alessia's heart ached at his indifference, the memories built flooding into her mind but she refused to let him see her cry. without another word she turned and walked out of his dorm door.

walking along the dimly lit door corridor, the cool air hitting her face as she let out a shaky breath. a wave of reality hitting her like a brick as tears pricked at her eyes but she quickly wiped them away angrily.

"i promise we'll be better without him" she whispered to herself, placing a protective hand over her stomach.

in that moment, alessia made a silent promise to herself and her unborn baby: she would give them a life filled with love and supports. they mightn't have their father to turn to but they would never feel unloved.

and alessia would make sure of it.

that evening, alessia was sat in the familiar comfort of her parents' living room. her hands curled around a mug of tea. the walls were adorned with family photos — memories of holidays, birthdays and days out which were always loud and full of love.

it had always been her safe haven, but tonight, it felt anything but safe.

you had spent the evening in the kitchen with your nonna, helping to make dinner which had been a favourite of yours. making faces on everyone's pizzas with the toppings.

you were now in dream land having difted to sleep in your mummy's arms as you watched the tv.

alessia's parents, mario and carol as well as her older brothers gathered around her each wearing a different expression after hearing the news of who was back.

mario sat forward in his chair, elbows on him knees as his brow furrowed in deep though. carol was perched on the couch beside alessia as she gave a comforting hand on her knee in quiet support.

while her brothers, giorgio and luca across the room sat side by side with their arms crossed and a protective energy glowing from them almost tangible.

alessia's dad broke the silence first, his voice steady but soft. "so to get it straight, after four years, harrison out the blue wants to meet tiny?"

alessia nodded, her hands tightening around her mug. "that's what he says, somehow he got my number and messaged me yesterday"

"but he hasn't been around at all" luca's voice was sharp cutting through the air like a blade, "so why are we even having this conversation. his actions speak louder than his words"

alessia hummed, she knew exactly what her brother was saying, heck she felt the same way. but for some reason the decision felt like such a difficult one.

her mum, carol sighed, giving alessia's hand a reassuring squeeze, "darling, i know this is complicated but.. maybe he's realised he made a mistake. people do change you know"

mario nodded in agreement, his expression thoughtful, "exactly what your mum says, it sounds like he's trying to take responsibility. and as much as you maybe wish it wasn't true but harrison is her father and she deserves the chance to know that"

alessia bit her lip, torn between her parents clam logic and her brothers silent fury. she couldn't deny that part of her wanted to believe harrison had changed that he could finally be the father figure you deserved but despite her parents words, alessia knew harrison better than them.

and she didn't know if she was exactly ready to gamble with your heart.

"you really think he deserves a chance, dad?" alessia asked still hesitant.

mario nodded slowly, "i do, i'm not saying forgive him overnight but you could always meet with him, if he's in london and talk to him. see if he's serious. if he's willing to show up for her now — that has to count for something."

a loud scoff could be then heard from luca, his arms tightening across his chest. "count for what? a pat on the back for finally doing what he should've been doing for the past four years-"

carol gave her eldest son a sharp look, "luca. don't make this harder than it already is for your sister."

but luca was unmoved in his opinion, "but mum, he walked away when less needed him most! and now he thinks he can just waltz back in like nothings happened!"

gio, who had been quieter of the two brothers, decided to add his opinion. his voice firm, "and what happens if he decides it's too hard for him and disappears again? think about what that'll do to lovie. she's too young to understand why her dad didn't stick around the first time."

alessia's throat tightened, like she was going to either be sick or pass out or maybe both. she'd had the same thoughts running through her mind all day.

"boys" mario said sharply cutting through the clear tension which was building. his tone carrying the weight of authority. "this isn't about us, it's about what's best for y/n and if harrison is serious don't you think she deserves to know him?"

luca scoffed, "only if he's serious," luca snapped sharply, "and that's a big if."

carol turned back to alessia, her expression softer now, "what do you think darling? do you believe he's changed?"

alessia let out a shaky breath, setting her mug down on the coffee table careful not to wake you as you slept peacefully in her arms. "i don't know mum, part of me wants to give him the benefit of the doubt but i can't risk lovie getting hurt. she's happy and she doesn't even know what's she missing."

"which is exactly why you should be careful," gio firmly said, her voice protective not only of his sister but also of his niece. "she doesn't know him. if you let him in and he screws up — she's the one whose going to get hurt and confused, not him."

the room fell into a tense silence, alessia's parents and brothers were split down the middle — her dad and mum urging caution but also the fact everyone deserves a second chance while her brothers were both adamant that harrison definitely wasn't even worthy of considering the opportunity.

finally mario broke the stalemate, "less, we can sit here and go back and forth but at the end of the day it's your decision. tiny is your daughter and whatever you choose, we'll support you.

alessia nodded slowly, her eyes stinging with she'd tears. she appreciated their support but it didn't make the decision any easier.

glancing down at your sleeping figure in her arms as you clutched the side of her hoodie in your hands, soft breaths coming from your lips. her heart aching as she thought about your bright, innocent and trusting smile.

whatever she decided, it had to be for your sake.

—

it was a few days since she'd been at her parents, going over her options and she was still no further forward on what to do so as she sat lying on her bed it was late and the house was quiet, you tucking up peacefully in bed and the world was quiet, but alessia's mind was anything but.

so as she lay on facetime to someone she hoped would be able to give her an honest and brutal opinion and not sugar coat it.

"so after four years he's just reached out, that's mad less" ella's thick accent came through the speaker as her brows furrowed as she adjusted the angle of her phone

alessia sighed running a hand through her freshly washed hair, "tell me about it. it's like where has he suddenly gotten the change of heart come from. i don't know if i can trust him, el"

ella's face softened, her usual playful smirk replaced with genuine concern, she'd seen the fallout after what happened. the state the blonde had been in when she came home from the states six months pregnant.

she was the only one who really knew the whole story. whether that was from late night chats or drunken confessions after one too many on a team night out.

"i mean i don't blame you, after all you've brought her up on your own. you've played both parents and he's just been.. well not here"

"exactly," alessia said her voice tight, "and now he want to meet her" alessia huffed expressing the same concerns about letting harrison back into your life like she did with her parents.

ella shifted, propping herself up on her elbows, "it normal that your feeling worried, but.. what if he's serious this time? people can change less. don't you think tiny deserves the chance to know her dad, even if it's just to see for herself what he's like?"

alessia frowned leaning back against the headboard of her bed. "but that's the thing, she's doesn't even know he exists. she's happy el and i've worked so hard to keep my promise to her and give her a good life"

"i know you have less," ella said softly, "but.. what if one day after school she asks about him. what are you going to tell her? that you wouldn't give him the chance"

alessia groaned quietly, covering her face with her hands. part of her wishing he had never even sent the message and then she wouldn't be in such a split state of mind. "i don't know! that's why i'm calling you. i don't know what to do."

ella was quiet for a moment, her expression deep in thought. "look i get your scared, heck i don't know sometimes how you manage everything you do. but i also know how much you love that little girl. you always put her first and this is no different."

ella paused as alessia nodded, hearing her best friend loud and clear, "maybe the answer isn't about trusting him— it's about trusting yourself. you'll know if it's the right thing to do."

alessia let out a small laugh, as she looked at the camera, "you make it sound so simple"

ella laughed lightly, "it's not simple, far from it. it's messy as hell. but your so strong, less. you've handled everything else life thrown at you and you'll handle this too. just.. don't rush it. start small and let him prove himself."

alessia let out a slow breath, the tension in her shoulders easing a little, "you really think i should give him a chance?"

ella's eyes softened as she let out a sigh, "i think you should do what feels right for tiny. but yeah maybe, give him a shot. if he messes up you'll know and you'll handle it. your her mum and there's no better at protecting her than you"

for the first time in a couple days a small smile tugged at alessia's lips, "thanks el, i don't know what i'd do without you."

ella grinned, her usual cheeky grin as her playful energy returned, "you'd probably just sit overthinking everything. good thing i'm always here to knock some sense into you"

alessia laughed, shaking her head, "your an idiot"

"and yet you still love me for it!" ella winked before stifling a yawn. "right go and get some sleep. you've got enough in your plate without being a total zombie tomorrow."

"and less," ella paused grabbing the blondes attention as she shuffled around her bed, "i'm proud of you" ella smiled softly as the two shared an understanding nod, knowing exactly what the other was saying without having to say a word.

"goodnight, el" alessia smiled her voice softer

"night, less. you've got this! oh, and give my favourite little russo a kiss from her auntie ella, i miss her” ella added with a pout as a small giggled came from alessia as she nodded telling her best friend she would do just that.

as the screen went dark, alessia leaned back against her pillows, staring up at the ceiling as ella's words replayed in her mind. for the first time since harrison's message, she felt the faintest flicker of clarity.

—

the cafe was small and tucked into a quiet corner of london, the last thing alessia wanted was for this to be in every media outlet going. so she chose a discreet location somewhere she wouldn't usually go.

the bell above the door jingled as she stepped inside, clutching her coat tightly around her. her eyes scanning the room until she saw him: harrison reed.

sat at a table by the window, his hands wrapped around what looked to be some sort of health smoothie filled with all the healthy greens.

his hair a little shorter than she remembered, not the messy moon of curls it was back in college as well as the light subtle on his jaw. a black shirt covering him as his arms where on show a lot more tattoos coving his arms than the blonde could recall from back in college.

he looked nervous — his knee bouncing under the table, his fingers tapping against the plastic cup. when he saw her, he stood quickly unsure what to do or how to greet the blonde so he stuck his hands into his pockets.

"alessia" he said his voice tentative.

alessia just gave him a curt nod as she forced herself to take a steadying breath. she walked towards him, her heart pouring in her chest.

as she reached the table, sliding into the seat across from him without a word, her posture rigid and far from relaxed.

harrison sat down slowly, his movements careful as if he was afraid of scaring her off. for a moment neither of them spoke. alessia kept her arms crossed tightly, her gaze fixed on him like a shield.

"do you want a dri-" harrison began but was quickly shut off by the blonde shaking her head, "-no, i'm not staying long. i have to pick lovie up at three"

the blonde glanced down at the time on her phone, thirty minutes. that it all she had to do was listen to him for thirty minutes. she could do that.

harrison just nodded, "well thanks for uh, meeting me" harrison finally said, stuttering over his words.

alessia's lips pressed into a thin line. "you said it was important."

he nodded, his eyes flickering to the smoothie in front of him before returning to her. "it is. i've.. i've been thinking about this for a while. reaching out, i mean. i know it's been too long. way too long"

her jaw tightened, "four years harrison. you haven't said anything in four years. you didn't even say anything after i went out my way to send you a message the day she was born"

he flinched slightly at the sharpness in her tone, guilt washing over his face. "i-i know i didn't and i hate myself for it alessia. i wasn't ready back then. i was..scared, stupid and i thought walking away was the right thing to do because i didn't think i could handle it."

alessia let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. "the right thing? you left me to do it all alone, i was terrified too but i didn't get the luxury of running away"

alessia paused for a moment her voice a little shaky as she took a deep breath, "i had to figure it out alone — for her"

harrison's face fell as his hands tightened around the plastic cup, "i've let you down, both of you. and i know i'll never be able to make up for that. but i've changed alessia. i'm not the same selfish idiot i was back then"

she arched an eyebrow, skepticism radiating from her as she let out a scoff, "and now you try think you can just walk into her life and everything will be sunshine and rainbows? do you even understand what you're asking?"

harrison hesitated as his gaze dropped to the table, alessia continuing voicing her frustration, "and what happens when you go back to america"

harrison's head picked back up as he shook it, "i- i live here now. i have for the past year and a bit... football didn't work out for me not like the.. the way it did for you. i erm work for marketing firm now, the hours are long but it works" he shrugged and alessia nodded talking in the new information.

it didn't change a lot but it definitely changed something. harrison wasn't going to go away after a few months, especially now, not since he lived here too. alessia couldn't just forget him like she did before when he lived across the world.

"and i can't sit here and pretend to understand what it's been like for you. but i know i want to try. i want to be there for y/n even if it's just a small part. she deserves to know her dad"

the mention of your name coming from his lips made alessia's heart ache. your bright smile flashing in her mind, your endless curiosity and infectious laughter.

"she doesn't even know you exist" alessia said quietly, her voice cracking slightly, you had never really asked but alessia knew with each month that passed it was only a matter of time till you did. "she's happy and i've worked so hard to give her a life full of love and stability. i won't let you ruin that.

harrison's eyes filled with remorse, "i’m not here to ruin anything. i just want a chance. if i could erase the past i would in a heartbeat. but i know i can show up now. so please alessia, let me try and prove myself to you."

she studied for a long moment, searching his face for any hint of insincerity. there was a desperation in his eye but also something else — determination maybe even hope.

"this isn't about you." she said finally, her voice steady. "this is about it her and if you're not serious, if you mess this up. i'll never forgive you.

harrison nodded quickly, his expression earnest. "i understand and i swear i'm serious. i'll do whatever it takes to prove it to you."

alessia leaned back in her chair as her arms still crossed tightly. she wasn't ready to trust him, not yet, but she couldn't ignore the tiny voice in her head whispering 'what if he has changed?' 'what if this is his change to be the dad you deserve'

after a long pause, she sighed, "i need time to think about this and i'm not making any promises harrison."

"of course," he said quickly, a flash of shock going over his features at the blondes response, "take all the time you need, i'll wait."

she stood, reaching for her coat "this isn't just about meeting her. if i let you in, you have to stay. no backing out when things get hard. no disappearing acts and if you can't promise that then we might as well not even bother"

harrison rose to his feet, his posture uncertain but hopeful, "i promise alessia. i have a life here, i live here and have a steady job i promise i'm not going anywhere."

she didn't respond, simply pulling her coat tighter around herself as she nodded mumbling a quick "i'll be in touch" as she headed towards the door.

as she stepped outside and closer to her car in the cold air, she felt a swirl of emotions: anger, fear and deep down a faintest flicker of hope.

—

a few weeks had passed since alessia had met harrison in that cafe. after a few days of going back and forth with the idea and a few more conversations with her mum and ella.

she decided to give him the chance to know his daughter. giving harrison a call, him answering pretty much straight away his voice filled with hope as alessia asked when he would next be free along with another warning of the risk she was taking.

which lead to this warm sunday, and for once where alessia didn't have a match. the team having played on the friday night. as alessia and you walked through your local park which was only a short walk from your house.

the playground at the park was alive with laughter and the squeals of children running around in every direction.

alessia stopped for a moment as she leaned down to tie your shoelace again for you, standing back up as she gripped the straps of her bag tightly.

feeling her stomach churn as she glanced towards a bench in the distance, where harrison was sitting. his posture stiff as he sat with his hands clasped together.

beside her, you tugged at her hand excitedly. the eyes of your hair slightly curled bouncing up and down as you pointed towards the swings.

"mummy! can we go on the swings first?" you asked, your voice brimming with nothing but energy.

alessia forced a smile as she leant down to your level, "in a bit we can lovie, but first there's someone i would like you to meet"

your head tilted the side, curiosity filling your features as you wondered who it could be, "who?"

alessia swallowed hard, her throat dry, "he's... someone who would like to get to know you. his name is harrison"

before you could ask any more questions, alessia straightening up as her gaze met harrison's. he was already looking over, waving alessia over as she could sense his nervous energy practically radiating from him.

alessia taking your hand and starting to walk towards him, her heart pounding with every step.

as they approached, harrison offered a small and tentative smile. "hi y/n" he said softly, his voice careful and gentle not wanting to overwhelm you.

you looked at him, your big blue eyes wife with curiosity as you clutched your mummy's hand a little tighter. your usual boldness momentarily replaced with shyness. "hi," you said after a pause, you voice quiet and timid.

alessia crouched down before you, her hand staying tightly in yours, "lovie, this is harrison" she said her voice calm but steady. "and he's.. your dad"

your brow furrowed slightly, her head tilting as you processed your mummy's words, "my dad?" you repeated, your gaze flicking between your mummy and harrison.

"yes" alessia said softly, "he's been away for a little while, but he wants to get to know you"

harrison leaned forward, putting himself a little closer to you. he looked hesitant unsure if he should speak but when you didn't back away, he took a deep breath.

"it's nice to finally meet you, y/n." he said his voice warm and welcoming, "your mummy has told me so many wonderful things about you."

you stared at him for a moment, your little button nose scrunching up as you studied his face. finally you asked, "but why weren't you here before?"

the question hit like a punch to the gut and alessia felt her breath get caught in her throat as she looked at harrison waiting to see how he would respond.

harrison's face softened, guilt flickering in his eyes. "that's a good question" he said gently. "the truth is, i made a mistake. a pretty big one and i wasn't there when i should've been and i'm really really sorry for that"

you blinked, your expression still curious but no longer as guarded as you were, "so.. but your not going away now?"

harrison's throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, "no kiddo, i’m not going anywhere. and if you'll let me i would really like to spend time with you and get to know you"

alessia felt her chest tighten at the raw emotion in his voice. she looked down at you whose gaze was fixed on harrison and after a long moment you nodded slowly.

"okay" you said simply.

harrison's face lighting up with relief, his smile genuine and warm, "okay" he echoed softly.

you turned back to look at your mummy, your usual energy returning. "can i show him the swings, mummy? i'm really good at swinging high!"

alessia hesitated for a moment, her protective instincts warring slightly with the tentative hope stirring in her chest. finally she nodded, "of course lovie. go on"

you grabbed harrison's hand without hesitation, pulling him towards the swings with the same confidence you had with everyone you trusted.

alessia watching as harrison followed you, his movements careful but not awkward. he listened to you chattering about your favourite colours and how you someday when you get older would like a puppy like your auntie beth and steph.

by the time you reached the swings, you had clearly decided that harrison was worth your attention. you climbed onto the swing and your legs were kicking in anticipation.

"push me! but not too high!" you instructed your voice filled with authority.

harrison chuckled, a sound alessia hadn't heard in years. it bringing back memories of the two of them when they were sit and laugh in their dorms about things that probably weren't even funny.

"you got it kiddo!"

as harrison gently pushed on the swing, your laughter filled the air, bright and unrestrained. alessia stood by the bench watching them with a strange mix of emotions swirling inside her.

for the first time, she allowed herself to believe that maybe—just maybe—this could work.

—

the sun had dipped lower in the sky as they walked home, the soft golden light casting long shadows on the pavement of the three.

you skipping happily ahead, holding your mummy's hand with one of her own while the other clutched the small daisy harrison had plucked for her from the park.

you hadn't stopped talking since they left, your excitement bubbling over as you recounted every little thing about your day.

harrison walked in the other side of alessia, his hands shoved deep into her coat pockets, clearly not well adjusted to the cool breeze that london brings once the sun had lowered.

his steps were measured as his gaze drifted towards you every so often as if he couldn't quite believe you were real and part his blood.

when they reached the driveway of your home, you running straight to the door as your mummy came up behind unlocking it for you to rush inside the warmth, kicking your shoes off before turning to the door seeing your mummy and har- your daddy still stood at the door way.

"are you coming inside daddy?" you asked so innocently with a big toothy grin.

the words so simple as daddy, landed like a punch and a hug all at once. alessia's heart clenching and she saw the way harrison froze, his eyes widening for just a moment before he crouched down to your level.

"not today, y/n" he said gently, his voice steady but filled with emotion. remembering about what alessia had said about boundaries and wanting to respect them. "but i'll see you soon, and maybe we can go to a soft play"

you pouted slight but your expression softened when harrison added, "i promise i’ll be back, pinky swear?" he held out his pink and you giggled as you wrapped yours around his, "pinky swear!"

satisfied with the answer you were given, you turned and tugged at your mummy's arm, "can i have a snack now, mummy?"

alessia smiled, brushing a faint curl from your face, "go on inside and wash your hands first lovie, i'll be through in a moment"

you nodded, bouncing your way inside and making a beeline for the kitchen as you held your daisy tight in your hand.

as you bounced down the hallway, the world seemed to grow quieter. alessia turning back to harrison after making sure you went were you should be, crossing her arms instinctively over her chest.

for a long moment, they stood there, the late afternoon casting a soft flow over their faces.

harrison shifted awkwardly from one foot to the other, his hands still buried inside his coat pockets, "she's.. amazing" he said finally, his voice thick with emotion.

alessia's lips twitched into a small smile despite herself. "she is, i've worked hard to make sure she has a good life"

"and you've done an incredible job" harrison said honestly, his eyes meeting alessia's. "she's so clever, so confident. that's all you"

alessia felt her guard waver, but she quickly steadied herself, "not just me. my family and my friends. she's surrounded by people who shower her with love" her gaze hardened slightly, "people who've been there since day one."

harrison flinched but nodded, he knew it was coming. his jaw tightened, "yeah, i deserve that one," he admitted quietly.

"i know i let you down less- alessia. both of you. and i don't expect forgiveness overnight but i would like to there for her now, and you if you ever need me. however you'll let me" harrison smiled softly, alessia taking in his words, letter by letter.

alessia studied him, her expression unreadable, "your really asking me to fully trust you, after four years of nothing."

"yeah" harrison said quietly, his voice was steady despite the weight of alessia's words. "but not just for me, but for her. i'll do whatever it takes to prove that i'm serious this time."

her lips pressed together into a thin line as she considered him, the sincerity in his eyes was hard to ignore but the scars of the past were fresh and the last few days had opened more than alessia care to admit.

"we'll see" she said finally, her voice cool but not dismissive, "you've got a long way to go harrison. don't make me regret this."

he nodded, a small but grateful smile tugging at his lips, "i won't, i promise"

for a minute, the weight of their shared history hung between them — everything left unsaid, every moment lost. then alessia took a small step back her hand resting lightly on the door handle.

"goodnight, harrison."

"goodnight, alessia. message me once you've had time to think!"

she slipped inside and close the door behind her, leaning against it for a moment as she let out a shaky breath.

your laughter echoing from the kitchen, no doubt in alessia's mind that you were making soap bubbles while you washing your hands and alessia felt the faintest glimmer of hope pierce through the wall of doubt surrounding her heart.

381 notes · View notes

therealrichardpapen · 1 month ago

Text

I got my gf into bsd and this is what they said on the episodes we've watched. Showed them the most important parts, and they turned into a sskk shipper when I brought them into this for skk. Have fun reading these:

● Love Island: Dazai edition

● I need them all nailed to the wall (dazai and fyodor)

● Mummy with luscious hips (akutagawa's power in dead apple)

● They modified them in a lab, and yet they couldn't make Jouno see

● Plum blossoms in snow - that sounds like shower gel for women

● Atsushi hallucinating dazai - those scene from romantic movies with the dead wife running through the fields

● I dont know if i should call Dazai the smartest person or the dumbest mf

● (Cannibalism arc) *Mori almost getting assasinated* they need to shave his face

● (Poe) So he's like, Rampo's boyfriend

● When life gives you lemons, make bombs out of them

●The agency and the mafia are just a disfunctional family

● Can't they just marry and unite the agency and the mafia? They're both single—

● Natsume is the og gay shipper of Mori and Fukuzawa

● (On Mori and Fukuzawa fighting) just fucking kiss

● He's walking like a super fucking model (fyodor)

● I will cling to that tiger for my dear life

● *Fukuzawa calling Mori in season 4* is he calling his husband. I wonder what nickname he has on his phone

● *Margaret in a coma* well she is gone with the wind

● *ango appears* who is this slut with that ass

● asagiri saw "be gay do crime" and created bsd. He was like "what do gays love the most? Outdated literature!"

● Honestly Mori looks so much more better as an old man. I dont make the rules

● Everyone say thank you rampo

● Why is Aku biting Atsushi? Is it like a sex thing?

● Bram is just an astrology girly

● Why is Bram a lollipop?

● Jouno is so nice! He has a saviour complex!

● Why are they all alcoholics?

● Look how Fyodor stands. I bet he has a spine desfiguration. But it's slutty

● I need Mori to perform a surgery and be hot about this

● *Mori laughing* He's having a villain moment, ok?

● Dazai knew Chuuya is powerful in combat because they've been combating in bed every night

● Sigma thought that Fyodor had bpd and that was his special trait

● Nikolai bending down because he wanted to get fucked by Fyodor

● Imagine the airport having to security check fyodor's arm when they return to Yokohama

● Akutagawa has no chill. Not only he'd been abandoned, but they're all actively trying to kill him by smoking next to him

● Dazai has no filter really

78 notes · View notes

nihilo-sensei · 1 year ago

Text

The Infamous Chuuya-SSKK Car Ride

Two. Fucking. Hours.

Akutagawa and Atsushi have been arguing for two hours almost non-stop and there's still an hour to go in the trip. If you had asked Chuuya before he climbed into this four-wheeled prison what the most annoying thing on Earth was, he would've said without hesitation that it was dealing with Dazai. That was a more innocent time, a time before life had decided to punish him for his every felony, misdemeanor, and wasted gallon of milk. He wasn't sure if these apparently nuclear-powered bickering machines being confined to the backseat was better or worse for him. Probably better; at least one half of the invective wasn't being spewed directly into his left ear.

As much as he wanted to blame a member of the Armed Detective Agency for all of his misery, he was disappointed to say that it had been his subordinate and fellow mafioso who started this. Granted it hadn't taken much to get the weretiger to dive down to Akutagawa's level, but he was just trying to make conversation, asking if Chuuya listened to much music. Honestly, the gravity manipulator would've been delighted to spend a three-hour car ride talking about music, even with an ADA member. It was kind of nice that the kid had reached for some common ground between them. Akutagawa really hadn't needed to cut Chuuya off before he had a chance to answer by saying, "No one cares, weretiger." That one admittedly rude remark had sealed Chuuya's fate for the rest of the ride out to the countryside. Thanks, Aku.

"You better not get in my way when we get there, weretiger. The Port Mafia doesn't need Least Beneath the Moonlight."

"I guess I'll leave the job to Brash-ōmon, then. Get over yourself."

How are they still coming up with new insults? Chuuya hadn't even had the energy to tell them to shut the fuck up passed the 35-minute mark, about 25 minutes after his throat started to hurt from trying to match their combined volume. It was like they didn't even hear him. They were in their own little world together.

That was what he'd been warned about, though, wasn't it? Akutagawa and the tiger boy had… tension. He had heard about it from Dazai, but hadn't given it much thought. After all, why would he bother listening to anything that mummy's asshole says off the battlefield? He would happily throw Dazai off a building if he wasn't sure it would make that freak even happier than it would make Chuuya. Something about this train of thought makes Chuuya feel like a hypocrite for some reason. Where was he?

"At least I don't dip my bangs in Wite-Out!"

"Your impoverished ass could only afford one bang!"

Oh right, this thick fog of something making itself at home in Chuuya's backseat and inside his pounding skull. He had thought it was just a joke or an exaggeration, but this much passion for each other? Could all of that really just be simple hate? No, this doesn't really feel like hate. But if they don't hate each other why tell themselves that they do? That's so self-destructive. They should just confront their feelings like adults. Even if those feelings aren't romantic they could still find themselves good friends, they have a lot in common. At least they'd stop making their sexual tension or whatever everyone else's problem.

Why does Chuuya feel like a hypocrite again?

—

Chuuya stares into the rear-view mirror. The new Double Black had practically passed out five minutes into the drive to Yokohama. Not surprising after the mission had turned out to be far more complicated then they had anticipated. He wasn't complaining, he really couldn't deal with another three hours of angry sound waves bouncing around an enclosed space. Truthfully, they'd earned the rest. Even when the situation was going to shit they'd worked well together. Atsushi kept Akutagawa's mind on the civilians while Akutagawa's support kept Atsushi calm and focused. Chuuya sees now why Dazai put them together, not that Chuuya would ever openly tell the man he was right.

So he'd let the pair sleep, only debating whether he should wake them up after the blessedly silent car had crossed the Yokohama city limit. He had glanced into the mirror and caught sight of something that made him suddenly redirect as much attention as he safely could to it. The Sun had set halfway through the drive so he had had to wait for the car to pass the next street light to get a good look at it, and sure enough he saw exactly what he thought he had. At some point in the drive Atsushi and Akutagawa had leaned into each other while they slept. Atsushi's head was now resting on Akutagawa's shoulder while the mafioso's head rested on top of the weretiger's. Chuuya smiled. Definitely not hate.

As the car nears the ADA office, where Atsushi is to be dropped off, Chuuya pulls into a gas station with a new mission in mind. After he puts the car in park he takes out his phone and hopes that fatigue keeps the pair asleep and unaware while he does what needs to be done. He gambles on using the flash and wins a nice, clear picture that's going to absolutely make his fucking day the next time Akutagawa decides to make him sit through another "that goddamn foolish weretiger" rant. But was it really fair to make just Akutagawa suffer when Atsushi was about as responsible for Chuuya's three-hour ordeal earlier? No. And isn't the ADA all about that justice shit?

Chuuya opens his text thread with Dazai, taps his thumbs to the screen a few times, and hands down Atsushi's sentence with the push of 'Send'. He only has to wait a few seconds before the weretiger's irritating superior responds.

Mackerel (21:04): Oh my god, thank you so much for this! How useful my dog is becoming!

You (21:04): I seriously can't do this with you right now, Dazai. Those little bastards almost wiped me out on the way to the mission. They argued the entire time. I'm fucking tired.

Mackerel (21:05): Impressive, isn't it?

"Impressive" was one way of putting it. "Never gonna happen again" was another.

243 notes · View notes

tsuiioku · 1 year ago

Text

𝖎'𝖒𝖆 𝖒𝖆𝖐𝖊 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖘𝖈𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖒 「𝔬𝔰𝔞𝔪𝔲 𝔡𝔞𝔷𝔞𝔦」 ༉‧₊˚

from anonymous ⇢ can I request a fanfic Nikolai or Dazai nsfw? maybe it could be a new coworker that he’s interested it or something, honestly I’m fine with anything but i just an idea!

content. f!reader. not-safe for work, alcohol, bathroom sex, bruises, choking, clubbing, creampie, fingering, hickeys, implied/referenced fleshlights, jealousy, misogyny, perverted dazai, pet names (baby, dearest, good girl), possessiveness, protectiveness, praise kink, semi-public sex. not proofread. 4.2k+ words.

author's note. i cannot believe how long this request took for me to complete. it is the first in a series of requests that i've received in the past two months that i'm finally getting to, but it's here! and this is weirdly my first full BSD smut fic, so sit back and enjoy the ride ( ˶ˆᗜˆ˵ )

would you like to see more? fill out the taglist or comment under this post.

synopsis. it started as a night at the club and then became something much, much better.

After multiple bouts of terrible run-ins with the press, Fukuzawa had made the executive decision to hire a media liaison as an intermediary for their discussions with the news. And she was, at least in Dazai's eyes, the perfect little thing. He almost fell over when she strode through the door—well, he actually did. He had dropped to his knees and begged her to kill him, grasping onto her delicate hands for the first time, only for the sweet woman to dismiss his proposal with a wave of her fingers and a concerned contort of her lips.

And God, she was perfect.

She walked around the office with such charismatic confidence, one that rivaled his own, always clad in a fashionable pair of dress pants that shaped her ass just right and flared at the bottom to compliment her legs. Her blouse was even better, with puffed sleeves that bounced at every step and a collarline that exposed just the right amount of cleavage. It was the perverted mummy's dream.

However, he liked their new liaison for many other reasons—he wasn't that shallow. (Name) She was so easy to talk to and kind to her co-workers, even with a sassy flare rivaling Doctor Yosano's. And even though she didn't have an ability, she held herself up with wit and intelligence alone—he couldn't help but admit that the smirk that curled onto her very kissable-looking lips whenever she outsmarted someone made the hairs on the nape of his neck stand up.

His personal favorite habit of hers had become the one that centered entirely around him—obviously. (Name) always made it a habit to check in on him, especially once she realized his suicide quips weren't just a ploy to get closer to women. It had started with a weary checkup and an occasional smile but blossomed into a friendship laced with jokes and playful banter.

She was such a charmer.

It had been quite a busy day for the agency—though it typically was—involved in another city-wide event that had placed every citizen on their toes. So, to his dismay, he was forced to admire her from afar, watching her hold off intrusive media outlets with a grace and dignity that she solely wielded. Though he couldn't help but notice her rapidly dwindling patience—it was apparent. The scrunch of her nose as she listened to the misogynistic rambles of news anchors or the overly-sweetened tune of her smile as she confronted a demeaning photographer—all little traits he had fallen for.

He knew the next person who even looked at her funny would face the wrath of a she-demon.

And he couldn't wait to watch.

"How's our charming Ms. (Name) doing on a fine evening such as this, hm?" he mused as he rolled towards her desk, spinning circles as he sat backward in the chair. A softened smile, starkly contrasting her prior annoyance, appeared on her face, shoulders slumping as she relaxed into her chair.

"I'm doing fine, Mr. Dazai," she mocked, hands settled near her hips. "But if I have to talk to another snobby reporter, I may commit a murder."

She leaned towards his chair, dramatically batting her eyes. "You'd bail me out, wouldn't you?"

He smirked—this back-and-forth banter had become more and more common between them, much to his delight. He swooned with a coo, draping his arm across his forehead. "I would, dearest—if only I had the money for such a thing!"

"I barely have enough for canned crab..." he trailed off with a frown, a sudden reminder popping into his head. "How would you feel about an evening on the town."

She raised a brow. "Hmm, what are you suggesting?"

"I'd forgotten about these tickets." He reached into his back pocket and then into his other back pocket—then another and another. "I received them as a favor a couple months ago. They're entry tickets to a fancy club up in the north sector."

She peered over his shoulder with pursed lips once he pulled two crumpled tickets out of his vest pocket, eyes widening once he unfolded them. "The Royal Crown? Dazai, these are so expensive!" She snatched them from his hands, holding them up with scrutinizing eyes to the light. "Are you sure they're real?"

He pouted. "Of course I am! Can you really doubt a handsome face such as mine?"

She struck him with her pointed, unimpressed expression. He fell as if he'd been shot, crying out to the ceiling, temporarily drawing the attention of their co-workers, only for them to look away. Same routine. "Oh, Ms. (Name)! You wound me!"

She huffed, unable to restrain her laughter, returning the tickets to him with a slap to his chest. "Uh-huh. I'm so sorry."

Her coy, playful grin softened with a sigh, her beaming smile stirring Dazai's stomach. "But I'd love to go with you—if they're real. And if they're real." She stood from her chair, patting his shoulder as she passed by. "You can pick me up at 8."

And she walked off, clocking out of her shift with an almost unnoticeable pep in her step—unnoticeable to everyone that wasn't Dazai. He sighed, leaning against the seat of his chair with a lopsided grin.

She was so cute.

She spent the next few hours inside her apartment dolling herself up, swaying and humming to the tune of the local radio station as she slipped on one of her favorite dresses, drawing a dark shade of lipstick on with a pop of her lips. A knock rang out just as she slipped her heels on, gathering her purse as she made her way to the door.

"Coming!" she called from down the hall, only to pause mid-step.

The knocking hadn't come from the door. It came from the balcony.

She crept towards the balcony, ducking behind some of her furniture as she tried to spot some kind of burglar or serial killer, but she couldn't see anything out of the ordinary. It was just her balcony, sitting aglow in the warm setting sun. She stepped out, taking in the breathtaking sight of the cityscape as she relaxed, relieved to find that she hadn't been stuck in a horror scenario—

"Graaah!"

"Oh fuck!"

She smacked the obscured figure with her purse, knocking whoever it was to the ground. It groaned in pain, and that familiar voice struck a chord with her, making her look closer at the figure as grumbles tumbled from its mouth.

"Bellaaaaa. How rude," Dazai whined, rubbing his forehead.

She clutched her hand to her chest, calming her racing heart as she panted. "Don't do that!" Her lips twisted into a snarl, glaring daggers into the wounded man. "You scared the shit outta me!"

"I was just making sure you could defend yourself," he claimed, although she could spot the lie through the amused glint in his eyes. "You never know what could happen to a poor, unprepared damsel."

"I am not a damsel, Dazai," she deadpaned, bending down beside him. "Let me see your face."

Her hands cupped his face, ignoring or missing the blush surfacing on his cheeks as he stared at her wide-eyed. Gentle fingers brushed the wound's edges, wincing with a tense sigh as she examined the damage. "Yikes. That's gonna leave a bruise."

Damn, she didn't realize the force she had behind her hit. Good to know.

She grabbed him by the hand, taking him inside and into her bathroom, kicking a stool out from behind her toilet with her foot. He looked at her dumbly, watching as she tapped it with her heel. "Have a seat."

He plopped down, looking almost monstrous with his lanky legs bunched awkwardly against the floor of the pintsized room. With bated breath, he watched as (Name) shuffled through her cabinets, having to stretch on her toes and allowing him to admire her in full view. She was wearing a velvety little cocktail dress that cupped her curves and cinched in all the right places—was it getting hot in here? He couldn't help the way his mind wandered, wondering what would happen if he just stood up, grabbing her by the hips and just—

"And there we go." She thumbed a plaster onto his forehead with rhythmic circles, brushing her lips against the material's edge before she placed the medical kit back. He froze at the feeling of her lips, fingers hovering over the spot she kissed—they were so soft—staring at her as she obliviously continued to hum to the radio. But then she stiffened as if snapped out of a trance, turning towards him with a blank expression, though the panic in her eyes was palpable.

"Don't say a word."

He grinned softly, leaning against his palm.

"Wouldn't dream of it, dear."

It was a bar unlike any (Name) had ever seen. The outside sparkled in the peeks of moonlight that escaped through alleyways, contrasting the warmth of browned brick encompassing the walls. It glimmered the further they walked in, arm-in-arm, as excitement bounced between them. Goosebumps crawled up her arm as thumps of pop music chimed out from the entryway, the buzz of anticipation running through her veins.

The main room was bustling with people, chatting between sips of bubbling champagnes and smooth whiskies. A ginormous bar was the centerpiece, lined with aged-metal chairs lit with LED lights. Warm backlights illuminated a collection of rums, bourbons, whiskeys, and wines she had never seen before, making her mouth dry. One of the bartenders, clad in an all-black suit, poured another patron a sweet drink, vicariously feeling the antsiness of alcohol settling into her system.

"Can't believe you're looking at him like that and not me," Dazai whispered into her ear, tickling her skin.

She hid her flustered expression with a jab to his side—Dazai did look quite handsome now that she had a better look at him. He was decked out in a black suit jacket, unbuttoned to reveal a dark red vest and white dress shirt underneath, topped off with a tie. Her favorite part had to be his hair, which was pined to the side, allowing her to see how his rich, chocolate-brown eyes bloomed in the heated light.

Part of her was tempted to run a hand through the soft, bouncy waves. Maybe if she just—

"Something on your mind, dear?" he asked, his voice low as they settled into seats at the bar.

She perked from her daydreams, shaking her head. "Nope. Just thinking about what to drink."

He huffed, amused with a cocked brow. "Are you sure about—"

"What can I get you two tonight?" a bartender asked promptly, and (Name) couldn't help but internally thank him for his impeccable timing.

"I'll have a French 65."

Dazai hummed at her choice, though he already figured she would pick something along those lines, eyes scanning the bottles of alcohol for a second. "And I'll have a Negroni."

The bartender whipped up their drinks with a flick of his wrist, and she couldn't be but stare at the burbling liquid as it poured out of the strainer and into a tall glass, sliding with a clink in front of her. She lifted the glass to her lips, savoring the hints of citrus within layers of bourbon and champagne.

The bar continued to become more crowded, not surprising due to its popularity among tourists and affluent residents of the city. She couldn't help how she stiffened as they touched shoulder-to-shoulder, packed in by the crowd; her heart thumped inside her chest—she couldn't tell whether it was due to the adrenaline of the alcohol or the proximity of their bodies.

"—and then he smacked me! Can you believe it? Me!" Dazai raved, an alcohol-induced flush on his cheeks.

She merely giggled, pushing his shoulder with her free hand. "Poor Kunikida. That man has to deal with your—"

"Hey, sweetheart."

Another person slid up in the seat beside her, replacing the sweet but drunk woman who had previously sat there. She stared at him, a man with greasy blonde hair and eyebags that rivaled a raccoon, with bewilderment. The exhaustion of the day had settled deep within her bones, her sass dulled by the alcohol and blanketing warmth of the bar atmosphere.

"Can I help you?" she asked, raising a brow. Dazai stiffened behind her, his muscles growing tense as he stared at the man with equal scrutiny.

The man grinned. "I was just wonderin' what a pretty lady like you is doin' here all by your lonesome."

"I'm not—"

To her utter annoyance, he cut her off again and placed a sweaty hand on her arm. "How 'bout you come back to my place, eh?" She winced as the smell of beer hit her nose, trying to scoot away. "And I'll treat ya' to some dinner."

A bandaged hand settled against her back. "I'm afraid she's with me."

The stranger merely laughed at Dazai, and even (Name) couldn't help noticing how fingers twitched around her waist. "Come on, man. You wouldn't mind sharing, would ya'?" Those sweaty hands caressed her arm, and she couldn't help feeling relief when she realized that she had long sleeves. However, she grimaced at his disgusting insinuation. "A pretty thing like her deserves to be—"

"I'm afraid you're mistaken."

Arms snatched her by the waist, settling her onto Dazai's lap. She could not stop trembling in his arms, eyes wide as his chest met her back—wholly encased in him. Though, she couldn't say she minded too much.

"She's mine." Warm breath bristled against the exposed flesh of her neck, a trill of anticipation traveling up her spine as a hint of arousal shot between her legs. "And someone as short as yourself should probably focus on homework rather than picking up women."

The drunken man shuddered as he felt the stern glare of the former Demon Prodigy, who was eyeing him like a hawk. This was far from the humor Dazai held in his previous conversation, eyes reflecting a past he had tried to leave behind long ago. Cold and irate, like the biting sting of a gun pressed against the temple. The man sputtered his apologies underneath whimpered breath, scrambling to leave his seat as he pushed between weary bystanders.

She watched the stranger leave with a stern stare, slumping against Dazai with a huff of relief. "Heh. Thanks, Dazai." Her eyes tilted down to look at the head propped on her shoulder, only to see burning brown eyes staring at her, his expression unreadable. Analyzing. Sweat gathered on her temple, straightening up as her fight-or-flight response screamed at her, his arms tightening around her waist to trap her against him.

"Dazai?"

He interwove his fingers with hers, pulling her off the bar seat as he led her towards the back of the club. They rushed past varieties of people as the bass of music shook their feet, some chatting while others practically fucked with their clothes on. The smell of alcohol grew stronger as they reached a strange hallway, the former mafia executive pushing her into a single-stall restroom before locking the door behind them.

"D-Dazai—what's going—mmf-!"

He sealed his lips across hers, devouring her whimpers with desperate kisses as he pressed her body against the door. She trembled in his hold, wrapping her arms around his neck as his tongue slid across her bottom lip. It was electrifying, the bubbling sensation of an intoxicating haze slipping between them.

"You're so pretty like this, ya' know?" He trailed kisses across her jawline. "So sexy. And that dress—it was made for you, baby."

Her laughter was almost hysterical, drawing him in with a pull of his tie. "Then I must say that you look quite handsome in that suit of yours, Osamu."

He forced himself to restrain a groan, muffling it into her neck. "I love it when you call me that." His hand drifted to the back of her throat, trailing kisses along the searing skin as her moans mixed with laughter to create an invigorating concoction. "And those sweet little giggles of yours—God, you've got the voice of an angel."

He drew her in with a squeeze to her throat, teasing the skin at the junction of her neck between his teeth. "I've gotta hear more."

Each kiss was calculated, ensuring that her body felt inflamed. She flinched every time Dazai's lips met her now-aching skin, stroking her fingers through his hair, eliciting a low groan from him as she tugged at the soft curls that blanketed his neck.

Her hands fiddled with the edges of his suit jacket, shimmying it down his shoulders and flinging it onto the floor. She wanted him badly—she didn't know if it was the alcohol acting as liquid courage, but as his hands drifted across her breasts, she found that she didn't care.

His lips met hers again, meticulously working her dress up and bunching it around her hips. He pried her legs apart with his hand, settling his knee between them and pressing up. For months, he had thought about the noises she'd make when he touched her like this. But it was better than he had imagined. She practically melted in his mouth, moving her hips in small circles as more noises were withdrawn from her lips.

His hands met her hips again, gently, before squeezing them with a bruise-inducing grip. "Stay still." She froze, unable to hide the thousands of impure thoughts that bounced around her head in reaction to his voice's simple, low rasp. His fingers slipped under the band of her panties, pooling arousal on his fingers as he drew diligent strokes around her sensitive bud, enthralled in the orchestra of pleasure that begged to be brought forth from her lips.

"You're soaked, baby."

"D-Dazai." She bristled, breath hitching as he pried her wet pussy apart. He looked absolutely entranced by the amount of arousal that gathered on his fingers, dipping one inside and then another, watching with predatory eyes as her thighs began to tremble.

His fingers were much longer than hers, hitting spots she could only dream of reaching on her own. "Mmm. You like that, baby?" She cried out as he stretched them out, brushing against her sweet spot. "You like the idea of being full, don't ya'?"

She could merely nod as she threw her head back, being forced still by the hand on her hip.

He littered openmouthed kisses across her jaw, running his tongue across her skin to taste her as he thrust his fingers inside her pussy at an aggravating pace. "You need to be full, right? You want my cock. You want me to fill you up."

"Please, 'Samu—" She batted at his spine, heaving as she pleaded. "Fuck me."

Any of his remaining resolve crumbled in a matter of seconds, sliding his fingers out from between her legs as she whined. Instead, he placed them inside his mouth, opened barely enough to let her see how his tongue wrapped around his fingers, consuming her liquid arousal with a pleased hum.

"How could I refuse when you asked me so nicely?"

He hoisted her by her hips, hands propped against her ass as she was pinned to him, her sensitive, soaked pussy brushing against his strained erection that sat painfully inside his pants. With a flick of his wrists, he pulled her panties off and sat her bare ass down on the frigid marble surface of the counter, spreading her legs with a firm tug as he soaked in how her arousal pooled onto the surface below.

His fingers went to pull at the zipper of his pants, tantalizingly slow. "Look at me." Her eyes shot up to his face, a darkened look in his eye at the way she immediately obeyed his command. "Yeah, that's a good girl."

He leaned forward, the warm scent of gin brushing against her face as he cupped her face, almost drawing her attention from the feeling of his cock resting against her folds. "You're my good girl, right?"

She nodded, staring at him despite the temptations to glance downwards. He only continued to rub his cock against her, with enough irritating pressure to make her want to wrap her legs around his hips but not enough to make her mind go blank. Her brows furrowed, a pleading pout evident in the beginnings of her lips.

He only grinned.

"Come on, baby. I need'ta hear you say it."

Her mind was hazy, too fogged to connect her abstract thoughts through the heat. Words tumbled out of her mouth faster than she could process them. "Please, Dazai—I need you. Please, please—I'll be good, please—" She let out a yelp as he slapped her thighs, hands working to relieve the sensitive skin as he moved his cock away.

"You're almost there, sweet girl," he cooed, condescension as heavy as the liquor in his breath. "You know what to say. Come on."

Her muscles screamed at her as she did everything in her power to remain upright, wanting to give into the fantasy of crumpling over and letting him pound into her while she lay limp. Not yet. She always knew that he would be the type to tease, to make a woman work a bit for what they wanted. She just didn't realize how infuriating it would be—not that she had the will to complain.

She just wanted to be full.

"Please, 'Samu. I'll be good—I'll be your good girl, I promise." Her rambling ceased with a shudder as he slid his cock inside her, immediately trying to buck her hips forward to take more. He only smiled at her impatience, filling her to the brim as her pussy quivered around his cock.

"That's right." He kissed the seared skin near her collarbone. "You're mine."

She couldn't control herself as he began to pump in and out of her, salacious cries of his name pouring into the open air with just the music of the club outside to deafen the sounds of their pornographic escapade. Her nails caught onto the fabric of his shirt, scratching at any sliver of unbandaged skin to create crescent scars.

He groaned at the perfect fit, eyes rolled back at the sheer bliss of it all. She was so much better than the stupid fleshlight he had been using almost every night, too pent up from the sight of her at work every day. This was so much better.

He finally had the real deal, and he wasn't gonna let her go.

"That bastard thought he could put his hands on you." His voice had darkened, becoming guttural as his grip on her hips tightened. "He probably thought he'd be the one doing this to you. Taking you back to his dinky little apartment and prying you apart." And a part of her wanted him to leave a bruise, a reminder that this wasn't some lustful wet dream.

He chuckled, holding onto her like an anchor as he found his rhythm. "But I'm the only one who gets to see you like this."

His hand wrapped around her throat, strained moans escaping from her kiss-bruised lips as he squeezed down. "To touch you like this." He pinned her down, flattening her to the counter with each thrust, relishing in the way she clenched down on him the deeper he went. "To fuck you like this."

"F-Fuck-'Samu–" she whined, her stomach twisting in knots from the pressure of his cock, growing even wetter from the edge of a snarl in his voice.

He chuckled, his other hand crawling up her chest, pressing against her breast to feel her heave. Her back arched up to his touch despite how the grip on her throat grew tighter, making her feel lightheaded. "You like that, don't you? Like being mine?" The way she tightened around him was the only answer he needed, mindless babbles escaping her mouth. He released her throat with one last little squeeze, smearing her remaining lipstick across her cheek with his thumb. "Good. You'll have to get used to that, baby."

She grabbed onto his shoulder, bringing him into another searing kiss as her impending release approached, her arousal already creating a puddle as it dripped off the counter and onto the floor. He rasped against her lips, slipping his tongue into her mouth to devour more.

"Scream for me, baby."

Her vision went white as she let out a loud, debauched moan of his name, rocking her hips to his ceaseless thrusts as she chased through her release. He jerked at the feeling of her pussy fluttering around him, pumping into her as he groaned into her mouth, spit trailing from his lips as he panted, bracing himself against the counter.

"Fuck."

If he had to pick his favorite sight of the night, it would be this very moment. Here she was in front of him, his beautiful co-worker, dress disheveled and makeup smudged by her tears as she creamed on his cock. God, he could feel himself getting hard again already, watching carnivorously as her legs trembled, eyes closing in exhaustion. His hands traced through her sweat-slicked baby hairs, thumbing her dress down as best he could while he leaned into her. Part of him would've been okay with falling asleep right here, basking in the afterglow.

But the music outside served as a reminder.

He glanced up from his place, nuzzling her neck, mischief already drawn in his eyes.

"We're not done, love. We're heading back to my place."

TAGLIST: @imhandicapableofmath @seisitive @solandiss @ruru-kiss @ishqani @sillyspookycat

#☆.musings #f!reader #request: [anonymous]#bsd smut #dazai smut #bungo stray dogs #bsd #bungou stray dogs #bsd x reader #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #osamu dazai x reader #dazai x reader #osamu dazai #dazai bsd

401 notes · View notes

lanormie · 1 month ago

Text

blipped - mcu crossover au (pt. 6)

what if? the event of Thanos snap happened in the BNHA universe? you're forced to navigate the aftermath of The Blip, where half of the population get thrown back into existence after disappearing for five years. pairing: pro-hero!Shouto x f!pro-hero!reader (ft. slight katsuki x reader) read on AO3 previous part

Two months flew by, and the apartment search is going nowhere. The government has quickly seized up a large number of empty housings and facilities to turn them into temporary shelters, and now any new listing would immediately get scooped up as soon as they are posted, no matter the cost. Not like you or Shouto have time to stalk the market anyway, when crimes have been on a scary uptick for the past few weeks. Hawks has been apologetic about all the overtime, but you all know the world is far from peaceful.

An anti-nationalist group called The Flag Smashers has been on the rise. They’ve been gaining more and more followers everyday, vowing to restore the world order to how it was before the re-emergence.

A world without borders and patriotism. Even as a pro-hero, you can’t say you disagree. But when the line between ideology and violence blurs and innocent people get hurt, you refuse to stand by.

“Here’s the address of the juvenile shelter on 42nd, please tell Mandalay I said hi when you drop him off.”

You hand the piece of paper to the sidekick who just showed up for the night shift, then turn to the small frame that’s clinging to your belt like super glue, tiny hiccups escaping from behind the mop of unruly hair that conceals most of his face.

Even though you can’t make out his features, you can tell he’s just a kid. A kid who had no family left when he returned, a kid who met the wrong people and got swept up in doing the wrong things. He was a lookout for a store break-in when you finally intercepted the group, and the grown men he was with had no problem turning him into a bargaining chip.

Nothing you haven’t seen before, sadly.

The standoff ended pretty quickly, with the men hauled off to the authorities. Your decision of keeping the little one from getting sent to the youth detention center thankfully didn’t encounter much resistance.

Everybody is too busy to care.

You send him off with a promise to visit once you find time, then take off towards the agency, the short conversation you had with him playing in your head like a record.

“Miss," The little guy meekly muttered in between sniffles. “When will things go back to normal?”

When?

Will they go back to normal?

“I don’t have the answer to that, I’m sorry. But in the meantime we can make the best of our new normal.” You emphasized the last part, but for him or for you, you didn’t know.

And you still don’t. If making the best of your new normal is working yourself to the brink of collapsing then do it all over again the next day, you’re doing great.

As the agency rooftop comes into view, you glance at the clock on your phone. It’s 3:30 AM. Looks like the sleeping bag under your desk is your friend again tonight.

There’s a warm light coming from the small covered patio on one side of the rooftop, and your eyes zone in on the figure sprawled out on the hammock, an open book resting on top of their face. Red and white locks peek out from under the book, or more accurately, the manga volume, now that you’re closer to see it. Broad chest rises and falls in a steady rhythm, the arms resting on it coming along for the ride. You chuckle to yourself as you land. Shouto really does sleep like a mummy.

You lightly tap on the manga volume before lifting a corner of it. “You didn’t go home?”

Shouto squints at you sleepily. “I just finished the report–” He pauses to yawn. “Report backlog. And we have a shift at 7, so I figured it wasn’t worth it. Plus,” He picks up the manga and tosses it onto the coffee table nearby. “This is surprisingly comfortable. Here, try it out.”

Shouto slightly scoots over and stretches out the fabric to make space.

You should’ve known how much of an ordeal it is to get into a hammock with another person already in it. It takes a lot of maneuvering not to fall directly on top of your friend, but in the end you still end up smushed against Shouto’s left side. Despite that, he was right, this is terribly comfy.

The stretchy fabric cocoons you in like a swaddle, the cool night breeze gently caresses your skin, which you don’t mind too much cause the heat emanating from Shouto is more than enough to ward off the chills.

“Ten out of ten.” You conclude, eyelids growing heavier. Maybe all that overtime is catching up to you.

* * * * *

“But they look so cute!”

“I don’t give a shit, they’re about to be late.”

The sound of aggressive whispers pulls you away from your dreamless slumber.

Daylight greets you through your eyelids, as you register a certain weight draped over your side and some humid warm breeze fanning your forehead. Your bleary eyes open to find yourself face to face with a white T-shirt covered broad chest, and it dawns on you. You and Shouto both fell asleep on the hammock last night.

Groggily tilting your head up, you find Shouto already awake. His dual colored eyes are focused elsewhere, indicating that he’s listening in on the whispering match happening behind him.

“I’m going to wake them up.”

“Wait, Touya no!”

The hushed tone does nothing to hide the very distinct voices of Hawks and Touya, clearly being at odds (as usual) about letting their employees snooze on premise.

Shouto finally notices your stirring, and the cool arm that was lazily resting on your side curls in ever so slightly.

“Wait.” He speaks, voice low enough for only you to hear. “I want to see if we stay still, they're going to let us sleep in.”

Soft as his murmuring is, it still reverberates through his chest and onto you, and you try your hardest not to squirm at the proximity. In your still-freshly-out-of-a-relationship brain, hugs are different from cuddles. Not that you’d ever shy away from your best friend who mostly shows his affection through non-verbal cues (the majority of them is touch), cuddling with someone who’s not your boyf–, well, ex-boyfriend, is some sort of line you haven’t brought yourself to cross.

It’s a sort of intimacy that you didn’t know you longed for until this very moment, but god if it isn’t intimidating at the same time. Like standing in the sand staring out at the azure of the ocean, its calm waves gently ebbing and flowing around your feet, urging you to follow them into the depth.

Should you let them lead you further into its water, when you know what drowning in a stormy sea feels like?

You look up at Shouto, and find the ocean staring back at you from his left eye.

Its serene surface seems to glitter under the cloudless sky, featherlight breeze nudging its ripples ashore.

It’s so, so different from the crashing ocean of molten lava you used to call home.

‘You okay?’ Shouto mouths the words, puzzled by the way your eyes are trained on him but your mind is clearly elsewhere. His hand presses gently on your back, his thumb patiently draws small circles atop your spine, letting you take your time coming down from whatever plane of existence you find yourself on.

The world comes back into focus as you mutter an unconvincing ‘yeah’. As Shouto searches your face for the real answer, the bickering between Hawks and Touya is getting louder.

“Look how cozy they are!”

“Oh yeah? Cozy huh?” Touya then amps up his volume, like he really wants you two to hear this last part. “Cozy on the same hammock you got a blowjob on last week?”

You’ve never flown away from anything so fast.

Looking down, you catch a glimpse of Shouto scrambling off the apparently tainted fabric with a huffed ‘nope’, before you both turn towards Touya, who’s now doubling over in laughter, one arm holding on to a mortified Hawks and the other clutching his stomach.

“For the record,” Hawks exasperatedly yanks Touya’s collar like a momma cat to set the silver haired man upright. “He was just saying that to get a reaction out of you.”

“You knew we were awake the whole time?” You land back down in front of the two intruders.

“Uh, yeah. Birdy didn’t have these for nothing.” Touya reaches back to pluck a wonky looking feather out of Hawks’ wings and waves it in your face.

You can see Hawks visibly fights back a shudder. For a former spy, he sure seems to lose the grip on his reactions a lot when it comes to Touya. You decide to file the thought away to investigate later.

“Why were you two brats canoodling up here anyway?”

You sputter a barely audible ‘were not’ while Shouto finally approaches you three.

“We came off our shifts late last night. Going home would take too long.”

“It’s not the first time we’ve slept over at work.” You shrug, with a concurring nod from Shouto. “I’ll stick to my sleeping bag next time though, the blowjob hammock–”

“It’s not–” Hawks starts to protest.

“The Schrodinger blowjob hammock is all yours.” You cut him off, not entirely convinced by either of them.

“No luck on the apartment hunt?” Touya finally pipes down once you’ve mentioned your sleeping bag. He disguises it well, but some remnants of concern still slip through in his voice.

“Not in this area.” Shouto shakes his head.

“Not even studios? I mean by the look of it y’all have no problem sharing a bed.” Touya smirks, his teasing lilt creeping back in.

“Touya, can you not?” You frown, warning him to knock it off.

A faint wave of heat hits your side for a brief second before disappearing completely. You turn toward it but you’re met with nothing, just Shouto scratching lightly at his left arm. The poor guy must’ve got some bug bites last night.

“Hey, Touya…” Hawks quietly calls out to the blue flame user.

Touya turns to look at the winged man and seems to immediately recognize the look in his eyes. They proceed to have a back and forth exclusively through eye contact and unreadable facial expressions for about a minute long before Touya rolls his eyes and concedes.

He grumbles something about the blond's ‘bleeding heart’ then gestures to his feathered roommate(?) to go ahead, to which Hawks mouths a quick ‘thank you’ before turning to you and Shouto.

“You guys can come live with us while you look!” He chirps a little too excitedly, before reeling it back. “If you want to, of course. We have a spare bedroom and an office that we rarely use, and it’s only five minutes from here.”

Five minutes of commute is a dream. You’d be sad to part with Fuyumi’s cooking, but some extra hours of sleep every night sounds downright heavenly. You’d be foolish to refuse.

You look over to Shouto. “I’m down, you?”

“Likewise.” He nods, mind already made up since the moment you perked up at Hawks’ offer.

“Well, you’d better be.” Touya looks up from his phone. “Cause I already told my assistant to print some spare keys.”

* * * * *

Patrol is surprisingly slow today. Even evil is somewhat thwarted by inclement weather, you think. The rain spell has been unkind, thunder haunting the heavy grey sky above. You opt to walk, not taking the chance with the stray bolts that stretch the heavens every few minutes or so. You’ve been zapped by Denki before, while he was doing a Thor bit, and you’re not in a rush to experience it again.

The hood of your costume is waterproof, but it doesn’t help much since the frigid and earthy droplets of rain are coming from all directions, hitting your face like toy gun pellets and leaving a sheen of dripping water on your hair.

Step by soggy step, you trudge through the unusually barren streets. There’s only two minutes left on the clock when you hear the sound of water rushing gets louder and louder. You press forward, until you literally can’t hear anything else.

The man made waterfall at the entrance of the Memorial Park greets you, in all its deafening glory. You heard it was supposed to represent the flow of time as people move forward, or something like that. The flow of time seems obscenely intrusive, you think.

You head into the park, and you realize this is the first time you’ve stepped foot in here. Usually you would observe it from above, the long rows of dark granite looking like dots as you pass by. But now that you’re here, the maze of stone columns dwarf you, standing at least eight feet high. Rows and rows of letters are etched onto them, spelling out what must be millions of names in alphabetical order.

Names of those who disappeared during the Blip.

You carefully scale the letters, searching. People must have started coming here and crossing their name out, as you find multiple names with different levels of chicken scratch lines over them. Withering bouquets lay along the path, water pooling on their plastic wrapping.

All of the sudden, the rain stops pelting you, as the shadow of an umbrella appears above your head. Turning to find its owner, you come face to face with a pair of crimson eyes.

“It’s over there.” He tilts his head toward the north side of the park, and starts walking. You wordlessly follow.

You fall into steps with the man you’ve been trying to avoid for the past couple of months, and you mentally clutch your wound, praying it doesn’t reopen.

Katsuki is wearing civilian clothes, simple joggers and a plain tee shirt and some rain boots. On the hand he’s holding the umbrella with, a silver band decorates his ring finger. You have to physically tear your eyes from the sight.

He traverses the maze of stone like a seasoned navigator, knowing exactly where to turn and how many steps to take. Soon enough, you both stop in front of what you’re looking for.

It doesn’t take you long to find your name. It’s at eye level, and you feel like it’s staring right back at you. Katsuki too, is peering at you through the faint reflection on the stone.

“I um…” He clears his throat. “I can find you a rock, or something. So you can scratch it out.”

“You’re encouraging vandalism now?” You look back at him through the reflection and joke, though it’s humorless.

“It’s a grave for the living.” He shrugs. “’s lost its meaning.”

“You know, the last time someone was talking in symbolism, you gave them shit for it.”

He’s quiet for a moment, before saying. “That was five years ago.”

Upon hearing his reply, you turn to look at him. Not through a grainy or blurry reflection. Not distorted by relief or rage or frustration. Truly, truly look at him this time.

The silhouette of the Katsuki you know is still firmly there, but like colors that bleed over the line, there are parts you no longer recognize. You’re reminded again that five years of layers have been added to the puzzle that is Katsuki, the puzzle you had a hand in breaking apart.

Did he heal alone? Or did his new lover help put the pieces back together?

You watch the fissure between you and him grow wider, and you desperately want to latch on to the other side and hold it close.

But you can’t. You’re too late. You’d fall into the crack if you keep trying to hold on.

“I think I’ll leave it be for now.” You turn your gaze back to the letters in front of you.

It’s a grave after all, and some parts of you did die. Perhaps when you’re not in mourning anymore, you’ll come back and scrape it away from existence.

Perhaps one day.

#todoroki shouto #shoto todoroki #todoroki shoto x reader #todoroki x reader #shoto x reader #shouto x reader #bakugou katsuki #bakugou x reader #mha #bnha #mha x reader #bnha x reader #hawks #keigo takami #dabi #touya todoroki #mcu

47 notes · View notes

serapheemz · 3 months ago

Text

⤑ Okinawa, Interrupted

SYNOPSIS: Not even vacation is an escape from Dazai's antics. Will our pitable Kunikida ever catch a break?

CW: Missionary, Porn with Plot, Crackfic, Porn with feelings, Osamu Dazai is an asshole, Making out, bottom!Osamu Dazai, top!Kunikida Doppo, Love/ Hate relationship, Drunk sex, Anal sex, YAOI!!!!!

WORD COUNT: 4,451

Kunikida always says, “Without hard work, what grows is nothing but weeds.” And for him, at least, it’s true. Dazai, on the other hand, just brushes off his nagging, especially when he’s scolded for slacking off. But sometimes, after working so hard, growing a few weeds isn’t the worst thing in the world—particularly if you can smoke them.

It’s obvious who really needs a vacation in the agency.

Somehow, with whatever budget they managed to scrape together—because honestly, they have no idea how they even found an affordable place to stay in Okinawa of all places (Ranpo insisted on something exotic)—they ended up with at least six rooms.

Which was fine. It was honestly more than fine. At least they got to go on vacation, together, as a ‘family’.

But could anyone named Kunikida ever truly relax with a bandage-squandering machine like Dazai around? The simple answer is always ‘no.’

Don’t get Kunikida wrong—Dazai can be introspective and even genuine when he wanted to be. But God, did he love getting on the blond man’s nerves. One could call it Dazai’s passion, his true calling in this desolate life he so desperately tries to escape. And that, by the way, gave Kunikida more of a headache than he already had when he woke up in the morning to call Dazai—just to make sure he’d survived the night. He couldn’t forget his partner, after all. What good would it be to lose him?

Perhaps Kunikida didn’t despise Dazai as much as he let on. Perhaps, in his own way, he felt some tenderness for him.

T’was hot out. No, probably just humid.

Kunikida set his bags down on the hardwood floor of his room. Simple, not particularly spacious, but good enough for what they’d paid. The blue bed in the corner caught the early rays of the sun, basking in the soft glow of dawn. It was still early—barely 9 AM—which meant he had a long day ahead. Whether that was a good thing or not, he couldn’t say.

Kunikida sat down, legs crossed, his back impossibly straight as always, and pulled out his notebook.

The hundreds of little details scratched his brain in a way only a man as weird as him could understand. His eyes skimmed each note with practiced precision, ensuring his first day of vacation would be anything but perfect—while also making a mental note to make sure none of the other agency members bother the president. He deserved rest the most.

Then he read the most important rule: ‘Don’t let that idiot Dazai ruin what you have planned.’

It felt like a cursed artifact, and reading it out loud was like summoning the man himself—the actual moron.

“Yoo, Kunikida-kun!” A loud shriek blasted into Kunikida’s eardrums. He snapped his notebook closed, set it down, and got up to greet the brunette standing in his doorway—swaying on his feet like a damsel in distress. He swore he could feel his blood pressure spiking.

“Ah, there you are,” the mummy beamed. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere! Why’re you hiding? We’re heading to the beach soon~”

Kunikida sighed, pushing his glasses up with a finger. Dazai almost grimaced. Everything Kunikida did was with precision.

“I’m aware,” Kunikida muttered, clicking his tongue. “Naomi informed me. There’s no need to scream at the top of your lungs for the whole house to hear, Dazai.”

“Then get ready! You see, I’m already ready.” Dazai made a show of it, dramatically flaunting his bright blue and yellow Hawaiian shirt—one he’d gotten for God knows how little yen from some elderly lady he probably ripped off. “It must suck being so slow.”

Kunikida blinked. “Are you planning on swimming with your bandages on? They’ll get wet, you’ll have to change at least ten times a day, and you’re far too lazy for that.”

Dazai looked down at his bandaged arms, smuggly adding, “Do not fret! I might slack off at work, but I’m dilligent in the art of changing my bandages.”

Kunikida turned around to place a neat stack of clothes into the dark wooden closet, “Whatever you say.”

“See you soon, Kunikidaaaaa…” Dazai spun around on his heel and dashed off into the corridor.

And that’s how the nightmare began.

It must’ve been a fly, that’s what Kunikida thought when he saw small black things fly into various corners of the beach from his peripheral vision.

But he’s at the beach, with the agency. With Dazai. So it’s never that simple.

In his feigned delusion, he continues believing flies are somehow bigger than a thumb, flying across the beach’s landscape, just to ignore the searing hot pain of a black rock smacking into the side of his head.

“Oops!” the walking ‘don’t do this at home’ warning yelped, “Sorry, Kunikida, your big head is just soooo hard to miss. I do apologise!”

Kunikida’s hand eagerly grabbed the fallen rock and flung it back, knocking Dazai straight in between his eyes. The missed punchline fell back dramatically, flailing his hand over his forehead, like a little girl.

Another instance involved Dazai’s sudden interest in Okinawa’s supposed ‘cultural’ traditions. The word ‘cultural’ being in quotation marks because everything he said was bullshit.

He tried to convince Kunikida that the Okinawan inhabitants practiced a sacred ritual capable of curing any physical pain. Skeptical, but still intrigued, Kunikida gave in. After all, he did trust Dazai, even if that trust gave him severe migraines. And, truthfully, his back pain was becoming unbearable from the constant piles of work he had to do every damn day.

Kunikida sat silently, watching Dazai and Kyouka circle him with the same black rocks he had just thrown at him moments earlier. It wasn’t until the bandaged bastard began placing rocks on his nipples that Kunikida snapped, finally realizing he’d been fooled—somewhat. After being asked to justify his actions, Dazai merely shrugged, feigning innocence and falsely victimising himself, wailing at Kunikida that it was just how the ritual was! When, in fact, no such ritual existed.

Kunikida’s last straw was Dazai pouring wet sand in between his toes while he was sunbathing. That situation ended with Dazai diving head first into the sandy waters.

Did throwing Dazai into the ocean backfire? Of course it did. Kunikida ended up having to drag him out after he tried to drown himself, all while Dazai blabbled about the supposed benefits of immersing oneself in the Pacific Ocean.

Thankfully, the agency’s little beach trip was over. After a grueling four… no, five hours in the blistering heat, accompanied by Dazai’s buffoonery, Kunikida was spent.

His head felt like it was spinning. He couldn’t catch a break from the sight, presence, and sound of him. Dazai, Dazai, Dazai…

Dinner time! President Fukuzawa decided on grilling meat, and everyone was on board.

The day seemed to fly by. The sun was already setting. Kunikida sank into the soft cushion of his chair, resting his back. Yosano curled a strand of hair around her finger as she walked out onto the terrace, glasses in hand, smiling at Kunikida. “Have a bad first day?”

“…Not bad, just exhausting.”

She laughed, setting the glassware down. “That’s contradictory.”

She bent down to grab a bottle. Upon closer inspection, Kunikida realized it was rum—white rum. Then he noticed a few lemons, ice, and a baggie of mint leaves. She was planning to make cocktails for everyone. How thoughtful.

Yosano poured a generous amount of rum into one of the tall glasses. She cut open a lemon, squeezed it, then cut a slice from one of the halves to use as garnish. Then Yosano added… watermelon juice? Kunikida hummed—perhaps it was a Yosano-style mojito she was trying to make.

She shook and strained it, poured it into another glass, and topped it with club soda. What rigor…

Yosano pushed the glass toward Kunikida, smirking at the skeptical look in his eye. “Watermelon juice?”

“Ranpo doesn’t drink alcohol unless it tastes sweet. It’s good, try it. You need it after a long day of dealing with Dazai’s bullshit.”

There goes his name again. Kunikida went a whole minute without thinking of Dazai. New record.

His loud thoughts were drowned out by the pleasantly refreshing drink, which he almost gulped down instantly, eliciting a surprised hum from Yosano before she snickered and went off to find Ranpo, proudly showcasing the new drink she supposedly invented.

The garden was filled with chatter. The motion around him calmed him. One moment of unity with oneself—

—Until a familiar figure plopped down in front of him, smirking.

“Oiii, Kunikida-kuuuun! Fancy seeing you here.” Dazai sat across from him.

Well, at least he didn’t sit beside him. That would’ve been worse.

“Hello, Dazai.”

Perhaps it was the drink he was sipping on, but Dazai’s voice didn’t annoy him much anymore.

And he hadn’t noticed that the rest of the agency had already sat down and begun eating.

And he couldn’t quite tell what Dazai was hinting at when his foot brushed against Kunikida’s leg.

He hadn’t even noticed Dazai had started drinking with him.

Actions Kunikida would usually make a snappy comeback to suddenly blurred the line between bothersome and enjoyable—bittersweet.

How weird. Dazai never managed to do that. In fact, nobody had. What was he even thinking? He couldn’t tell whether the smirk on Dazai’s drunken lips was the asshole-ish one he usually had or something more seductive.

Seductive. Dazai was seductive.

Yes, he was quite handsome. He admitted it himself once.

Perchance, Kunikida wasn’t wasted. Not yet, at least. He rolled his eyes, nudging Dazai’s elbow.

The brunette hummed, his long lashes fluttering as he blinked at his partner, then looked away, trying to pull his attention from the wry smile forming on his lips.

He wasn’t sure if Kunikida’s cheeks were so red from the alcohol or his ministrations. What if his own face betrayed his thoughts?

“Did Kunikida-kun have a nice day at the beach today?”

“I’m finally relaxing, Dazai, don’t spoil my mood.”

Dazai’s arm wrapped around his shoulders, pulling him closer. “Oh, maaaaan! You’re no fun, Kunikida! I bet if you loosened up a bit, you’d have lots of fun,” he teased.

“The reason I’m not having fun is because of your constant presence.”

Dazai gasped in faux-awe, whining as he dramatically flipped his hair. “Must you be so cruel?! I have done nothing but indulge you in my fun endeavors! You’re the ungrateful one, Kunikida! Pu, pu, pu.”

Kunikida pinched Dazai’s ear, dragging him close in a way that would make any sober onlooker question their relationship status. Dazai wailed happily, giggling as Kunikida let go and shoved his face away.

“I’ve had enough of you, Dazai.” He abruptly stood up, slurring his words, and proceeded to storm inside like a toddler throwing a tantrum. It was an unusual sight for the agency’s ensemble. They turned their heads to Kunikida, who waved goodbye. “Goodnight, everyone. Have a great rest of your nights... I am heading to—sleep,” he murmured.

Dazai blinked. Everyone looked toward him.

“Is he drunk already?” Yosano tilted her head, amused, as she poured herself another glass of red wine.

“Yup.” Dazai answered.

“I take it this is your doing, Dazai?” Fukuzawa raised an eyebrow.

“No. Yosano poured him the drink,” he pointed to the dark-haired woman. She confirmed with a quick nod before responding.

“But you pissed him off.”

Dazai giggled, waving his hands comically before getting up. “It’s fineeee… I’ll go calm him down!” He gave them a thumbs-up before rushing inside.

A moment of silence followed.

“He’s drunk, too,” Ranpo observed.

“Yeah,” Yosano added.

—

Dazai, Dazai, Dazai…

Kunikida’s head was bursting with warmth. It felt like one of his usual headaches, but softer, more diffuse—less sharp and intense.

He leaned against his closet and pushed his bangs out of his face. His eyes rolled towards the shadowy figure standing in his doorway, quietly observing him before making himself known. His footsteps so heavy they held some sort of meaning that Kunikida couldn’t figure out right now—not in this state.

Dazai didn’t seem very sober either.

His arms snaked around his waist pulling him off the closet, gently nudging him further into the room.

“Why’d ya run off on me like that, Kunikida? I thought you enjoyed my company…” he pouted, tracing his finger against the taller man’s arm.

Dazai frowned at the lack of a reaction. Usually, when teased through physical means, Kunikida reacted brashly, often times resorting to slapping, choking, punching and throwing Dazai over his shoulder with a strength he didn’t know his co-worker possessed.

“I thought I told you to buzz off. I’ve had enough of your tomfoolery.”

“‘Buzz off’?” Dazai laughed, “What’re we? Twelve? If so, I’m not gonna! If you really wanted me to buzz off, you’d have long dragged me out yourself.”

Kunikida let out a long, exasperated sigh. The heat in his head spread into a pink flush on his cheeks. It must be the alcohol. No way this idiot’s hands fondling him so vulgarly made his mind and heart teeter like this—on the brink of something he couldn’t quite recognise, something he understood, perhaps, but refused to admit to.

Dazai was right, in any case. Why was he hesitating? Why wouldn’t he just take matters into his own hands like he always did?

Two questions he wouldn’t ever have the chance to answer, because Dazai’s hand already wandered down to the pockets of his neon colored swimming trunks he hadn’t bothered to change out of. It slipped right in, teasingly daubing above the thinly clothed area.

“May I apologize for today? I can make it up to you.” he leaned into his ear, brushing the blond strands aside, “You’re already shaking, either way. I know you’ll get off by yourself the second I leave, anyway.”

He tensed, but remained unmoving. Dazai continued, “I know you want this. Denying it is useless. Your muscles are tense, your face is red and you’re hard… I can feel it through your shorts. Take that stick out of your ass, and have fun for once—I beg of you, Kunikida.”

Dazai’s hand ran along the curvature of Kunikida’s neck, pressing his calloused thumb to the pulse beneath his skin. For a moment, there was nothing but the faintest brush of contact, and the world stilled.

The brunette pushed himself off Kunikida, circling around him with a finger tracing the sharp line of his jaw before flopping down onto the mattress, less soft than he’d expected. He crossed one leg over the other, peering up between his messy bangs, a few strands clinging to his forehead, damp with the faint sheen of sweat that kissed his skin.

“So?—”

“You’re… out of your mind, Dazai.” Kunikida raised his hand, trying to shake it dismissively, but Dazai caught his wrist, itching him closer to the bed, pulling him in.

“Don’t you want this?”

“Sleeping with your co-workers is h—highly unprofessional—”

“But you want this?”

“Yes-! No… I mean… I guess so, but not really—”

“Did I make the great Kunikida stutter? How cute.” he added, swiftly bringing Kunikida’s hand to his face, pressing his cheek into it.

It was comforting. Kunikida’s hands were bigger than his, but his palms weren’t nearly as weathered—despite all the work he did daily, despite the countless missions he’d go on that Dazai would pass up, deeming them far too simple for ‘a mind as great as his own.’

“I want a yes or no. If you say no, I’m outta here as fast as I came in—”

“Yes.”

Dazai let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, his impatient leer now replaced by a smug smile. His hand reached out to craddle Kunikida’s cheek, caressing his temples with his thumb.

“Have you ever done this?”

“Sex? I think that’s none of your concern…”

Dazai smiled.

“I just wanted to ask if you had any hard no’s I had to beware of… So rude, Kunikida-kun…” he sighed, playfully pushing the blond hair tickling his ears back.

He leaned into the mattress, further pulling Kunikida in by both his face and the blue collar of his blouse. He carefully observed the look on his partner’s face—from how concentrated he was to the sweat dribbling down his forehead. He was so close. His lips ghosted his own, and they were parted, taking in shallow breaths he subconsciously held.

What a nervous wreck—even when he’s drunk.

Dazai leaned in, pressing a light, airy peck to Kunikida’s lips. The spark in Kunikida’s eyes flickered, a quiet reaction before Dazai pulled back. Then, without missing a beat, he kissed him again, pressing into it with more meaning. Then another followed, his teeth grazing Kunikida’s bottom lip, just enough to make him gasp. And all the while, he could feel the hard press of Kunikida’s erection against his pelvis as their lips met again.

Kunikida greedily gripped Dazai's legs, which were wrapped tightly around his waist, pulling him in, desperately. He spread them wider, making room for himself to move. He pushed his hand against his face, muffling his desperate whines as he leaned into his neck, craning it to press his face into it.

Dazai smelled intoxicating—in an unusual way. His cologne mingled with his sweat and the sea salt that clung to his skin, remnants of the ocean dive Kunikida forced him to take earlier that day.

Kunikida dug his fingers into Dazai’s hair, inhaling sharply, his scent invading his senses. He subconsciously rocked his hips into Dazai’s, whining, lips grazing his bandaged neck—almost like he was too scared to continue his caress.

“Keep going…” the other man groaned, desperately clutching onto Kunikida’s hips.

It was only then that a bell rang in his mind—Kunikida had finally, impossibly, managed to render Dazai vulnerable. An event that would probably never take place ever again.

It was such a rush of confidence, it made him press his lips into Dazai’s neck, reaching his hand up so he could pathetically scratch at the bandages covering the area—searching for the perfect spot to kiss.

Dazai’s hand wrapped around his, squeezing it gently between his bony fingers. He gazed up at Kunikida through half-lidded eyes, his skin so hot to the touch. It must’ve been the alcohol. Kunikida hummed, his voice soft, "I’m sorry. Is that a no-go?

Dazai didn’t answer, only slowly blinking and getting up further to cup his cheeks with his palms, smooching him again. Kunikida could only assume Dazai didn’t want the bandages to come off, not in any case.

In an attempt to initiate something deeper, Dazai’s hand fumbled toward Kunikida’s shorts, his fingers tugging at the silly strings in a needy, slightly uncoordinated, playful frenzy. He peppered smooches down to Kunikida’s jawline and neck, sucking a dark hickey into his skin before pulling back to marvel at his masterpiece. If they were sober, they might’ve actually cared. Especially Kunikida. He was the master of professionalism—how could he possibly show up in a group setting with love bites on his neck? That would give people the wrong impression.

But the way he looked at Dazai, as if he were a beautiful muse waiting to be ravished, told an entirely different story.

“I want it. C’moooon, Kunikida-kuuunn… pleaaase?” he whined, dragging out the words impatiently.

Kunikida groaned, furrowing his eyebrows, and reached to unbutton Dazai’s shorts, pulling them down testily. His hand palmed the wet patch that marked Dazai’s growing erection, leaning in to push his thumb in his mouth to quiet his bold mewls.

He hauled his boxers down and grasped Dazai’s dick, wrapping his index finger and thumb around his aching shaft, hiking his legs up and pressing him further up the mattress to hush him up.

Dazai’s hip rocked against nothing, trying to meet Kunikida’s as he tried to push his own shorts off, pressing his cock against Dazai’s, inching closer to his ear to kiss it. He smirked, tracing his finger along Kunikida’s chest, eyeing his dick, “So clean~ I should’ve known you like to trim yourself.” he slurred.

Kunikida rolled his eyes.

Dazai was so kissable. He never even realised it.

Everything about him was perfect. The shape of his face, his sharp jawline, the arch of his nose, and even his arms—bandaged though they were—brought a sense of warmth through him. His brown hair and the way his bangs got in his eyes sometimes, the way it framed his face made him seem like he was one of the prettiest people Kunikida had ever met.

Or maybe it was the alcohol talking. He wouldn’t know till morning, either way.

“Fill me up, c’mon, c’mon…” he murmured, arching his back just to feel him closer.

Kunikida didn’t argue. Why would he?

He pressed the tip of his cock against Dazai’s ass. Dazai enveloped him using his arm, sneaking his fingers into his blond locks, pressing his lips into Kunikida’s messily, scrunching his face as Kunikida slowly pushed his tip inside. No preparation, no lube. Dazai would regret skipping foreplay almost entirely in the morning. Now was no time to think, though.

He nearly bottomed out, biting down onto his lip and cursing quietly, finding Dazai’s gaze again.

“Oh—fuck…” he moaned, Dazai’s tight walls squeezing impossibly tight around him.

“That… good?” Dazai asked, biting back a groan as Kunikida rolled his hips experimentally.

“…Yes, it’s amazing…”

“Keep going, then.”

And Kunikida did.

The smack of his hips against Dazai’s ass was so loud, he was physically taken aback. It sounded so needy, so desperate for release, to feel him, to hear him.

To be engulfed in his embrace—because Dazai’s arms hewed so tightly around the arc of Kunikida’s neck, and his fingers buried themselves so deeply within the strands of his hair that it felt like Dazai was melting into him. He pressed hot, open-mouthed kisses and smooches to Kunikida’s adam’s apple, and shook every time his hips met the other’s.

It was such a shame Dazai’s moans were so loud—Kunikida wished he didn’t have to cover his mouth, to stifle the desperate cries, because Dazai’s voice was just so pretty. Befitting a man like him.

“Quiet down…” he begged.

“Why? Are you embarrassed? Scared—ngh—someone might hear?” Dazai uttered between moans.

Kunikida pressed his nose into Dazai’s cheek, nuzzling the side of his face so lightly, it felt like his tender caress brought him closer.

Closer.

His hand fell from his hair onto Kunikida’s arm. His muscles tensed and relaxed under his touch, repeatedly, and he shifted it to easily grab onto his shoulders, gripping with strength Kunikida had no idea Dazai even had. He groaned into his ear, thrusting so deep that Dazai’s ears rang and his vision flashed white for just a split second.

“Mnh… nghah, Kunikida-kun…” he pathetically gasped. It struck Kunikida in the heart, hearing Dazai’s yelps of pleasure. His eyes shut tightly as he took a hold of his cock, slowly stroking, pressing his thumb against the tip, and when Dazai’s back arched, Kunikida pressed the softest of kisses to his neck. “No, I’m close… I’m so close… not yet, not yet…” he whimpered, pressing his curled up fists against Kunikida’s chest, but he made no effort to try to push him away, instead using his legs to pull him further in.

“No matter…” he huffed, “You’ll finish either way…”

Kunikida searched for any sign of discomfort in Dazai’s glossy eyes, and found none. Instead met with his partner’s mouth agape, a sliver of drool trickling down his chin as he tried to look Kunikida in the eye.

The stimulation Kunikida’s hand offered Dazai brought him so impossibly close to the edge, he couldn’t tell if he was teetering on it or had already finished—his mind left a foggy mess. He couldn’t focus on anything besides Kunkida and how he fucked him so arduously yet so gently.

Dazai’s hips lifted off the mattress, and he brought Kunikida’s hand to his mouth in an attempt to conceal the humiliating sounds escaping him. His entire body burned.

“…’m gonna—” he gasped, “—so close…”

“C’mon…” Kunikida breathed, his fingers curling around Dazai’s wrists as he pressed them firmly against the bed, pinning them down with his entire body weight.

The overwhelming sensation of Dazai’s impending climax crested, a wave of pleasure breaking over him in an instant of release. His eyes fluttered shut, rolling back as his hands strained against Kunikida’s grip, futilely trying to break free. Kunikida fucked him through his orgasm, the feeling of his weight crushing him igniting sparks of heat across Dazai’s skin. Dazai gasped, his breath sharp and shallow, as white streaks of fluid painted an image so unforgettable on his stomach—it spoke a thousand words to Kunikida, the rawness of it leaving him breathless. The sight was so alluring, so intimate, that it had Kunikida doubled over, thrusting one last time, finishing deep inside, and collapsing on top of the brunette, hand still holding his wrists firmly in place.

Silence.

One could call it peace. But no peace exists when Dazai’s around. No matter how intimate the moment, he always finds a way to ruin it."

“Oh, you've filled me, Kunikida-kun!” Dazai giggled, breaking free from Kunikida’s grasp, his hand flailing drunkenly in his face.

“Not now, Dazai,” Kunikida groaned, wiping a hand over his face.

Dazai pressed his fingers into Kunikida’s cheek, smiling like a fool at the expression on his face.

Kunikida couldn't help but notice how tired Dazai looked, still handsome in his exhaustion. He wasn’t so sure anymore if alcohol was the sole culprit for his sudden attraction. Perhaps he’d always liked Dazai, but was too tired of his antics to realise it.

He brushed the hair from Dazai’s forehead, the strands sticking to his damp skin.

The air in the room felt heavy, thick with the scent of sweat and Kunikida’s cologne. They could barely breathe in it.

Kunikida reluctantly pulled out, cleaning himself up before trudging to the balcony. He swung the door open, letting the cool breeze wash over him. His limbs felt heavy, and his eyelids ached with fatigue.

“Pull your pants up, Dazai. I opened the window…” But when he looked back, Dazai had passed out, already snoring softly on the bed, his limbs sprawled out comically.

Kunikida sighed, deciding it wasn’t worth getting worked up over. He slipped into bed beside Dazai, closing his eyes with a quiet, resigned breath. He'd deal with it tomorrow.

#bsd smut #bsd #kunizai #kunikida bsd #kunikida doppo #osamu dazai #bsd dazai #bungo stray dogs smut #bungo stray dogs #bsd manga #bsd anime

45 notes · View notes

religion-is-a-mental-illness · 21 days ago

Text

By: Elizabeth Weiss

Published; Jan 17, 2025

Biological anthropology and archaeology are facing a censorship crisis. Censorship can be defined simply as the suppression of speech, public communication, or information, often because it is deemed harmful or offensive. It can be enforced by government agencies or private institutions. Even self-censorship is increasingly prevalent, such as when an author decides not to publish something due to fear of backlash from their colleagues, or the belief that their findings may cause harm.

In these fields, censorship is primarily driven by professional associations like the American Anthropological Association (AAA) and the California Society for Archaeology, academic journals (often produced by these associations) such as Bioarchaeology International, universities, and museums, including the Smithsonian National Museum of Natural History. The focus of this censorship largely involves the suppression of images—including X-rays and CT-scans—of human remains and funerary objects, which are artifacts found in graves.

Biological anthropologists, such as bioarchaeologists (who study human remains from the archaeological record), have historically used photos and X-rays of skeletal remains and mummies to explore disease patterns of past peoples, teach new methods of age estimation and sex identification, and attract new students to the field of biological anthropology. Archaeologists use photos of artifacts to facilitate comparisons with other artifacts, aid in reconstructing past cultures, and explore topics like the peopling of the Americas, prehistoric trade patterns, and the emergence of new technologies. These are just a few of the many ways images have been used in the field.

Yet, in recent years, the use of photos of human remains and artifacts has faced increasing censorship. For example, the guidelines of the Society for American Archaeology (SAA) and its journals state: “Out of respect for diverse cultural traditions, photographs of full or explicit human remains are not accepted for publication in any SAA journal.”

Additionally, they add that “line drawings or other renderings of human remains may be an acceptable substitute for photographs.” In other words, they also may not be acceptable! So, the photo on the left would definitely not be accepted in SAA journals, and the image on the right may or may not be accepted.

In conference bookrooms, books featuring covers with photos or realistic images of bones are now being rejected for display. Ironically, just ten years ago, my cover photo from Paleopathology in Perspective: Bone Health and Disease through Time was so popular that someone stole the poster from the SAA conference bookroom. Just three years later, however, the SAA wouldn’t allow my publisher to buy advertising space using the cover of my book Reading the Bones: Activity, Biology, and Culture. Now, even realistic images of human remains are shunned! Somehow, I doubt my latest book, On the Warpath: My Battles with Indians, Pretendians, and Woke Warriors, will make it into any anthropology or archaeology conference bookrooms either!

Southeastern Archaeology, the journal of the Southeastern Archaeological Conference, has implemented a policy that it “will no longer publish photographs of funerary objects/belongings.” This is an expansion of their previous policy against publishing photographs of human remains. They now add that “in lieu of photographs, authors may choose to include line drawings or other representations of funerary objects/belongings.” This decision was initially made without member input, leading go backlash against the decision. However, after a discussion and a vote, the censorship was upheld. Majority rule is no way to run a scientific organization—which should be done on adherence to the principles and methodologies of science!

Not to be outdone by the southeastern archaeologists, the Society for California Archaeology (SCA) declared that “NO depictions of the remains of any specific person, regardless of ancestry, are to be included in any presentations, including photographs, drawings, X-rays, 3-D models, etc.” So, forget displaying any historic figures such as the mummy of Lenin, the death mask of Ishi, or the skeletal remains of Joseph Merrick (also known as the Elephant Man, who taught many people that physical deformity does not equate to a lack of intelligence). This restriction even extends to individuals like Jeremy Bentham, a professor from London College, who explicitly requested his preserved body be displayed, illustrating the breadth of these new policies. All of these and many others are now strictly off limits!

While banning photos, the SCA does permit the use of “[d]iagrams of generic skeletons, bones, teeth, or other body tissues.” Additionally, at their conferences, “[a] caution symbol will be placed next to all presentations discussing human remains in the program and on signage outside the door of the session so that those who wish to avoid this subject matter can easily do so.” Is education truly about avoiding uncomfortable information and materials?

The AAA’s Commission on the Ethical Treatment of Human Remains has ruled that images and digital materials must be treated as parts of bodies—and, thus, not published in any public spaces, including on social media. They state:

The use of images and any other digital materials (e.g. maps or GIS) derived from human tissues or Ancestral remains should be considered as part of the respectful treatment of those whose actual remains are used. This treatment acknowledges that their use should be restricted to defined (and consented) purposes, and that such use should remain confined to a protected, nonpublic space (and should never be displayed on social media or other non-password protected internet sites, including educational sites, and museums).

In other words, even maps constructed with DNA information are now subject to restriction!

They also plan to require members to take an “ethics pledge” to join or renew their membership. This is to ensure that no one goes rogue and shows a human bone in a place where someone might actually see it.

Journals that once served as valuable resources for understanding bone pathology (or disease) are now discarding the most important tool of all—images. Bioarchaeology International now demands “explicit recent permission” from descendants for the use of photos or images of human remains, even if the image were taken before these requirements and had been previously published (often on multiple occasions). These are referred to as “legacy images.” The journal further states that “if no permissions are forthcoming, the manuscripts are not considered for review.” Bioarchaeology International is not alone in censoring the use of legacy images; nearly all peer-reviewed anthropology and archaeology journals now enforce a similar policy.

One exception is the American Association of Biological Anthropology, which publishes the prestigious American Journal of Biological Anthropology. This organization specifies that the requirement to obtain permission for images and data of human remains applies only to new data; “legacy data is not included.” One wonders how long these comparatively ‘courageous’ holdouts will last before caving in. Currently, they have a committee developing a policy on human remains.

The International Journal of Paleopathology specializes in case studies of rare pathologies, where photos are essential to conveying information. The editorial board acknowledges the usefulness of photos, but they also state that:

While careful description of pathological lesions is essential to research in paleopathology, authors are encouraged to consider whether photographs of human remains are critical to the presentation of the research. If not essential, out of respect for descendent communities, they should be replaced with drawings or included as supplementary material. Authors may wish to consult the editor regarding these issues.

Can a line drawing really do justice to the complex and intricate changes that occur on skeletons due to diseases like osteomyelitis (bone infections), osteoarthritis, cribra orbitalia (a sign of anemia), or the various forms of dental disease seen sometimes in a single individual?

Beyond this censorship, institutions are also toeing the ideological line to exclude images of human remains. In September 2023, Penn Museum decided that its inventory would not include such images. And, the renowned Mütter Museum of the College of Physicians of Philadelphia, which aims to educate the public about anatomical medicine and health, has removed all images of human remains from its online database. This includes the image of Carol Orzel, who had specifically wished that her body be displayed to educate others about fibrodysplasia ossificans progressive, the painful, debilitating, and fatal bone and cartilage disease she suffered from.

The Santa Barbara Museum of Natural History issues a warning to anyone who might find human remains: “Never take photos of human remains in our region; that is culturally inappropriate here.” But Santa Barbara is a region that encompasses many cultures, including some Central Mexican communities who do not view photographing human remains as inappropriate, as they celebrate their ancestral past by displaying the dead. For example, Lisa Holtzover and Juan R. Argueta note in their 2017 article that in the central Mexican town of Xaltocan, indigenous residents support archaeological research and the exhibition of ancient human remains. Yet, North American academics often criticize their cultural preferences, even while they claim to be decolonizing the field. In their blind adherence to wokeism, academics’ patronizing “we know best” approach towards indigenous peoples who deviate from their narrative exemplifies a white savior complex. Ironically, those who claim to oppose racism in their quest for wokeism are themselves perpetuating it. What next? Should we give Egyptian mummies a Christian burial in the name of decolonization?

Universities, especially in California, have also imposed complete moratoria on the use of human remains images. For example, on August 30, 2023, California State University Bakersfield’s president issued a moratorium that stated:

[T]he university is placing a moratorium on the research, teaching, display, imaging, and circulation of human remains and cultural items (including archival material, notes, movies, and data) that are potentially subject to NAGPRA and CalNAGPRA.

Similarly, on March 26, 2024, the president of California Polytechnic Pomona issued a memorandum stating:

Cal Poly Pomona will consult with Tribes prior to access, use, distribution or display of potentially sensitive or proprietary information. This includes but is not limited to images, renderings, and reproductions of ancestral remains and cultural items that are or have been in a university’s collection.

The universities are dressing up their actions as compliance with national and state reburial laws, yet these laws do not yet ban the use of images. And, from the look of anthropologists’ self-censoriousness and the acts of university presidents, new laws are likely not even necessary to restrict scientific research and educational efforts.

But this isn’t just a US problem. For instance, Uppsala University in Sweden advises that “photographs of human remains from indigenous ethnic groups are not normally to be published.” Similarly, the National Museum of Scotland has put out a statement that “All images of human remains except those that are wrapped have been removed from our online collections database.” At the Smithsonian National Museum of Natural History, this policy resulted in the absurd covering up of a mummy that was wrapped because of the photo behind the mummy contained images of skulls from a forensic collection.

One may wonder what has led to such vast censorship. Progressive anthropologists have decided that images—and, in some cases, data—from human remains and funerary objects cause harm to indigenous peoples. They adopt the narrative from indigenous activists that these images are dangerous, rather than explaining the importance of research and dispelling the notion that societal ills like alcoholism, missing women and children, and poverty stem from evil spirits roaming the earth and wreaking havoc on their lives.

For instance, in a 2020 book chapter on digitizing anthropological collections, Laure Spake and colleagues, citing the Smithsonian’s collaboration with the Tlingit, stated, “the disturbance of Ancestors and their belongings can result in physical danger for the living.” Ironically, the authors used this argument to advocate for 3D scanning and creating replicas to allow for the rapid reburial of human remains as quickly as possible—a viewpoint that is now considered outdated!

At a Native American Graves Protection and Repatriation Act meeting on January 5, 2023, there was a discussion on the deletion of digital data. Even non-fungible tokens (NFTs) were discussed, although those discussing them didn’t even know what they were. During the meeting, Hawaiian Native activists argued that it’s possible to “entice the spirit of someone to inhabit” photos, digital data, and replicas, which they assert can be harmful. Consequently, the tribe opposes making scans and casts.

Larry Zimmerman and Margaret Conkey, in their 2024 article for the SAA Record, argue that control over photos and data should belong to Indigenous communities because it is “respectful” to believe their feelings of harm. In their words, “when someone tells you that what you are saying or doing hurts them and you truly respect them, you will make every effort you can to eliminate or at least to understand the cause of the hurt.”

Furthermore, in the 2024 AAA Ethical Commission on Human Remains, Sabrina Agarwal and her colleagues repeatedly imply that harm will come to descendent communities from research. The term “harm” actually was mentioned 44 times, including in the statement:

As an ethical approach to ethical solutions, the Commission chose to meet with representatives of those most affected by anthropological work with ancestral remains to learn their assessments of how they might be harmed or protected from harm when research and education is considered.

In a 2020 article in Sapiens, Chip Colwell wrote that “photographs of human are problematic because of specific cultural beliefs.” He elaborates that the Navajo, for instance, believe encountering spirits of the dead can sicken those who see them. He helpfully then adds that photos are more harmful than line drawings, 3D scans, or casts.

Also in 2020, Deborah Thomas, then the editor-in-chief of American Anthropologist, selected a photo of Margaret Mead with skulls for an issue featuring a special section on the anthropology of global white supremacy, complete with a republished conversation between Mead and James Baldwin. The image sparked a social media uproar and was said to be violent, racist, and harmful to indigenous and black communities. Thomas, agreeing that the image produced trauma, changed the cover and issued a groveling apology, which included the statement that “We know the role that anthropology has played in the erasure of Indigenous peoples in the Americas through its salvage/savage ethnography project and its continued use of human remains for ‘research’ purposes.”

Unfortunately, by leaving anthropology and archaeology devoid of images of human remains and funerary objects, we will learn less about the past. Legacy data will not be allowed for comparative research, and our next generation of forensic anthropologists will be poorly trained. More troubling is that non-scientists who attribute normal human variation to supernatural or alien influences will continue to captivate young minds with sensational images, drawing them towards pseudoscience instead of a genuine scientific understanding of the world.

Moreover, we should not expect censorship in anthropology and archaeology will be limited to new publications featuring human remains. I have no doubt that woke academics and publishers will start to remove previously-published materials. For example, the University of Florida Press deleted the images from my blog post, “Human Variation: More Than Skin Deep!”—which was intended to promote my book Reading the Bones—two years after its initial publication on their blog.

What is the solution for anthropologists? Woke anthropologists suggest a different mindset is needed. Zimmerman and Conkey argue that archaeologists will be required to abandon “cherished ideas like academic freedom” and “relinquishing complete control, ownership, or even stewardship of excavated materials” to continue working in the field. Additionally, the AAA Commission on the Ethical Treatment of Human Remains would also like to curtail our desire for academic freedom. They write, in a scolding tone, that “Academic freedom is not synonymous with ‘unrestricted access.’ Scholars, educators and museum curators must be responsible to descendants’ concerns for the dignified treatment of their dead.”

Once academic freedom is relinquished and the data—images and all—are in the hands of activist descendant communities, don’t expect new scientific discoveries. Instead, expect woke fairy tales arising out of victim narratives.

Censorship (and self-censorship) of images should not be seen as an isolated issue. It’s symptomatic of a wider pathology afflicting the field. Anthropology is dying. But when it’s finally dead, don’t expect to see a picture of the body!

About the Author

Professor Emeritus of Anthropology at San Jose State University and National Association of Scholars Board Member. Author of On the Warpath: My Battles with Indians, Pretendians, and Woke Warriors.

This is unabashed corruption.

Any organization or institution which implements policies like this must be stripped of all government (i.e. taxpayer) funding. You don't get to implement ideological dogma when the taxpayer is paying for it.

#Elizabeth Weiss #anthropology #archaeology #academic corruption #ideological corruption #woke dogma #wokeness #cult of woke #wokeism #wokeness as religion #woke #academic freedom #corruption #religion is a mental illness

31 notes · View notes

raineandsky · 6 months ago

Note

heyyyy i love your work! could you write about a hero who is given to villain as a gift from supervillain, and although villain is excited his enemy is in his possession at first, he starts to notice the hero is oddly withdrawn. by the time he realizes the hero’s been practically tortured (nothing graphic) by supervillain, he finds himself trying to clean the hero’s wounds. despite his hatred for the other, whatever supervillain did was a step too far. thank you! have a good day 🍀

i hope you have a good day too! thank you for the request as always :)

tw: implied torture/abuse, injury

“Well, I thought [Supervillain] catching you was funny,” the villain says slowly, “but this…”

There’s no words for whatever this is. Old bruises, dried blood. More wounds than the villain dares to count.

Maybe the supervillain’s use of the word ‘catch’ was underselling their part in the hero’s journey here.

The villain had noticed the uncharacteristic quietness, sure, the lack of sharp edges. He’d thought it might be a bruised ego. He thought being gifted the hero meant he got the hero, and not this empty husk that looks like him.

It all makes painful, unfortunate sense.

The villain unties the binds from the hero’s wrists. The hero doesn’t move. “You… you realise you’re not tied down, [Hero],” the villain tries after a second.

The hero glances down at the red raw lines biting his skin. “Yeah.”

The villain stares at him for a long moment. “Okay,” he says shortly. “On your feet.”

The hero lets the villain push him in an awkward shuffle into the bathroom. He watches as the villain rummages through his cupboard, pulls a box down, continues rummaging through that.

“Sit down,” the villain says shortly. “In the bath.”

The hero does as he’s told—a new characteristic, the villain notes—and slumps down in the bathtub. The villain manages to finally wrestle a first aid kit from the box.

“I’ll need you to take your shirt off, okay?” the villain says slowly.

The hero’s expression turns from blank to distressed in a second. “No, I—“

“It’s okay,” the villain cuts in quickly. “I won’t hurt you. I just need to see.”

Eventually, with a bit of gentle pushing, the hero lets the villain tug him out of his shirt. The villain had fully intended to keep his face straight, but he can’t help the gasp of disgust slipping out.

The blood and bruises he saw before are nothing to this. Red tears at every part of the hero’s skin. The villain doesn’t want to look, but if he wants to help he has to face what the supervillain has done.

A small washcloth gets run under the tap, the hero watching distractedly as water seeps into the fabric. The villain carefully sits on the edge of the bath, washcloth wielded in his hand like a shield. “I’m just going to get the worst of it off, [Hero],” he says slowly. The hero glances up at him blankly. “It might sting, but it’s not on purpose, okay?”

This is far from okay, it seems. The hero flinches and fights back tears every time the villain so much as touches him. The villain tries to soothe him as he goes, but he feels a bit like he’s trying to calm a wild animal and that feels unfair on the hero.

The hero looks awful without the blood to cover the worst of it. Bandages are cut and wrapped quickly. The hero sits silently, staring at a spot of scum on the bath in front of him, trembling slightly under the villain’s hands. It’s too much. The villain feels sick.

He has to help the hero out of the bathtub. The man looks like a mummy with how much bandaging the villain has thrown at him, but it should hopefully keep the worst of the damage at bay.

It’s strange, helping his worst enemy in his own home. He hates the hero, despises everything he stands for. But what happened to the word vigilante? What happened to trying to spread the kindnesses the agency refused to afford? The supervillain has gone too far. This is unforgivable.

The villain only has one bedroom in his little house. He offers the hero one of his shirts and sets him in the one bed he has. The hero, from the nervous glancing about and wringing hands, doesn’t like it.

“What—” The words catch on nothing. He clears his throat quickly. “What’s the catch?”

The villain stares at him blankly for a moment. Jesus Christ. “There’s no catch,” he manages after a moment. “I’m trying to help you get better.”

The hero looks more horrified by this. “Why?”

“So you don’t die? I’m not a monster, [Hero].”

The hero’s face scrunches up like he’s going to cry. “O—Okay…”

The villain steers him under the covers as he snivels and breathes in shuddering breaths.

“Some sleep will help,” the villain offers from the doorway. “If it helps, you can lock the door from the inside.”

He taps the chunky lock on the handle, and the hero nods. With a quick, slightly awkward goodnight, the villain lets himself out, and a few seconds later he hears the clunk of the lock turning on the door.

He flops down on the sofa with a sigh. He wasn’t intending to sleep here tonight, but the supervillain’s never been one to respect other people’s plans. It’s hard, dipping in places with use, the cushions paper thin from years of sitting on them.

The villain has always hated the agency. He certainly hates the hero. But laying on his uncomfortable sofa, his own bedroom occupied by an injured, traumatised hero, he kind of feels like he hates the supervillain more.

#creative writing #writblr #writers on tumblr #writing #writing community #heroes and villains #hero x villain #tw implied torture #tw implied abuse #tw injury #yall i applied to 9 jobs yesterday'#and it took me 1 1/2 hours to apply to two #i think if this brings up nothing im just gonna go ahead and become a hermit in the mountains #live off the land. have some goats. never work for money again #sounds like a dream

105 notes · View notes

frozenoj · 4 months ago

Text

Psych-O-Ween Episode Guide

Probably been done before but these are the episodes I'm rewatching for spooky season! If I missed any let me know and I'll add them.

S1 E7: Who Ya Gonna Call? Shawn and Gus must save a man who claims a ghost is trying to kill him.

S1 E15: Scary Sherry: Bianca's Toast Shawn and Gus step into a real-life urban legend, as they investigate a death suspiciously like the tale of "Scary Sherry," who met her untimely end at the now haunted Wispy Sunny Pines mental institution.

S2 E16: Shawn (And Gus) of the Dead Shawn is called to the Natural History Museum when a mummy goes missing and all indications are that it got up and walked out on its own.

S3 E1: Ghosts After Gus' boss demands he quit moonlighting at the Psych agency, Shawn must find a way to keep his partner while solving a haunting case and playing referee to Henry and his recently returned mother.

S3 E15: Tuesday the 17th Shawn and Gus are hired by a childhood friend to find a missing camp counselor who disappeared near their old sleep away campgrounds. Upon their arrival, spooky activity abounds and they must uncover if the dark past of the abandoned camp has come back to life.

S4 E4: The Devil is in the Details and in the Upstairs Bedroom A priest and former teacher of Shawn and Gus calls them claiming that an apparent suicide was in fact the work of the devil.

S4 E8: Let's Get Hairy A man fears he is dangerous to society and enlists Shawn and Gus' help because, he claims, he is a werewolf.

S5 E3: Not Even Close, Encounters Shawn and Gus get themselves hired onto the case when an unstable lawyer claims his assistant was abducted by aliens.

S5 E11: In Plain Fright While on the haunted house ride at Santa Barbara's Scare Fest, Shawn and Gus witness a murder and are soon led to believe the person who committed it is the ghost of a man who fell to his death at Scare Fest 13 years ago.

S6 E3: This Episode Sucks Lassiter's new relationship with a mysterious and beautiful woman is placed in jeopardy when Shawn and Gus are convinced she is a murderer -- the same murderer responsible for the blood-drained body SBPD is investigating.

S6 E11: Heeeeee's Lassie After Lassiter moves into a new condominium building and strange things start happening to him, he is forced to hire Shawn and Gus to figure out what could be causing the supposed paranormal disturbance.

S7 E3: Lassie Jerky Shawn and Gus join a pair of college students in the woods who are filming a documentary on Bigfoot.

S7 E5: 100 Clues Shawn and Gus attend a party hosted by an aging rockstar named Billy Lipps, a man the SBPD arrested years ago for a murder he doesn't remember committing.

S8 E8: A Touch Of Sweevil Shawn is ecstatic when he discovers he's finally been invited to participate in a prestigious paranormal convention for police consultants.

S8 E9: A Nightmare on State Street Gus' nightmares start to feel like reality when he and Shawn work to solve an unlikely case for the SBPD.

#psych #psych usa #halloween #episode guide #watch list #long post

40 notes · View notes

imagineanime2022 · 5 months ago

Text

Dazai And Chuya W/ A Secret Family

Osamu Dazai X GN!Reader Chuya Nakahara X GN!Reader

Requested: Anon

Request: can you do like their kids running up to them with Dazai and Chuuya and confusing tf out of their colleagues who didn't know they had kids

Warning: Kidnapping (Chuya), Reader wounded (Chuya)

Osamu Dazai

Everyone in the armed detective agency thought that they knew Dazai, he wasn’t necessarily secretive but there was something that no one knew about him. He had no intention of telling anyone unless he needed to.

Dazai was walking through the park with Kunikida and Atsushi, they were in the middle of an investigation, they both disappeared off for a second to question a witness while Dazai sat on the bench keeping an eye out for anyone suspicious “Dad!” He jumped out of his skin when he looked down and saw the little kid standing in front of him. “Hello.” He smiled, lifting her onto his lap. “Dazai, whose child have you kidnapped?” Kunikida asked as he appeared in front of him. “I didn’t kidnap anyone.” Dazai grumbled childishly as the kid in his lap giggled. “(Mummy/Dad) hates when you do that Daddy.” They scolded him. “Daddy!?” Kunikida and Atsushi said in surprise at the same time. “Speaking of where is (Mum/Dad)?” Dazai asked as he looked around for you in the crowd around the park. “She was behind me but I got excited when I saw you.” They answered “Shall we go look for them then?” Dazai asked as he stood and lifted the child onto his shoulders “tell me if you see them.” Kunikda was the first to snap out of his dazed confusion. “Dazai we have a job to do!” He shouted after him. “Well let me return the ‘kidnapped’ child before we continue with our job no?” Dazai asked. “I’m not kidnapped.” The little kid laughed as they started to bounce on his shoulder “over there dad!” “You found them?” Dazai asked, his eyes having found you in the crowd in seconds “where?” “That way!” They cheered giggling when he came to a stop in front of you. “Where I don’t see them?” Dazai asked as he looked around as if he couldn’t see you. “There Dad!” Their little hands turning his heads to look at you. “Oh there you are, where have you been?” Dazai asked as he stepped forward. “Look for our child, who ran off again!” You glared at both of them and at least you little one had the audacity to look sorry. “Do you know how much you worried me!?” “Looks like you need to say sorry.” Dazai lifted you little one to the floor they walked over scratching the back of their neck as they looked at you. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to worry you, I just saw Dad.” they explained starting to bounce on their feet. “Just please don’t run off without telling me where you're going, you know I worry when I can’t see you. Go play for a minute while I talk to your Dad.” You pointed them towards the park where a couple of their friends were waiting, they were the reason that you were here after all. “I’m sorry I didn’t expect them to run off if they saw you.” “Don’t worry.” He smiled softly “as long as you are okay.” “I’m okay.” You nodded, your eyes finally moving to the two men behind him. “Oh you must be Kunikida and Atsushi right?” “Hi.” Atsushi smiled as he waved. “W-who are you?” Kunikida asked. “I’m the significant other.” You answered. “He never said that there was a significant other.” Kunikida frowned. “You didn’t tell them about me?” You asked, Kunikida watches as you both launched into a playful argument between yourselves, Kunikida couldn’t get his head around it, he’d seen Dazai as a child from the moment that he met him but he had been hiding a whole life away from the ADA, one that he managed to keep separate from them for so long, maybe there was more to Dazai then he had seen. But then as he looked at the two of you and listened to Dazai’s incessant whining he honestly wasn’t sure.

Chuya Nakahara

Chuya was very good at keeping his personal and work life separate, he didn’t fully trust the people that he worked with. Meaning that he trusted them to get the job done and make sure that he got out unscathed for the most part but he didn’t trust (specifically Mori) not to use news of a family as a bargaining chip or ransom piece forcing him to do as he was told. After what happened with the sheep he had no intention of putting you in that same danger.

“These are the pictures that were sent to the hideout.” Mori said, Chuya glanced at the screen he was less than interested, he had yet to hear from you and was waiting for the meeting to end so that he could call you himself. When he finally took in the image on the screen his heart rate increased and he leaned forward in his chair “Chuya?” “Tch, these are the hostages?” Chuya asked. “You know them?” He asked. “I do.” He answered, not willing to elaborate more than that unless it was really needed. “Then this will be your problem to fix.” Mori informed him leaning forward on his elbow chin rested on his clasped fingers. “Yes sir.” He nodded, honestly he wouldn’t have had it any other way. “There will be one other thing that you will need to know about this mission.” Mori said, smirking.

The thing that he needed to know was that he would likely have to work with Dazai to complete this mission. He hated that of all the people that could know about his family he was least worried about Dazai. “They have a hostage?” Dazai asked. “Two.” He mumbled. “Do we care about these hostages?” Dazai asked. “Yes.” Chuya answered. “You seem tense Chuya.” Dazai teased. “Shut up freak.” He ordered as jogged down the stairs towards the bottom floor of the hideout and the most likely area for them to be holding you and his child. “Are you going to tell me who these people are to you?” Dazai asked his voice uncharacteristically serious for a second, noting the way that Chuya failed to return any teasing or play up to the usual dynamic they had. “None of your business.” Chuya grumbled as he walked down the hall seeing the door that stood between him and his family. “Must be important then.” Dazai theorized to himself as Chuya continued walking, when opened the door the man that stood in front of the two of you smirked. “You're here.” His eyes flitted over both of them before he frowned. “You don’t have what I wanted.” “We never had what you wanted.” Chuya muttered as his eyes flitted over both of you checking for wounds, finding one on your shoulder. “You shouldn’t have come here without it.” He warned, turning to you. “Dad!” The little one called out as their eyes settled on Chuya, he grit his teeth as hands started to glow a harsh red, it was quick what happened next, no one i the room apart from the two that moved knew what happened, Chuya dove forward grabbing your kid and moving them from the crossfire while you activated your ability allowing the blood from your shoulder wound to sharpen into points stabbing straight through the man that had attempted to grab you. “It’s over.” You mumbled. “Dad!?” Dazai asked. “Chuya you’ve been a busy boy while I’ve been gone.” “Shut up Dazai.” Chuya growled through gritted teeth as he looked down at the kid in his arms “Are you okay little soldier?” He asked. “Uh huh, (Mum/Dad) told me that you would come get us.” They said. “Hmm.” He hummed as he looked over at you across the room. “I’m fine.” You waved him off “we both know that I used to deal with worse.” “Worse?” Dazai asked. “I used to be an assassin.” You shrugged. “Met when I was trying to kill him.” “Very romantic.” Dazai teased “I thought that this was one of those stock holme situations.” “I’m going to kill you.” Chuya glared at him. “Does his height not bother you?” Dazai asked. “You're right he is annoying.” You said ignoring the question and looking at Chuya. “Is there something that we need from him or can we just go?” “We can go, I don’t even know what the ADA wanted from this.” Chuya shrugged. “Nothing you need to worry about.” Dazai answered, waving you all off. “Good luck keeping them away from Mori.” Chuya only grunted in response as he turned towards the door, his boss was going to be difficult but he’d do anything to keep you both safe.

Request Here!!

#bungo stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs imagine #bungo stray dogs #osamu dazai imagine #osamu dazai oneshot #osamu dazai #nakahara chuya one shot #nakahara chuya imagine #nakahara chuya #chuya nakahara #imagine #oneshot #one shot #reader insert #x reader #gender nuetral reader

40 notes · View notes